by Jack Murray
‘I understand your concern, Curtis. I shall convey my desire to Lady Emily that Agnes should act professionally and with courtesy to you and the rest of the staff at all times.’
‘Thank you, sir. I am sorry to have to bring this to your attention but if we are to manage over this festive period, we must all work together in an atmosphere of mutual respect.’
‘I understand, Curtis. Is there anything else?’
Curtis understood this to mean the interview was finished. The curt ending to the interview meant he left the library suspecting, unhappily, no action would be taken. It did not feel as if Lord Cavendish had taken his concerns with the gravity they merited. On the whole, it was an unsatisfactory response for someone who had been in service to the family for around forty years. He deserved better than half-hearted reassurance. He returned to the kitchen in a foul mood.
Cavendish was astute enough to realize that Curtis was not entirely happy with the outcome of the interview. This was also a source of dissatisfaction to him. Although Curtis was staff, he had been with the family a long time. Perhaps he deserved better but, as usual, something in the manner of Curtis had created an unnecessary dispute. Cavendish resolved to find a way of making amends with him. However, Curtis would have to accept that taking this up with Lady Emily directly would create a much bigger problem than a staff dispute.
He walked over to window. The snow had stopped but he knew instinctively there would be more to come on this subject, tonight. It was dark now and the snow gave a purple glow against the blackness of the trees. A dusting of stars peered out in a very clear sky. Just looking at the scene made Cavendish feel a chill but oddly comforted at the same time.
Walking back around to his desk, he glanced at the picture on the wall between the two bay windows. It displayed a photograph of Robert’s battalion. It was very wide as there were over three hundred soldiers arranged in four rows. Robert was sitting at the front, in the middle along with the other officers. One soldier, also seated at the front, but near the end, attracted his attention. His hat was on sideways. How odd thought Cavendish. He hadn’t noticed this man before. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of spectacles and put them on. He peered at the soldier in question.
‘Good Lord.’ said Cavendish out loud, ‘I can’t believe it.’
Chapter 8
Agnes had also updated Lady Emily on what had taken place in the kitchen. Having related the tale in forensic detail, Agnes folded her arms and said with a voice that went somewhere beyond where smugness ends, and self-righteousness begins, ’He’ll think twice about acting like he is the almighty again, in front of me.’
‘Good for you, Agnes,’ confided Lady Emily, ‘I’m jolly glad you took him down a peg or two. However, I shall also have to say something to Lord Cavendish. I want him to understand that you and Godfrey must be treated with respect.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘You may go now. Leave this with me.’
Agnes left the room and Emily went to the window. She looked out and considered how best to leverage what she had heard. The beauty of the wintry scene outside made no impression on her. She was entirely focused on how to make Cavendish understand the level to which he and his staff were making her, Henry and, now, even her staff, feel unwelcome. That it was Curtis was no surprise, he had an exaggerated sense of his importance, but it was also troubling, and she felt a pain that had lain dormant for a number of years.
She spun around and left the room, determined that the sins of the past should not continue to betray the present. Descending the stairs rapidly, she walked through the hall to the library and entered without knocking. She saw Cavendish sitting at his desk holding a wide framed picture, studying it closely.
Cavendish looked up from the picture and stood up immediately. ‘Emily, I’m so glad you’re here, I wanted to have a word with you.’
‘And I you,’ said Lady Emily quietly.
This doesn’t augur well, thought Cavendish, his heart sinking fast. She did not look to be in a mood to reason. He decided to absorb the enemy attack. Hopefully her ammunition would run out after a few bursts rather than be a sustained artillery bombardment. His silence might act to quicken the engagement.
‘That pompous idiot, Curtis has upset Agnes, I demand he apologize immediately to her.’ Before Cavendish could reply, she continued in a similar vein, ‘It is unacceptable and rude beyond belief his treatment of her. How dare he. This is a very poor show. I‘ve already had words with Buchan about the state of my room. Curtis clearly has little or no control over your staff and he has the unmitigated gall to criticize Agnes. And in front of the other staff also. I hope you can see that this is completely unacceptable.’
