Chapter 27 #2
‘I should like to taste both, before I decide,’ Thea said, playing along without hesitation.
‘What a question.’ She looked to the man and raised both eyebrows as if displeased with her staff.
‘I apologise for the disruption, my good sir, but I am afraid one is quite singular in one’s breakfasting arrangements and one’s maid appreciates how important it is to take lengths to check on one’s feelings on the matter each morning.
’ She saw Mrs Phibbs’ hackles rise at being called a maid.
‘Of course, Your Grace,’ said the man, bowing a little as he stepped back. ‘I do apologise, if there is anything else I can do…’
Martha patted him on the shoulder as she passed. ‘I will be sure to mention your name to anyone I hear needs a gardener.’ She stopped. ‘What was your name?’
‘Bissett,’ he said, bobbing again.
‘Well, Bissett,’ she said. ‘I would appreciate it if you would avoid mentioning our presence here to your master and we will also avoid mentioning your manhandling of The duchess’s maid.
’ He nodded, and Mrs Phibbs bristled again.
‘We thank you for your time,’ said Martha.
‘Quite fascinating.’ She slipped him another penny before heading off in the direction of the pleasure garden. Thea and Mrs Phibbs followed.
‘Could’ve just said housekeeper,’ mumbled Mrs Phibbs to Thea, who grinned at the indignation despite her current, utter confusion.
‘My apologies,’ she said, ‘I got carried away.’
‘Well, I will see you at breakfast, Your Grace,’ said Mrs Phibbs, trying to peel off as they exited the yard, but Thea grasped her arm.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said, steering Mrs Phibbs down a path between topiary peacocks. ‘I have no idea what happened out there, but I shall be needing to know why you were lurking outside that glasshouse. I don’t like lemon curd, so it wasn’t that.’
‘I know that,’ said Mrs Phibbs. ‘Of course I do after twenty-eight years, but I have some thinking to do.’
‘Then come and think with us,’ said Thea.
They caught up with Martha and walked around the lawn at the bottom of the slope, trying to look as if they were taking some air. ‘I think that you two know something that I don’t,’ said Thea, turning between the two women who flanked her. ‘Why were we at the glasshouses this morning?’
‘For different reasons, I think,’ said Martha, eyeing Mrs Phibbs. ‘I wished to view the protea seedlings myself. After you, er… went to get some air, last night, Knatchbull could not stop talking about them. About how quickly they came up once he “applied his secret touch”.’
‘The eyeballs?’ asked Thea, no clearer on where this was heading.
‘Exactly,’ said Martha.
‘So, he’s been reading the same book as Frankie?’ asked Thea. ‘And yet, hers did not come up so quickly.’
‘Exactly,’ said Martha again. ‘And there is no book in your library which suggests that as a potential propagation aid.’
‘But his came up?’ asked Mrs Phibbs, apparently incredulous. ‘With the eyes?’
Thea turned to her. ‘Apparently so.’
‘Something came up,’ said Martha, ‘but it wasn’t the protea.’
Thea turned back, feeling like she was watching a match of badminton. ‘It wasn’t?’ Martha shook her head.
‘Ah,’ said Mrs Phibbs, as if she understood. ‘What was it?’
‘Radish,’ said Martha. ‘Easily done if you reuse your compost without sterilising. Those seeds must have been contamination in the soil.’
‘A happy coincidence,’ said Mrs Phibbs, nodding.
‘Just like you, outside the glasshouse,’ said Martha with a mischievous grin.
‘Couldn’t get in last night,’ said Mrs Phibbs. ‘They lock the blasted doors, so I knew my second chance was this morning whilst everyone was still abed, but the gardeners were up.’
Thea turned to her and then back to Martha. ‘I wish you two would tell me what was going on?’
They stopped walking and Martha turned to her.
‘If I am not very much mistaken, Mrs Phibbs here, and your gardener are in cahoots as to who has been leaking your growing secrets to Mr Knatchbull.’ Martha eyed Mrs Phibbs who did not deny it.
‘Frankie has been fabricating an array of weird and wonderful “propagation secrets” to see which ones made their way here. Mrs Phibbs, as the most trusted member of staff, was sent as additional support to the party to find out.’
Mrs Phibbs nodded. ‘Very astute, my lady.’
Thea stared at her. ‘You have been spying?’
The housekeeper shrugged. ‘Frankie pegged each of the staff that might have an opportunity to leak to Mr Knatchbull and told them all that one of her methods was successful. A different one, for each of them.’ Things began to resolve in Thea’s mind.
‘So that when we came here, you could look and see which one Mr Knatchbull was using?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Phibbs.
‘And then we would know who was leaking the secrets.’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Phibbs, again.
Thea and Martha both looked to her. ‘So, who was told about the eyeball?’
