Chapter Ten #3
Pam placed the suitcases on small cedar chests by the foot of each bed, then stepped forwards to draw some muslin curtains and opened the window. The room looked out over a vast meadow beyond a fence. The pond was visible fifty yards or so behind it.
‘We finally got in some screens so the insects won’t get in,’ she said. ‘Unless Miss McTague would prefer them open so they could visit her instead of the other way round.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Iris, laughing.
‘We don’t have alarm clocks in the room, as you may have noticed,’ said Pam, ‘but Early Ernie will take care of that.’
‘Early Ernie?’
‘He is our resident rooster and very reliable,’ said Pam. ‘We will see you at dinner, ladies.’
She closed the door behind her as she left.
Gwen pulled a folding travel alarm clock from her suitcase and tossed it to Iris.
‘Set it for the beetling hour, just in case Ernie decides to sleep in,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ said Iris, winding it. ‘I wonder how the twins fit into the household.’
‘Maybe relatives, maybe locals,’ said Gwen. ‘Let’s have a wash and go down to dinner.’
The other guests were all couples who greeted the two women cordially, the men casting surreptitious and admiring glances, and the other women sizing them up as potential competition as the admiring glances of the men were not as surreptitious as they had thought.
Pam circulated through the room, taking orders for cocktails, then left them to mingle and converse.
Iris and Gwen found themselves separated over the course of the cocktail hour as the men herded them into opposite corners of the room and took the lead in the conversations.
Gwen was repeatedly sounded out as to her relationship with Iris, or Mary as she remembered to call her, and her repeated insistences that they were merely friends and travelling companions were met with knowing glances and raised eyebrows.
To her relief, Pam finally reappeared in the doorway.
‘Dinner is ready, ladies and gentlemen,’ she announced. ‘This way, if you please.’
Pam led them into the dining room which had a long, rough-hewn table covered with a simple linen cloth.
They took their places, Iris sitting on the side of Gwen away from the kitchen door, hoping to shield herself from view.
Pam picked up a small dinner bell and rang it.
A moment later, Mrs Dorter entered and stood at the head of the table.
Her hair had been transformed from a grey-streaked bun to an elaborate, brunette coif, Iris noticed.
Her frock was of a dark-green velour with white laced trim, and her nails were perfectly manicured and painted a deep red.
This was a different woman than the severe, dour servant Iris remembered.
This was a woman who reigned over her domain, with a smile that exuded confidence even before she had uttered a single word.
‘Good evening, and welcome to Dorter’s Inn,’ she said.
‘I am Mrs Hermia Dorter, your hostess. We welcome you to what we hope will be a restful and revivifying experience, and the first step towards that will be tonight’s feast. We will be serving an apple and cress salad with a herb dressing, with all the ingredients gathered fresh from our gardens and orchards.
There will be a selection of local cheeses, followed by a red mullet soup, then trout béarnaise with asparagus.
We make our own scrumpy, and will finish if you still have any room left with Knickerbocker Glory for pudding. Bon appétit!’
With that, Pam rolled in a trolley with salad plates and a large bowl. Mrs Dorter began serving, keeping the conversation going as she did so. She managed not to delve too deeply into people’s personal lives, noticed Gwen, sticking to local politics and gossip in Bath and Bristol.
‘We have two Londoners with us, I hear,’ she said as the soup was brought in. ‘Mrs Bainbridge and Miss McTague, you are most welcome. What do you do there?’
‘As little as possible,’ replied Gwen. ‘And we’re completely exhausted as a result.’
‘Hopefully this will be a restorative,’ said Mrs Dorter. ‘How did you chance to hear about us?’
‘Oh gosh, who was it?’ said Gwen, turning to Iris.
‘One of your friends put us on to it,’ said Iris. ‘Lucy something, I think you said?’
‘Oh, yes, Lucinda,’ said Gwen. ‘Our children were at the same birthday party, and we escaped to the drinks cabinet together. She said you were their housekeeper or something back in the day.’
‘Ah, that would be Mrs Kendall,’ said Mrs Dorter, smiling fondly. ‘I was their housekeeper many years ago in Cambridgeshire. It was kind of her to remember me.’
‘That must have been quite the place to manage,’ said Gwen. ‘She said she and her brother and sister ran pretty wild back then.’
‘They were rich and rambunctious,’ said Mrs Dorter. ‘I cleaned up after them. But eventually, they all grew up and left. Now, here I am, in another big house in the country. Only this one is mine, which makes quite the difference.’
‘How so?’
‘Now, when I’m cleaning up after people, I know that what remains belongs to me, and I put more effort into making things perfect again,’ she said.