Thinking that this signaled the end of Lady Emily’s offensive, Cavendish made another attempt to sue for peace. Sadly, Lady Emily was just warming to the task. The heavy armaments were about to be brought into the action. Tears formed in Lady Emily’s eyes. Cavendish accepted he had no defense against this type of weaponry. Defeat was not just inevitable, it would be complete with many casualties.
‘You are all against us. It’s not just Curtis. You’ve never made us feel welcome. You never wanted Robert to marry me and now he’s gone, you and those girls isolate Henry and myself. He is your grandson, but you spend no time with him.’
Chance would be a fine thing, thought Cavendish, but he decided not to throw this point out for consideration as it risked increasing the intensity of an already formidable frontal assault.
‘He is the future Lord Cavendish. Yet you ignore him and devote all your time to the two girls. It’s not fair. More than that it is thoughtless and unkind. What have we done to deserve this? I am a widow, your son’s widow. You have given me no help, no consideration, no kindness. Nothing. Do you even think of us as family? Really, do you?’
Cavendish lowered his voice, aware the staff could be listening, ‘Emily, please hear me out’
-
Outside the library, Miss Buchan had heard every word. In fact, her ear had been pressed closely against the door. Sadly, she could not hear what Cavendish was now saying but, in any event, the appearance of Strangerson forced her to give the pretend to be putting things in order. She nodded to Strangerson as he walked past and up the stairs. ‘Will you be needing anything sir?’
‘No thank you Miss...er’
‘Buchan.’
‘No, I shall rest and get ready for dinner.’ He continued up the stairs bounding two at a time.
Miss Buchan scurried down to the kitchen to update Curtis. She found him with Godfrey having a cup to tea. ‘When you’ve had your cup of tea Mr Curtis, perhaps you could join me in your office.’
‘Yes Miss Buchan.’ Curtis immediately understood an important piece of intelligence was to be communicated. He quickly drained his tea and smiled to Godfrey, ‘Duty calls.’
Miss Buchan was sitting by the small desk Curtis used for administrative tasks. ‘Close the door please, Mr Curtis. I’ve accidentally overheard an interesting encounter in the library.’
Curtis doubted there was anything accidental about it, but he remained silent. It was not as if he had not, when the occasion demanded it, been above a touch of eavesdropping himself.
‘Go on Miss Buchan, I’m all ears.’
Miss Buchan quickly related, word for word, all she had heard in a low voice. She concluded, ‘I fear we are in a difficult situation whenever Lord Cavendish, and God forgive me for saying this, passes on.’
‘Clearly Miss Buchan. This is troubling. I fear you’re right. We may well have reached a point of no return with that witch.’
‘She is a witch Mr Curtis and no mistake. How I would dearly love that…’ She stopped herself saying anything more. Curtis nodded in agreement, he understood exactly Miss Buchan’s sentiment. However, wishing was one thing but they were clearly facing a long-term problem.
‘This is, indeed, serious.’
Lord Cavendish was not as well as he
proclaimed. In fact, Curtis knew his heart had recently been giving enough trouble to warrant a trip to his doctor in Harley Street. Cavendish had requested that Curtis keep the trip to London confidential although he certainly had not shared with him the reason for going. A week later, Curtis had managed to read the notes from the examination when it had arrived in the post. He had been inducted into the art of steam-opening envelopes by his predecessor many years ago.
All of this had taken place in the last month. Curtis had not shared the information with Miss Buchan at the time. Now, it was clear that two heads were needed to address this very real conundrum. He took Miss Buchan into his confidence.
