But thinking of Orchard House led her back to Papa, and thinking of Papa led her back to the Baron, and that was no good at all. Sophie went back over to the desk, curled herself in her chair, and pulled the sheaf of documents decisively towards her. She must stop thinking about all that, and actually do something useful.
CASE NOTES, she read – but before she had got any further, there came an unexpected knock on the office door.
CHAPTER THREE
‘It’s only me,’ said a familiar voice, and Billy came into the room, bearing a stack of envelopes. ‘We’ve just finished downstairs. Mr Sinclair had the journalists eating out of the palm of his hand, of course. They’re ever so excited about the New Year’s Eve Ball. Here, I’ve brought up your post.’
Before he handed it over, he paused for a moment to shake his head at Sophie. Billy was always very keen to ensure that Taylor & Rose operated as professionally as possible. Though he continued to work in Mr Sinclair’s offices, reporting to Miss Atwood, he had been given permission to spend one day a week, helping Sophie and Lil with their new business. And that was a jolly good job, he was given to remark, since neither of them had the first idea of how an office ought to be run.
‘If you want Mr Sinclair to take you seriously, then you have to do things properly,’ he reprimanded Lil half a dozen times a day. Billy had been well trained by Miss Atwood, and in his book, doing things properly meant writing reports, filing documents, keeping careful accounts with neat red lines ruled in all the right places, and making sure their desks were always tidy. That was an easy enough matter for Sophie, who rather liked putting things in order, but an almost impossible task for Lil, who was forever surrounded by a jumble of crumpled papers and spilled ink. Most importantly of all, Billy said, they must always be ready to receive clients who might turn up without an appointment. Now he looked at Sophie disapprovingly. Sitting comfortably curled up in a chair was not what he considered properly businesslike.
But Sophie just grinned at him. ‘I don’t think we’ll get any new clients this afternoon,’ she said. ‘They’re all downstairs, choosing presents and buying delicious things to eat. Christmas just isn’t the season for mysteries. Why don’t you sit down? I’m sure Miss Atwood can spare you for a few minutes, and I was just going to make some tea.’
Appreciating the logic of this, Billy shrugged, and flopped down into a chair. ‘Oh – are those the notes from the Albemarle case?’ he asked with interest. ‘Let’s have a look.’
Sophie passed over the documents willingly, as she flicked quickly through the afternoon post. At first glance it all looked quite usual: two letters from clients that she put aside to read later; some bills and circulars; and the latest edition of Theatrical News for Lil, who combined working for Taylor & Rose with performing on the West End stage. But underneath them was a narrow envelope with a foreign stamp. She frowned. Surely that handwriting was familiar? She swiftly ripped the envelope open – but her gasp of surprise was stifled by the bang of the door opening again as Lil burst into the room, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
‘Hello, all!’ she announced breathlessly, casting off a stylish coat with a fur collar, and tossing a pair of new kid gloves carelessly down upon the chair. Whilst she might look very much the glamorous young actress these days, Sophie knew that underneath the fashionable clothes and hairstyles, Lil was just the same girl that she had been when they had met at Sinclair’s for the very first time. There could certainly be no doubt that she still talked just as much as ever, Sophie thought with a smile.
‘Gosh – I don’t think I’ve ever seen the store so busy before, have you? Oh yes, it all went quite well. Miss Balfour said she was awfully pleased with everything we’ve done – and she’s going to recommend Taylor & Rose to all her friends. I say, just look at how the snow is coming down! It makes it feel like it’s really Christmas. Isn’t it cosy in here? Joe’s on his way up and look – Leo’s come to tea with us. I’ve promised her cake, so I jolly well hope we’ve got some.’
Sophie saw that another girl, of about the same age, had followed Lil into the room. In her plain, dark coat, now speckled with melting snowflakes, Leo Fitzgerald could easily have been mistaken for any ordinary schoolgirl. But the big portfolio she carried, and a certain dreamy gleam in her brown eyes were clues to the fact that Leo was a promising young artist, currently studying at London’s prestigious Spencer Institute.
‘Hullo, Leo!’ exclaimed Billy.