‘Well, the inn is lovely and the dinner is marvellous, so here’s to perfection achieved,’ said Gwen, raising her glass.
‘You’re very kind,’ acknowledged Mrs Dorter.
The trout course arrived and was duly consumed and praised by all present. The conversation was taken over by the guests, with the men pressing Gwen and Iris for details of their lives which they fended off with grace and skill.
Yet once the Knickerbocker Glory had been demolished and the guests had repaired to the game room, the onslaught of the males continued.
‘The name’s Norris,’ said one of them to Gwen.
‘How do you do?’ she replied. ‘Mrs Bainbridge. Is Norris a first or last name?’
‘The last seems to be Smith at the moment,’ he said.
‘Quite of few of you Smiths here tonight, if the register is any indication,’ she remarked. ‘Is there a family reunion going on?’
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘Although there may be a fair amount of reuniting happening. You two came all the way from London, eh?’
‘We did.’
‘Interesting.’
‘How so?’
‘London folk go to Bath to get away from London,’ he said. ‘People in Bath go to Bradford to get away from Bath and Londoners. And this place is outside of Bradford. Getting Londoners here is unusual. You must really have wanted to get away from things.’
‘The air is fresh, and there is ample opportunity for exercise and good food,’ said Gwen.
He snorted.
‘Exercise will be had,’ he said, glancing about the room. ‘Although I doubt that much of it will take place outside.’
‘Oh?’
‘One of the attractions of Dorter’s Inn is its remove from the hustle and bustle,’ he said. ‘Another is the discretion of its staff.’
‘I see,’ said Gwen.
‘In fact, should you fancy a respite from the fresh air, give us a knock,’ he suggested. ‘I’m in room seven.’
‘Wouldn’t your wife have some objections to that?’
‘No doubt,’ he said. ‘But she’s in Gloucester at the moment. Susie, who’s here with me, won’t mind at all. She’ll either be grateful for the break, or want to join in.’
‘I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer,’ said Gwen.
He left her for a card table where a game of whist was in progress. Gwen sidled up to Iris.
‘I’m not sure what we’ve stumbled into here,’ she whispered. ‘But I think I was just propositioned.’
‘I’m certain I was,’ Iris whispered back. ‘By two of the men and one of the women. Let’s stick together this weekend.’
‘Our hostess has vanished,’ observed Gwen.
‘Back to the kitchen for the washing up,’ speculated Iris. ‘It’s a small staff here.’
‘Let’s go give our compliments to the cook,’ suggested Gwen. ‘See if we can speak with her.’
But they were met at the door to the kitchen by Pam, who was pushing a trolley into the dining room to collect the dessert plates.
‘May I help you, ladies?’ she asked.
‘We wanted to meet and thank the kitchen staff,’ said Gwen. ‘See where the magic happens.’
‘I’m sorry, but Mrs Dorter doesn’t permit the guests in there,’ said Pam. ‘She’s very protective of her recipes.’
‘Of course,’ said Gwen. ‘Would she be able to come out for a moment?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Pam. ‘After-dinner clean-up is a busy time, I’m afraid, and she is very particular. I will pass your compliments on. Will there be anything else?’
‘Not at the moment,’ said Gwen. ‘Thank you.’
They went back to the game room. Two of the men were playing billiards. Gwen eyed the table speculatively.
‘Step away,’ whispered Iris, noticing her. ‘We don’t want any lemon games getting us kicked out before we find out anything.’
‘A pity,’ said Gwen. ‘I’m pretty sure I could take them. It would pay for the trip. Well, in that case, what say we turn in? I’m exhausted by both the travel and the unwanted male attention, and I don’t see us making any further progress this evening.’
‘Agreed,’ said Iris. ‘Fresh air and beetling in the morning.’
‘You’re really going to be doing that?’
‘How often do I get the chance nowadays? Will you be joining me?’
‘Will there be mud involved?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘No thanks. Come back and wake me for breakfast.’
They headed back to their room. The cool air coming through the window was refreshing.
They changed into their nightdresses and turned out the lights.
Iris looked out of the window. There was a new moon, so the stars were more visible, especially now that the two of them were away from the lights and smoke of London.
Other tiny lights emanated from the meadow.
‘Look, Gwen,’ she said. ‘Glow-worms! Lampyris noctiluca, the fires that shine at night. So pretty!’
‘Why do they glow?’ asked Gwen, coming to look over her shoulder.
‘For the same reason we do,’ said Iris. ‘To attract mates. The females are the brighter ones.’
‘Naturally,’ said Gwen.
They watched and listened. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Then their reverie was interrupted by some amorous noises from the room adjacent to theirs.