by T E Kinsey
‘Oh,’ said Mrs Brown, placing the pan on the range, ‘it’s you, Miss Armstrong. Come to join our merry band?’
‘Indeed yes,’ I said, breezily. ‘I was told Mr Jenkins would need some help upstairs.’ I had been told nothing of the sort, but I wasn’t going to give Mrs Brown an opportunity to co-opt me into her downtrodden kitchen brigade. ‘Is there somewhere I can leave my coat?’
‘Rose!’ she snapped. ‘Show Miss Armstrong to Miss Denton’s room, she can leave her coat there. Then come straight back here. No dawdling.’
‘Yes, Mrs Brown,’ said poor Rose, weakly, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Follow me, miss, I’ll show you the way.’
As she led me through the warren of subterranean corridors, I tried to engage her in conversation.
‘How long have you been working here?’
She plodded on forlornly. ‘’Bout two munfs.’
‘It’s early days yet,’ I said. ‘Things will get better.’
‘Will they?’ She was close to tears again. ‘I never thought it’d be like this. I can’t get anything right.’
‘I rather think the problem is with Mrs Brown, not with you. She hasn’t impressed me so far. I’m very much thinking of giving her a piece of my mind. All that shouting and banging. It’s not on.’
‘Oh, please don’t make trouble, miss. You don’t know what she’s like.’
‘I’ve met her sort before, Rose, don’t worry. I know how to deal with the likes of her.’
She didn’t seem reassured and when we arrived at Miss Denton’s room she simply gestured at the door and scuttled off as quickly as she could manage.
I knocked on the door.
‘Yes?’ said an imperious voice from inside.
I opened the door and poked my head round. Sitting in an overstuffed armchair with her feet on a stool, was a plump woman with greying hair swept up in an unfashionable style. Her face was set in a scowl. ‘Good afternoon,’ I said, cheerfully. ‘I’m Florence Armstrong, Lady Hardcastle’s lady’s maid. Mrs Brown suggested I might be able to hang my coat in your room.’
‘Come in,’ she said, more brightly, her face softening. ‘I’m Maude. Maude Denton. Lady Farley-Stroud’s lady’s maid. Pleasure to meet you.’
‘And you, I’m sure.’
‘I half want to say no, just to prove that bossy old biddy wrong, but I can’t take it out on you, my girl. Of course you can hang your coat in here. Join me for a cup of tea?’
‘I should love to, thank you.’
‘It’s just brewing now. Fetch yourself a cup from the shelf over there, there’s a good girl.’ She indicated a shelf above the small gas ring. ‘I gather you volunteered come over to help us with the party.’
‘That’s the plan, yes,’ I said, reaching for a cup and saucer.
‘What on earth possessed you to do something as silly as that?’
‘Well, it was this or sit at home on my own for the evening. This way I might get to listen to the band, at least. And I’m not exactly a volunteer. There was talk about “hiring” me for the evening.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t hold your breath, m’dear. If any payment is eventually forthcoming it’ll be grudgingly given and probably a penny or two short. Times is hard for the Farley-Strouds.’
‘Ah well,’ I said. ‘I’m here now. Have you any idea what I’ll be doing?’
‘Hiding out here with me for a couple of hours is your first duty, m’girl. Then when the heavy work has been done we shall swan imperiously about the place doling out soggy canapés and cheap sparkling wine as though they were the food and drink of the Olympian gods.’
‘That sounds like a workable plan,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you have any biscuits?’
‘Funny you should ask,’ she said, reaching into a cupboard behind her. ‘I happen to have snaffled a plateful from under Cook’s eternally grumpy nose this very morning. Help yourself.’
It was going to be quite a pleasant day after all.
It turned out to be a most pleasantly relaxing afternoon. Maude, who revealed herself to be a game old girl, had been excellent company and had provided me with more than enough household gossip to keep Lady Hardcastle amused for weeks, but eventually we had been rounded up by Jenkins and assigned our party duties.
I was, as predicted, given the task of mingling unobtrusively with a tray of limp nibbles and warm fizz. Other than that we were to direct guests to the facilities if asked and to keep them out of the library, which had been given over to the band to use to store instrument cases and to relax during their breaks. It wasn’t onerous work.
