by Jack Murray
Godfrey and Miller walked out together into the corridor.
‘Have I missed something?’ asked Miller with a smile.
‘From what I heard old Curtis had something of an earful from Agnes. When Lady Emily heard about what happened, she went down to old Cavendish and gave him a bit of verbal,’ said Godfrey.
Miller grinned at Godfrey, ‘I could be wrong, but I suspect you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a certain lady.’
This was met with a grimace. ‘You wouldn’t, trust me. Tongue like a knife dipped in venom, that one.’
‘Have you ever been on the wrong side of her?’ asked Miller.
‘No, she usually gets Agnes to wield the knife.’
‘What about Henry?’ probed Miller.
‘He doesn’t say much. Anything he does say to me is usually curt. I don’t think the words “please” or “thank you” exist for him. He used to be a nice lad. You know how it is. A funny age.’
Miller grinned and nodded. They all went through similar. Thankfully, it was a condition that was cured by age.
‘Sounds like a charmer.’
‘Honestly, out of the two of them, I would be more worried by him. I get the feeling he would think nothing of stabbing you in the front, and then stepping over your dead body to read a book.’
They parted at this point with Miller going upstairs to see Kit. He walked past the Christmas tree in the corridor and up to Kit’s bedroom. A quick rap on the door was greeted by a voice inside.
‘Come in,’ said Kit.
Miller popped his head around the door, ‘Just wanted to see if you needed anything sir?’
Kit was sitting at the desk writing a letter. He turned around and said, ‘No thank you Harry. Oh wait, I don’t suppose you have any idea what was going on downstairs between Lady Emily and Cavendish. I sense an atmosphere in the house which is none too pleasant.’
Miller reported all he knew before leaving Kit to his thoughts. His mind was chiefly given over to Esther and Mary. Conversations with mutual friends in London had prepared him to meet two beautiful women. In reality they were everything his friends had described and more. It was revelatory the depth of their friendship, the liveliness of their minds and, in Mary’s case, a deeply independent nature.
The spirit of the two sisters brought to mind another. His mind wandered back to the War and his stay in the hospital. Thinking of her and this period always brought a bittersweet pain. He reluctantly dismissed the memory and returned to the task in hand.
Finishing the letter, he sealed the envelope to Alexander Kerensky. It was too late to send before Christmas, but he decided he would post when they all went to tomorrow morning’s service in the village.
As there was still time to kill before dinner, he decided to go downstairs. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the library. If he tried to avoid the room altogether it would become obvious to his companions. Furthermore, he hated to be in a funk about anything. The only way to deal with how he felt was to confront it directly rather than cower in his room hoping no one would notice.
Much to Kit’s relief, the library was empty. He strode over to the Lavery portrait of John and Robert. Forcing himself to study the picture, he stared at the young Robert. He had his arm draped lazily around the more serious John. They had the Cavendish nose, but both were fine looking young men. Kit looked into Robert’s face. His eyes stung as tears clouded his view of the painting.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered and glanced around lest anyone had heard.
Finally, he looked away and walked over to the window. Outside, the night was lit only by the luminosity of the snow. He noticed a framed black and white photograph lying on the desk. Curiosity piqued, he walked over and picked it up. The picture was at least two feet wide and showed an army battalion sitting down in four rows. The name of the battalion was engraved at the front along with the date in 1914. They were obviously being photographed prior to their departure for France. He recognized Robert in the middle. The chance to examine it more closely was interrupted by the door opening. Turning around, he saw Strangerson peeking into the room. He looked surprised to see Kit.
‘Sorry, old boy, I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ said Strangerson.
‘You weren’t. I was just going to have a nose through the library. It’s pretty impressive.’ Kit stood up and put the picture back on the desk.
‘It is rather.’ Strangerson wandered over to a decanter sitting on a trolley with some glasses. He raised a glass up to Kit, ‘Fancy a bracer?’
‘No thanks, I shall save myself for later. Don’t let me stop you, though.’
