A Death in the Wedding Party Read online

  ‘You shouldn’t have been taking up shaving water to him in the first place,’ I said.

  ‘But he kept ringing and ringing.’

  Rory entered the kitchen. He looked pale around the mouth. ‘Where is that damn man’s valet?’

  ‘Avoiding his master is my best guess,’ I said.

  ‘I see,’ said Rory. ‘Then I think I will have a wee word with that mannie. Making a lassie do his dirty work. And you, Daisy, take the day off. Remain in your room and use compresses to ease the swelling. You cannot be seen with a face like that.’ He gave me a challenging look.

  He had no right to order about my staff, but I completely agreed with his decision. ‘An excellent idea,’ I said. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble to get the scullery maid to take a portion of our meals up to Daisy, Mrs Deighton. I hate to cause you more work.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Mrs Deighton. ‘I just have to burn those French kippers Mr Tipton is so fond of and then I will be right with you.’

  Haddock poached in milk for you, my girl. It’ll set you up nice.’

  And with that we all dispersed to our daily duties. I was careful to ensure that none of the maids were left alone with Tipton. He had never struck a member of our staff before, but I had no intention of giving him further opportunity.

  The day went by with no pronouncement about the engagement. If Rory had not witnessed it too I would have begun to think it had been a fanciful dream. It was all very strange.

  We had managed to get through luncheon with no further alarums. Sitting down to table had been only Tipton, Richenda and Lord Richard Stapleford, her brother. Her younger half-brother, Bertram, was away still overseeing the repairs to White Orchards, the estate he had impulsively bought and which was sliding slowly into the fens. For a brief time I had been housekeeper there before the kitchen floor vanished in a pile of dust and we all came back home to roost, as it were.

  Perhaps I thought they were waiting for Bertram to return before putting any plans into action, but he had never seemed of particular importance to his step brother and sister. Beside they knew, though none of us spoke of it, that he and I had worked against them.

  I was desperately in need of Merry’s companionship. Her jauntily outlook on life always shook me out of my gloom, but as best I could understand it, she had snuck away with our ex White Orchards footman and now chauffeur, Merrit, to show him ‘some views.’ I knew I should make a fuss when she returned, but between Rory and I we ran an extremely well-ordered house. And I, at least, was well aware of the strain of working for the Staplefords. Indeed they had only originally hired me, without references, because they simply could not keep staff.

  The bell rang in the drawing room. It was time for Richenda to change her mind about dinner. This happened most days. I smoothed down my plain, black housekeeper’s dress and made my way to the drawing room.

  Opening the door I was surprised to see all three senior members of the household waiting for me. ‘Wonderful news,’ said Richenda, before I was even fully inside the room. ‘We shall be having the wedding here. ‘

  My jaw dropped.

  ‘That won’t be a problem, will it Euphemia?’ she continued. ‘I am thinking of only around three hundred guests.’

  ‘Three hundred guests,’ said Mrs Deighton, ‘Three hundred! Lord above.’ Mrs Deighton was sitting down in the kitchen for the first time in living memory.

  ‘I suppose it is quite normal for a young woman to get married from her family home,’ opined Rory.

  ‘I thought they’d all head up to London,’ I said. ‘We can’t accommodate that many people in the Hall and there is only one decent inn in the village.’

  Rory shrugged. ‘I expect people will motor down and back. It is all the rage now.’

  ‘Hmm, trust Miss Richenda to try and do something fashionable,’ said Mrs Deighton with vehemence. ‘It will all end in tears, you see if it doesn’t.’

  ‘What we need to do,’ I said,’ it get some realistic plans put together. We know she will reject most of the ideas, so we’ll need to encourage her in the right direction.’

  ‘Oh, Euphemia,’ cried Mrs Deighton. ‘I’m too old for all this. This is it! They’ll send me packing without a pension!’

  The cook threw her apron over her head and sobbed.

  ‘Can we use caterers?’ I asked Rory. ‘ Wouldn’t that be fashionable?’

  A loud wail came from beneath the apron.

