A Death in the Wedding Party

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘Yes,’ I said and I meant it.

  What would have happened next I do not know, but the front door bell rang.

  ‘Stapleford and Tipton.’ Rory uttered their names as if they were the worst swear words he knew. He caught my hands and held them tightly. ‘You said yes,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’

  I smiled up at him. ‘I meant it.’

  Rory stopped with the door half open. ‘Leave it to me to tell them? We’ll need to pick our moment.’

  I nodded. ‘I can’t afford to lose this position – my family.’

  ‘I know, love. I’ll make it right.’ He winced. ‘We may have to wait until after Richenda’s wedding.’

  I sighed. ‘I think that is beyond doubt.’

  The doorbell rang again. Rory nodded and closed the door behind him. I realised this would doubtless be the first time the door of Stapleford Hall had been answered on the second ring. I was deeply glad it was my fault.

  I made my way towards the kitchen to see how Mrs Deighton was coping. ‘My stepmother!’ bellowed Lord Stapleford from the hallway. I heard the quiet murmur of Rory’s reply. ‘Looks like you’ll have to run the gauntlet, Baggy.’

  ‘I think we can drop the nickname now, don’t you?’ said Tipton in a stronger tone than I ever remember him using, ‘Your sister doesn’t like it.’

  ‘What rot! Let’s go meet the mater.’

  ‘I have met her before.’ The voices were crossing the hall now.

  ‘Yes, but not as a prospective member of the family.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything prospective about now, old boy,’ said Tipton. ‘Once I had the venue sorted I put in straight in The Times. Should be in the evening edition.’

  ‘Blast it, man. You haven’t even told me.’

  ‘I can assure,’ said Tipton sounding exceedingly smug, ‘you’ll be pleased.’

  ‘Not gone and rented Westminster Abbey or some such place, have you?’ said Sir Richard. I could hear he sounded nervous. It occurred to me he felt obligated to foot the bill. I entered the kitchen with a spring in my step. ‘How goes it, Mrs Deighton?’

  Our cook looked up from the big range, which was covered in pots and pans. Her face ruddy and slick with sweat, she nodded grimly. ‘They’ll be having a fine meal tonight. One of them posh London hotels couldn’t do better. But Lord knows I’ll have to get Daisy off to the market first thing tomorrow or there won’t be in a thing in the house to eat tomorrow night. I’m even using Mr Bertram’s pigeons. He always was a good shot. Not a lot of lead in them.’

  ‘Doesn’t that mean he almost missed,’ I said, but I had already lost the cook’s attention.

  Merry reported that she’d had the gentlemen’s rooms in order for a couple of days and would prefer, if I had no objection, to do the turn-downs and last-minute niceties while they were at dinner. ‘I know one of ’em about to be married ’n’ all,’ she said bluntly, ‘but it’s never stopped no toff to my knowledge trying to feel up a maid.’

  ‘Quite,’ I said repressively. ‘I’m sure you know how to attend to the gentlemen discreetly and invisibly.’

  ‘If I do get spotted I just lift up my skirts and leg it,’ said Merry. ‘You’d better to the same too, Daisy.’

  Daisy’s face had healed well. She was lucky. However, she had developed a habit of starting at any loud noise. ‘I think we’ll take Daisy off the upstairs work,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind, Daisy, I think I’ll assign you to the kitchen for a while. Mrs Deighton is going to need a lot of help with supplies and readying meals. We really have more than enough maids to deal with the extra work upstairs, but down here it’s going to be tight.’ A worried frown formed on the girl’s face. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘you’ll still be paid as a maid and you will return to those duties in future once we know what the house requirements will be after the wedding.’

  ‘You mean the staff will be changing?’ asked Mrs Deighton.

  ‘I really have no idea,’ I said. ‘When I hear whether the Tiptons will be making their home here, or taking staff elsewhere, I will tell you.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll be expected to act as lady’s maid,’ said Merry grouchily.

  ‘I think not,’ I said. ‘Lady Stapleford has brought a maid with her, Suzette. I wouldn’t be surprised if she also tended to Richenda.’