A few minutes later both returned to the kitchen. Godfrey and Agnes were both in the kitchen. Curtis recognized this would be a good opportunity to start building bridges. ‘Agnes, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to you for any misunderstanding earlier.’ He bowed slightly and gently clicked his heels, believing it might add a nice touch to the sentiment expressed. Having to do this sickened him enormously but the alternative was worse. Christmas was a taxing enough time for the staff without the added complication of trench warfare.
Agnes was taken aback by the surprising turn of events. She had been mentally preparing herself for a more attritional atmosphere in the staff quarters. This was a development she had not anticipated and, in the absence of an alternative strategy, decided there was no other choice but to accept the apology. She managed this with just enough sense of hurt and injustice to ensure Curtis would have to maintain an air of sycophancy a little longer. It did not stop her feeling somewhat disappointed at such a quick a victory.
Miller had entered just as Curtis was displaying contrition. He raised an eyebrow at Godfrey who gave a hint of shrug to his shoulders. It was fairly clear there had been a resolution to the disagreement between Curtis and Agnes. He looked forward to hearing more. Perhaps he could quiz Polly about it later. A little bit of gossip and then, thought Miller, a chance to get to know her a bit better. Christmas was shaping up nicely.
Within a few minutes Polly returned to the kitchen with Elsie. ‘Right I want the kitchen cleared. Polly and I have work to do. Miss Agnes, can I ask for some help? I seem to remember you are a dab hand at desserts.’
‘Of course,’ said Agnes, always a pushover for a compliment. The next comment from Elsie, pleased her even more.
‘Excellent, can the rest of you useless oafs, leave us now? Let’s get to work girls, we have a dinner to make.’
The peremptory manner of Elsie was something Curtis was used to; it was as unwelcome as ever. Even more so given they were in company. However, there was little value in having a second defeat inflicted on him by a female in the space of an hour. He beat a strategic retreat to his office.
Godfrey and Miller walked out together into the corridor. ‘Have I missed something?’ asked Miller with a smile.
‘From what I heard, that chump Curtis got a flea in his ear from Agnes. When Lady Emily heard about what happened, she went down to old Cavendish and gave him a bit of verbal,’ said Godfrey.
Miller grinned at Godfrey, ‘I could be wrong, but I suspect you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a certain lady.’
This was met with a grimace. ‘You wouldn’t, trust me. Tongue like a knife dipped in venom, that one.’
‘Have you ever been on the wrong side of one?’ asked Miller.
‘No, she usually gets Agnes to wield the knife.’
‘What about Henry?’ probed Miller.
‘He doesn’t say much. Anything he does say to me is usually curt. I don’t think the words “please” or “thank you” exist for him.’
‘Sounds like a real charmer.’
‘Honestly, out of the two of them, I would be more worried by him. I get the feeling he would think nothing of stabbing you in the front, and then stepping over your dead body and reading a book.’
They parted at this point with Miller going upstairs to see Kit. He walked past the Christmas tree in the corridor and up to Kit’s bedroom. A quick rap on the door was greeted by a voice inside.
‘Come in,’ said Kit.
Miller popped his head around the door, ‘Just wanted to see if you needed anything sir?’
Kit was sitting at the desk writing a letter. He turned around, ‘No thank you Harry. Oh wait, I don’t suppose you have any idea what was going on downstairs between Lady Emily and Cavendish. I sense an atmosphere in the house which is none too pleasant.’
Miller reported all he knew and then withdrew, leaving Kit to his thoughts. His mind was chiefly given over to Esther and Mary. Conversations with mutual friends in London had prepared him to meet two beautiful women. In reality they were everything his friends had described and more. It was revelatory the depth of their friendship, the liveliness of their minds and, in Mary’s case, a deeply independent nature.
The spirit of the two sisters brought to mind another. His mind wandered back to the War and his stay in the hospital. Thinking of her and this period always brought a bittersweet pain. He reluctantly dismissed the memory and returned to the task in hand.
Finishing the letter, he sealed the envelope to Alexander Kerensky. It was too late to send before Christmas, but he decided he would post when they all went to tomorrow morning’s service in the village.
