The Case of the Dotty Dowager

by Cathy Ace

  Rousing herself with a start when Edward arrived to clear the tea tray, Christine decided to take her laptop back to her room and bring down her boots to be able to take a walk outside to clear her head, once the public had left for the day.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ asked a short, pale woman with a shock of purple hair as she all but ran into Christine as she was exiting the sitting room.

  ‘I’m a guest of His Grace,’ replied Christine properly, unsure as to the woman’s identity. The tiny woman encased in purple clothes seemed to vibrate with excitement, but the surprise on her face suggested to Christine that she was shocked to find an unknown woman on the premises.

  ‘I’m his sister, Clementine. Where is he?’

  ‘I’m Christine Wilson-Smythe, Lady Clementine,’ replied Christine calmly. ‘His Grace is taking a meeting with Stephanie Timbers in the estate office. I left them to discuss something to do with the harvest supper at the local church.’

  Clementine Twyst gave Christine a good look up, then down. ‘A guest of Henry’s, eh? He doesn’t have many of them. You’re about right for it, I suppose. Typical of Henry. And it’s Clemmie. I can’t stand all that “Lady” stuff. Makes me feel as though I’m a hundred years old. Well, not unless it gets me a better table at a restaurant, of course,’ quipped Clemmie. ‘This is Alexander. Henry can wait. I need a drink.’

  It became immediately clear to both Alexander and Christine that Clemmie was far more interested in imbibing than carrying out proper introductions, so Alexander stepped up.

  ‘Alexander Bright. An acquaintance of Clemmie’s,’ he said.

  Christine shook his extended hand. ‘As I said, Christine Wilson-Smythe. An acquaintance of Henry’s. I’m here for the weekend. You?’

  ‘Just overnight,’ replied Alexander.

  ‘Since Clemmie has left us to our own devices, allow me,’ said Christine.

  ‘The sun’s low enough that it must be past quite a few yardarms, besides, it’s Sunday afternoon. What’s Sunday good for but a few drinks and a general lounge-about?’ said Clemmie as she sloshed the contents of a decanter into fine crystal. ‘What about you, Alexander? Fancy a snifter?’

  ‘Tea has just been cleared away,’ said Christine to Alexander with more reserve, ‘but I’m sure more could be brought, if you’d prefer.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a G and T, if that’s possible,’ he replied.

  Christine smiled. ‘Shall we help ourselves?’ she asked of Clemmie, who shrugged her response and threw herself into a chair that sat in full sunshine, dangling her legs over one of the stuffed and tufted arms.

  Henry Twyst bustled into the room with Stephanie as Christine was pouring tonic into Alexander’s gin. It was clear to Christine that he’d invited the woman for a drink and wasn’t impressed by what he found

  ‘Clemmie? What are you doing here? Were we expecting you? Oh, hello,’ he added, looking at Alexander with great surprise. ‘I see you’ve brought a guest?’ he looked at his sister with an irate glare.

  ‘Henry, Alexander,’ said Clemmie airily. ‘Alexander, my brother. The one with the teeth you were so keen to see. Henry, would you be a dear and show Alexander your teeth?’

  Henry looked completely baffled, as did Stephanie, who was hovering awkwardly at the door. Christine, who was holding the tonic in mid-air, looked across at Alexander with some alarm.

  Henry stammered, ‘W-what the devil do you mean, show this man my teeth, Clemmie? I know Mother’s losing her marbles, but don’t tell me you are too?’

  ‘Your false teeth, Henry. Granddad’s collection of false teeth. You know, those grimy old things? Upstairs? Alexander is nuts about them. Tell him, Alexander. Tell him how excited you become when you talk about dentures.’ Clemmie’s tone was quite cruel and Christine suspected that Alexander had to count to ten several times before he replied. She noted how his square jaw clenched.

  Christine finished pouring the tonic into the glass she was holding and whispered, ‘Sounds like you’ll be knocking this one back,’ which made Alexander smile.

