by Jack Murray
‘Mr Miller, I would appreciate it if you adopted a more appropriate mode of address with Polly.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think you know, Mr Miller.’
‘I’m not sure what exactly this has to do with you.’
‘Anything related to the staff at Cavendish Hall has something to do with me. Anyway, and this is friendly advice, I would advise you not to trifle with a young girl’s emotions.’
He returned his gaze to the paper again but something in his tone had caught Miller’s attention. Unlike his normal pious manner, this seemed a weary response from Curtis. Miller wondered what would have prompted such an unusually resigned reaction.
Unquestionably, this meant the subject was now closed. Whether Curtis was threatening him or if there was something else at play here was immaterial. The best thing to do would be to hold fire and scout the territory a little bit more. As he pondered this, Miss Buchan entered the kitchen in a flap.
‘That Lady Emily has to be the most ill-bred, unpleasant women I have ever met!’ stormed Miss Buchan. Miller remained quiet, but Curtis rose from his seat immediately to enquire what was wrong.
‘She’s with that idiot maid of hers and she was complaining about everything. If it isn’t the food, it’s the cleanliness of the rooms. I ask you, we spent hours cleaning her room specially. She goes out of her way to find fault. Horrible, horrible woman,’ said Miss Buchan with real feeling.
Curtis raised his hands and cast his eyes towards Miller to indicate to Miss Buchan that she should be more circumspect in her comments.
‘My apologies Mr Miller, it has been a difficult afternoon.’
‘Quite understand Miss Buchan, say no more,’ said Miller reassuringly.
‘Thank you, Mr Miller,’ replied Miss Buchan, ‘But really, I could kill that woman sometimes.’
The door to the kitchen opened just at the moment Miss Buchan made this proposal.
-
Agnes left Lady Emily’s room almost ready to weep. For the last twenty minutes all she’d heard was a litany of complaints. None were especially directed towards her, but the cumulative effect was depressing. Christmas at Cavendish Hall always seemed to bring out the worst in Lady Emily and this saddened Agnes greatly. There was another side to her few saw, and it pained Agnes when it seemed Lady Emily was intent on feeding the prejudices of people who were unworthy of her.
Agnes had been with Lady Emily ever since she was a child. She had always been a headstrong girl. Unquestionably spoiled by her parents, she’d grown up to be wilful, self-centred, and volatile. Fortunately, she had met Robert. Her parents had been as delighted by her marriage to Robert as she was. For a few years, the better nature of Lady Emily took over because of the genuine love she had for her husband and the arrival of Henry.
Lady Emily and Agnes found out life is never so straightforward, however. Like the weather it has sunshine but also dark clouds. Then the storms come. A calm may follow but the damage it leaves can last a lifetime. Although Robert had sadly proved to be far from perfect as a husband, Agnes could see Lady Emily had never really recovered from his death.
Grief quickly turned to bitterness. This was increasingly directed towards Lord Cavendish and the two girls. Agnes found it difficult to comprehend how the Cavendish family could be so cold and unsupportive towards her. It was not just that they seemed uncaring about Lady Emily. Their coldness towards Henry was unfathomable. Could they not see he was turning inward? He was without friends, without a father figure and without family. How she hated them.
She descended the stairs in an angry mood. As she neared the kitchen, she heard Miss Buchan saying, ‘I could kill that woman sometimes.’
Eyes ablaze, Agnes strode into the kitchen and faced Miss Buchan, ‘How dare you say such a vile thing.’
Miss Buchan did not need Agnes to tell her that what she had said was abhorrent; she knew this herself. She’d over-stepped the mark and regret was immediate. However, just as she was about to apologize, Curtis intervened to bring patriarchal calm to a febrile atmosphere.
‘Agnes, I am sure Miss Buchan did not mean…’
That Curtis failed was not a surprise. Sanctimony is a rarely used tool in diplomatic circles for a good reason. What caused wonder was the extent to which his intervention uncorked years of hostility and no small acerbity on the part of Agnes.