  ‘I think we may need something a wee bit more drastic than that,’ said Rory. And for the first time in a very long time I saw his eyes begin to twinkle. ‘And I think I know just the thing.’

  Chapter Three

  An Excess of Wildlife

  ‘Aye, it’s newts, sir. Baby ones.’

  Lord Stapleford, Rory McLeod and I were standing in far too close proximity in Lord Stapleford’s bathroom. Despite the tradition of shaving water being brought up boiling from the kitchen, Stapleford Hall was a comparatively new building and had a most advanced plumbing system.

  We all stared down into the bathwater. It wriggled. ‘Maid claimed they came out of the tap,’ said Sir Richard in a bemused way. I struggled not to giggle. The situation was too ludicrous.

  He turned on the cold tap again and clear water flowed. ‘Must have been all the little blighters,’ he said sounding relieved.

  ‘We can hope so,’ said the butler darkly.

  ‘What do you mean, man?’ demanded his master.

  ‘It’s just in my experience an infestation is not likely to be small.’

  ‘Infestation? What the blithering …’

  A loud scream curtailed the conversation. A shudder went down my spine, but almost at once I realised it was not Daisy.

  ‘Me sister,’ said Lord Stapleford and much to my surprise trotted as fast as a man in an overly tight suit could along the corridor. Rory did not follow, but leaned against the walk, his lip curling in a most unprofessional manner.

  I cast him a suspicious look and ran after the figure of Lord Stapleford as it disappeared into his sister’s boudoir. The sight that met my eyes would not have looked out of place on the vaudeville stage. Richenda stood on a chair, her skirts held high, screaming her head off. I noticed the thin legs of the chair shivered under her weight. ‘My lady, I think you should come …’

  ‘There! There!’ shouted Richenda pointing at an overturned table. ‘A monster!’

  I bent down to examine the remnants of her mother’s floral tea service that now lay in pieces across the floor. The pattern wasn’t to my taste, but I couldn’t see anything monstrous about it.

  ‘The s-s-spout!’ cried Richenda. The chair frame gave an alarming crack. Richard handed his sister swiftly down, and pushed her behind him. I advanced upon the tea set. The tea-pot was lying on its side towards her and away from me. Miraculously it remained intact. I turned it carefully towards me and a little greenish face peered back at me from the spout. I blinked in surprise and a small forearm pushed its way through the opening.

  ‘Oh, the poor thing is stuck!’ I said.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ screamed Richenda.

  ‘Sure, it’s only a full-grown newt, your ladyship,’ said Rory, who had finally arrived. He took the teapot off me. ‘I’ll let the little fellow go in the garden.’

  ‘What is a newt doing in my teapot?’ demanded Richenda in a tone that would have impressed even my mother (who does imperious better than anyone else I have ever met.)

  ‘It may be we have a wee infestation,’ said Rory as Lord Stapleford made frantic hushing noises.

  Richenda sagged against her brother, who let out an ‘ooof’ of surprise. ‘Well, see there aren’t any more of them, Euphemia,’ she demanded.

  However, as the day wore on the newts made more and more appearances. Mrs Deighton found them in the kettle. The scullery maid in her sink. Daisy found them in the vase water of the hall roses. There seemed to be no rhyme or rhythm to it. I could think of nothing except that a
ll water to be consumed must be strained and then boiled. I had never heard of anyone dying from newt poisoning, but then I had never before come across an infestation.

  This puzzled me greatly. I had grown up at a small vicarage in the country. If anywhere might have been expected to get wildlife in the water it was there. We certainly had our fair share behind the wainscoting, down in the cellars and even in the attics. My brother, little Joe, had a very fine collection of dried insect husks, small corpses and other matter that had once been animate that he delighted in leaving in the corner of the drawing room when the refined locals condescended to call on father. It had got him many a whipping. But the only time I remembered him bring newts into the house was when he had been playing down by the local river he was so fond of falling into.

  At this thought I lifted my head and saw the boot boy, Sam, wander past my window whistling. A boot boy’s lot is not a happy one. They work long hours for little reward. Sam is one of the better boot boys, who knows his life is best if he stays out of everyone’s sight and does his job quickly and quietly. To see him drawing attention to himself by whistling in the garden was quite extraordinary.