‘Well, under the circs, I’ll make a start. Might need some courage for the evening. I gather there was a firefight earlier between Lady Emily and the Colonel. Not sure the old boy didn’t get a bit of a drubbing,’ said Strangerson.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I heard it as I was coming in. She was giving the old boy a right dressing down. I’ll bet he hasn’t had one like that since he was a private.’
‘Any idea why?’ prompted Kit.
‘Not entirely sure. I think she missed her calling as a lion tamer that one. Anyway, she was in an impressive state of moral indignation from what I could hear. Poor fish had to stand there and take it on the chin. When the lady folk are like that it’s best to exit stage left pretty sharpish.’
Kit laughed. Strangerson added a few more ribald comments about Lady Emily sotto voce, which amused Kit. Strangerson diplomatically avoided commenting on the girls possibly sensing there was some degree of attraction with Kit. Instead, he moved on to talk a little of his time with Shackleton. Kit was fascinated as he was a great admirer of the famed Antarctic explorer.
The conversation ended a few minutes later and turned to Strangerson’s plans for the future. The erstwhile explorer expressed a desire to go to the Pacific Islands to write about the indigenous people there. Many of them had not seen Europeans. This subject was equally interesting to Kit and the time passed easily until Strangerson drained the last of the Scotch and said, ‘You should’ve had a dram, very good stuff indeed. I’ll say this for the old boy, he keeps a good cellar.’
‘I’ll take some later no doubt,’ laughed Kit.
Strangerson stood up and left the library to get ready for the dinner. After he had left, Kit pondered a little on Strangerson. He sensed Strangerson had not expected him to be there. In fact, there was a hint of irritation, but it had been hidden beneath his well-practiced bonhomie. If it were the case that Strangerson had wanted to be alone in the library, Kit wondered why. Almost by instinct he found himself surveying the library. It could be anything in here, he concluded. There must have been at least a thousand books, various objets d’art and, of course the paintings. He then laughed at himself for feeling suspicious. Looking at his pocket watch, he saw it was nearly seven. He only had a little time to get ready.
‘It’s Christmas, old boy. You’re off duty. Time to enjoy yourself,’ he said out loud. With one last look at the paintings, he left the library and returned to his room.
As he arrived, he caught sight of a lone figure walking through the snow from the back. It was hard to tell but it could have been Cavendish. The figure seemed to be heading towards the cottage he and Miller had seen earlier. Probably just a Christmas visit, he thought, and turned away from the window.
Chapter 9
All of the guests sat at the long dining table which had been elaborately laid with candles, cutlery as well as flowers and scattered holly leaves. There were also little reindeer and snowmen at each place. Strangerson rolled his eyes when he spied them, but Kit picked one up, brow-furrowed before breaking out into a smile. The room was lit by the warm glow of candlelight; silver cutlery glistened like jewels on either side of white porcelain plates.
Cavendish sat at the head of the table with his granddaughters either side of him. The gentlemen sat in the middle with Lady Emily at the opposite end of the table from Cavendish. The atmosphere
was now more relaxed than Kit had expected. The good humour of Strangerson, the vivacity of the sisters as well as the apparent ceasefire between Lady Emily and Cavendish created a happy feeling in the group that even the glum features of Henry could do little to dispel.
Kit took a look at the printed menu card. There would be seven courses. This struck Kit as somewhat excessive. Not all of them appealed either. Oysters were definitely something he regarded with suspicion. Evidently so did the girls, who made faces when they appeared, but Cavendish and Strangerson enjoyed them immensely. Curtis put on a great show of serving an excellent Bouillon. This was followed by salmon freshly caught that day, then quail with truffles. All of the meals were superb. Kit resolved to pay his compliments to Elsie.
Three dessert courses followed consisting of crackers with cheese, Nesselrode pudding and, finally, fruit with coffee. By the end, Kit was rather full despite his best efforts to avoid over-indulging. Throughout the meal, Curtis had ensured all of the wine glasses were constantly topped up although Kit observed all the ladies drank sparingly and Henry did not drink wine at all.
