by Jack Murray
‘True, but it was still an unnecessary risk. Have you any idea who might want to send you such a wicked note?’
‘Kit, I sent literally thousands of young men to their death. It could be anyone, their families, friends, I don’t know where you would begin to look.’
‘That is a vast distortion of the truth, sir. You did not send anyone to die.’
‘Didn’t I? You must understand, Kit, you and I know what it was like in Flanders. Decisions were made; orders were given. We knew we were sending those men to do the impossible and yet we did it anyway. There’s hardly a day goes by when I don’t think…’
‘Sir. We all do,’ interrupted Kit. ‘But if it were the case that these letters are the work of some madman bent on revenge for the War, then why you and not the politicians? We went sleepwalking into a war. We were ill prepared and poorly led. They made us fight. Why you? What about the other generals? They thought it was the Zulu War all over again. How could military strategy have advanced so little? How could they not have understood how deadly armaments were becoming? They had us walk into machine gun fire. No sir, this has to be different. Specific.’
‘But who? I can’t think of enemies outside of the War.’
‘Let’s start from the household. Is there anyone in the household who could possibly have a grudge against you?
‘I don’t think so. Apart from Devlin, they’ve all been with us for years. Curtis, Miss Buchan, and Elsie were here before we had the boys. They were broken hearted, we all were. Polly came to us just before the War. She’s still a child now. Devlin was in the War also. He served under John. Decorated a few times too. The Irish were great fighters,’ acknowledged Cavendish.
‘I know, sir.’
‘Besides which, he only came to us last year,’ added Cavendish.
‘How did he come to join your household?’
‘He wrote to me asking if there were any jobs.’
‘Did you know him from the War?’ asked Kit.
‘Not personally, but I checked his references with army officers of my acquaintance. They all spoke highly of him. I needed a driver and a handyman. He demonstrated a good knowledge of motor vehicles and could fix things around the estate. I accepted him, and I must say I’ve had no regrets in doing so.’
‘How does he get on with the rest of the household?’
‘I believe he keeps himself to himself. Mind you, Curtis is not always the easiest of people. I shouldn’t like to work under him; a little full of himself. Anyway, I’m not aware of any dissent between the two of them or the other staff.’
‘And the villagers?’
‘Again, I can think of no reason there should be any bitterness towards me.’
‘Are there any new inhabitants?’
Cavendish laughed. ‘Not really. Some of the young men leave, some come back with a wife. Some of the women leave but rarely return. I should imagine it’s a story the length and breadth of the land.’
Thinking about seeing Cavendish walking in the grounds yesterday, reminded Kit about the cottage.
‘Do you have any staff who don’t live at the Hall itself?’
‘Bill Edmunds,’ said Cavendish after a few moments.
‘Who is Bill Edmunds?’ asked Kit.
‘He tends the grounds of Cavendish Hall, but he doesn’t live here. He and his wife have a small cottage just over the hill. He lost his son in sixteen. I’m not sure of the circumstances as I was away then. He was in another regiment.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Kit, remembering the cottage. ‘I think I know the one. I saw it when we went for a walk yesterday. Was he at the carol service?’
‘No, I think he rather fell out with God after he lost Ben.’
Kit nodded, ‘I can understand. Do you think he could’ve blamed you in any way for his son’s death?’
‘I don’t see why. I had no part in Ben signing up and he didn’t serve in any regiment I was associated with.’
Kit picked the cards up again and looked at the typewritten notes. Although he was hardly an expert, it seemed like they could all have been written on the same typewriter. The quality of the type was poor, and Kit suspected the ribbon had not been changed since the first note was written. This could mean the typewriter was used frequently enough to deteriorate over time but not so often that it needed replacing. Sadly, there were no easily identifiable flaws in the type, however this was outside Kit’s field. There was no reason an expert may not be able to connect the typewriter to these notes at a future point in time should the individual be apprehended.
It was difficult to know what to do next. As no obvious attempt had been made on Cavendish’s life it was useless to continue asking the police to intervene. Besides which, Cavendish was a military man who had fought in conflicts around the world. He was certainly capable of taking care of himself, concluded Kit.