  He rallied. ‘Yes, Your Grace. Clemmie has told me all about your collection of antique dentures and odontology, and offered to bring me here so I could take a look at it. I realize I am asking a great favor of you, but I am something of a devotee of dentures, odd though that might seem.’ Slipping his hand into his breast pocket, Alexander revealed the set of nineteenth-century dentures that he had brought with him.

  Christine peered at them and said, ‘I say, they’re quite something.’

  ‘Waterloo Teeth,’ he explained, smiling broadly.

  Christine continued to examine the piece in his hand. ‘Really? I’ve never seen them “in the flesh” before. Do you mind?’ She held out her hand.

  ‘Not at all. I’m pleased to meet someone who isn’t repulsed by the sight of antique false teeth.’ He placed them carefully in her palm.

  Feeling her way around the plate and the teeth themselves, Christine said, ‘These are remarkably stable, for such an old item.’

  ‘That was the second selling point for them in their day,’ replied Alexander with enthusiasm, ‘the first being their affordability. It’s a sad fact that the terrible toll taken by the battlefield produced the best possible opportunity for those without great means to be able to eat something other than boiled food. Imagine losing all your teeth in your twenties, and never again being able to crunch into a vegetable, or bite into, or even chew, a piece of meat? It must have been dreadful.’

  Christine looked into the grey green eyes which glowed with passion and replied, ‘I’d never thought of that before. You’re right, it must have made for a very boring and miserable life. No wonder so many people ate gruel, or soups. Even bread must have been an effort. Ha! I wonder if that’s when people started cutting off the crusts?’

  ‘It’s certainly likely,’ continued Alexander, ‘imagine having the money for good food, but no ability to eat it. The middle classes finally had the opportunity that the wealthier members of society possessed – the chance to buy dentures that could change their lives, without bankrupting their family. Waterloo Teeth? Almost a revolution,’ he finished with a smile.

  ‘They are truly hideous and disgusting,’ said Clemmie flatly. ‘Good God, have they been in your pocket all this time?’

  ‘I thought I’d bring them along,’ replied Alexander, sounding as patient as possible.

  Henry looked at his watch, then disdainfully at his sister, then at her guest, then at Christine. He took his time.

  He sighed as he pronounced, ‘The public will be gone in about fifteen minutes, which will make it easier to get to the east wing. Until then let’s enjoy a drink, come on in, Stephanie, do join us, please. Let’s do that and I’ll take you over myself, Alexander.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ said Alexander.

  ‘It’ll be Henry while you’re under my roof. I assume Clemmie has invited you for the night?’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ called his sister. ‘Will you tell someone in the kitchen we’ll be here for dinner and make sure some rooms are made up for us? Or could your little helper, Steffy, do that for us?’

  Christine noticed that Alexander relaxed a little as Clemmie referred to ‘rooms’ in the plural, and also felt the anger with which Henry jumped in with, ‘I’ll do it, Clemmie. Stephanie will help herself to a drink, and will pour one for me, while I call for Edward. We don’t need to have rooms made up for you. You know very well that your apartment is always ready, Clemmie. I’ll make sure that someone airs out a place for Alexander.’ He looked Alexander up and down. ‘Have you come able to dress? Or will it have to be a lounge suit for dinner?’

  Alexander nodded. ‘I can accommodate black tie.’

  ‘Good,’ said Henry and nodded happily, ‘because my mother and her weekend guest will also be dining with us, and she likes to keep standards as high as possible. I like black tie and don’t often get the chance to wear it anymore. I’ll confirm with Edward and Mother. I say,
why don’t you join us too, Stephanie? You’ve never dined with us before. I think it would be rather fun. We’d all make quite the party.’

  ‘An odd number at table, Henry? How very nonconformist of you,’ snarled Clemmie. ‘I wonder how long you’ve been waiting for a chance to get Steffy and Mummy with their trotters in the same trough?’

  Christine wondered if Clementine had been a poisonous little girl, because she certainly had venom to spare as an adult.

  Stephanie Timbers rose to the challenge like a trooper. ‘I’d be honored and delighted, Henry, thank you’ she replied quietly. She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll need to drive back to the village to change, it won’t take me too long, but maybe I won’t have that drink after all.’