Mrs Phibbs’ face fell at this question. ‘I am afraid to say, Your Grace, that the person told about the eyeball… was Mr Fletcher.’
Neither Thea nor Martha could believe what they had heard.
‘You are saying that Mr Fletcher, our butler, is leaking our growing secrets to Neville Knatchbull?’
Mrs Phibbs shrugged, looking as confused as both Thea and Martha. ‘It seems that way, Frankie assured me that, while most people saw most of the treatments being used, she only told one person about the success of each.’
‘So, it couldn’t have been anyone else?’ asked Thea.
‘Not unless something has gone awry,’ said Mrs Phibbs.
‘I suppose he could have told George,’ said Martha, ‘and George could have told Knatchbull?’
‘I’m not sure that would be any better,’ said Thea, ‘he would know that would happen.’
‘So why would he do it?’ asked Martha, hands on hips and staring out into the fields.
Thea heard footsteps behind them and turned.
Doctor Speckle weaved down the path through the topiary, not watching his feet and scribbling frantically in a notebook as he walked.
He kept going, slowing his pace as the ground levelled but continuing to travel as he scribed.
He was so engrossed he hadn’t even seen them when he was within five paces.
‘Good morning, Doctor Speckle,’ said Thea, amused. This man was never without a new idea.
The doctor startled, stopped and looked up, apparently seeing his surroundings and the ladies for the first time. ‘Oh, good morning,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And isn’t it a wonderful one?’
‘It is indeed,’ said Thea. ‘The three of us were out taking some air.’ To Doctor Speckle’s credit he didn’t seem fazed that the housekeeper was out taking air with a duchess and a countess. ‘What brings you to this sunny part of the garden?’
‘Knatchbull said he had a new Helianthus for me, so I went to the frame yard to collect it, but it turns out it was a tomato. Labelling accident, I think, but never mind,’ said Speckle, with a gentle smile.
He was a kind soul, thought Thea. ‘Then I was walking back and had a thought about tumours and ended up here.’
‘Well, we are delighted to see you,’ said Thea, ‘You were quite monopolised by the men yesterday.’
‘And today, I fear,’ said Speckle. ‘I must go and watch them shoot, I am told. It is not a sport for me, but I am grateful to be invited to these things.’
‘In the case of anyone needing free medical advice?’ asked Martha. Speckle raised an eyebrow.
‘Ah,’ said Thea. ‘And did they?’
‘Plenty,’ said Speckle. ‘But at least I had a nice meal last night and the excellent company of some of my favourite people.’ Bless him for not mentioning my small outburst, Thea thought.
‘I wonder if you had any thoughts on Mr Knatchbull’s Protea?’ asked Thea, keen to gain any insight to the puzzle they had just uncovered. ‘I assume he showed the seedlings to you yesterday.’
‘Absolutely, yes,’ said Speckle, puffing out his cheeks. ‘I should have come to you yesterday as I understand you would be vexed when he boasted of his success at dinner. But I really must tell you, the seedlings are radishes, not Protea.’
Thea grinned. ‘Lady Foxmore also deduced that this morning.’
‘Oh good,’ said Speckle, looking relieved. ‘He doesn’t know of course, but it will only be a matter of days until the roots start to form. I thank goodness we shall not be here when he finds out.’
‘Did he tell you anything about the methods he thought he used to germinate them?’ asked Martha, an inquiring look in her eye.
Speckle guffawed. ‘The eyeballs? I would love to know who came up with that. I thought it was strange enough when your Frankie told me she was confident that dog hair would work.’ So, it was true, thought Thea. Even Speckle had been a suspect for Frankie.
‘Sadly, it didn’t work,’ said Thea, ‘but I thank you for keeping the information to yourself, Doctor Speckle.’
He bowed his head. ‘Discretion is part of my trade.’
Mrs Phibbs cleared her throat. ‘I am very sorry, but I shall have to get back to work. I have lemon curd to serve up.’
‘Shall we walk back for breakfast?’ asked Thea, thinking that at least they had all day to consider the growing conundrum of Fletcher and the eyeballs.
As Speckle held out his arm to Mrs Phibbs to escort her back, they watched the errant band of sheep squeeze through a tiny gap at the edge of the ha-ha.
‘Should we do something about that?’ asked Mrs Phibbs.
‘Maybe later,’ said Speckle, and they made their way up the hill.
On their way to the dining room Thea spied Harriet and Cecily on the terrace. Harriet sat on a bench, leaning back with her legs in a rather unladylike manner, and Cecily was fussing around her with a glass of water.
‘I’ll join you in a minute,’ said Thea to Martha and Speckle. ‘Go ahead to breakfast.’
‘Everything alright?’ she asked Cecily as she approached.
Cecily looked at her, almost panicked. ‘I don’t know what to do. I should know what to do as the hostess, but I don’t.’