As there was still time to kill before dinner he got up and went downstairs. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the library. If he tried to avoid the room altogether it would become obvious to his companions. Furthermore, he hated to be in a funk about anything. The only way to deal with how he felt was to confront it directly, rather than cower in his room hoping no one would notice.
Much to Kit’s relief, the library was empty. He strode over to the Lavery portrait of John and Robert. Forcing himself to look up, he stared at the young Robert. He had his arm draped lazily around the more serious looking John. They had the Cavendish nose, but both were fine looking young men. Kit looked into Robert’s eyes. His eyes stung as tears clouded his view of the painting.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered and glanced around lest anyone had heard.
Finally, he looked away and walked over to the window. Outside the night was lit only by the luminosity of the snow. Glancing down he noticed a framed black and white photograph lying on the desk. He walked over and picked it up. The picture was at least two feet wide and showed an army battalion sitting down in four rows. The name of the battalion was engraved at the front along with the date in 1914. They were obviously being photographed prior to their departure for France. He recognized Robert in the middle. The chance to examine it more closely was interrupted by the door opening. Looking up, he saw Strangerson peeking into the room. He looked surprised to see Kit.
‘Sorry, old boy, didn’t mean to disturb you,’ said Strangerson.
‘You weren’t. I was just going to have a look at the library. It’s pretty impressive.’ Kit stood up and put the picture back on the desk.
‘It is rather.’ Strangerson wandered over to a decanter sitting on a trolley with some glasses. He raised a glass up to Kit, ‘Fancy a bracer?’
‘No thanks, I shall save myself for later. Don’t let me stop you, though.’
‘Well, under the circs, I’ll make a start. Might need some courage for later in the evening. I gather there was a bit of a firefight earlier between Lady Emily and the Colonel. Not sure the old boy didn’t get a bit of a drubbing,’ said Strangerson.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I heard it as I was coming in. She was giving the old boy a right dressing down. I’ll bet he hasn’t had one like that since he was a private.’
‘Any idea why?’ prompted Kit.
‘Not entirely sure. I think she missed her calling as a lion tamer that one. Anyway, she was in an impressive state of moral indignation, I gather. Poor fish had to stand there and take it on the chin, I suspect. When they’re like that it’s best to exit stage left pretty sharpish.’
Kit laughed.
Strangerson added a few more ribald comments about Lady Emily sotto voce, which amused Kit. Strangerson diplomatically avoided commenting on the girls, possibly sensing there was some degree of attraction with Kit. Instead he moved on to talk a little of his time with Shackleton. Kit was fascinated as he was a great admirer of the famed Antarctic explorer.
The conversation ended a few minutes later and turned to Strangerson’s plans for the future. The erstwhile explorer expressed a desire to go to the Pacific Islands to write about the indigenous people there, many of them had not seen Europeans. This subject was equally interesting to Kit and the time passed easily until Strangerson drained the last of the Scotch and said, ‘You should’ve had a dram, very good stuff indeed. I’ll say this for the old boy, he keeps a good cellar.’
‘I’ll take some later no doubt,’ laughed Kit.
Strangerson stood up and left the library to get ready for the dinner. After he had left, Kit pondered a little on Strangerson. He sensed Strangerson had not expected him to be there. In fact, there was a hint of irritation, but it had been hidden beneath his well-practiced bonhomie. If it were the case that Strangerson had wanted to be alone in the library, Kit wondered why. Almost by instinct he found himself surveying the library. It could be anything in here, he concluded. There must have been at least a thousand books, various objets d’art and, of course the paintings. He then laughed at himself for feeling suspicious.
Looking at his pocket watch, he saw it was nearly seven. He only had a little time to get ready. ‘It’s Christmas, old boy. You’re off duty. Time to enjoy yourself,’ he said out loud. With one last look at the paintings, he left the library and returned to his room.