  ‘Right – what’s that you have poured there, Stephanie? A G and T? Excellent, I’ll have that one, and you can have something soft. I’ll ask Edward to arrange a room for you tonight too, then you can have a glass or two with us all at the dinner table.’

  Stephanie looked a little panicked. ‘Oh, no, please don’t do that. I can quite easily get a car back to my house after dinner and up again in the morning. I’ll ring Davies the taxi to book one.’

  Henry’s voice sounded unusually assertive to Christine’s ear as he said, ‘If you insist upon going home after dinner, Stephanie, I’ll get Ian Cottesloe to take you. He’ll be driving Mother and her guest back to the Dower House in any case. So he can run you back to the village. How about that?’ It was clear to everyone in the room that Henry wanted Stephanie to join the group for dinner, but didn’t want to put her in an embarrassing situation.

  Stephanie Timbers acceded to Henry’s suggestion with humility and grace. Christine couldn’t help but wonder how the dowager herself would deal with the dining arrangements, but she realized it wasn’t her problem. Indeed, it could turn out to be an interesting evening.

  ‘I say, Clemmie, aren’t you getting hot sitting in that sunshine?’ said Henry much more jovially than Christine had heard him before. ‘Come and join us over here, why don’t you? Please, everyone make yourselves comfortable.’

  Clemmie unwound herself from her chair and trudged across the room. She slid into another seat, closer to the drinks table, where she lit a cigarette and began to blow smoke circles toward the ceiling. ‘Don’t tell Mother I’m here, Henry. Let it be a surprise?’

  ‘It might give her a shock, rather than surprise,’ replied her brother.

  ‘Oh, hardy-har-har, Henry,’ snapped Clemmie.

  Christine exchanged a glance with Alexander that was surprisingly empathetic, then, as they both flushed, they attended to their drinks.

  The silence in the sitting room was deafening, but neither Christine nor Alexander felt able to broach a topic of conversation. It was clear that Stephanie and Henry were equally stumped, and Clemmie was in her own little world. Eventually Alexander set down his glass, having rather rushed his drink, making it clear to his host that he was ready to move as soon as Henry saw fit to take him on the expedition to see the antique dentures.

  Stephanie took her cue and announced, ‘If it’s all right with everyone, I’ll head off to change for the evening.’

  Henry sprang to his feet. ‘But of course. We’ll see you later. I’ll ask Ian to collect you and bring you here before he drives Mother over, that way your car will be at your house for the morning.’

  Having removed any possible concerns on the part of Stephanie, Henry waved her farewell, checked his watch once more and announced, ‘Right then. Let’s go. Are you going to join us, Christine? Clemmie?’

  Christine smiled and stood, while Clemmie threw her brother a glance that quite clearly told him she didn’t want anything to do with the whole thing.

  ‘When will you stop acting like a teenager, Clemmie?’ said Henry as he exited the sitting room, leading Christine and Alexander on their way.

  ‘As soon as you stop treating me like one,’ called his sister after the threesome.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Henry guided Christine and Alexander to the main entryway, then across to the wing opposite the one they’d just left. It appeared to Christine that the only security measure preventing the public from doing exactly as they were was another of the hall’s red velvet ropes.

  ‘We don’t use this wing much anymore,’ explained Henry as he wound them through a couple of doors and corridors, all of which contained items of furniture and decoration hidden beneath ghostly dust sheets. ‘As you can see …’ He waved his arm toward shuttered windows and gloomy rooms that had once gleamed with the light from chandeliers, which hung, bagged up like monstrous chrysalises, from the dark ceilings.

  Having led them up a staircase, clicking switches as they went, Henry finally stopped in front of an unassuming door. ‘Here we are,’ he announced. He opened the door which groaned on its hinges, then stepped aside to allow Christine to enter, which she did with some reluctance.

  The room was not large and had an unpleasant odor. Christine sniffed, as did Alexander.

  Henry pushed them a little as he shuffled in and felt about the wall for something that would bring the room some much needed illumination. Eventually, a couple of rows of rather ancient fluorescent tubes burst into sputtering, humming life.