‘I know exactly what she meant you pompous old fool,’ snarled Agnes.
‘Well really, there is no need to be so personal,’ said Curtis, rather taken aback by the intensity of Agnes.
‘Agnes, forgive me,’ intervened Miss Buchan before matters descended further out of hand, ‘I spoke out of turn. You are right. It was a vile thing to say. I was wrong and I apologise unreservedly.’
This succeeded in appeasing Agnes and might well have diffused an increasingly incendiary situation until Curtis’s spluttering indignation took centre stage.
‘This is intolerable! How dare you call me pompous!’ he roared.
‘You are pompous!’ exclaimed Agnes. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you talk to me and the others here.’
Miller took a seat and made himself comfortable. This was becoming more enjoyable than an evening at the music hall. It was also, in his view, a mismatch. If he’d been able to place a wager, he would have put the house on Lady Emily’s angry maid. She combined genuine grievance with a surprising knowledge of industrial language. By this stage Curtis was not getting a word in as the little maid let forth sally after sally on his demeanour, his lack of intelligence and unkindness. Miss Buchan felt it better to avoid getting into the line of fire by slowly withdrawing to allow Agnes a clear line of attack which she proceeded to engage in with gusto.
The battle was as one-sided as it was brief. It ended with a strategic withdrawal by Curtis. Observers later agreed that Agnes’s devastating use of alliteration in describing Curtis as pompous, pretentious and a pantomime butler, cleverly weaving Christmas into her bloody narrative, left the poor servant emotionally battered and bruised.
Curtis stalked from the kitchen harrumphing about manners and breeding. Whatever Agnes may be, thought, Miller, she’s no idiot. It had been a clinical dissection of Curtis. What was particularly impressive about Agnes was that she at no point raised her voice. There was a lot of pent-up anger against Curtis and the family. He wondered if this was the case with Lady Emily. Probably, he thought.
-
Curtis made straight for Lord Cavendish to relay all that had taken place. His objective was for Cavendish to make a formal complaint to Lady Emily. There was no thought to how this would put Cavendish in a difficult position in a relationship that was, itself, quite fragile.
Cavendish sought to manage the expectations of Curtis. However, at the same time, he realized this could present problems. He was sympathetic to Curtis, but only up to a point. Curtis had an inflated sense of his own dignity which Cavendish had noted over the years but chosen to ignore. Then again, he felt a duty of care to the man. It was not an easy situation, especially with Lady Emily, of all people.
‘I understand your concern, Curtis. I shall convey my desire to Lady Emily that Agnes should act professionally and with courtesy to you and the rest of the staff at all times.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to have to bring this to your attention but if we are to manage over this festive period, we must all work together in an atmosphere of mutual respect.’
‘I understand, Curtis. Is there anything else?’
Curtis understood this to mean the interview was finished. The curt ending to the interview meant he left the library suspecting, unhappily, no action would be taken. It did not feel as if Lord Cavendish had taken his concerns with the gravity they merited. On the whole, it was an unsatisfactory response for someone who had been in service to the family for over thirty years. He deserved better than half-hearted reassurance. He returned to the kitchen in a foul mood.
Cavendish was astute enough
to realize that Curtis was not entirely happy with the outcome of the interview. This was also a source of dissatisfaction to him. Although Curtis was staff, he’d been with the family a long time. Perhaps he deserved better but, as usual, something in the manner of Curtis had created an unnecessary dispute. Cavendish resolved to find a way of making amends with him. However, Curtis would have to accept that taking this up with Lady Emily directly would create a much bigger problem than a staff dispute.
He walked over to window. The snow had stopped but he knew instinctively there would be more to come on this subject. It was dark now and the snow gave a purple glow against the blackness of the trees. A dusting of stars peered out in a very clear sky. Just looking at the scene made Cavendish feel a chill but oddly comforted at the same time.