  ‘Oh that’s good,’ said Merry in a tone that clearly indicated it wasn’t and flounced off. Merry might dislike being at Richenda’s beck and call, but there had often been gifts of old scarves, hats, gloves and on occasion even money as extra perks. Richenda might sway with her moods, but with Merry she could be exceedingly generous.

  However, later in the evening, Richenda did call on Merry’s services. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had taken to Suzette about as well as I had. Time also showed I had been right in believing the maid would send down for food rather than join us. Mrs Deighton huffed about it, but she was a creature of habit and much preferred the normal evening arrangements.

  We always ate before the family and this night our meal was more rushed than normal. Rory and I sat opposite each other, stealing glances and smiles when we hoped the others weren’t watching.

  Of course, we served dinner together. Every time we brushed past each other or our fingers touched in the passing of a dish I felt electric tingles run up and down my spine. I knew such feelings belonged between the pages of a bad gothic romance, such as I had had to hide under the bed from my mother when I was younger, but I didn’t care. Mr Bertram broke in on my thoughts. ‘Euphemia is there anything wrong? You don’t seem yourself.’

  ‘Bertram, honestly, don’t address the servants during dinner unless you need more peas,’ said Lady Stapleford.

  Bertram didn’t answer his mother, but I felt his eyes following me for the rest of the meal. I tried desperately to think solely of the fish sauce and keep my blushes in check.

  The meal seemed interminable, but finally Tipton stood up and called for champagne as he had an announcement to make.

  ‘Finally,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I take you are going to tell us where you have arranged the wedding and not make some maudlin speech about your bride-to-be. Because if you are, you can damn well make do with claret.’

  ‘Richard,’ said Lady Stapleford sternly, ‘why is the wedding not being held here?’

  ‘Because Richenda wants to invite more people than we can decently house,’ said Sir Richard. ‘Wants a great show by all accounts.’

  ‘I am in the room,’ said his sister dangerously.

  Rory slid silently into place with the ice buckets. Sir Richard gave a careless one handed gesture and Rory opened the bottles and began to disrupt the drink.

  Tipton stood up. ‘I am proud and happy to announce that after discussing matters with my extended family we have decided the best way to welcome my bride is hold the wedding at The Court!’

  There were gasps from around the table. ‘You mean your grand-uncle, the Earl, has agreed to host Richenda’s wedding?’ asked Lady Stapleford in a faint voice.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tipton, ‘and, my dear, you can have as many damned wedding guests as you please.’

  ‘Oh Tippy,’ cried Richenda, launching up to throw her arms around her betrothed’s neck and incidentally spilling blackcurrant sauce all over the fine white linen tablecloth, ‘Oh Tippy!’

  ‘For Heaven’s sake, Richenda, think of your poor father’s memory and have some decorum,’ snapped Lady Stapleford. ‘It is very kind of Tipton’s great-uncle to offer, but …’

  ‘I am having my wedding at The Court!’ said Richenda, ‘and nothing you can do will stop me. We are not even blood.’

  Lady Stapleford stood up. ‘Am I to be so insulted in my house?” she asked looking directly at Bertram.

  ‘I’m afraid I took the liberty of sending the notice to The Times,’ said Tipton. ‘It would look very awkward if we cried off now.’

  ‘But we have not even decided the date,’ said Lady Stapleford.

  ‘
My birthday,’ said Richenda.

  ‘I can see when I am not needed,’ said Lady Stapleford.

  ‘Stepmother,’ appealed Sir Richard, ‘my twin is over-excited. I expect she never thought it would happen. Her getting married.’

  ‘Richard,’ cried Richenda. ‘How dare you. I’ll have you know I’ve had more than one offer. I was waiting for the right man.’ She gave Tipton a look so sickening I feared it would clot the custard. ‘Besides I have news of my own. As you all know I went to a most excellent finishing school and while I was there I was invited on a weekend away, where I met a certain personage.’

  ‘Is this going to be a long story, Richenda,’ said Bertram, casting a nervous look at his still upright mother, ‘only I don’t think now is quite the time.’