  ‘Oh, good, they still work,’ was Henry’s surprised comment.

  The room had a high-coffered wooden ceiling and was filled with cabinets made of dark wood and glass. It reminded Christine of the Victorian schoolrooms where she’d spent so many years. A patina of age coated everything and the smell in the room developed to that of burned dust as the lighting heated up.

  Henry’s nose wrinkled. ‘I say, I’m terribly sorry. I think that something has … well, died in here at some time. Probably a small rodent, or maybe a bird?’ He didn’t sound too sure of himself.

  ‘I think you’re right. But probably a very long time ago,’ replied Alexander. He was almost salivating at the sight which met his eyes. He was imagining the wonders in the cabinets.

  He looked to his host and said, politely, ‘Would you mind if I began to wander?’

  Henry laughed. ‘Please, make yourself at home. I must confess that I haven’t been in here for many, many years. I recall that my grandfather would bring me here and try to engender in me the same enthusiasm he felt for these objects, but, although I remember thinking that they were at once repulsive and funny, I never really became as involved in the collection as he was. My father had no time for this whole thing, so I think it’s rather fitting that I should be opening up the room for someone like yourself, with a real passion for this type of thing. The last time we opened it up was for the youth from the village to visit. Some years ago now. Maybe a dozen. I recall that the boys were especially entertained. What about you, Christine? Does this appeal to you?’

  Christine was always happy to consider new interests, but she had to admit that she didn’t think that ancient dentures would be finding its way onto her list of ‘must do’ hobbies. ‘I’ll follow and learn,’ she answered, which clearly pleased Alexander.

  Christine noted that Alexander Bright moved like a man possessed. He began by flitting from cabinet to cabinet, reading the yellowing typewritten labels, clearly getting the overall idea of what the room held. Then he made straight for a small cabinet which sat upon a dusty mahogany table.

  ‘Look, you really do have them,’ he said with a beam on his face. ‘A set of Winston Churchill’s dentures.’

  Christine looked inside the cabinet as Alexander wiped off the worst of the dust with a silk pocket handkerchief.

  ‘Is that plate made of gold?’ asked Christine.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Alexander with an almost quivering voice. ‘The plates were cast in gold, from molds taken by his dentist, Wilfred Fish, though the dentures were made by the dental technician, Derek Cudlipp.’

  ‘Fish was my grandfather’s dentist,’ said Henry. ‘He told me when I was a boy. Ha! I didn’t remember that at all until you mentioned his name. Imagine that! I
believe that’s why we have them. My grandfather recommended him to Churchill. They knew each other, of course.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ replied Alexander eagerly. ‘These are wonderful. Just wonderful. Look, you can see from the porcelain facings that he actually used these. See the wear, where they met his natural bottom teeth?’

  Christine could feel the heat of Alexander’s body as she drew close enough to the small cabinet to see the evidence to which he referred. She noted he smelled of a subtle and rare cologne which she recognized as being only available from one very exclusive shop on Savile Row. A friend of her brother also favored it.

  ‘I see,’ she breathed. ‘They are quite beautiful.’

  Alexander stood bolt upright. ‘Without these dentures, made to fit in a very precise manner, Winston Churchill would have lost his distinctive voice. Did you know he suffered from a speech impediment that meant he couldn’t pronounce his “s” or “sh” sounds properly? Something he eventually learned to use to his advantage during his triumphs of oration.’ Alexander spoke with the enthusiasm of a zealot, which took Christine aback somewhat. She wondered why this man with his even features, excellent physique, and enigmatic skin tone felt such a connection to a British hero with a speech impediment.

  ‘He used to flick them out of his mouth and use them as a comical projectile,’ added Alexander laughing, then he moved to another cabinet, upon which a large sign read: ‘Waterloo Teeth.’

  Pulling the set from his pocket with one hand, Alexander wiped dust from this cabinet too, though there was a good deal less on this one.

  ‘What a collection,’ he said in amazement. He stood and looked in awe, nodding his head, then moved around the cabinet, peering more closely. He looked puzzled, then called to Henry. ‘Henry, when did you say you last saw this collection?’