  It may seem strange that I am concentrating on the newts when a maid on my staff was recently attacked, but I am much saddened to say that the newts were by far the more unusual circumstance.

  I closed the housekeeping accounts, pushed away from my desk and quickly made my way into the garden.

  ‘Sam!’

  The little boy’s head came round so quickly I was afraid he’d do himself an injury. His eyes opened wide. I knew that look from old. ‘My brother has just such a look on his face when he is caught out in mischief,’ I said. ‘Don’t even think of running away from me, Sam.’

  Slowly, as if I being reeled in by a fishing line Sam made his way haltingly towards me. I noticed that his right hand was clenched deep in his pocket.

  ‘What is in your hand?’ I asked. ‘No, Sam the other one.’

  ‘Oh, that be’int anyfink I could show a lady like yourself, Miss St John.’

  ‘Give,’ I commanded.

  The little fist hovered above my palm, quivered and then let fall two shillings.’

  ‘Good heavens, Sam! What have you been up to?’ I knew there was no way either the Staplefords or Tipton would tip this, or indeed any amount, to have their shoes shined.

  ‘I can’t tell you, Miss.’

  I took Sam firmly by the ear. ‘You surely can and you surely will,’ I said and with all the skill of an older sister I led him towards the kitchen. Rory appeared in the doorway. ‘Ah, let the lad have his fun, Euphemia.’

  ‘I require to know the nature of this fun, Mr McLeod. I take it I need not remind you that as the senior male member of staff you are responsible for whatever misdemeanour this lad has undertaken.’

  Rory reached over and undid my fingers from Sam’s ears. ‘Run along with you, lad. I’ll sort this out.’

  I looked up at him open mouthed in shock. My fingers tingled, not unpleasantly, from where he had touched them. I was furious. ‘How dare you flout my authority, like that?’

  ‘Me flout you? I thought you said the boy was my responsibility?’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ I returned angrily.

  ‘Sure you are guy bonnie when you’re in a fash,’ goaded Rory.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Did you pay that boy to put newts throughout the water system?’

  ‘Once you’ve had an infestation, as I was just telling Lord Stapleford, you never know when you might get another. Makes the place most unsuitable for a grand function.’

  ‘You idiot! He might well sell the Hall.’

  ‘Rubbish! the three of ‘em want this Hall mighty badly. It’s their father’s prize. Goodness knows why. I’ve suggested we have the plumbing system thoroughly cleaned and investigated. It needs a good going over if you ask me.’

  ‘And I suppose they will find newts?’ I said.

  ‘Pockets here and there,’ said Rory.

  ‘But this just delays things. It doesn’t solve matters.’

  ‘A delay is all we need,’ said Rory. ‘Miss Richenda is determined to be wed on her birthday and that Hall plumbing certainly can’t be refurbished by then.’

  ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you?’

  Rory gave a self-satisfied shrug. ‘All I know is I want the wedding off Mrs Deighton’s shoulders and that wee weasel-faced shy–’

  ‘Thank you, I get the idea. I have no more liking for Mr Tipton than you.’

  Rory’s face clouded. ‘It’s more than that,’ he said. ‘I tell you, Euphemia, there’s something deeply wrong with that man.’

  Chapter Four

  The Bride Triumphs

  ‘I’m beginning to wish I had never started this,’ said Rory. His shoes and his trouser cuffs were unsuitably muddy. We were standing in the kitchen late at night when the family was abed. Rory was holding two buckets full of newts.

  I gave him a smile. ‘You didn’t think this through, did you?’ I said. ‘As soon as they think there is any chance the house will be fine, the wedding invites will be sent out.’

  Rory sat down. ‘We’ve been through some daft schemes, you and I, but this is the daftest yet.’

  ‘Don’t include me. This is entirely your plan. And to be honest I’m surprised at you. It seems outwith your normal character.’