  ‘A certain personage of a Royal Household,’ continued Richenda in a loud voice. ‘Her Royal Highness ----- (I apologise to my readers, but for reasons that will become clear I cannot in good faith name the person in question) ----- and she has agreed to be my chief bridesmaid.

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Lady Stapleford, and collapsed down in her seat. ‘Who did you say, Richenda?’

  Richenda repeated the name. Tipton clapped. ‘Oh jolly good, old girl,’ he cried. ‘This will set the mater and my great-aunt up. They were a little concerned … But never mind that now. Where’s your telephone thingy, I must let them know.’

  ‘If you will follow me, Mr Tipton,’ I said and led him from the room. I ached to return to the dining room and watch the fallout from this discussion, but now the champagne had been served it was up to the footman to clear the dishes when the ladies withdrew. My duty lay with making sure the tea was laid waiting for them and that there was more cake. Richenda always wanted more cake.

  Chapter Seven

  In Which Things Start to Unravel

  I observed from within one of the copious hidden passageways the entrance into the drawing-room. Observed is perhaps a little overstating the matter. The passageway led directly to the kitchen, opening with a false section of wall into the drawing-room. I had the opening perhaps a quarter of an inch ajar and my eye pressed to the opening. It was highly unprofessional, but I wanted to see how things unfolded.

  I could see Lady Stapleford’s elbow moving over the tea-tray. ‘My dear Richenda, as you sadly have no mother alive, I feel I must do my duty by you as your poor father would have wished,’ was her opening salvo.

  ‘That is so kind of you, Stepmama,’ answered Richenda. ‘After all I know you well you always advocated for me when father and I were estranged.’ I could imagine the bitter smile on her face. Lady Stapleford had wanted nothing to do with Lord Stapleford’s twins. They were a reminder there was a wife before her and more painfully that her beloved, Bertram, was not the elder son of the house as she undoubtedly felt he should be. Though, to be fair, Bertram had never showed any such ambition, preferring to shun the family business and manage his own affairs. Thinking about Bertram was unaccountably making me uncomfortable, so I pushed all thoughts of him aside and peered closer.

  ‘Richenda, I am aware your father sent you to an excellent finishing academy, but you have not, I believe, kept up with fashionable society. I think you said your chief bridesmaid wasn’t actually a pupil at the academy. How close has your communication been?’

  ‘We have exchanged letters from time to time. Her Highness has an interest in rescuing fallen women in her own country.’

  ‘How laudable,’ said Lady Stapleford making it quite clear she meant exactly the opposite. ‘But she hasn’t visited you recently? She certainly didn’t visit the Hall when I was in residence. In your own mother’s time?’

  Richenda made a non-committal and unladylike grunt.

  ‘And the company she met you in, was unexceptional?’

  ‘Father arranged for me to stay with the cousin of a girl at the school.’

  ‘So not even a fellow pupil. I see.’

  ‘You see what, Stepmama? Enlighten me.’

  If I had been Lady Stapleford I would have stepped outside teapot-throwing range at the tone in Richenda’s voice.

  ‘I mean, Richenda, that you are, to phrase it in vulgar parlance, marrying up. Tipton might be –well – might be what he is, but he is directly connected to an earldom. You, my dear, are the daughter of a hereditary peerage that is only in its second generation. You may have money, but you smell of trade.’

  ‘How … how dare you?’

  ‘Easily, my dear. As my whole family was aware I married down.’

  ‘For money,’ said Richenda. Her voice was tight,

  ‘Indeed,’ replied Lady Stapleford, ‘as your Tippy is doing. I own it quite freely. I prefer luxury to elite poverty.’

  ‘Other than insulting me, Stepmama, is there a point you are attempting to make?’

  ‘It is merely this, my dear. Once your ‘friend’ has checked your connections, or rather once her family have, I think it very unlikely she will consent to come to your wedding at all. No matter whose home you might borrow.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ snapped Richenda. ‘You don’t know her.’

  ‘And neither do you. You have some fleeting acquaintance based on dabbling in charity for some romantic high ideals, but the real world is about practicalities and position. I tell you she will not be allowed to attend.’