The gentlemen were determined not to be so temperate and the atmosphere was convivial. Lady Emily maintained her good behaviour and chatted amiably to Strangerson. It was clear from occasional overheard snatches of conversation that Strangerson was telling her about his time with Robert. Naturally, he painted a very positive portrait of a brave officer loved by his men. Lady Emily was delighted to hear such a good opinion of her dead husband. Henry listened intently, said little and offered no hint of what he was thinking.
Once the coffees were finished the group stood up, whereupon Mary said, ‘I hope we are not going to be so old-fashioned as to have the gentlemen retire for their brandy and ever so serious conversation about the state of world.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Esther, ‘I think the men should join the ladies for conversation about clothes, hairstyles and puppies.’
‘Hats. Let’s not forget hats Essie,’ said Mary in a mock shrill voice and gesticulating with her index finger. ‘We need to understand what’s being worn, this season in Paris. It simply won’t do, not to know.’
‘We must know, Mary, otherwise how can we possibly be seen in public?’ agreed Esther.
Cavendish put his arms up in the air to indicate surrender. ‘An old soldier knows when it’s time to make a tactical retreat. As it looks like the ladies are not going to permit us to escape to our brandy and cigars, I propose we go into the drawing room instead.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Strangerson.
They all moved to the drawing room except Lady Emily who decided to retire early. This was the first time Kit had been in the drawing room and he liked it on first sight. A welcoming fire greeted all, and Curtis had laid out several glasses along with a full decanter of a fine brandy. Strangerson looked at it appreciatively as Cavendish lifted it and offered to pour the drinks
The room was large and was decorated with many fine paintings including, if Kit was not mistaken, a Gainsborough.
‘I say, what a beautiful piano,’ said Strangerson upon seeing the grand piano in the corner of the room. ‘May I ask who plays?’
‘Do you play Mr Strangerson?’ asked Mary teasingly.
‘Not a note, I’m afraid. Matched by my singing, really,’ admitted Strangerson, untruthfully, but to everyone’s amusement. Even Henry managed a smile. Kit looked towards Esther and Mary and raised an eyebrow.
In answer to this unasked query, Mary said, ‘Well, I can tell you Essie plays beautifully, and her voice is angelic. Isn’t it true, grandpapa?’
‘Nonsense, Mary,’ interrupted Esther turning red.
‘It’s true, gentlemen. Esther plays as beautifully as she sings,’ confirmed Cavendish.
‘Then I’m afraid, Esther, you are out voted.’ said Kit.
‘Hmmm, as usual, a woman is disenfranchised by the men,’ observed Mary.
‘You’re right Mary,’ agreed Kit. ‘How would you vote if you had the franchise?’
‘I vote Essie should play,’ said Mary, turning to her sister with a grin.
‘Whose side are you on darling sister?’ laughed Esther but she duly sat at the piano as the rest of the party surrounded her. This brought a round of applause and a “Brava” from Strangerson.
‘Well, I think a Christmas carol would be appropriate,’ said Esther and she began to caress the ivory keys. Her voice was as angelic as Mary had promised. Kit was entranced.
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan;
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone.
The sombre melody and the singing captured the melancholy that hung in the air of Cavendish Hall. Kit also felt he could get carried away by the emotion and gripped his seat tightly to retain control. By the end of the carol, Mary had joined her. The effect of the combined voices was intoxicating. Mary’s voice was exquisite however, she let Esther lead and sang harmony except on keynotes when their voices soared in unison and became one. At the end of the hymn the performance drew rapturous acclaim from all. Esther broke into an embarrassed smile as Mary hugged her.
‘I much prefer the Holst version also,’ said Kit, before adding, ‘Beautiful.’ It was not clear if he was only referring to the singing. This brought a glance from Mary and a satisfied smile from Cavendish.
For the next half hour, the two girls played a selection of Christmas hymns and managed to rope Kit in to sing on a couple. He had a fine tenor and had clearly sung before, but not in Kings College, he added. With the end of the music, the party sat down on the two large sofas facing one another in the middle of the room.
‘What shall we do now?’ asked Esther.