‘Come and sit by the fire and get warm – it’s so cold outside,’ Sophie urged her. ‘I didn’t realise you were still in London – I thought you’d have already gone home for the Christmas holidays.’
Leo carefully set down her portfolio, and the cane she always used – a rather beautiful one, made from a rich, dark wood, with a handle carved into the shape of a lion’s head. ‘I’m going tomorrow,’ she explained, as she unwound her scarf. ‘Some of us students have been helping Mr Kamensky with the scenery for the New Year’s Eve Ball and there’s been an awful lot to do. But it’s been good fun – and truthfully I’ve been rather glad to have an excuse to stay in town a little longer. I’m in no rush to go home,’ she confessed. ‘In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you all about. I wondered whether you had plans for Christmas?’
Sophie did not answer at once. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. She knew that the others would be busy on Christmas Day: Billy would spend the day with his mum and Uncle Sid, and she expected that Lil and her older brother Jack would go home to see their parents. But she herself had no plans at all. ‘Oh – I think I’ll just have a quiet day,’ she had murmured, when Lil had pressed her. The truth was that she didn’t want to think about it. The idea of another Christmas without Papa was something that she couldn’t quite bring herself to contemplate.
Luckily no one noticed her reluctance to answer the question, for just then Joe came in, with Daisy at his heels.
Officially Daisy was the Sinclair’s guard dog, but Joe had looked after her ever since she had arrived at the store, and she considered him her owner. She slept on his bed in the rooms above the stables, and followed him wherever he went. When she was on guard duty, she could be fearsome, but the rest of the time she was gentle and playful, and loved nothing more than a frolic with Mr Sinclair’s little pug, Lucky. Now, she sniffed around the office, greeting each of them with an enthusiastic lick, and then laid one big paw on Sophie’s knee, tilting her head to the side, with a hopeful look at the chocolate box.
‘You know you aren’t allowed those, you daft dog. Come over here and sit down,’ said Joe, grinning around at everyone and settling himself next to Billy. Joe still worked in the Sinclair’s stables, but like Billy, he was very much part of Taylor & Rose. He was sometimes allowed to act as Sophie and Lil’s driver, accompanying the two young detectives on their investigations – with Daisy coming along to help too, of course.
‘Look, now we’re all here, just listen to this,’ Lil was saying excitedly, as she spooned tea leaves into the teapot. ‘Leo’s got a terrific idea! She wants to invite us – all of us – to spend Christmas with her at her home, Winter Hall! What do you think of that? Isn’t it awfully kind?’
Leo’s face flushed pink. ‘Well, I have to be honest – it’s not really very kind of me at all. The truth of it is, I’d have an awful time at home on my own. Mother and Father always have a big house party for Christmas, and they invite lots of society people. None of them have a single thing to say to me – except for my godmother Lady Tremayne, of course. You’d like her. She’s the one who persuaded them to let me go to art school in the first place. Anyway, Mother said that I could invite some of my own friends this year. I thought that if you would all come for a few days, it would be much better – rather fun, in fact.’
‘What about your brother? Won’t he be there?’ asked Lil, handing her a cup of tea.
Leo gave a little snort. ‘Oh yes, Vincent will be there all right. But he’s – well – you’ll see what he’s like for
yourself, if you come.’ She looked around at them all. ‘Do say you will. I know I haven’t made it sound very enticing, but Winter Hall is beautiful at Christmas – I’d love to show it to you. I’ve already asked Jack and he says he’ll come if you will.’
‘Well, thanks for the invite – but I reckon I can’t get away,’ said Joe, as he accepted a slab of the iced plum cake that Billy had found in the cake tin. ‘You see, even when the store’s closed, we’ve still got the horses to look after. Most of the other fellers want to go home to their families, so I said I’d stay on and look after things.’
Sophie gave him a quick smile. Like her, Joe was all alone in the world, with no family that would expect him on Christmas Day. It was just like him to volunteer to shoulder the work, so that the other stable boys and grooms would be free to go home to their loved ones.