  There was a short pause. ‘I do not believe you to be right,’ said Richenda, but I could hear the doubt in her voice.

  ‘Then we will say no more about it,’ said Lady Stapleford. ‘Time will tell which of us is right.’ She nibbled the edge of a cake, swallowed, and then said, sugar dripping from her voice, ‘Such a pity you told Tipton before me. I could have predicted he would head straight off and tell his family. Anything to shore up your reputation. Such a gentlemanly thought. Quite unlike him.’

  I edged further back into the passageway and let the door close completely. The conversation had become too uncomfortable for even my curiosity. I headed back into the kitchen which was awash with dirty dishes and people scurrying about. There was no sign of Rory or any of the upstairs maids. I decided I had wasted enough time and went to check that everything upstairs was in readiness. I hoped to avoid Suzette. I had yet to think of a stratagem to deal with her blunt rudeness.

  The maids had done their work well. There was nothing for me to correct. I was about to depart down the servants’ stair when a door opened. ‘’Ere, you up here to take me tray?’ Suzette stood in the doorway of her mistress’s room, her hands on her hips.

  ‘No,’ I said calmly. ‘It would not be usual for a housekeeper to wait on any servant in this or any house.’

  ‘So ’ho the bleeding ’eck is going to take it away ’cos I don’t think my lady would like the smell of this greasy fish sauce stinking up her room.’

  ‘If you choose to take your meals away from the rest of the staff, then it would be expected you would do so in your own room.’

  ‘You mean that pokey little attic cupboard, you’ve given me?’

  ‘If you are unhappy with your accommodation then we can look at things in the morning. I am afraid it will not be possible to move you tonight. And I imagine no one has come to take your tray as no one would have imagined you would have thought it fit to eat in your mistress’s rooms.’

  Suzette gave a loud sniff. ‘Well, seeing as you’re here, you can take it.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘it is not my place. You may speak to Daisy about the delivery of your meals.’

  ‘Not your place,’ sneered Suzette. ‘I’ve ’eard a lot about your place. Your position. You ain’t no different from me.’

  ‘To be sure, we are all God’s creatures,’ I said and made my escape down the staircase. A ringing “’Ere, you!” followed me, but I chose to ignore it.

  Back on the ground floor I made my way to the butler’s pantry. Rory was counting out the silver that had been used at dinner. He looked up at my entrance and his whole face came alight. ‘Sure, you’re a bonnie sight.’

  I
closed the door behind me. ‘We must be careful,’ I said. ‘I don’t think things are going well upstairs.’

  Rory stood and took my hands in his. ‘Sure, why would they not be. They’ve a wedding to celebrate. A grand house to hold it in and a bride and groom, who seems pleased to be together.’

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Rory all I had overheard, but as I looked into his luminous green eyes and saw the affection there, I could only think of how they would cloud over if he knew I had been interesting myself in the affairs of my betters. Each to their own world was very much Rory McLeod’s rule. So I smiled and said, ‘I don’t know. I think people always get a bit edgy before weddings, so many things to organise.’

  He drew me closer, let go of my hands and wrapped his arms around me. I found his shoulder was at the exact right height to rest upon, ‘Well, I can tell you, lass, there will be no troubles before our wedding. My family will adore you. And I must meet your mother. I suppose I should also be asking your little brother’s permission to marry you,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Do you think that would get him on my side or would a quarter of jellybeans be a better way into his good books?’

  I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. For all his mischievousness, Little Joe was the apple of my mother’s eye and had imbibed all of her ideas about class. He thought my pretending to me a maid was a grand, romantic adventure, but he would not understand my decision to marry out of my class.

  ‘Euphemia? Is there something wrong? Do you not want me to meet your family? Am I not good enough?’

  I put my hand up to touch his face. ‘Not good enough? You are the best man I have ever met. Anyone should be proud to welcome you into their family.’ Should be. I did believe that, but I also knew that they would not be. Perhaps Lady Stapleford and I had more in common than I might wish.

  ‘Then what’s wrong?’

  ‘Suzette,’ I said, ‘Lady Stapleford’s maid. She is openly rude and clearly does not respect my authority.’