Chapter Two
I unpacked for Lady Hardcastle before settling into my own room. She didn’t need me to, but it gave us a chance to talk privately about the fort and our weekend companions while I fussed about. And, honestly, I quite enjoyed doing things for her.
With that little task done, I secured her agreement that I could have first dibs on the bathroom opposite our rooms – we had decided, unilaterally, that it was ‘our’ bathroom – and settled in for a soak.
It was good to wash off the travelling dust and I felt much invigorated by the time I dried myself and padded across the corridor to my room.
I had so far given no thought to the fact that, despite the chilly February weather, the fort was warm and cosy.
When I had drawn my bath and the steaming water had poured in from the tap, I hadn’t been surprised.
But now as I dressed for dinner in a bedroom with no fire in the grate, I began to ask myself where all this heat was coming from.
A glance round my room revealed a cast-iron radiator and I was once again struck by the modernity of JB’s weekend place.
A centuries-old English fortress updated with twentieth-century technology.
Or nineteenth at the very least. I knew the Romans had central heating, but .
. . let’s just say it wasn’t what you’d expect in a sixteenth-century island fort.
JB’s future guests were going to be well looked after.
I briefly wondered where the furnace and boiler might be, but my musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.
‘Just a moment,’ I called as I struggled to finish buttoning my evening dress.
‘Are you indecent?’ It was Lady Hardcastle.
‘Positively vulgar most of the time, but I’m fully dressed if that’s what you mean. Just come in, for goodness’ sake.’
The door opened and a familiar, grinning face peered round it. ‘My, don’t you clean up well?’
‘I’m a vision. Just get in and close the door before someone sees me.’
She did as she was asked.
‘You seem to be having trouble there, dear,’ she said.
‘I can’t do these blasted buttons. I don’t know why people design dresses like this.’
She stepped over to help. ‘What you need, young Flossie, is a lady’s maid. I have one. She’s simply marvellous. They’re all the rage in certain circles.’
I harrumphed. ‘So I’m told. But if I’m so essential, how did you manage without me?’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, turning round to reveal the unbuttoned back of her dress. ‘Be a poppet and do me up, would you?’
‘I’m surprised JB doesn’t have some sort of automaton to take care of this sort of thing,’ I said as I fastened her dress.
‘Wouldn’t that be wonderful? A mechanical maid who could cook and clean, fasten dresses and fix hair and who never, ever, gave its employer any cheek.’
‘You’d miss my sparkling repartee,’ I said as she turned back to face me. ‘That’s your favourite necklace – you don’t often wear that. When did you sneak it into the trunk?’
‘It was a last-minute thought. I remembered JB chortling one day about how Dotty Bridgewater and Patience Sidwell-Plant have some sort of competition between themselves as to who can wear the most extravagant jewellery. I didn’t want to be left out.’
It was a beautifully ornate piece set with more diamonds than I’d ever seen in one place and had been a gift from her late husband, Sir Roderick.
She seldom wore it, despite my repeated insistence that she should, and I was pleased, if a little surprised, to see her finally enjoying it.
The matching earrings set off the ensemble perfectly.
‘They don’t stand a chance,’ I said. ‘They’ll be hard-pressed to match that.’
‘Not tonight, at any rate. But I gather it’s their habit to escalate the competition as the weekend progresses, saving the most impressive pieces for a spectacular final rubber on the last night. I’m playing my best hand far too early to be in with a chance of winning their little competition.’
‘You’ll cause a few splutters, nonetheless, even if you’re reduced to wearing the same tired old thing every night.’
She sighed a happy sigh. ‘I used to wear it every night when Roddy and I were young.’
‘I know. I was the one who used to have to put it away in its case when you got home from another of your parties.’
‘While I made notes of all the state secrets I’d overheard during the evening.’
‘I didn’t know you were doing that, though. I thought you were just too lazy to put your things away when you were done with them.’
‘Oh, I was. I remain so. But at least then I had an excuse.’
‘Slattern.’
‘Nag.’
I patted her down and straightened the necklace. ‘Shall we go and join our companions for a preprandial bracer?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
We made our way downstairs together and found the library by following the sound of conversation and laughter.
JB greeted us as we entered. ‘Welcome, ladies. I must say you two look a picture. Can I get you something to drink? The spécialité de la maison is the Old Fashioned.’