Clarissa had exhibited unaccustomed determination and had overridden her mother’s original choice of string quartet, insisting instead that Roland Richman’s Ragtime Revue be engaged – a London-based band of some repute – and had booked them herself at extremely short notice. Lady Farley-Stroud’s disapproval had been loud and hearty, but she had eventually been persuaded that it was not, despite her firm belief to the contrary, her night and that the young people would prefer something a little more lively and up to date. I was grateful to Maude for telling me all this – it made Lady Farley-Stroud’s loud exclamations of enjoyment and attempts to tap her feet appreciatively all the more entertaining.
Lady Hardcastle had made her customary unobtrusive entrance somewhere between the early arrivals and the stragglers and it wasn’t until nearly nine by the hall clock that we spotted each other and she came over to ask how things were getting along.
‘Not so badly, my lady,’ I said, proffering my tray. ‘Do help yourself to an over-salted snack and some champagne-style vin de table.’
‘I see a career for you as head waiter at the Ritz with a line of patter like that.’
‘Thank you, my lady. Have you been here long? Are you having fun?’
‘Oh, you know how it is. I’ve been to better parties, but I’ve been to far worse. Oh, but Clarissa’s London friends are quite fun. They seem to have adopted me as some manner of Eccentric Aunt figure so I’m not wanting for respectful admirers.’
‘Not a racy big sister, then?’
‘Sadly not. I think my Disreputable Aunt years are well and truly upon me. What of you? Have you knocked the staff into shape?’
‘There’s at least one I wouldn’t mind knocking on her derrière, but all is generally well, thank you,’ I said.
‘Splendid, splendid. Oh, look out, here comes Captain Summers.’
‘Bad news?’
‘Frightful bore. Newly returned from India.’
‘Ah, Lady Hardcastle, there you are. I thought I’d lost you,’ said a suntanned, luxuriantly-moustached man of about my own age.
‘What ho, Captain Summers,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No, not lost, just mingling. Armstrong, this is Captain Roger Summers. Captain Summers, my maid, Armstrong.’
‘Oh,’ he said with some bewilderment. ‘How d’you do.’ He turned quickly away from me and back to Lady Hardcastle. I curtseyed slightly, but politely, and melted a step or two backwards, invoking the servants’ mystical powers of invisibility.
‘Is this what parties are like back in Blighty these days?’ he blustered. ‘Not sure I’ve quite got the hang of it yet. And this dashed awful music? American, isn’t it?’
‘It’s quite the thing with the young people,’ she said. ‘Give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll like it.’
‘Bah. Give me a military band any day,’ he said, dismissively. ‘And this weather. So dashed cold.’
‘Oh, you Raj types and your silly complaints. It’s perfectly delightful weather.’
‘You were in India, weren’t you?’ he said. ‘Surely you noticed the difference.’
‘I was in Calcutta for a year or two, yes.’
‘What was your husband doing in Calcutta? Perhaps I knew him.’
‘My husband died in China before I got to India.’
Captain Summers was embarrassed. ‘I... er... I’m so sorry. I had no idea...’ Sadly, though, he didn’t quite k
now when to stop digging. ‘But does that mean you were in India on your own? Gracious me.’
‘Not alone, no. Armstrong was with me.’
‘Well I never. Alone in India. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘Then this must be a very exciting evening for you,’ she said, dryly.
‘What? Oh. Well, I ought to circulate, don’t you know. Got to put the old face about a bit. Try to be sociable and all that.’
‘Cheerio, Captain,’ she said brightly and turned to me. ‘Insufferable oaf.’
‘He’s just a little out of his natural environment,’ I said. ‘He’ll adapt soon enough.’
‘We’ll make a scientist of you yet, my girl. Yes, he might well adapt. Or become extinct. One can only hope.’
I was still laughing when Sir Hector came over with a gaudily dressed stranger. I melted into the background again.
‘Emily, m’dear,’ said Sir Hector, jovially. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘Enormous fun, Hector, yes. Thank you for organizing such a diverting evening.’
