A Season of Secrets

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘And it’s about time you were sieving it,’ Cook said to her sharply. And then, to Carrie, ‘Jack and Wilf have told us what happened. Do you want a mustard-bath mixture made?’

  ‘You have enough on your hands at the moment, Cook. I’ll do it.’

  She walked across the kitchen, opened the door of a tall cupboard and took down from the shelves baking soda, mustard powder, peppermint oil, rosemary oil and eucalyptus oil. As she combined all the ingredients she could hear Ena, now sieving energetically, say, ‘Can I add the eggs now, Cook? I know it’s one whole egg to every three yolks. I won’t make a mistake, I promise.’

  Carrie smiled to herself, remembering how keen she had been at Ena’s age to progress from mundane tasks to more interesting ones, no matter how small the step of progress was.

  Swiftly she combined her ingredients and then, covering the bowl with a clean teacloth, she hurried out of the kitchen with it.

  ‘Blasted rabbit!’ were the first words she heard as she entered the bedroom that had been allocated to the general. ‘Bloody vermin! What the devil is Lady Markham’s gamekeeper doing, not keeping the land free of ’em? The man needs to be given his marching orders!’

  Carrie, who had a very different opinion of Ted Ramsden, Monkswood’s gamekeeper, pursed her lips and then, when she knew her feelings wouldn’t show in her voice, said to the general’s harassed valet, ‘A foot-bath of hot water from the bathroom, please,’ and to the General, ‘A half-hour mustard-bath will soon ease the pain and reduce the swelling, sir.’

  Elphinstone glared at her. ‘I’d taken out twenty-six pheasants on the second drive of the afternoon! If it hadn’t been for the blasted rabbit hole, I’d have bettered that on the last drive. Bloody rabbits! Bloody vermin!’

  He made no attempt to apologize for swearing in front of her, and Carrie reflected that when it came to good manners, General Elphinstone could have learned a lot from Ted, who would never, in a million years, have sworn in front of any woman, no matter what her class.

  The valet came back into the room with the foot-bath of hot water and Carrie ladled into it a generous amount of the mixture she had made.

  ‘The foot and ankle need soaking for at least half an hour,’ she said to the valet. ‘When this first lot of water begins to cool, replace it with hot, and each time you do so, add a fresh ladle of mustard mixture.’

  Still indignant at the high-handed way General Elphinstone had said that Ted needed his marching orders, she made her way down the back stairs to the room that had once been Mrs Appleby’s office and, now that Mrs Appleby was an invalid, was accepted as being her office. For the last few months she and Ted had been ‘walking out’. To ‘walk out’ with anyone had not been an easy decision for Carrie. Ever since Gilbert had taken her to the House of Lords four years ago, she had known she was in love with him – and that it was a hopeless love.

  Not long after her trip to London, Ted had asked her if she would like to spend one of her days off with him. ‘I have a motorbike and side-car,’ he’d said. ‘We could spend the day at Knaresborough. Visit Old Mother Shipton’s Cave.’

  She had turned the offer down and, because she liked him, had done so being careful not to hurt his feelings.

  When her next day off had been due, he’d made a similar offer, this time suggesting they go to a race meeting at Richmond. Again Carrie had turned the offer down – though this time with more reluctance, as she had never been to a race meeting and was certain it would have been good fun.

  Just when she thought he was never going to ask her out again, he had done so, and this time, after a lot of thought, she had said yes. She was, after all, twenty-seven years old. Nothing could come of her feelings for Gilbert. That being the case, if she wanted to marry and have children – and she did – then she had to begin accepting offers such as the ones Ted was making. She already liked and respected him and perhaps, if she was very, very lucky, from liking and respect, love would grow.

  Although it had done so on his part, it hadn’t done so on hers, but it had grown into deep affection, and she hadn’t liked hearing General Elphinstone malign Ted – especially when the remark had been so nonsensically unfair.

  There was a knock on her door and Cissie Calthrop, Lady Markham’s lady’s maid, entered the room. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Carrie, but the new tweeny has been found in the scullery in floods of tears. Apparently it’s not the first time. No one in the kitchen thought it was serious enough for you to be told about it, but the girl looks more than unhappy to me. She looks ill. I just thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Thanks, Cissie.’

