Chapter Four
I changed for lunch.
Let me say that again, but slower this time:
I . . . changed . . . for . . . lunch.
It wasn’t exactly unprecedented. I had played the role of many an upper-class lady on espionage missions in the past where changing clothes every time the clock struck was, for reasons still unknown, de rigueur. But in my personal life, this was a major development.
I had long derided the need to pack multiple outfits for Lady Hardcastle for a country house weekend when all she really needed was an indoor dress, some outdoor clothes and an evening dress.
Throw in appropriate shoes, a nightdress and undergarments, and you were packed.
There was no need, I always insisted, for a morning dress, a lunchtime dress, an afternoon dress and an evening dress for each day of the stay (all complete with complementary shoes or boots), together with the outdoor clothes and boots (preferably more than one outfit in case there were outdoor activities on different days), nightwear and underwear.
And yet this is where I now found myself. The dress I had worn that morning, which would have seen me through to Monday as long as I was careful not to spill anything on it, was now to be cast back into the trunk, not to be worn again on this trip except in the direst sartorial emergency.
I sighed as I pinned on my favourite picklock brooch and checked myself in the glass.
Obviously, I looked splendid. But I had looked splendid before.
I couldn’t be sure what else I might have done with the time it had taken me to complete this needless transformation, but I was willing to bet the price of the dress that it would have been more fun and more useful than replacing one perfectly serviceable outfit with another.
I went to Lady Hardcastle’s room to see if she needed any help.
I gave the agreed knock.
‘Who is it?’ came the sing-song reply.
I sighed. ‘It’s the plumber, ma’am. I’ve been advised that there’s a decrepit old boiler in this room. I’m here to see if she needs to be condemned.’
‘Not today, thank you.’
‘Just open the bloody door.’
‘Open it your-bloody-self – it’s not locked.’
I went in to find her still not fully dressed, holding up an afternoon frock in front of herself and checking its effect in the full-length glass. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think if you’re going to be flouncing about in your unmentionables you ought to lock the door.’
‘Honestly, dear, if anyone is desperate enough to want to see this’ – she gestured up and down herself – ‘they’re welcome. And I wasn’t flouncing, I was contemplating.’
‘Fair dos.’ I pointed to the bed. ‘Then you ought to contemplate the green one. It looks like the weather is closing in and the blue will look better tomorrow when the light is greyer.’
‘Thank you. You have an eye for these things.’
She struggled into the green dress. I probably should have helped, but it was more entertaining not to.
‘Do you have thoughts on this morning’s shenanigans?’ she asked once she and the dress had been properly introduced.
I began some remedial work on her hair. ‘Jewellery’s easy to hide.
It’s easy to miss, too, but I’m reasonably sure we didn’t.
I find it hard to accept the idea of things “vanishing into thin air” but that’s what they seem to have done.
The less paranormal explanation is that the thief has the pieces about their person.
Either that or we were too hasty in accepting Peggy Crawford’s assertion that the lost property was unlikely to be in her locked storeroom. ’
‘Hasty, perhaps, but politic, I felt. It looked as though we suspected them of something when we rootled through their private quarters. Asking her to unlock the door would have been a direct accusation of theft. It might turn out to be justified, but I’d rather keep them both on our side for the time being.
I’m sure we’ll get another opportunity to look in there. ’
‘By which time they might have moved the stolen gear.’
‘That’s a chance we’ll have to take. Servants, as you so often remind me, are a valuable resource, and not just because they make nice pies and keep the place clean.’
‘Talking of nice pies, do you fancy a spot of lunch?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
We set off for the dining room.
JB was already there, as was Lily Thacker, whom he had seated next to George Wilson. They seemed to be getting along very well, much as JB had hoped.
He indicated the seats opposite them and we made ourselves comfortable.
The Everetts were next, and he sat them with Lily and Wilson.
The Sidwell-Plants came in with the Bridgewaters and JB sat them with clumsy obviousness so that, although the Bridgewaters were together, the Sidwell-Plants were deliberately separated.
With Lily, Wilson, Everett, Clarice and Sidwell-Plant on one side, and Lady Hardcastle, me, Patience, Dotty and Bridgewater on the other, the Sidwell-Plants were as far from each other as possible without actually moving the earlier arrivals.
Crawford began loading platters on to the table from the recently arrived dumb waiter and we began helping ourselves to the delicious baked mackerel.