‘Well, I’m doing rather well with this brandy,’ interjected Strangerson, causing a ripple of laughter.
‘It’s an Armagnac, 1870 I think, if you’re interested,’ replied Cavendish. ‘Anyway, I think I have an idea for what we can do next, and it involves, you, Mary.’
All eyes turned to Mary. She rolled her eyes at what Cavendish was about to say. Esther clapped her hands delightedly, ‘Great idea, grandpapa, we haven’t done this in ages.’
‘Well, we’re all fascinated,’ said Kit gazing into the eyes of Mary. In response, Mary narrowed her eyes seemingly to declare war which made Kit smile even more.
-
In the kitchen, a fragile peace existed as the staff enjoyed their dinner. Miller complimented Elsie on a wonderful meal and was seconded by Godfrey. Elsie beamed with pride and thanked everyone. It would be fair to say she had been beaming for most of the last hour. This was the inevitable consequence of her natural disposition towards sociability, aided and abetted by a fair quantity of wine then brandy. Curtis guessed another five minutes would see her sleeping head-first on the table. He glanced meaningfully at Miss Buchan who had also read the signs.
‘Elsie and Polly, I think we should, perhaps, retire. Leave the gentlemen to their festivities. It will be a long day tomorrow,’ said Miss Buchan.
Polly looked like she was about to object but a stern look from Miss Buchan dissuaded her from saying anything. However, she hoped her face communicated enough of the protest she felt. Rising up with a sigh she stropped over to Miss Buchan in order to help Elsie up from the chair and to her room. Curtis smiled benignly at Miss Buchan to acknowledge his foresight.
As a manservant treading a line between nobility on one side and domestic staff on the other, Miller had ample opportunity, which he rarely refused, to make sport of the people he encountered. Often these people would be blissfully unaware of what he was doing. With a wink towards Devlin and Godfrey he said, ‘Very sensible move, Mr Curtis. I could see Elsie was perhaps over-indulging.’
‘Quite so,’ said Curtis with just the hint of a slur. ‘I believe I have a duty of care towards the staff and must protect them; sometimes from themselves.’
‘Your actions do you credit Mr Curtis,’ continued Miller.
‘Thank you, Mr Mil
ler. Of course, I seek no credit, nor expect it. It’s all part of the job,’ he finished modestly, waving his hand airily.
Devlin, by this stage, was struggling to contain his laughter and excused himself under the guise of a coughing fit. He went outside. Miller took this as his cue to bring an end to his mischief. He also excused himself and joined Devlin outside.
‘Hope you don’t mind all that, just a bit of fun,’ said Miller.
‘No, I enjoyed it. Needs taking down a peg or two sometimes,’ replied Devlin.
‘Gets above himself then?’ suggested Miller.
Devlin offered Miller a cigarette, ‘He does with us. Not with the Cavendish family, though. He knows better.’ He struck a match and lit both their cigarettes, then continued, ‘If anything ever happened to Lord Cavendish, I wouldn’t be sorry to see Curtis out on his ear.’
‘Doesn’t seem to be any love lost with Lady Emily and company.’
‘None, that’s for sure, I think there’s a lot of history there though, so who knows? Not sure about the rest of us. I think we’d be all right, one thing or another.’
The night had a chill. Both could feel their skin freezing. They quickly finished their cigarettes and stuffed their hands in their pockets. Miller looked up at the moon. It shone clearly in the cloudless night sky. Snowflakes fell quietly onto his upturned face. They melted on his skin creating the impression of tears trickling down his cheek. He went back inside.
-
Mary smiled at the party then glanced at her grandfather who seemed to be enjoying the suspense he had created.
‘I believe that my troublemaking grandfather is suggesting I tell you a ghost story.’
This brought laughter from Cavendish, excited clapping from Esther and a warm smile from Kit, who folded his arms and settled back into his seat. ‘Comfortable my lord?’ she asked archly.
Kit laughed and said he was very comfortable and looking forward to the tale while Strangerson added to the pressure on Mary by concluding that it was a capital idea. He, too, looked on expectantly.