Walking back around to his desk, he glanced at the picture on the wall between the two bay windows. It displayed a photograph of Robert’s battalion. It was very wide as there were over three hundred soldiers arranged in four rows. Robert was sitting at the front, in the middle along with the other officers. One soldier, seated at the front near the end, attracted his attention. His hat was on sideways. How odd, thought Cavendish. He hadn’t noticed this man before. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of spectacles and put them on. He peered at the soldier in question.
‘Good Lord.’ said Cavendish out loud, ‘I can’t believe it.’
Chapter 8
Agnes updated Lady Emily on what had taken place in the kitchen. Having related the tale in forensic detail, Agnes folded her arms and said with a voice pitched somewhere between smugness and self-righteousness, ’He’ll think twice about acting like he’s the almighty again, in front of me.’
‘Good for you, Agnes,’ confided Lady Emily, although there was a little less enthusiasm than Agnes would have liked. How easy it is to forget. Perhaps she felt sorry for the fool. Then Lady Emily added, ‘I will have to say something to Lord Cavendish. I want him to understand that you and Godfrey must be treated with respect.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘You may go now. Leave this with me.’
Agnes left the room and Emily went to the window. She looked out and considered how best to leverage what she’d heard. The beauty of the wintry scene outside made no impression on her. She was entirely focused on how to make Cavendish understand the level to which he and his staff were making them all feel unwelcome. That it was Curtis was no surprise. He had an exaggerated sense of his own importance. However, this troubled her, too. She felt a pain that had lain dormant for a number of years.
She spun around and left the room. There was a determination on her face that the sins of the past should not continue to betray the present. Descending the stairs rapidly, she walked through the hall to the library and entered without knocking. She saw Cavendish sitting at his desk holding a wide framed picture, studying it closely. Cavendish looked up from the picture and stood up immediately.
‘Emily, I’m so glad you’re here, I wanted to have a word with you.’
‘And I you,’ said Lady Emily quietly.
This doesn’t augur well, thought Cavendish, his heart sinking fast. She did not look to be in a mood to reason. He decided to absorb the enemy attack. Hopefully her ammunition would run out after a few bursts rather than be a sustained artillery bombardment. His silence might act to quicken the engagement.
‘That pompous idiot, Curtis, has upset Agnes, I demand he apologize immediately to her.’
Before Cavendish could reply, she continued in a similar vein, ‘It’s unacceptable. His treatment of her has been rude beyond belief. How dare he. This is a very poor show. I‘ve already had words with Buchan about the state of my room. Curtis clearly has little or no control over your staff and he has the unmitigated gall to criticize Agnes, and in front of the other staff. I hope you can see that this is completely unacceptable.’
Thinking this signalled the end of Lady Emily’s offensive, Cavendish made another attempt to sue for peace. Sadly, Lady Emily was just warming to the task. The heavy armaments were about to be brought into the action. Tears formed in Lady Emily’s eyes. Cavendish accepted he had no defence against this type of weaponry. Defeat was not just inevitable; it would be complete with many casualties.
‘You’re all against us. It’s not just Curtis. You’ve never made us feel welcome. You never wanted Robert to marry me and now he’s gone, you and those girls isolate Henry and myself. He is your grandson, but you spend no time with him.’
Chance would be a fine thing, thought Cavendish, but he decided not to throw this point out for consideration as it risked increasing the intensity of an already formidable frontal assault.
‘He is the future Lord Cavendish. Yet you ignore him and devote all your time to the two girls. It’s not fair. More than that, it is thoughtless and unkind. What have we done to deserve this? I am a widow. Your son’s widow. You have given me no help, no consideration, no kindness. Nothing. Do you even think of us as family? Really, do you?’
Cavendish lowered his voice, aware the staff could be listening, ‘Emily, please hear me out’
-
Outside the library, Miss Buchan had heard every word from Lady Emily. In fact, her ear had been pressed closely against the door. Sadly, she could not hear what Cavendish was now saying in reply. The appearance of Strangerson forced her to give the pretend to be putting things in order. She nodded to Strangerson as he walked past and up the stairs. ‘Will you be needing anything sir?’
