The Case of the Missing Morris Dancer

by Cathy Ace

  ‘It’s taken so long to get everything sorted out and arranged. I suppose it was your idea that someone should make up a bed for me in the east wing, on the ground floor. The place hasn’t been used for so long, Henry, it smells of old … everything. Can’t I use my own apartment?’ Clementine Twyst sounded like a truculent twelve-year-old, belying her more than fifty years of age. Henry seethed internally that she’d always been allowed to get away with all sorts of unreasonable demands, while he’d always had to toe the line. The fact she’d left the artists’ village near Arles, where they’d both been living and painting when news of their father’s death had come through, for no more than two weeks – whereas he’d never been able to return there again – rankled with Henry.

  ‘Clemmie, you know that’s not possible. We don’t have any lifts here, and I won’t have people carrying you up and down stairs all the time. It’s not something we can expect of the staff. Besides, the bathroom Grandfather installed off the old music room when he broke his leg, and where Edward has arranged for a bed to be placed for you, is more than adequate. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘It’s not a nice bathroom, Henry. I suppose it’s got most of the right bits and pieces, but it’s so ugly. It’s horrid.’ Clementine grabbed the magenta chiffon from her leg and flung it about her shoulders in a very dramatic manner.

  Henry glowered at the way it clashed with the acid-lemon dress she’d chosen to wear. At least the pink matched her current hair color, he thought. ‘The only alternative is that you use your apartment and never come downstairs,’ snapped Henry. ‘I know very well you’d agree to that in an instant, then create as much of a stink as Stilton because you changed your mind and wanted to come down. This is the only viable option. Besides, your nurse can be close to you down here; they’ve made up a room beside yours for her.’

  Finally turning his attention to the navy-clad woman behind his sister – who he thought would have made Hattie Jacques look like a waif – he said, ‘I hope your accommodations suit, Nurse … um?’

  Abandoning her charge about a third of the way across the drawing room, the nurse strode toward Henry in what he thought was a most alarming manner. Were the silver candlesticks on the stone mantle shaking?

  ‘I’m Thomas, Nurse Betty Thomas, Your Grace,’ said the woman in a voice so deep Henry imagined she could have sung as at least a baritone, if not a bass, in a male voice choir. She thrust a huge hand toward him and he allowed her to almost shake off his arm. ‘Accommodations are excellent, thank you,’ boomed the nurse with a grin that frightened Henry not only because it was wide and full of teeth, but because it disappeared immediately. She marched back toward Clementine, who was wafting her chiffon about her as though she might swoon. ‘Where shall I park you, Lady Clementine?’

  ‘Near the fire, but not so close that I’ll get too hot,’ replied Clementine in the voice of a woman close to death.

  Henry stopped himself from tutting by saying, ‘Mother is joining us for dinner. Have you told her you’re here?’

  ‘Why would I?’ asked Clemmie, wriggling about in her seat as best she could. ‘I thought you’d do that.’

  ‘Henry’s been terribly busy with the wedding arrangements, Lady Clementine,’ said Stephanie, moving to join her fiancé and taking hold of his hand. Henry thanked her with a smile.

  ‘You’ll be my sister-in-law in a few days, Steph, so drop the “lady”, won’t you?’ sneered Clementine.

  His sister’s tone wasn’t lost on Henry who leaped to Stephanie’s defense. ‘Clemmie, let Stephanie be. Save your venom for those who are more used to it.’

  He was relieved when his mother and Mavis MacDonald entered the drawing room. He felt reinforcements were in order.

  ‘Clemmie’s here, Mother,’ he announced, completely unnecessarily.

  ‘I can see that,’ replied Althea Twyst with what Henry judged to be a startled look. ‘What have you done to yourself this time, dear?’ she asked as she walked toward her daughter, bent down to kiss her, then moved to sit in a chair set back from the fire. ‘I’ll take a large sherry, please Henry,’ she added, almost without drawing breath. ‘I assume we’re helping ourselves tonight? There’s no one here to serve.’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ said Henry moving toward the sideboard, ‘and no, there isn’t anyone tonight. It seems there’s been something of a crisis in the Orangery that demanded the attention of most of the able-bodied people in the house this evening.’