  Cissie was nearer to being a friend than anyone else at Monkswood, and Carrie trusted her judgement. As Cissie went briskly on her way, Carrie left the room in search of Tilly Armstrong, Monkswood’s fifteen-year-old tweeny.

  ‘I’d like to speak to you in my office, Tilly,’ she said, when she found her. ‘You’re not in trouble, so please don’t look so worried.’

  ‘No, Mrs Thornton. Yes, Mrs Thornton,’ Tilly said, looking absolutely terrified.

  Carrie was accustomed to receiving respect from the staff she oversaw, but she was unused to inspiring terror – and didn’t like the sensation of having done so.

  Once the two of them were in her office she asked for tea to be sent in and then said gently, ‘I understand you’ve been found crying, Tilly. Are you unhappy at Monkswood?’

  ‘No, Mrs Thornton. Yes, Mrs Thornton. Only I wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t for . . . if it wasn’t for . . .’ Tears poured down her cheeks.

  ‘Is it the work? Do you not like being a tweeny?’

  Tilly knuckled her tears away and, as fresh tears replaced them, said, ‘It isn’t the work, Mrs Thornton.’

  ‘Then is everything all right at home, Tilly?’

  Tilly nodded vehemently. ‘Oh yes, Mrs Thornton. Mam and Dad are proud as Punch at my having a place here.’

  ‘And you’re not ill? You’re not feeling poorly?’

  This time Tilly gave an energetic shake of her head.

  Carrie bit her bottom lip, unable to think of what else could possibly be causing Tilly so much distress. In the end she said, ‘I was a tweeny here once, Tilly. Although I was often lonely, being away from my granny and from my friends, I was never unhappy in the way you are unhappy, and I would like to make things all right for you if I can. No matter what it is, I can promise you that if you tell me, you won’t get in trouble for having done so.’

  Tilly stopped crying and stared at her with hope in her eyes. ‘Do you really mean that, Mrs Thornton? Because he said . . . he said . . .’

  Seized by a sudden dark suspicion, Carrie took Tilly’s hands in hers. ‘Is someone making you do things you don’t want to do, Tilly? Is someone bullying you?’

  Tilly’s hands tightened on Carrie’s. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It’s Wilf Preen, Mrs Thornton. Whenever I have to pass him in a corridor and if no one is there to see, he touches me where he shouldn’t. And he said that if I told anyone, he’d tell everyone I’d let him do worse things than that to me, and if my mam and dad thought I’d done those things with him, it would kill them, Mrs Thornton.’ She began crying again, tears dripping onto her starched white apron.

  It was rare that Carrie was angry, but now anger flooded every vein in her body.

  She rose to her feet. ‘I want you to stay in my room until I return, Tilly – and I want you to stop crying and to stop being afraid. Wilf is never going to touch you again, and he most certainly isn’t going to spread lies about you to anyone.’ Then, with a white, set expression on her small pointed face, she set off to find Mr Briggs.

  Fifteen minutes later Mr Briggs, who had charge of the male staff at Monkswood just as she, on behalf of Mrs Appleby, had charge of the female staff, stared at her in great discomfiture.

  ‘I will severely reprimand Wilf, Mrs Thornton. I quite agree that it is reprehensible behaviour on his part and—’

  ‘Far too reprehensible to be d
ealt with by a mere reprimand, Mr Briggs,’ Carrie said, interrupting him. ‘Wilf is twenty-four years old, six foot four and as well built as a wrestler. Tilly is fifteen and weighs no more than a feather. He not only forced his attentions on her . . .’

  ‘Surely just a little horse-play, Mrs Thornton?’

  ‘. . . he blackmailed her. And if you regard as horse-play his touching her where no girl should be touched against her will, then you are very, very wrong, Mr Briggs. If you are not willing to fire Wilf, then I will have no option but to go over your head and explain the situation, and your reluctance to take action, to Lady Markham.’

  Briggs blanched. Lady Markham had a soft spot for Carrie, and he rather thought she would view Wilf’s behaviour with Tilly in exactly the same light as Carrie did. If that happened, his reluctance to take instant action would reflect badly on him. All of which meant that he was going to have to fire Wilf, and be a footman short until a replacement was found.