Sensing there was nothing else to be done, Cavendish said, ‘Perhaps we should re-join the rest of the party, Kit. I’ve taken up enough of your time with this foolishness.’
They returned to the drawing room. Lady Emily had arrived bringing to the room a chill barely matched by the cold outside. Esther looked at her grandfather in the eye. Cavendish immediately understood this to mean the situation was deteriorating due to Aunt Emily.
‘Emily, I’m so glad you’re feeling better. Happy Christmas,’ said Cavendish. There was a no question it was warmly meant, and it appeared to have an effect of the lady’s frosty demeanour.
‘To you also,’ said Emily generously. ‘Why have you been keeping this good-looking young man all to yourself? I’m sure your granddaughters are missing him greatly.’
Cavendish resisted the temptation to reach for the seventeenth century musket on the wall. Thankfully Kit proved his valour in battle had not deserted him following the War by taking Lady Emily’s arm, ‘Perhaps you could give me a tour of the artworks in the room Lady Emily. I should like to hear your view on them. Lord Cavendish and the lovely ladies have been scandalously inattentive on this matter.’
Lady Emily looked at him archly, suspecting she was the subject of gentle chaffing but not seeming to mind too much. Doing as she was bid; they began to circle the room looking at the various objets d’art.
Out of the corner of his eye Kit saw Mary mime pinning a medal on his chest. This forced him to choke back some laughter. Thankfully, Henry did not see this. He was otherwise engaged with Strangerson in a discussion on tropical poisons. Kit tried to listen to this conversation but was aware that Lady Emily was demanding his opinion on a genre piece by David Wilkie. It showed a poor family mourning the death of an elderly grandparent.
-
Meanwhile, downstairs in the kitchen, Captain Curtis took a deep breath. He surveyed at his troops like a general before battle. Lined up in front of him were Elsie, Polly, and Miss Buchan. A quick inspection of dress was followed by a final look at the food to be served upstairs. Finally, accepting there was naught else to be done, he lightly clapped his hands together and said, ‘Are we all ready?’
‘We are ready Mr Curtis,’ came the reply from Corporal Buchan.
Get on with it, thought Miller. Curtis bowed to the men-at-arms, turned to the door, and went upstairs. Moments later the entrance hall echoed to the sound of Curtis banging the gong.
Christmas dinner was to be served.
Chapter 13
Christmas dinner went smoothly, under the assured stewardship of Curtis, ably assisted by Miller and Polly. At the end of a splendid meal, Cavendish asked for all of the staff to come to the dining room to present gifts to them. Then the party toasted their hard work. Cavendish made special mention of Elsie and then announced the rest of the day could be taken to celebrate Christmas. Curtis made a short speech exuding pontifical charity for Lord Cavendish and the family. They left the room to warm applause and a hip, hip hooray orchestrated by Strangerson. Sam remained, against Kit’s wishes, with the party and was completely spoilt by the Cavendish girls. They were now, offici
ally, friends for life.
The party retired to the drawing room to share out the presents lying underneath the small Christmas tree. Kit was delighted to receive a signed first edition book by the German World Chess Champion, Emmanuel Lasker from the Cavendish family.
Strangerson was given a French army rifle dating back to the Franco – Austrian war of 1859. He was equally delighted with the gift and promised to try it out at the first possible opportunity. Cavendish happily took this as a hint to go shooting on Boxing Day and readily agreed although he suggested that the new gun might not be quite up to the job, even for someone as accomplished as Strangerson.
Henry also received a gun. It was difficult to detect if this gave him joy or not. Kit suspected neither. It would probably never be used although Strangerson, manfully, offered to give the boy shooting lessons. This appeared to please Cavendish and even Lady Emily, somewhat. Henry looked bored.
Even Lady Emily seemed genuinely touched by her present, a hat that had been imported specially from a leading Parisian milliner. She looked at the two girls and said, ‘Well I don’t have to guess who chose this. Thank you, girls. It’s beautiful and I shall not only treasure it, I shall wear it often.’ Esther and Mary both gave their aunt a hug.