  ‘The Orangery? I didn’t know you were using the Orangery on Saturday.’ Althea settled herself on her straight-backed chair, and motioned that Mavis should do likewise.

  Henry began to pour as he replied, ‘We weren’t planning on it, but it seems it’s been necessary to call it into service to act as some sort of preparation area for the chamber orchestra. Edward said they went to air out the place this afternoon and found wasps’ nests in there.’

  ‘Wasps’ nests?’ Althea sounded surprised. ‘Won’t the wasps all be asleep at this time of year?’

  ‘Maybe, but we had to get in a man to remove them, and he commandeered ladders and all sorts of help. I must say, I hadn’t expected wasps.’

  ‘They are the Spanish Inquisition of the insect world, Henry. No one ever expects them,’ replied Althea tartly

  ‘Pardon? The Spanish Inquisition? They never came here to Chellingworth. Are you feeling quite well, Mother?’ Henry panicked – what was his mother babbling about? As he saw a sly smile curl his mother’s lips, he knew she was playing with him. ‘Is that one of your Monty Python things again?’ he asked sharply. Whenever his mother said something bizarre out of the blue, it usually had something to do with that lot.

  ‘Very good, Henry,’ replied his mother with a wink, ‘you’re learning.’

  ‘Really, Mother,’ was all he could manage. He felt flustered, and what made it worse was that he spied Stephanie trying to stifle a grin. ‘You too?’ he couldn’t stop himself from wailing at his fiancé.

  ‘Now Henry, you know what I always say about your sense of humor,’ said Althea seriously. ‘And I might add that, if ever you needed to overcome the bypass it received when you were an infant, now might be the time. Where’s my sherry, dear? And one for Mavis too, I think. We’ve just come from the hospital, and it’s been a long day.’

  ‘We heard you were there,’ said Stephanie helping Henry at the makeshift bar. ‘What’s happened? Is Carol alright? And the baby?’

  ‘Who’s Carol? What baby? What are you all talking about?’ Clementine Twyst was clearly not impressed that she wasn’t the center of attention. ‘Nurse Thomas, I’m too near the fire here and I can’t see anyone properly. Hoick me around a bit.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Lady Clementine?’ growled the nurse.

  Henry was amazed when his sister said meekly, ‘Could you move my chair a smidge, so I can be a little less close to the flames, and have a better view of Mother, please, Nurse Thomas?’

  Henry looked at the large woman standing beside his sister with immediate admiration.

  ‘Certainly, Lady Clementine,’ replied the nurse, and did as she’d been asked.

  ‘Been with the agency long?’ asked Mavis MacDonald of the nurse.

  Moving Clementine’s chair, the woman replied, ‘About five years. It suits. I can see from your watch that you have some service yourself.’

  Henry saw Mavis pat the watch she had pinned to her chest. ‘Aye, thirty years. Army. Mavis MacDonald. Last ten years as matron at the Battersea Barracks.’ Henry wondered if some sort of nursing-based power struggle was about to break out in his drawing room.

  ‘Thirty years is a good long time, isn’t it,’ rumbled Nurse Thomas. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your retirement, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m an enquiry agent now, so retired from nursing, but no’ from life,’ replied Mavis.

  ‘Are you working on a case now? Here?’ asked Clementine rather dismissively, as Henry and Stephanie handed drinks to Mavis and Althea. ‘Could I have a G&T, Henry p
lease?’ she added, then, after what appeared to Henry to be no more than a glance from Nurse Thomas she added, ‘Well, maybe just the T, with some lemon, please.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ was all he could manage as he made his way back across the room. How had the Thomas woman managed to tame the terrible Clemmie in such a short time?

  ‘We are indeed working on a case,’ replied Althea.

  ‘What do you mean “we”, Mother?’ snapped Clementine.

  ‘I’m an honorary WISE Woman. You’d know if only you bothered to keep in touch. I help out with their enquiries. At the agency.’ Althea sat even more upright than her chair demanded. Henry thought she looked very small sitting in the large chair, but she did look proud.

  Taking her drink from her brother and thanking him – thanking him! – Clementine said, ‘I don’t understand, Mother. What do you mean?’