  ‘If that’s your judgement on the situation, Mrs Thornton,’ he said stiffly, hating having to give way to a housekeeper young enough to be his daughter, ‘then of course I will take the action you recommend.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Briggs.’ Carrie gave him a smile that went a long way to soothing his feelings. ‘Hopefully this will be a lesson to Wilf, and we won’t now have to worry about him treating other members of the female staff in the same offensive, bullying manner that he treated Tilly.’

  Later that evening, after the formal dinner was over and Carrie could at last relax, Ted put his head around her office door, as she had known he would.

  ‘Fancy a late-night stroll?’ he asked. ‘It’s a lovely clear night.’

  Late-night strolls together, well away from the house, were something they often discreetly indulged in.

  Fifteen minutes later they were skirting the wood at the edge of Monkswood’s parkland, Ted’s black Labrador at their heels.

  ‘Was it a good shoot today?’ she asked, her hands deep in her coat pockets for warmth.

  ‘Yes – apart from General Elphinstone’s mishap.’ Ted grinned. ‘The man created as if he’d broken his leg. How he managed at Passchendaele I can’t imagine.’

  ‘I don’t think generals were ever in the front line.’

  Ted, who had been eight when the Great War had broken out and so had missed his chance of fighting in it, grinned. ‘That’s the gossip, Carrie. And even if they were, I don’t think Elphinstone would have been among their number.’

  He lifted her gloved hand out of her pocket, interlocking her fingers with his. ‘Lord Rochdale’s offered me the job of head-keeper at his estate near Fylingdales. His shooting parties are far bigger than any held here. On a Rochdale shoot it’s not unusual to have a hundred beaters out at a time.’ He stopped walking, turning her to face him. ‘There’s a grand house goes with the job and it would be perfect for us, Carrie. All I need to know, before I accept the offer, is that you’ll finally consent to marry me and come with me.’

  All the welcome relaxation Carrie had been feeling ebbed away. She’d had a long day and gently telling Ted, yet again, that she wasn’t ready to marry him, was not the way she had wanted to end it.

  ‘I love you, Carrie,’ he said fiercely. ‘We’d be grand together, and when it comes to marriage, we’re both of us nearing thirty – me being a bit nearer to it than you. If we want to have bairns, we need to be getting a move on.’

  She looked up into his attractive, homely face and knew that as she couldn’t envisage a time when they could be moving on together, it was time she told him so with utter finality, so that he could begin walking out with some other young woman: one who would love him in the way he deserved to be loved.

  ‘I’m honoured that you want to marry me, Ted,’ she said gently, ‘but I’ve always meant it when I’ve said I’m not ready for marriage – and I never will be.’

  ‘But why, Carrie love?’

  He looked so mystified and disappointed that her heart hurt.

  ‘Because for as long as I can remember I’ve only been ready for marriage with someone else, Ted. Someone who doesn’t know I love him and who, even if he did know, couldn’t love me back because he’s not in a position to.’

  Ted stared down at her, thunderstruck. ‘Are you telling me you love someone who’s married?’

  She nodded. It was the first time she had admitted it to anyone and tears sprang to the backs of her eyes as she said, ‘Yes, Ted. And I love him far too much ever to be able to love someone else in the same way.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  In a Morgan sports car Thea drove from London to Fort Belvedere with mixed feelings. Generally the people Prince Edward surrounded himself with on his weekends there were not the kind of people she was much interested in, but he had been insistent that she spend some quality time with the woman around whom his world now revolved. ‘Wallis is the most wonderful woman, Thea,’ he had said enthusiastically. ‘And as you like Americans just as much as I do, I know the two of you will get along famously.’

  The ‘like Americans just as much as he did’ was a direct reference to Roz, and an even more direct reference to Thea’s on–off affair with Kyle. Edward had met Kyle several times and, a little over a year ago, when her affair with him had been going through one of its ‘on’ periods, they had spent a weekend at the Fort together in the company of Elizabeth and Bertie, Lady Cunard, Mr Esmond Harmsworth and Mr and Mrs Anthony Eden.