‘Did you find it?’ asked Patience.
‘Sadly not,’ I said.
‘Then what on earth has happened to it?’
Lily’s ears pricked up. ‘Is this the thing you were all looking for earlier? What is it?’
I didn’t quite know what to say. We were all acting as though we were friends but Lily was the newcomer and, as far as I could make out, no one but JB knew her.
Would he want her to think there was a thief at the fort?
Would we want to allay any fears by telling her we thought it was all just a joke?
If we did that we would tell the prankster we knew what they were up to. Would that help or hinder? Would—
‘Someone has stolen my diamond brooch and Dotty’s ruby necklace,’ said Patience.
Apparently we didn’t mind telling Lily at all.
‘Well,’ said Dotty, slowly. ‘We don’t know that for sure. We’ve certainly both misplaced expensive items.’
Patience shook her head. ‘I might accept that if just one of us had “misplaced” something. Especially if it were you. But it’s far too much of a coincidence that we’ve both “misplaced” exactly the same sort of something on exactly the same evening.
’ She looked around the table, pointing at the other guests with her table knife.
‘Those pieces are worth an absolute fortune. If one of you has taken them – even if it was just done as a prank – we’ll find out who. And when we do . . .’
She left the specifics of the threat to our imaginations, but I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to be in the thief’s shoes.
Lunch settled into the usual empty chit-chat and admiration of JB’s weekend home.
When we were finished, Lady Hardcastle went off to the long gallery with JB and Wilson to talk about Nantucket whalers.
Or Spanish treasure ships. Or Nelson’s posting to Antigua.
Or possibly all three. Whatever it was, they were all very excited about it. I was not.
JB invited Lily to join them but she declined. I couldn’t find it in myself to blame her.
Dotty had gone off for a postprandial nap, while her husband and his pal Sidwell-Plant had retired to the drawing room to play billiards.
The Everetts had silently evaporated. I knew not where they had gone.
This left me, Patience and Lily still at the dining table with no real plans.
‘I wouldn’t mind taking a good look round JB’s library,’ I said after an awkward pause. ‘Would either of you care to join me?’
‘Oh, rather,’ said Lily with unanticipated girlish enthusiasm. ‘I’d live in a library if I could.’
‘Good lord,’ drawled Patience. ‘I’d live in a palace if I could.’
‘I’ve visited quite a few palaces,’ I said. ‘They’re not nearly as luxurious as you imagine. And they’re very cold in the winter. Draughty, you see?’
Patience regarded me curiously. ‘Well, aren’t you a surprising one? You can tell us more on the way to the library.’
‘Oh, yes, rather,’ enthused Lily. ‘Where were these palaces? Oh, do say they were somewhere wonderful. Have you danced with crown princes?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ I said.
‘You have not,’ said Patience with a pfft.
‘One grand duke, two generals, an admiral, and more colonels than I can count. Oh, and a Romanian princess.’
‘A Romanian princess?’ said Lily. ‘How on earth—?’
‘She’s teasing you, Lily dear. As if anyone’s danced with that lot.’
I gave them both a smile and a shrug.
By now we were passing the door to the sitting room.
Voices were coming from within. Raised voices.
As one, we paused to listen.
‘. . . useless cripple. You’d be nothing without me. Nothing. If your legions of admirers had even half an idea of how pathetic you are they’d turn away from you in disgust.’
Patience, Lily and I looked at each other agog. It was Everett, and he was clearly talking to Clarice.
I made to step into the room. This had to be stopped.
Patience held me back and shook her head.
‘He might be dangerous if he’s in a temper,’ she whispered.
‘Not half as dangerous as I am,’ I said, and shook my arm free.
I moved once more towards the door. I hadn’t yet noticed that the tirade had ceased and was nearly bowled over as Everett burst out of the sitting room and stalked off down the hallway towards the stairs.
The ladies and I looked at each other again and went in to see what we could do for Clarice.
She looked very shaken. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Flo, Lily and Patience,’ I said. ‘We—’
‘You heard. Of course you did. I’m so sorry.’
‘Good lord,’ said Patience. ‘You’ve nothing to apologize for. What on earth—?’
‘I’m sorry you had to hear it, that’s what I meant. No one should have to hear him when he’s like that.’
‘Least of all you,’ I said. ‘Does this sort of thing happen often?’