  ‘What Althea means,’ said Mavis, ‘is that she’s able to bring a very special skill set to the table, and we at the WISE Enquiries Agency value her abilities greatly. The case we are working on at present is a very strange one. A young man from the village, usually reliable, has gone missing. His vehicle has been found, and some valuable items he was believed to have taken with him have turned up, here, I believe. Althea and I have come here this evening to discover if that part of the tale is true. Is it, Your Grace?’

  Finally back in his favored spot in front of the massive stone fireplace Henry nodded. ‘Yes indeed. Edward brought to our attention the fact that all three of the missing items had been left outside the New Buttery at some point late this afternoon. No one saw who left them, and no one can be certain about when exactly they were left, but they are back. Tudor Evans is due to collect them this evening. Probably while we dine.’

  ‘And they’re all in good order?’ asked Mavis.

  Henry looked to Stephanie for her agreement. He was glad when she said, ‘Never having seen the items before we can’t be one hundred percent sure, but they seemed fine to me. I’m sure Tudor will know best – he’s the one who’s handled them on countless occasions. We asked to be alerted if he thinks anything is amiss when he arrives and examines the contents.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a quick look at them myself, before he whisks them away,’ said Althea. Henry noted that she leaned very close to Mavis when she added, ‘We’ve become quite obsessed by them, haven’t we? Don’t you think it’d be nice to see them “up close and personal”?’

  Henry felt his shoulders hunch as his mother spoke. He wasn’t at all convinced she should be spending quite so much time with Mavis and the others. It certainly wasn’t something he’d envisaged when he’d acceded to his mother’s requests about offering the women office and living accommodation on the estate.

  ‘Where have you stashed the loot?’ asked Althea, confirming Henry’s worst fears.

  ‘Now, now, dear,’ said Mavis quietly.

  ‘We left it all in the morning room,’ replied Henry. ‘That’s where we were when Edward brought it to us, and the great hall seems to be overrun with all sorts of people, bedecking every surface with some sort of diaphanous fabric, or wreaths of ivy. But you’d best be quick,’ he added – unnecessarily as it transpired, because his mother and Mavis were both already on their feet.

  As they made their way toward the door he could hear his mother saying, ‘So, if the van and the artefacts have turned up, where on earth can Aubrey be? We have to find out about the missing girl up at the Morris farm …’ Then they were gone.

  ‘Could I have another tonic, brother dear? I seem to have finished this one,’ whined Clementine.

  Just about to snap, ‘Get it yourself,’ Henry realized he was at his sister’s beck and call, so did as he was bid. He felt his shoulders slump as he plodded to collect Clemmie’s glass. He couldn’t imagine how things could possibly get worse, and all this before his wedding. Might have another myself, he thought, standing in front of the sideboard – where he turned his back so Stephanie couldn’t see how much scotch was in his glass before he added water.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘You keeping up, Mavis?’ called Althea as she made her way rapidly toward the doors to the morning room.

  ‘Aye, you dinnae need to concern yoursel’ on my account,’ said Mavis absently.

  ‘Och, that’s very Scottish of you,’ mugged Althea, stopping and turning to face her friend. ‘What’s up?’

  Mavis stopped in her tracks. ‘I don’t like it, Althea. Yes, I want to see this stuff for myself, and, yes, I’m pleased – in a way – that it’s all turned up. But that in itself is worrying.’

  Pushing open the doors Althea entered the morning room, which was already illuminated by several standard lamps. ‘Henry would save a fortune on electricity if he didn’t have every room lit up like Blackpool,’ Althea observed – somewhat acidly, thought Mavis as she followed the dowager’s lead.

  ‘There it all is,’ said Mavis, passing Althea who plonked herself into a velvet-upholstered chair.

  ‘You alright, dear?’ asked Mavis. She was concerned Althea might be tired. That the dowager usually napped in the afternoon was a truth acknowledged by both women, but never mentioned by either.

  ‘Glad to get away from the children,’ said Althea heavily, which made Mavis grin. With grown children herself she knew how it felt to look at two adults and see two infants, or toddlers – or, worse still – two teens in their stead.