  Rory stirred one bucket with the end of Mrs Deighton’s second best spoon. ‘They would have got rid of her, you know,’ he said. ‘Probably without a pension too. I’ve seen it done before. She’s got nae family, you know.’

  ‘I’m afraid all you have done is delay the inevitable. Mrs Deighton is getting too old to run the kitchen of a large house.’

  ‘Once Richenda and her husband have moved out …’ began Rory.

  ‘Who says they will? I hope it as much as you, but you know that ridiculous will for inheriting the Hall states that the children must stay in residence until they produce a legitimate heir, and whoever does so will inherit the Hall.’

  ‘Aye, and don’t tell me, it’s about inheriting their father’s blessing or some such nonsense rather than the Hall.’

  ‘I am told that in London the name of Stapleford Hall, built by the Stapleford bankers, counts for something.’

  ‘Aye right,’ said Rory. ‘But you’re right it doesn’t solve Mrs Deighton’s problem.’

  ‘We need to get her an undercook. I might have been able to argue for that if the wedding had been here.’

  ‘So you’re saying it’s all my fault?’

  I leant over and touched Rory’s hand briefly. ‘You’ve risked your reputation and your position to protect an old lady from destitution. Your plan is ridiculous plan, but it is nobly ridiculous.’

  ‘Och, well,’ said Rory becoming alarmingly Scotch. ‘I need away to tend to my newts.’

  I retired to my chamber and began to wrack my brains for a solution. Goodness knew that the servants here had been the first to show kindness to me when I showed up at their door, dripping wet and then began to tug dead bodies around by the leg. It seemed so long ago. In two years I felt I had aged twenty. I certainly felt the weight of responsibility for my staff, but as I finally slipped into sleep I owned to myself that not only was I making no progress in bringing the Staplefords to justice, somehow along the way I had given up. I had lost myself in everyday activities. I lived my role as a housekeeper to the full and I was good at it. I was becoming a good servant. And a good servant would never bring Sir Richard down. Things had to change.

  The next morning brought change in the departure of Mr Tipton. From the little smirks that Richenda kept giving herself in the mirror at breakfast I guessed something was afoot. However, although I had once been privy to many of this family’s secrets they were doing a very good job now of keeping me out.

  ‘I shall be writing a letter this morning,’ announced Richenda. ‘It is a most important one and I do not care to be disturbed by the maids.
See to it that the fire is lit in the little morning room and the room well-aired by the time I have finished breakfast.’

  If Richenda had been a tea-and-toast breakfast type of lady this might have been a problem, but even as I hurried away to arrange matters she was tucking into her second kipper.

  Later, I was clearing the breakfast things when Bertram Stapleford, the twins’ younger brother, burst into the room. ‘It’s not all gone, is it Euphemia? I could eat an elephant!’

  ‘I think we may have a small amount of elephant steak left, sir,’ I said with a smile. Bertram had been away for the house for several months.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Euphemia – I mean Miss St John,’ said Bertram.

  If I was surprised at his sudden willingness to speak to me again it was not an unwelcome surprise and I immediately busied myself with bringing him breakfast things, as I had once done at White Orchards.

  He looked up at me as I set the place before him. ‘Just like old times,’ he said ruefully. ‘I took a look at the house on the way here.’

  ‘And how fares it?’

  He sighed. ‘They have had to take the roof off now.’

  ‘Oh no!’ I cried.

  ‘Rotten joists or some such thing.’

  ‘But it is only just built!’

  ‘I think ‘thrown together’ would be a more accurate description than built. Still, you will have me back among your number for some time until all the repairs are put in order. There is no chance of my even selling the house now its true state has been revealed.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir.’

  ‘Are you?’ asked Bertram, a strange look in his dark eyes. ‘At least I shall be around to see all this wedding malarkey at first hand.’

  ‘Is that of interest to you, sir?’

  ‘Richenda insisting she marries on her birthday, the same day she comes into her full inheritance? And considering who she is marrying? I’m far from clear if my brother has played a blinder or if my stepsister is finally about to trump him.’

  ‘You mustn’t talk to me about the family like that!’ I exclaimed.