‘No thank you Miss...er’
‘Buchan.’
‘No, I shall rest and get ready for dinner.’ He continued up the stairs bounding two at a time.
Miss Buchan scurried down to the kitchen to update Curtis. She found him with Godfrey having a cup to tea.
‘When you’ve had your cup of tea Mr Curtis, perhaps you could join me in your office.’
‘Yes Miss Buchan.’ Curtis immediately understood an important piece of intelligence was to be communicated. He quickly drained his tea and smiled to Godfrey, ‘Duty calls.’
Miss Buchan was sitting by the small desk Curtis used for administrative tasks.
‘Close the door please, Mr Curtis. I’ve accidentally overheard an interesting encounter in the library.’
Curtis doubted there was anything accidental about it, but he remained silent. It wasn’t as if he had not, when the occasion demanded it, been above a touch of eavesdropping himself.
‘Go on Miss Buchan, I’m all ears.’
Miss Buchan quickly related, word for word, all she had heard in a low voice. She concluded, ‘I fear we are in a difficult situation whenever Lord Cavendish, and God forgive me for saying this, passes on.’
‘Clearly Miss Buchan. This is troubling. I fear you’re right. We may well have reached a point of no return with that witch.’
‘She is a witch Mr Curtis and no mistake. How I would dearly love that…’ She stopped herself saying anything more. Curtis nodded in agreement, he understood exactly Miss Buchan’s sentiment. However, wishing was one thing but they were clearly facing a long-term problem.
‘This is, indeed, serious.’
Lord Cavendish was not as well as he proclaimed. In fact, Curtis knew his heart had recently been giving enough trouble to warrant a trip to his doctor in Harley Street. Cavendish had requested that Curtis keep the trip to London confidential although he certainly had not shared with him the reason for going. A week later, Curtis had managed to read the notes from the examination when it had arrived in the post. He had been inducted into the art of steam-opening envelopes by his predecessor many years ago.
All of this had taken place in the last month. Curtis had not shared the information with Miss Buchan at the time. Now, it was clear that two heads were needed to address this very real conundrum. He took Miss Buchan into his confidence.
A few minutes later both returned to the kitchen. Godfrey and Agnes were both in the kitchen. Curtis recognized this would be a good opportunity
to start building bridges.
‘Agnes, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to you for any misunderstanding earlier.’
He bowed slightly and gently clicked his heels, believing it might add a nice touch to the sentiment expressed. Having to do this sickened him enormously but the alternative was worse. Christmas was a taxing enough time for the staff without the added complication of trench warfare.
Agnes was taken aback by the surprising turn of events. She had been mentally preparing herself for a more attritional atmosphere in the staff quarters. This was a development she had not anticipated and, in the absence of an alternative strategy, decided there was no other choice but to accept the apology. She managed this with just enough feminine sense of hurt and injustice to ensure Curtis would have to maintain an air of sycophancy a little longer. It did not stop her feeling somewhat disappointed at such a quick a victory.
Miller had entered just as Curtis was displaying contrition. He raised an eyebrow at Godfrey who gave a hint of shrug to his shoulders. It was fairly clear there had been a resolution to the disagreement between Curtis and Agnes. He looked forward to hearing more. Perhaps he could quiz Polly about it later. A little bit of gossip and then, thought Miller, a chance to get to know her a bit better. Christmas was shaping up nicely.
Within a few minutes Polly returned to the kitchen with Elsie.
‘Right, I want the kitchen cleared. Polly and I have work to do. Miss Agnes, can I ask for some help? I seem to remember you are a dab hand at desserts.’
‘Of course,’ said Agnes, always a pushover for a compliment. The next comment from Elsie, pleased her even more.
‘Excellent, can the rest of you useless oafs, leave us now? Let’s get to work girls, we have a dinner to make.’
The peremptory manner of Elsie was something Curtis was used to. It was as unwelcome as ever. Even more so given they were in company. However, there was little value in having a second defeat inflicted on him by a female in the space of an hour. He beat a strategic retreat to his office.