‘Me neither,’ Billy was saying. ‘I’ve got Christmas Day off, of course, but apart from that, I’ll be here. There’s an awful lot still to be organised for the ball, you know – and Miss Atwood says I’m to expect to be rather busy. Besides,’ he added candidly, ‘Mum wouldn’t half be mad if I wasn’t at home for Christmas dinner. She’s already ordered the goose. You ought to come and have dinner with us, Joe, if you can. Mum’s a grand cook.’
‘Well I definitely want to come, Leo,’ said Lil, taking a second piece of cake. ‘I think it sounds perfectly marvellous. I’m starting rehearsals for a new play in January you know, which is set in a country house. It’s a mystery and my character – Daphne De Vere – is to be horribly murdered in the first act. Rather thrilling, don’t you think? This will be absolutely perfect for research!’ she exclaimed happily.
‘But won’t your parents mind, if you aren’t at home for Christmas?’ asked Billy.
Lil shrugged. ‘Neither Jack nor I are exactly in the good books with the Aged Parents at the moment,’ she explained. ‘Given all the fuss they made when they found out Jack had ditched Oxford to go and study art instead, I think it might be a jolly good idea for us to go elsewhere. Otherwise, I have a horrid suspicion that we’d probably end up spending Christmas having a big row. Not awfully festive.’
‘What about you, Sophie?’ asked Leo.
Sophie had been staring at her letter, a thoughtful expression on her face. At this question, she looked up suddenly.
‘I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,’ she said. ‘Winter Hall is somewhere near Norchester, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ said Leo, looking delighted. ‘It’s quite easy to get to. You can catch a train to the station in a village called Alwick, about ten miles away from the house. You really will come? How wonderful!’
It was a very merry tea. With the prospect of a jolly Christmas ahead of her, Leo was more animated than usual, her pale cheeks quite bright with excitement. Lil had a great many questions to ask – largely about what clothes they ought to bring with them, and what sort of things they would be having to eat. Meanwhile, Billy and Joe were curious to know what happened at a high society country house party at Christmas. ‘You’re bound to meet all sorts of important people,’ Billy said pragmatically. ‘It could be very useful for Taylor & Rose.’
Only Sophie was quiet, once or twice looking down at the letter again. At last, Leo said that she must go: she still had to pack before travelling to Winter Hall the next morning. It was agreed that Lil, Jack and Sophie would follow her once the office of Taylor & Rose had closed for Christmas, on the day before Christmas Eve.
As the door closed behind Leo, Lil looked at Sophie. ‘I wasn’t certain if you would want to go,’ she said frankly. ‘What happened to your plan for a quiet Christmas?’
‘Oh, I absolutely want to go,’ said Sophie. She pushed the letter over towards the other three. ‘Pour yourselves another cup of tea – and read this,’ she said.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lil took the thin sheet of writing paper, very much intrigued. She saw that it was covered in rather old-fashioned handwriting.
‘Read it out loud,’ urged Joe, and she began:
Calcutta, India
November 1909
My dearest Sophie,
I hope this finds you well – I have thought of you often, and I was very glad indeed to receive your letter. Thank you for youe kind enquiries as to my health & situation. I am quite well, although I must say that my new home here in India is quite unbearably hot, and I cannot accustom myself to the presence of so many Snakes and Insects and other Unpleasant Creatures. Mary, my new young charge is a little girl of seven years – rather sulky and spoilt by the sevants of the house, but beginning to show signs of improvement.
I have been very eager to write to you my dear, as I believe I have some information of importance to import. As you know, your Dear Papa had no living relations, and most of his friends were military gentlemen, serving abroad. However. I remember that your Dear Papa did tell me once of the name of a friend that we should contact in the event that anything should happen to him. This gentlemen, he told me, was an old trusted friend, now retired from Army life, and could be relied upon absolutely for help in his absence.