The most delighted of the party was Reverend Simmons. He received, from the Cavendish family, the gift of a boxing glove reputed to have been worn by Bob Fitzsimmons, the last British man to hold the World Heavyweight Championship.
‘How on earth did you ever get hold of this?’ he said to Cavendish.
‘I have my sources,’ replied Cavendish smiling but added nothing more. Strangerson, inevitably, believed the sharing of gifts called for further toasts and he nobly offered to pour drinks for the assembled party. Both Cavendish and Lady Emily declined but even Henry had a small brandy after receiving a nod from his mother.
With the exchange of presents completed, the party sat down and chatted for the next hour in groups varying in composition. Kit managed to spend a little more time with Esther, content to listen to her. She spoke of life at Cavendish Hall. Although she clearly enjoyed living at the Hall, Kit detected a longing for something more. The life she had in London jobs during the War had, perhaps, created an appetite to join the vast movement of women in the country who were finding a voice and a purpose beyond the home.
The shortage of men meant there had been a need for women to fill posts formerly occupied by men. Much to Kit’s amusement, she related her time as a bus conductor in the centre of London. It seemed so at odds with the exquisite woman sat beside him. Esther appeared to enjoy doing something in support of the War effort but laughed easily at how strange it appeared in retrospect.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kit saw Mary looking at him. How different she was: lively, playful, and rejoicing in impertinence. Underlying this was a seriousness that was well concealed behind a teasing facade. She was sitting with Lady Emily and Cavendish. Perhaps he was imagining it, but she seemed more interested in the conversation he was having with Esther.
Strangerson, meanwhile, seemed to be making progress in bringing Henry out of himself. They were both standing by the French windows. At one point, Strangerson gazing out the window said, ‘My word, the snow is fairly pouring out of the sky.’
They all went to the window to look. It was true. ‘I hope no one is out in this weather tonight,’ observed Simmons. There was a murmur of assent to this remark.
There was a loud rap at the front door. This caused Esther to gasp. Mary turned to her sister with a grin, ‘Just like one of my ghost stories Essie. I wonder who it could be?’
A few minutes later, the door to the drawing room opened and Curtis introduced an unknown visitor. It should be added that Curtis, at this point in the early evening, had enjoyed his break from servant duties so much that it was difficult to understand what he was saying.
‘Mishter Wright,’ he stammered. There were suppressed smiles in the room at the appearance of a rather intoxicated Curtis. Recognizing his faithful servant had indulged heavily, Cavendish decided to protect him from any further exposure.
‘Thank you, Curtis, I don’t think we will be needing anything else. Please enjoy the rest of your Christmas. We can manage from here.’
Curtis bowed unsteadily and swayed with immense dignity, from the room. The stranger looked at everyone and said, ‘Actually my name is Doctor Richard Bright. I’m most terribly sorry to interrupt your Christmas celebrations.’
‘Nonsense, please sit down and have a Brandy,’ said Cavendish, who glanced at Strangerson. ‘I’m sure you must be frozen from being out in this weather.’
Bright walked into the room. He was a shade over six feet and dressed in an old but well-cut tweed suit, that could easily have been worn in the Tattersall’s.
‘Well, I am to be honest,’ laughed the Doctor.
‘What on earth were you doing out on Christmas night, particularly when it is as bad as this?’ asked Kit.
The Doctor turned to Kit and they regarded one another. Bright seemed to be a similar age to Kit. His brown hair was pushed off his forehead and his eyes were a very clear grey. Invited to sit down by Cavendish, he continued, ‘I was asked to locum for another doctor in the area, Doctor Stevens.’
‘Yes, I know Stevens. He’s getting on a bit. Like myself I suppose.’ This brought, as expected, denials from the group.
‘He asked me to stay with him over Christmas and do some work. His wife is unwell,’ Bright looked up at Cavendish as he said this. Cavendish nodded in understanding, which Kit took to mean the prognosis was not good. Bright continued, ‘He felt it would be too much, I suppose, to take care of Mrs Stevens and manage this area. Anyway, I received a call two or three hours ago to go to Leddings Farm, a few miles from here. Mrs Leddings was in labour. Happily, I helped her give birth to a baby boy. They say they’re going to name him Richard.’
