A Death in the Wedding Party Read online

  ‘It certainly is a mixed party,’ I said looking around the room and silently absorbing the name Fitzroy was using. Could that be his real name?

  ‘You can say that again. Ratty didn’t want to hold the wedding here, but it seems that Baggy just wouldn’t let go. Like a terrier with a rat, he said, just kept banging on and on about until Ratty felt it would be easier to let him have it and get the whole thing over with.’

  ‘Ratty?’

  ‘The Earl.’

  ‘Of course, you English do love your nicknames,’ I said.

  ‘We do indeed,’ said my grandfather. ‘Not that the younger generation seem to come up with anything very imaginative, Tip-Top, Baggy, the Nag.’ He coughed again and ran his fingers through his moustache. ‘Err-umm.’

  ‘The Nag?’ I caught sight of Richenda smiling broadly and showing large teeth in her very long face. ‘Richenda Stapleford?’

  ‘She does tend to go on a bit about women’s rights and all that palaver,’ said my grandfather apologetically.

  ‘Nothing to do with her appearance?’ I asked.

  My grandfather fairly snorted into his drink. ‘I can tell we are going to get on, you and I,’ he said and gave me a sly wink.

  I smiled, but mentally I was reeling. This was the man who had been painted as an ogre to me all my life? This gossipy, friendly old man?

  The dinner gong sounded and we all processed into the grand dining room. A full thirty places were set out at the table. Although the Court had gas lighting, the table had been lit with several candelabras. Crystal and silver reflected the warm yellow flames. Small delicate arrangements of flowers lined the centre of the table at exactly the right height so one could still see across the table. Not that one would talk to the person opposite at such an event. Conversation was on a side to side basis and strictly rotational. I waited to see who I would be seated next to apart from my grandfather.

  ‘Renard Layfette,’ said a well-dressed man in his thirties. ‘I am a distant cousin of the Staplefords. Richenda will have mentioned me.’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ I said carefully. Renard certainly bore the self-important air that all the Staplefords had. Dark-haired, like Bertram, I could see a family resemblance. ‘You are related to the second Lady Stapleford?’

  ‘Is not everyone related to everyone in our world?’ he said with a small wave of his hand. I detected a slight French accent this time, but really his English was excellent. I told him so.

  ‘I was raised to speak several languages at home,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It has been useful. I travel a lot.’

  My grandfather’s attention seemed to have been captured by the woman on the other side. She was small, stout and talking twenty to the dozen in a hurried undertones.

  ‘You like to travel?’ I asked my other dinner companion, who had not referred once to my status though he must have known.

  Again came the little shrug and a world weary sigh. ‘It has been necessary.’

  The soup arrived. It lay clear and brownish in the insignia stamped dish. No doubt it was highly fashionable. It smelled of fish and sprouts. I took a tentative sip. It tasted worse than it looked.

  ‘The English,’ said Renard with yet another shrug. ‘They cannot cook.’

  ‘I have had many good meals in the homes of my English friends,’ I said, forgetting for a moment that this was meant to be my first time in the country.

  ‘Cooked by a French cook, no doubt. Some hostesses are rightly proud of their French cooks. Others try to pretend it is an ordinary chef, but always if the food is good it will be a Frenchman cooking.’

  The footman removed my soup. He did not even bother asking if I had finished, but I thought I detected a commiserating demeanour.

  The voice of the woman on the other side of my grandfather floated over to me. ‘Honestly, Gregory, I thought we’d never find a woman to take him on, let alone a lady. No one can accuse me of being a doting mother. I know my sons. Tip-top’s the best of them, but little Baggy has always been the runt of the litter, poor chap. No surprise he turned out like he did. At least she has money. I hate to think what their offspring will look like. Ugly buggers I imagine.’

  On my other side Renard sniggered. ‘That is Amelia Tipton. Mother of the groom. Apparently she blames the loss of her figure on her third son. In her day she was accounted a great beauty, if you can believe that. Now she is more dumpy duck than woman. But I do not know why she calls him Baggy.’