  Lady Cunard was a society hostess, Esmond Harmsworth was a newspaper magnate, and Anthony Eden was a government minister. That Wallis Simpson and her husband, Ernest, had been absent from the party had only been because Wallis had been visiting family in Baltimore.

  The little three-wheeled Morgan went like a rocket and Thea, suitably dressed in warm tweeds, headscarf, goggles and gauntleted leather gloves, liked driving fast.

  As she left London behind her and began speeding through countryside full of the autumn tints of red and gold, she wondered who, apart from Wallis and Ernest, her fellow guests would be this time. Edward hadn’t mentioned Kyle, but she wouldn’t put it past him to have invited Kyle, even though he knew they hadn’t been seeing each other for several months and that Kyle was presently squiring a blonde debutante around town.

  For a fleeting moment she wondered if Edward might have invited Kyle and his blonde. She dismissed the idea as soon as it entered her head. Edward wasn’t mischievous and, when he thought of Kyle, she knew he only did so in relation to herself – as did all her friends.

  It was her fault, of course. If, when she and Kyle had been going through a period of not seeing each other, she had taken up with someone else, her friends would long ago have stopped thinking of them as a long-term couple.

  Her problem was that although she had a lot of male friends, with none of them had she ever wanted to change friendship into romance. If she couldn’t have Hal, then she only wanted Kyle. And Kyle wanted marriage, and she simply couldn’t make that commitment; not when she still loved Hal so deeply that it was like a stab to her heart whenever she saw him.

  She changed gear, wondering if things would have been different if, over the last ten years, Hal had married. Would she then have been able to draw a line under her love for him and move on with her life? Was it because he was still very firmly a bachelor that she still lived in a world of hope?

  There were woods on either side of the road and she slowed down, eased the Morgan off the road and came to a halt. Taking off her gloves, she lit a cigarette, aware that if Hal had married Carrie, no line would ever have been drawn; instead, things would have been much worse.

  But Hal hadn’t married Carrie. He hadn’t married anybody.

  From a nearby tree a scattering of bronze leaves fell into her lap. Automatically she brushed them away. Was the reason Hal never formed a serious relationship with any of his long line of girlfriends because, deep down, he was still in love with her? Or was it because he wasn’t capable of long-term emotional attachment
to anyone, including her? It was a conundrum she had no answer for.

  She glanced down at her watch. She was only fifteen minutes away from the Fort and, not knowing if Kyle would be waiting for her when she got there and not knowing how she felt about that, she was in no hurry to arrive.

  Still with a cigarette in her hand, she stepped out of the Morgan. A short trudge in Gorton’s woodland nearly always cleared her head. Hopefully a short trudge in the Surrey woodland would be no different.

  She was wearing the sensible brogues she always wore for driving, and leaves crunched thickly beneath her feet as she wondered in all seriousness if, in affairs of the heart, she was suffering from some kind of genetic flaw and, if she was, if Roz suffered from it as well.

  It was little over a year ago now since Roz had ended her affair with Max, and although Barty Luddesdon was often Roz’s escort when she was in London, there was no hint that wedding bells would ever ring for them.

  Just as she couldn’t get over Hal and put him firmly in her past, so Roz was clearly incapable of doing the same thing where Max was concerned. In society’s eyes, both of them were on the shelf – and needlessly so, for Barty would, she was sure, have happily married Roz, just as Kyle would, given the chance, happily marry her.

  Of their childhood circle of five, only Olivia was married, and her marriage was flawed by her unhappiness at still being childless.

  She dropped her cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath her foot. Plunging her hands deep in the pockets of her coat, she began making her way back to her car, wondering what Blanche would have thought of their lives. Would the relationships between herself, Olivia and Violet have been smoother if Blanche were still alive? Her mother had always kept the peace between them and would, she was sure, have still been doing so. She wondered what her mother’s advice would have been where Kyle was concerned. Would she have advised Thea to marry him? And what would Blanche have thought of her beloved husband’s marriage to Zephiniah?

  Knowing her mother as she had, Thea knew she would have wanted Gilbert to marry again and to be happy. A foreknowledge that his second marriage would bring him deep unhappiness – unhappiness that he so unsuccessfully tried to hide – would have broken her mother’s heart.