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever had one of those,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘What about that hotel in Manhattan?’ I said. ‘Didn’t we have them there? Whiskey – with an E, obviously – with syrup and bitters.’
‘Now there’s a gal who knows her liquor,’ said JB with a smile. ‘But I’m sure I can rustle up something else if that’s not to your taste. I don’t have any ice, though. Can’t seem to get anyone to deliver it.’
‘An Old Fashioned will be splendid,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And the absence of ice is fine. Please don’t worry.’
‘Ah, but I do worry. Can’t have a drink without ice.’
‘I noticed that, when we were in America,’ I said. ‘Why is it that your compatriots think that?’
JB chuckled again. ‘Seems we’re just the victims of a marketing genius.
Story I heard is a fella bought an ice lake up in the north somewhere and was determined to make his fortune selling his ice all around the country.
Trouble was, people only used ice to keep their food from spoiling and everyone had just about enough ice for their needs.
So he hit upon this wild notion. He employed men to go to bars and ask for a drink with ice.
Bartender says, “Sorry, sir, we don’t have no ice.
” And the men are to say, “Oh, but it’s the latest fashion.
Everyone in . . .” And then he’s supposed to say the name of a nearby town, somewhere the bartender will see as competition.
“Everyone in Squirrelburg is taking their drinks with ice these days.” A couple of days later, the ice salesman shows up and says, “Can I interest you in buying some ice?” And pretty soon, we can’t get drinks without ice and the ice man retires to count his fortune. ’
Lady Hardcastle laughed. ‘And is that true?’
‘Heck if I know, but it’s a good story either way, don’t you think?
Now I hear tell of another fella in Fort Wayne, Indiana, who’s invented a refrigeration machine.
Can you imagine it? Pretty soon we’ll be able to make our own ice whenever we want.
It’s a brave new world that has such people in it, as your bard fella said. ’
‘Human ingenuity knows no bounds, it seems,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
Dorothy Bridgewater approached us. ‘Is JB prattling on about his gadgets and thingumajigs again?’
‘“Doohickies” is the word, my dear Mrs Bridgewater. I’m prattling on about doohickies. And I haven’t gotten to the best one yet. Do you have a phonograph, Lady Hardcastle?’
‘Oddly, no. One would imagine I was exactly the sort of person who would, but I never seem to have managed to get round to buying one.’
‘But you’ve heard them, sure enough? A tiny, tinny sound coming out of a great fluted horn of a thing?
What if I told you there was another fella in San Francisco who’s invented a device for amplifying electronic signals?
Imagine if you could turn the sound of a phonograph record into an electronic signal – like a telephone, but much higher quality.
You could use a machine based on Mr de Forest’s Audion device to play it out through a loudspeaker.
It would be like having the musicians in your room. ’
Dotty tutted. ‘You already have musicians in your room, JB dear, and you’re neglecting them. Now fetch Lady Hardcastle and Miss Armstrong a drink, then go and talk to the Everetts. They look a little lost standing there in the corner.’
‘I’m on my way,’ said JB.
Dotty touched my arm. ‘He’s a lovely man, but he does go on so. You just have to know how to handle him.’
I smiled. ‘He’s very enthusiastic about modern inventions. I’ve always rather liked him.’
‘Well, quite. But he still needs to see to his other guests and you two still don’t have drinks. Come over and join us while you wait.’
JB was an excellent dinner host. Whether it was a skill he’d learned, or a gift he’d been born with, I shall never know, but he made everyone feel comfortable and welcome as we took our places at the long dining table.
Crawford arrived once we were seated and took a terrine on an elegant platter from the dumb waiter which he placed in the middle of the table.
He fussed about with a rack of finely sliced toast and small bowls of chutney before withdrawing.
As we began to help ourselves, JB tapped his fork on his wine glass.
‘Welcome to dinner, my dear friends,’ he said.
‘Thank you for coming to see my new . . . drum.’ He winked at Lady Hardcastle.
‘You’re my first proper guests and I wanted to share my excitement about the project with you all.
I surely do appreciate you making so much effort to be here.
Within a year this will be England’s premier retreat, providing luxury accommodation for discerning guests away from the hurly-burly of twentieth-century life. ’
Raised glasses and a chorus of ‘Pleasure to be here’ and ‘Thank you for inviting us.’