It was a long time ago, and it was rather a fleeting conversation. What is more, I must say that I did not care at all for the nation that anything Unfortunate might happen to your Dear Papa. However I wrote down the gentleman’s name, and then I must confess, I put it quite out of my mind. But the moment that I recalled this conversation, I went at once to look in my portmanteau, and at last, I found the name of the gentlemen – a Colonel Fairley, of Alwick House, near Norchester. Of cource, I felt most urgently the importance of communicating this discovery to you – but when I wrote to you at Mrs MacDuff’s boarding house (I must say, not at all a reputable-seeming establishment) my letter was returned to me in a quite deplorable condition, marked NOT KNOWN. As you can well imagine, I was very anxious for you. I had all but given up hope of tracing you until at last, your letter reached me. (As it happened by chance, the very next day I had sight of The Times of India, in which I was astonished to see a photograph of you. I was a little shocked and alarmed to hear that you are mixed up in such an extraordinary enterprise as a detective agency – although I, more than anyone, can understand that needs must.)
My dear, I can quite understand yout eagerness to learn more of your Dear Papa’s affairs. But I am afraid he told me little about his career – I know he had travelled widely, but he never once mentioned anything of Egypt.
I cannot tell you, my dearest Sophie, of how dreadfully I felt – and still do feel – at having to leave you to fend for yourself in such a manner. I shudder to think what your Dear Papa would have said at such a situation. I do hope that Colonel Fairley may be of some help to you. I can only hope that you will forgive me for my forgetfulness, and that this information may prove useful.
I beg of you to write to me again my dear, and I remain most affectionately yours,
Millicent Emily Pennyfeather
‘Millicent Pennyfeather – but who’s that?’ asked Lil, looking up from the letter, her eyes bright with interest.
‘My old governess,’ explained Sophie. ‘I wrote to her a few months ago, before we got mixed up in the theft of the dragon painting, but the letter must have taken a long time to reach her out in India. I really wanted to know whether she knew anything about Papa spending time in Egypt: remember that photograph of him in Cairo? It doesn’t sound like she knows anything about that – but she has remembered something else that could be important.’
‘This Colonel Fairley?’ asked Lil.
‘Yes – and look where he lives.’
‘Alwick House near Norchester – but that’s –’ began Billy.
‘Exactly,’ said Sophie. ‘Alwick is the name of the village close to Winter Hall. If we go there for Christmas, then I could pay him a visit!’
‘And he might know something – perhaps about your father’s time in Egypt, or even how the Baron knew your parents!’ finished Lil, her voice ringing with excitemen
t.
Sophie nodded vigorously. What she did not say was that even if Colonel Fairley proved to know nothing at all about her father’s time in Egypt, and had never even heard of the Baron, it would be enough just to speak to someone who had been Papa’s friend. It was a long time since she had been able to talk to anyone who had known him. As Miss Pennyfeather reminded her in her letter, she had no relations at all that she knew of, and sometimes she felt very alone. Looking at the others, sitting across from her in the cosy office – Lil, bursting with excitement at this new discovery, Billy carefully examining the letter, Joe sitting quietly, scratching Daisy’s ears, and thinking it all through – she felt very grateful indeed for her friends.
At that moment, Lil glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece and gave a little squeak of alarm. ‘Golly, Sophie – just look at the time! We ought to go, or we’ll be dreadfully late.’
‘Late? Where are you off to in such a rush?’ said Joe, as the two girls hustled into their coats and hats.
‘Oh – only our Sewing Society.’
Billy dropped the letter. ‘Sewing Society!’ he exclaimed in a disgusted tone. He had made it quite clear that he couldn’t imagine why Sophie and Lil would waste their evenings, sitting around with a lot of girls, fussing over silly bits of stitching, when they could be doing something really interesting – like working on new cases, or at the least reading an exciting detective story, like one of his favourite Montgomery Baxter tales.
‘Whatever you may think, it’s jolly important,’ said Lil primly. ‘We’re helping Connie and the suffragettes. And as a matter of fact, you might find it more interesting than you’d think.’ She smirked slightly at Sophie as she said this, then, in a different tone of voice, she went on: ‘You two wouldn’t mind just quickly tidying away these tea things before you go, would you? We have to dash, and I know it’s important to keep the office tidy and smart and all that sort of thing. Oh, I say, thanks awfully.’
The Midnight Peacock Page 3