  ‘Apparently it is the custom at English boarding schools to de-bag or remove the trousers of someone one dislikes or who has been found to be wanting in some way. A quaint boyish custom,’ I said.

  ‘I can imagine that the groom often found himself in such a position,’ said Renard. ‘It is unfair when nature gifts a man with more ambition than sense.’

  Really, I wondered, did no one here have anything good to say about anyone else? Was this the high society that my mother had so longer for and that she was desperate to thrust my little brother and me into? Next time we met I would tell her frankly I wanted no part of it. There was nothing jolly or celebratory about this meal. The sole aim of all here appeared to be to get a shot off at one another.

  I let my eyes drift down the table. I saw Lord Milford/Fitzroy chatting to a young woman, who was blushing deeply. Wouldn’t the Staplefords recognise him as Fitzroy? It appeared not. If I hadn’t declared himself to me, would I have known? He had a very forgettable face.

  Bertram had been placed next to an aging dowager, who kept putting up her hand to her ear and bending so far her clothing dangled in her soup. I surmised she was deaf as a post. Bertram certainly wore an expression of frustration.

  Lady Stapleford had managed to get herself seated on one side of the Earl at the head of the table. She smiled a lot and turned a head in a marked manner as if deep in thought. I guessed she was attempting to show her best side. I acquitted her of thinking. Richard Stapleford was ignoring his dinner companions and drinking deeply. Richenda, seated opposite Tippy, attempted to flirt through the foliage with nauseating effect. And still the courses continued, each worse than the last. This caused Renard to sniff and chuckle smugly. He began to declaim all the ills of English society, apparently believing that as a foreigner I would agree.

  After what seemed an age, the Countess stood giving the signal for the ladies to retire to the drawing room for tea. The men stayed behind for port and cigars.

  I managed to catch the Countess on the way to the tea, and pleading fatigue, excuse myself from what no doubt would be a vicious round of polite gossip.

  My bed called to me. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Of course, as with all the simplest of my desires it was not to be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ambushed

  I had barely opened the door of my chamber before Merry rushed towards me. She started grabbing pins from my hair before I had even sat down.

  ‘Where on earth have you been?’ she squeaked. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you and I’ve got to do Miss Richenda and Lady Stapleford next.’

  ‘They are still downstairs having tea. I doubt they will be up for a while.’

  Merry slowed her frantic pace. ‘Honestly?’

  ‘It’s not like Stapleford Hall,’ I said, ‘there is a trifle more to occupy the guests here. Mostly by being mean to each other.’

  Merry slumped down on the bed. ‘So I’m going to be up half the night waiting for them and still expected to be up early?’ I nodded. ‘And here was me thinking coming to this big fancy house was going to be fun. It’s all right for you play-acting at being one of the nobs.’

  ‘I can assure you I’m not enjoying the experience.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be one is not enjoying the experience?’ I threw a hairbrush at her. Merry dodged. ‘Miss Richenda’s done that once too often to me for you to catch me out. She’s being right temperamental at the moment.’

  ‘Has she said where she will be living after the wedding?’

>   ‘Well that’s the thing,’ said Merry picking up a discarded cushion and making herself comfortable. ‘She wants to go back to Stapleford Hall. Tippy wants her to go home with him to the Tipton seat, wherever that is, but she hates his mother.’

  ‘From what I saw I can’t imagine anyone liking Amelia Tipton much. She called Tippy the runt of the litter.’

  ‘Well, toffs is funny about children. It’s not like they raise them themselves. It’s all wet-nurses and nannies and boarding schools. And besides he is a bit of a runt. I bet Richenda will squish him to pieces on their wedding night. Either that or he’ll have to climb …’

  I stuck my fingers in my ears and began to hum. Merry pulled my hands away. ‘All right. It’s not like you to be squeamish.’

  ‘You’ve certainly come a long way since you were fond of George Layfette.’

  Merry tossed her head. ‘That was a silly crush. Merrit and I, we are very serious. We both like looking at views,’ she added ambiguously.

  ‘Merry, you haven’t?’ I said startled.