‘Bah! Not me, m’dear, it’s all down to the memsahib. I couldn’t organize m’sock drawer, what?’
She laughed with seemingly genuine delight.
‘But where are me manners? Lady Hardcastle, may I present Mr Clifford Haddock. Mr Haddock, this is m’good friend and neighbour, Lady Hardcastle.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ he oozed in an unpleasant, nasal voice.
‘How do you do,’ said Lady Hardcastle, offering a hand which he kissed ostentatiously. As she withdrew her hand, I could see her mentally counting her fingers to make sure none were missing.
‘Haddock’s in antiques, don’tcha know,’ said Sir Hector. ‘Come to appraise some of me knick-knacks, what?’
Poor old Sir Hector had a charmingly naïve talent for indiscretion, and I could imagine Lady Farley-Stroud giving him her most terrifying Gorgon’s stare for revealing their straitened circumstances.
‘He’s got some lovely pieces,’ said the oily antiques dealer. He looked Lady Hardcastle up and down. ‘And you look like a lovely piece yourself, my dear.’
Lady Hardcastle favoured him with a Gorgon stare of her own and Sir Hector, recognizing the danger contained in such a look, took him quickly by the elbow and began to steer him away.
‘I’m glad you’re having fun, m’dear,’ he said, ‘but I think we’d better circulate, what?’ He led Haddock away in the direction of another small group of people.
‘Another charming fellow,’ said Lady Hardcastle as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘Where on earth did they dig them all up? And why do they keep picking on me?’
‘It’s because you’re such a lovely piece,’ I said. ‘You’re bound to attract the nicer sort of chap.’
‘Is a lady still allowed to flog her servants? I’m sure there used to be a law that said I could.’
‘I couldn’t say, my lady, but I think that might be frowned upon in this day and age.’
‘Pity,’ she said. ‘Oh, I say, who’s that chap?’
She indicated an elegantly-dressed young man of Indian appearance whom Haddock had engaged in earnest conversation.
‘That, my lady,’ I said, eager to show off, ‘is Mr Bikash Verma, emissary of the King of Nepal and best friend of the prince.’
‘Gracious,’ she said, though whether she was impressed more by his exoticism or my own knowledge I couldn’t tell. ‘I never knew the Farley-Strouds were so well connected.’
‘I believe he’s an acquaintance of Miss Clarissa,’ I said. ‘Through one of her London friends.’
‘Well I never. It might yet turn out to be an intriguing evening,’ she said. She took a sip of her drink and grimaced. ‘I say, be a love and see if you can’t find me something nicer to drink. I bet he’s hidden the good stuff somewhere. Have a scout round and see if you can find me a brandy. I shall turn quite green if I have to sip any more of this sparkling cooking wine.’
‘Yes, my lady. I shall see what I can lay my hands on.’
The ballroom opened directly into the main entrance hall and I crossed to the corridor to the left of the grand staircase, on my way to the library. I had no real idea where to begin looking for brandy, but I wondered if the decanters full of the “good stuff” might be stashed in the one room where guests were expressly forbidden to go.
I arrived at the library door and reached for the handle and was startled to feel it pulled from my grasp by someone opening the door from within.
‘Oh, I say,’ said a strikingly pretty young woman. ‘I’m so terribly sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just fetching something from my bag. Didn’t expect there to be anyone about.’
‘Please don’t worry, madam,’ I said, thinking frantically. ‘I was just... checking that no guests had wandered into the library to interfere with the band’s things.’
‘It’s all safe and well, thank you. We’re being well looked after.’
And then I realized who she was. This was Sylvia Montgomery, the singer with the ragtime band.
‘I’m pleased to hear it, madam. May I say I’m enjoying the music very much. You’re very good.’
‘Why thank you, you’re very kind. I say, you couldn’t do a girl another kindness and tell me where I might find some decent booze, could you? I’m absolutely parched and champagne gives me a headache.’
‘Oh,’ I said, somewhat disappointed. ‘I’d been hoping to find something in there. I’m not actually on the staff here, I work for one of the Farley-Strouds’ neighbours.’