‘Is she ill?’ asked Thea, peering at Harriet who was slumped on the seat and had an arm over her eyes.
‘The light,’ mumbled Harriet, and got up in search of some shade. ‘Oh god,’ she said, and then ran around the hedge. Thea and Cecily stood quietly as they listened to the sound of retching.
‘Ah,’ said Thea, as Harriet reappeared around the hedge. ‘The wine?’
Harriet groaned and sat back down. Cecily handed her the water and tapped her on the shoulder from a distance. ‘I am sure I drank a carafe to myself. You know it is always a difficult night when I am shut up with her.’
‘With me?’ asked Cecily, concerned.
‘Not you,’ said Thea, indicating that they should both sit down.
‘Harriet and Emma Fairclough have not always… agreed on all aspects of how a fulfilling life is to be lived.’ It was the best way she could think of to explain it.
Harriet was clearly still in love with Emma.
Emma was only concerned about her position and was becoming increasingly rude and dismissive in order to maintain it.
And Harriet had challenged Emma over her conduct to Thea.
It wasn’t surprising she had partaken of a little too much.
‘She wouldn’t even talk to me,’ said Harriet, slumped again and her arm back over her eyes.
‘Oh,’ said Cecily, looking relieved. ‘Should I fetch Mrs Fairclough to discuss it?’
‘No,’ said Harriet harshly.
‘Probably best to leave her be,’ said Thea. ‘We may be at your house, but I am afraid that all of polite society’s problems travel with it. The only thing that will fix Harriet is water and time.’
‘I wish I was more like you,’ said Cecily, fiddling with her fingers in a nervous way Thea hadn’t seen her do before. ‘You always have the answers and know what to do.’
Thea was so incredulous a snort almost escaped her. ‘That is absolutely not true.’
Cecily sat up and turned towards her. ‘But it really is. You have always seemed so together to me, and you are so accomplished in your studies, and you have principles and stand up for people, and your marriage is good, and you have children which I can’t have.’
Thea tried to digest everything that had just cantered out of Cecily in a constant stream. She was shocked at Cecily’s perception of her and she would return to that later, but for now, the thing that was obviously exercising Cecily needed exploration.
‘You can’t have children?’
Cecily shook her head. ‘Neville is desperate for them. He has tried so hard,’ she checked herself. ‘We have tried so hard, but to no avail. And it is me that is the problem.’
Thea placed a hand on Cecily’s. ‘You can’t know that, Cecily.’
Cecily looked up at her. ‘Oh, but I do. When it became clear that I couldn’t have them with Neville – I lost four of them early, you see,’ she glanced up at Thea who saw in her eyes the pain those four had carved within her, ‘so then Neville sent me to his brother’s to see if there would be more success there and that didn’t work either. ’
Thea squeezed her eyes shut for a second. There was always so much to take in when Cecily spoke. ‘Cecily, are you telling me that Neville sent you to his brother’s house to…’ she wasn’t sure how to put it.
‘For him to impregnate me,’ said Cecily, so matter-of-factly that Thea’s insides squeezed.
‘Good Lord,’ she said, ‘Cecily, that is not acceptable.’
Cecily gave a wry laugh. ‘You and I both know that Neville can do what he likes. After I lost the last, only a couple of months ago, he said he would bring in Doctor Speckle. He came the night before you all arrived.’
‘And examined you?’ asked Thea gently.
‘Yes, most respectfully,’ said Cecily with surprise in her eyes. ‘And he confirmed it. I am not built correctly to carry a child.’
‘He said that?’ asked Thea.
‘No, that’s how Neville put it,’ said Cecily, ‘after the diagnosis from Doctor Speckle.’
‘Oh Cecily,’ said Thea, squeezing her hand and a little lost for words. ‘I am so sorry. How do you feel about it?’
‘A little sad,’ said Cecily, clearly thinking. ‘But it is difficult to hear that you cannot fulfil your duty as a wife. I suppose that is another thing that is wrong with me.’
Thea shook her head vigorously. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Cecily.’ They sat for a while, until Cecily felt she wanted to speak again.
‘In any case,’ said her friend. ‘Neville was cross and blamed me, of course, but I am hopeful that it will at least stop the constant visits to the bedroom and the strange things he has us do to conceive. He has asked everyone about it.’
‘I am sure he has,’ said Thea, slumping back in her own seat.
‘At least there is a conclusion from Doctor Speckle now.’ They were empty words, but what else could you say to someone stuck in a marriage with a domineering husband who cared not a fig for his wife’s wellbeing?
Cecily gave her a small smile and nodded, but they both knew that there was nothing to be done with an errant husband.
‘Go with them today and shoot the fucking lot of them,’ said Harriet, making them both jump. ‘It is no more than they deserve.’