Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas

I hardly like to discuss remuneration, but of course we will cover your traveling expenses as well as the fee for your services. I think you’ll find us a jolly crowd and we’ll have a really gay Christmas.

Yours sincerely,

Camilla Hawse-Gorzley

I bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

“Queenie, I need my trunk again. We’re going away!” I shouted.

“Cor blimey, miss,” she muttered. “Now I suppose you want me to go back up all them stairs and get the ruddy trunk out of the attic again.”

Chapter 5

ON MY WAY TO TIDDLETON-UNDER-LOVEY

DECEMBER 20

I’m delighted to say that Fig was seriously miffed when I told her I had been invited to a house party for Christmas.

“But you don’t know anybody in Devon,” she said.

“I know all sorts of people,” I said. “I just don’t mention them to you.”

“Well, if that doesn’t take the cake,” she snapped. “And Maude was so looking forward to seeing you again, and having more French lessons too.”

I smiled sweetly. “I expect you’ll all survive without me. Do give my love to Foggy and Ducky.” Then I made a grand exit. I can’t tell you how good it felt.

* * *

I ALSO CAN’T tell you how excited I was when I got my first glimpse of Tiddleton-under-Lovey. Queenie and I had traveled on the night express to King’s Cross and then across London in a taxi to Paddington. I glanced out the taxi window as we inched our way through the London fog, wondering if Darcy was still somewhere close by and I had no way of contacting him. I had actually received a postcard on the day I left Scotland. It said, I gather you’re celebrating Christmas with the family. I’ve also been roped in for a family do. But I hope to see you in the new year. Happy Christmas. Love, D. It was so frustrating. He wrote Love, D, but did he mean it? And why hadn’t he telephoned me if he was back in Britain? Some of the time I felt hopeful about a future with him and then chance remarks like my mother’s dashed those hopes. If you loved somebody, didn’t you want to be with her? At least to telephone her to hear her voice? I tried to face the fact that Darcy really was not good husband material, even if I were allowed to marry him. He was one of those men who could not be tamed or made to want to settle down.

I was glad to board the Great Western Railway at Paddington Station and leave the depressing cold and grime of London behind. We had to change trains in Exeter and then take a branch line. The little train huffed and puffed its way beside a lively stream with snow-dusted hills on one side until it reached the small market town of Newton Abbott. The Hawse-Gorzley chauffeur was waiting with a splendid, if rather old, Bentley. As we set off through the country lanes the sun was sinking in a red ball behind the hills. Rooks were cawing as they flew home to their trees. On a great sweep of upland moor I saw a line of Dartmoor ponies silhouetted against the sunset.

We came around a bend and there it was, Tiddleton-under-Lovey, nestled under a snowcapped tor. Was that rocky crag the Lovey? I wondered. It didn’t look very loving to me. Or was it perhaps the noisy little stream that passed under the humpback bridge as we approached the first houses? On one side of the village street was a small row of shops and a pub called the Hag and Hounds—complete with a swinging pub sign depicting a witch on a broomstick with baying dogs below her. On the other side was a pond, on which glided several graceful swans, and a village green. Behind this were some thatched cottages and the square tower of a church. Smoke curled up from chimneys and hung in the cold air. A farmer passed, riding a huge cart horse, the clip-clop of its hooves echoing crisply in the evening air.

“Stone me, miss, it looks just like a ruddy picture postcard, don’t it?” Queenie said, summing up my thoughts.

I wondered which of the cottages was to be occupied by my mother and Noel Coward. I wondered if my grandfather had consented to come and my heart leaped with hope. Christmas at an elegant house party and my loved ones nearby. What more could I want? Darkness fell abruptly as we drove between a pair of tall gateposts, topped with stone lions, and up a gravel drive. Lights shone out of a solid, unadorned, gray stone house, its severe façade half covered in ivy. This then was Gorzley Hall. It didn’t exactly look like the site of an elegant house party—more Bennet residence than Pemberley, but who was I to judge by appearances?

We drew up at the front entrance and the chauffeur came around to open the door for me.

“My maid will help you with the bags,” I said, indicating to Queenie that she should stay, even though she was looking apprehensive. Then I went up to the front door. It was a massive studded affair obviously designed to keep out past invaders. I rapped on the knocker and the door swung open. I waited for someone to come then stepped gingerly into a slate-floored hallway.

“Hello?” I called.

On one side a staircase ascended to a gallery and I spied a pair of legs in old flannel trousers up on a ladder. They belonged to a stocky chap with shaggy gray hair, wearing a fisherman’s jersey, and he was wrestling with a long garland of holly and ivy.

“Excuse me,” I called out.

He spun around in surprise and I saw that it wasn’t a man at all but a big-boned woman with cropped hair. “Who are you?” she demanded, peering down at me.

My arrival wasn’t exactly going as I had expected. “I’m Georgiana Rannoch,” I said. “If you could please go and tell Lady Hawse-Gorzley that I have arrived. She is expecting me.”

“I am Lady Hawse-Gorzley,” she said. “Been so dashed busy that I completely forgot you were coming today. Come up and grab the other end of this, will you? Damned thing won’t stay put. It looked so simple in Country Life .”

I put down my train case and did as she requested. Together we secured the garland and she came down the ladder. “Sorry about that,” she said, wiping her hands on her old slacks. “I don’t want you to think we’re always this disorganized. Had a hell of a day here. Police tramping all over the place, not letting the servants get on with their work. That’s why we’re so behind. Must have the decorations up, y’know. First guests arriving day after tomorrow.”

She led the way back down the stairs, then stuck out a big hand. “Well, here’s a pretty first introduction to Gorzley Hall, what? Camilla Hawse-Gorzley. How do you do? Dashed good of you to muck in like this. Nearly had a fit when I saw my little advertisement answered by the daughter of a duke. You should have seen the other applications I got—their ideas of impeccable background and mine weren’t at all the same, I can tell you. Parents in trade, I shouldn’t wonder. So you were an answer to our prayers and here you are.”

She beamed at me, making me realize she wasn’t as old as I had first thought. “Well, don’t just stand there. Take off your coat. Come on through and have a sherry, then I’ll give you a quick tour of the house. Brought a maid with you, I expect?”

“Yes, I brought my maid.” I realized it was going to be hard to get a word in edgewise.

“Jolly good. If I can round up Martha, she can show the girl where you’re sleeping and take up your things.”

She rang a bell furiously. “Damned girl is probably entertaining the policemen in the kitchen. Got too much of an eye for the other sex, that one. Going to come a cropper, you mark my words.”