  ‘Even if I had what business would be it of yours?’ Her face flushed and she bit her lip, but she kept her chin up. I could have said something about her being a maid in my care as housekeeper, but I suspected that would only make her withdraw further. So I just said, ‘Be careful, Merry.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Merry picking up the previous thread of our conversation as if nothing had happened, ‘the real issue is where Lady Stapleford is going to live. For what I can gather the late Sir Richard didn’t leave her much. He wanted it all to go to his eldest son and she thinks he thought she’d leave anything she had to Bertram.’

  ‘You mean she’s destitute?’

  ‘Nothing as bad as that. But Suzette says she’s been going through the money at a fair old rate. She wants to live like she thinks a lady should, but she’s not got the budget. So now she’s thinking of basing herself at Stapleford Hall and none of the children want that.’

  ‘Are you and Suzette friendly?’ I asked surprised.

  ‘Not friendly like you and me, but we rub along okay. She’s been showing me how to do hair more fashionably. Reckons I could train to be a lady’s maid for real and not just when we’re short on staff.’

  ‘I’d miss you,’ I said seriously.

  ‘Well, I was thinking how Richenda doesn’t have a proper lady’s maid and I don’t think her mother will put up with sharing Suzette for long.’

  ‘Do you think Suzette will stay with Lady Stapleford if she chooses to stay at Stapleford Hall. There’s nothing going on in the country.’

  Merry nodded. ‘I wondered about that. But she said how she was very grateful to Lady Stapleford and would be happy to stay with her. I reckon she thinks her ladyship will start doing the rounds of weekends away, so she won’t have to stay at the Hall all the time.’

  ‘Why would she do that? She’s never been interested in visiting around the country before.’

  ‘I think that might have been more the late Lord Stapleford. With the hours he worked weekends away weren’t possible. Besides she’s been widowed a decent time now. She’ll be thinking of marrying again. It’s the only way she’s ever going to improve her situation.’

  I reached up to unfasten my necklace; one lent to me by Lady Stapleford. I was surprised to find I was feeling sorry for her. She was a vain, arrogant, dislikeable woman, but she had been left in poor circumstances by a man who must not have cared for her very much. ‘Do you know why Lord Stapleford married her?’ I asked.

  Merry giggled. ‘You mean because it couldn’t have been for love? I think she was meant to add a bit of class to the family. She had aristocratic French connections. George Layfette was related to some posh folks.’

  ‘I thought he was related to the first Lady Stapleford.’

  ‘That lot is all related to one another somehow,’ said Merry shrugging. ‘They’ve got their own little world and we’ve got ours. Only ours is bigger, dirtier and more difficult to live in.’

  ‘There’s a Renard Layfette here,’ I said musingly. ‘I wonder which side he’s related to. I thought he looked a bit like Bertram.’

  Merry’s mouth fell open. ‘Renard, here?’ she said. ‘Gawd almighty, that’ll put the cat among the ruddy pigeons.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s the what-do-you-call-it, the black cow of the family.’

  ‘Black sheep?’ I suggested.

  ‘Black something or other. All I know is that Lord Stapleford banished him from Stapleford Hall. He’s been living abroad, or so George told me, and he made it sound as if he’s been earning his way not quite in the normal manner.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. George said it was too much for my tender young ears, which means either he didn’t know or it was something bad. Lady Stapleford wouldn’t even have his name mentioned in her presence. She took against him so much I wondered if there had been something a bit – you know – between them.’

  ‘But he’s the same age as Richard!’

  ‘No.’ Merry shook her head. ‘He’s about ten years older than that. In his forties, and Lady Stapleford will only own to be being in her late forties herself. Claims she was a child bride.’

  I heard a light tap on the door. Suzette came in. ‘Any sign of their ladyships coming up?’ she said.

  Merry looked at the clock over the mantel. ‘Lord, we’ve been gassing on for ages.’

  ‘There’s a church rehearsal tomorrow,’ said Suzette, ‘so everyone will want to be up early.’

  ‘Good grief,’ I snapped, ‘how on earth do they intend to keep up this charade if they don’t tell me anything.’