Everyone congratulated him on his good work with the men shaking his hand and a hearty clap on the back from Strangerson. When all of the compliments had ceased, at the request of the two girls, Bright added more details on the baby before returning to complete his story.
‘After I left the house, I could see the weather had turned for the worse. Mr Leddings insisted I stay over but I told him I had to get back. I suppose I was hoping I’d be back to the Doctor’s before the weather became too bad. Alas, as you can see...’ He held his hands out and left the sentence unfinished.
‘Where is the car now?’ asked Cavendish.
‘About a quarter of a mile from the cottage in the middle of your grounds.’
‘It sounds like Bill Edmunds’ place probably,’ added Cavendish. ‘Well, if you’re in a snow drift there, your car isn’t going anywhere. It’s at least three miles from Doctor Stevens’s house. I think you’ll be our guest tonight, Doctor Bright.’
‘I really can’t impose,’ insisted Bright.
‘Nonsense dear fellow, I won’t hear of it,’ asserted Cavendish.
Esther stood up and said to her grandfather, ‘I’ll tell Curtis to prepare the other guest bedroom.’ Mary joined her and they both left the drawing room
Bright, who had not really had the opportunity to see the Cavendish sisters unexpectedly reddened and stammered a thank you. This amused Kit immensely and he sympathized with the poor fellow. Both sisters knew how to make an impact on a poor chap’s senses. Another part of Kit felt a pang of jealousy. This seemed unaccountable to him and he quickly dismissed it. However, he ruefully admitted to himself, Bright was a good-looking fellow, with an easy smile and a steady gaze: a head could easily be turned.
Sam went over to inspect the visitor. Unusually for Sam, he did not treat the stranger as his mortal enemy. Almost immediately the doctor began to tickle Sam under his chin. This was something Sam loved and within a moment he was lying on his back demanding to be tickled further. This brought much laughter from the assembled party, even Henry could not resist a smile. “Et tu Sam”, thought Kit dolefully.
> The girls soon returned and sat either side of Bright. Far from making Kit’s mood grow darker, it actually amused him. At this point, he realized that both Cavendish girls were deliberately setting out to make him jealous. He speculated they had even planned the move while they had been out to brief Curtis. He caught Cavendish looking at him and he smiled back to reassure him that he knew the game. This caused Cavendish to roll his eyes a little by way of apology.
‘How long are you to stay in the area?’ asked Mary.
‘I’m not sure. As long as Dr. Stevens needs me, I suppose,’ replied Bright.
‘You don’t have anyone waiting for you back home?’ continued Mary shamelessly. This made Kit smile. He was beginning to recognize the mischievous nature of the younger sister.
Bright laughed sheepishly, ‘I suppose not. I have rooms in London but, to be honest, I’m usually away on one thing or another, I’ve barely stayed in them since before the War.’
Cavendish asked him if he had served in the Royal Army Medical Corps. Bright replied in the affirmative. He refrained from adding he had been an officer and served in the frontline but shrewd questioning from Kit forced Bright to come clean on what appeared to be an exemplary war record.
It seemed very clear to Kit that Mary, herself a nurse during the war, was absorbed in listening to the new arrival. Esther, too. He had made quite an impression on the party in a short time. Even the glacial Lady Emily seemed to be interested in the young man’s story. Kit was not entirely sure how much he welcomed this. Strangerson, insofar as Kit felt competitive, was unlikely to present a threat to the girls’ interest in him. The new arrival, however, was a different matter. His foothold at the head of the pride felt distinctly shakier.
Cavendish mentioned about Mary’s involvement with the Voluntary Aid Detachment, tactfully avoiding elaboration on the unusual circumstances that had led to her joining. Bright asked Mary, ‘What made you want to become a nurse?’
‘The option of being a Doctor, is still barred to women,’ came Mary’s sardonic reply.