‘Come to steal their booze, eh? Don’t worry, I’ll not let on.’
I laughed. ‘Yes, my mistress sent me in search of brandy. The sparkling wine isn’t agreeing with her.’
‘I know how she feels, but I’m afraid you’re out of luck here, old thing. I turned the library upside down but there’s not a drop to be had. He’s got one of those old fashioned globe whatnots in there – you know the sort that opens up – but he’s taken all the liquor out.’
‘How very disappointing,’ I said. ‘Heigh ho, I shall have to continue my search elsewhere. The household servants are bound to know where I can find something.’
‘Bound to.’ She made to leave. ‘If you manage to track any down – scotch, brandy, even gin at a pinch – see if you can’t smuggle some onto the stage for us. We’ll make it worth your while.’ And with that she breezed off down the corridor, back towards the ballroom.
I walked in the other direction and went through the door that led downstairs to the servants’ domain.
Miss Denton’s door was shut, but there was a light coming from under the door. I knocked. There was a clatter of hasty tidying and then the imperious voice. ‘Yes?’
I opened the door and poked my head in. ‘What ho, Maude,’ I said. ‘Don’t mean to intrude.’
‘Flo!’ she said with evident relief. ‘You frightened the blessed life out of me. I thought you were old Jenkins come snooping.’
‘You’re hiding out?’ I asked, not terribly impressed by the idea of hiding in the first place one might be expected to be.
‘Just a quick break, don’tcha know,’ she said, gesturing towards the half-concealed glass on the side table. ‘A girl needs to wet her whistle.’
‘She does indeed. Is that brandy, by any chance?’
‘The very best,’ she said, proudly. ‘They hide it in here when they have guests.’
‘Well that’s a stroke of luck. I don’t suppose you can spare a drop? My mistress is desperate for something to take the taste of the fizz away.’
‘I expect we can sort her out, my dear,’ she said, slightly slurred. ‘They’ve not quite got round to marking the decanter. Not yet, at least. Fetch a glass from the shelf and we’ll transfer it to something more elegant upstairs.’
I did as she asked and left her to her brandy-fuelled shirking, wondering if anyone actually did any work in this household. Perhaps Mrs Brown had a right to be angry after all if she were the only one of them doi
ng her job.
I set off once more for the ballroom. I was wary lest I should be caught smuggling contraband cognac back to Lady Hardcastle in a servant’s glass but I encountered no one. I had to check my step a little as I rounded a corner and heard the library door closing, but whoever it was was on their way into the room and I decided that it was none of my concern. It did remind me that I’d been asked to undertake a little more smuggling on behalf of the musicians, but I really couldn’t face going all the way back to Old Ma Lushington and trying to snaffle some scotch from her secret stash. And when it came right down to it, she was responsible for the booze, and as idle as I was beginning to think her, I didn’t really want to get her into any trouble by pinching it. The band would have to play sober. If they could.
‘Armstrong!’ proclaimed Lady Hardcastle as I approached. ‘You’re an absolute gem. A proper little darling wonder. A servant beyond compare.’ Evidently, the sparkling wine’s unpalatable flavour hadn’t actually been inhibiting her consumption of it overmuch. ‘What?’ she said as I proffered the cheap glass filled with its expensive cognac. ‘No brandy balloon? I take it all back. You’re a slattern and an idler.’
‘It was all there was, my lady. Expediency is all in matters of larceny. Now if you’ll just stop hooting I shall find you some more elegant glassware and you can move onto “the good stuff”.’
‘Quite right. Quite right. Your reputation is saved.’ She swayed slightly and I looked around for a suitable glass. There being none to hand, I tipped the dregs of her wine into a nearby aspidistra pot – to judge from the vinous aroma issuing therefrom, I don’t think I was the first – and decanted the cognac into the empty glass.
She was loudly effusive in her thanks and appreciation of my attentiveness, and I left her singing my praises to a small group of Miss Clarissa’s friends as I once more sought out my tray of drinks and nibbles and set about serving as unobtrusively as possible and listening to the band. I had found a suitable spot just as an instrumental number ended.