  Without missing a beat Mavis replied, ‘Ach, they’ll be fine. Beneath all that sniping they love each other.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Althea quietly, ‘but the sniping, as you so correctly coined it, is extremely tiring. I had hoped they’d grow out of it, but, of course, they never do. The whole world sees them as fully grown human beings – but they are unable to act that way when they are with each other.’

  ‘Mine are the same,’ said Mavis, seeking to console her friend. ‘Both good boys, good men even, but like wee ruffians when they’re together for more than two minutes.’

  Mavis smiled as Althea motioned a salute and said, ‘Once again, so good to have someone about the place who understands the important things in life.’

  ‘Aye, and the important things about this case,’ said Mavis, pulling open the wooden box sitting in the corner of the room and peering in to see the silver bells it contained. She pulled out a string of round silver balls attached to a leather strap with a buckle at one end. The bells tinkled.

  ‘Sounds like Christmas,’ said Althea leaning forward in her chair to get a better view of what Mavis was holding.

  Mavis crossed the room and deposited the object in Althea’s lap. ‘There’s a whole bevvy of these in that box, and, I’ll grant you they look a bit old and battered, but if they’re the age we’ve been told, that’s no’ such a surprise. Let’s have a look at the staff. You stay there, I’ll fetch it.’

  Mavis had to lay the staff on the ground to be able to open the outer casing of leather, then she revealed the artefact itself. She turned it about in her hands, peering at the silverwork on the wooden shaft, then at the gold cage that held an orb of glass at its top. ‘Beautiful workmanship,’ she said quietly, ‘even though you can see it’s worn, the detail of the etching in the precious metals is still there. And this glass ball? Must have been quite a feat to make it – when did they say this was made?’

  ‘We think it was in the mid-1500s,’ boomed Tudor Evans’ voice from the open doorway. Both Mavis and Althea started, and Mavis almost dropped the staff on the floor.

  ‘Good grief, you gave me quite a turn,’ said Althea crossly.

  Mavis saw Tudor flush with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry, Your Grace,’ he blustered, ‘Edward showed me right to this door. Said I should come in. I didn’t know you hadn’t seen me.’

  Althea beckoned Tudor into the room. ‘No worries. I dare say we were too entranced by this wonderful thing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Though I dare say you’re very familiar with the piece. Would you like to check everything is
in good order?’

  Tudor’s expression told Mavis he’d be delighted to do just that. ‘You’re here a good deal earlier than we were expecting you,’ she said, as she relinquished the staff to the man’s eager hands.

  She noticed he didn’t look at her at all as he replied, ‘As soon as I got word I came here as quick as I could. I really hope they’re all alright. This is, thank heavens. And I can see that the bells in Your Grace’s lap are also in good shape. But I’d just like to check everything else.’ He picked up the case for the staff and shut it away with reverence and care, then reached for the suitcase and flung it open to examine the sticks it contained.

  Mavis left Althea and stood behind Tudor as he pulled out stick after stick, and turned each one in his hands, banging pairs together. Again, his expression spoke volumes, and Mavis could tell he was relieved.

  Standing up, and therefore towering over Mavis, she could almost feel the air vibrate as he said loudly, ‘Everything’s perfect. I am so pleased.’ He beamed down at Mavis, then she saw his expression change. ‘So what’s going on with Aubrey then? This is all here and they’ve found his van. So where’s he?’

  ‘Now there’s a question,’ replied Mavis. ‘It’s an extremely concerning turn of events. Maybe we three could have a quiet chat, while we’re away from the others. Won’t you join us beside the fireplace?’

  Although no fire was lit, the hearth still provided the focus of the room. Two small women and one very large man sat in an incongruous huddle and all gave the matter some thought.

  ‘Do you know the Morrises out at the Morris farm?’ asked Mavis of Tudor. He shook his head. ‘Shame.’

  ‘I do, somewhat,’ said Althea hesitantly. Mavis judged she didn’t want to say more in company.

  Taking her chance to engage Tudor, Mavis added, ‘And you’ve had no more thoughts about where Aubrey might have got to? You’re sure he’s never mentioned a young woman to whom he is especially attached?’