  ‘Well, I’ve just told you, haven’t I?’ said Suzette. ‘Ten o’clock at the church. The motors will be waiting to take you across at quarter to.’

  ‘Can I assume this message hasn’t been somewhat delayed in reaching me?’ I asked frostily.’

  Suzette dropped a wonky curtsey, ‘So sorry, your jumped up highness.’

  There was a rap on the door. It didn’t open. I gestured to Merry, who opened the door a crack. Baggy Tipton stood there. ‘Where’s your mistress?’ he asked.

  He caught sight of me behind Merry. Suzette had backed silently into a corner. ‘Mr Tipton,’ I said, ‘this is most unseemly.’

  Baggy Tipton elbowed Merry out of the way and stuck his head through the door. ‘Just wanted to say,’ he said in the loud whisper of a very drunk man, ‘that you’re doing splendidly and no one suspects a thing.’

  ‘Go away,’ said Merry, pushing him sharply in the ribcage. ‘You’ll ruin everything.’

  ‘My, you’re a sparky little thing. Want to come keep my bed warm on my last night of freedom, what?’

  ‘No,’ said Merry, as she managed to shove him through the door frame. She slammed the door in his face.

  ‘I’m in the West Garden Room if you change your mind,’ shouted Tipton far too loudly for comfort.

  ‘If I ain’t almost sorry for Richenda,’ said Merry, leaning her back against the door and folding her arms. ‘What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  I turned to see Suzette had gone very white. ‘Are you well?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘First time I’ve seen Miss Richenda’s new husband to be. Bit of a runt, isn’t he?’

  ‘His mother would certainly agree with you,’ I said under my breath.

  This time no one knocked. Lady Stapleford strode into the room. ‘I should have known I would find you here gossiping. The lower classes always gravitate to each other,’ she said with a nod in my direction. ‘Suzette, I need you and Merry go and help my step daughter she has a big day ahead of her.’

  ‘But I’ve not finished with Euphemia,’ said Merry casting an anxious look at my complicated evening dress.

  ‘Well, you should have thought of that before. Shoo! Both of you, out of here.’

  She turned to me. ‘I see we can put you in fine cloth
es, but you will always revert to your own type. We shall see what my son has to say about this.’

  She turned on her heel and with only a very slight wobble to suggest that she hadn’t only been drinking tea, she left. The door closed with a click behind her. Ladies, as my mother, had taught me, do not slam doors even when unreasonably provoked.

  I hoped Merry would return later to help me, but as the hands of the clock marched forward, no one came. I began the unequal struggle of a lady trying to rid herself of her vestments without her maid.

  Well, I do not think the dress was greatly torn, and besides, I would not be wearing it again at The Court, or anywhere else for that matter. The Staplefords would just have to put up with the damage.

  I found the last of my hairpins when I laid my head upon the pillow. I pulled it out, noting blood on my finger and flung it petulantly across the room. No doubt it would stick in my foot later. Enough was enough. If I was to play the lady then play the lady I would. I rang my bell long and hard.

  After far too long, Merry arrived at my door breathless and wide eyed. ‘You’d better come,’ she said urgently, ‘there’s all hell breaking loose out here. Lady Stapleford and Richenda are having a right cat fight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Breakfast Never to be Forgotten

  I stared open mouthed at Merry. A scream echoed down the hallway. ‘C’mon,’ shouted Merry and ran off. I scrambled out from under the heavy bedclothes and into a dressing gown. More shouts and screams came from the open doorway. I wasted precious time untangling my tassels and tying them properly. A lady would never let the world see her nightdress. My fingers were annoyingly clumsy as I rushed. All I could think was please, please, don’t let there be another murder. I can’t face another death. I can’t. I can’t.

  Finally fit to be seen I dashed out into the corridor only to see Lady Stapleford and Richenda exit into their own rooms slamming their doors loudly.

  Hesitantly, I went to Richenda’s door and tapped. ‘Are you alright?’ Loud sobs were my only answer. I tapped again. Merry answered the door. She slipped out. ‘You’re too late,’ she said.