Ти Кинси - Christmas at The Grange - A Lady Hardcastle Mystery (Kindle Single)

The two sides of the family seemed very comfortable in each other’s company. I supposed that the Farley-Strouds had become the heads of the extended family and that they were all used to spending time together. Hattie Beaufort and Alberta ‘Bertie’ Chambers seemed more like sisters than second cousins, and their children had formed a strongly bonded pack. Even Sir Edward’s friend, the roguish Julius Goodheart, was pitching in. At one point, Hattie passed him her baby and he continued chatting to his pal as though he were merely holding a friend’s coat.

For their part, the villagers were also in fine spirits. There was enough goose to go round and, thanks to Lady Hardcastle’s spending spree, quite a bit of beef, too, which they thought a tremendous luxury. There was plenty of ale, as well, but although the mood was boisterous and lively, things never threatened to get out of hand.

By the time the last of the Christmas pudding and mince pies had been eaten, things had become a good deal quieter. A blanket of lethargy had settled warmly over the guests, who were every bit as stuffed as we had been the day before. It was going to take quite some effort to rouse this lot from their torpor and send them on their way, I thought.

Not nearly so much effort as I imagined, as it turned out.

I had taken off my apron and was leaning on one of the tables. I was chatting to Mr Holman, the baker, when the hall erupted into raucous cheering. I looked round to see that a plump man dressed in a long, red robe had entered the hall. He was sporting a preposterously long white beard, but the thing causing the commotion was the bundle he was hauling behind him. Closer inspection revealed that it was Sir Hector in his Father Christmas costume and that the sack contained presents.

Without having to be told, the village children got up from the tables and formed a neat and orderly line in front of Sir Hector, who, with a few hearty chuckles and assurances that he knew they’d all been frightfully good, handed each of them in turn a small package. Having been thus rewarded for another year of good behaviour – something which, to judge by the look of them, some of them had barely managed – they scampered back to their parents and began playing with the toy motor cars, spinning tops, toy soldiers and dolls that they had been given. None of the gifts were large, but they seemed to be greatly appreciated.

Lady Hardcastle came over to join me.

‘Gertie says there’s a buffet in the dining room for the family if you’re hungry,’ she said.

‘I’m surprised to say that I’m famished,’ I said. ‘But isn’t there more gift-giving?’

‘The staff and tenants have already had their presents,’ she said. ‘This is just for the little ones of the village.’

‘Ah, I see,’ I said. ‘In that case shall we slip away and get something to eat?’

We joined the family in the dining room and helped ourselves to sandwiches and a cold collation, all of which had been put together from the leftovers of Christmas lunch.

We’d been there for a while before Sir Hector joined us. He had removed the dark red robe but was still wearing the long beard.

‘That was great fun, what?’ he said. ‘Always enjoy Boxing Day.’

‘You seem to be enjoying the beard, too, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

He stroked it contemplatively. ‘Suits me, don’t y’think? Only ever had a moustache, but I could see meself with one of these johnnies. Distinguished, what?’

‘You’d be forever dangling it in your soup, dear,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud, who had appeared silently behind him. ‘You’d better take it off so you don’t ruin it. You’ll want it again next year.’

‘Right you are, my little sugar plum,’ he said. He winked at us. ‘Best do as the memsahib says. Key to a happy marriage, that. Always do as you’re told.’ He left us, but didn’t make it as far as the door before he fell into conversation with Alberta Chambers.

‘Thank you so much for coming again today, m’dears,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘I know it wasn’t much of a change for you, Armstrong, having to wait at table like that, but it’s greatly appreciated.’

‘Thank you for inviting us,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘thank you. It was great fun.’

‘I’m so pleased,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘You’ll join us again this evening, I hope.’

‘For the entertainment?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘If you’ll have us. Daisy Spratt told us a little about it – it sounds frightfully jolly.’

‘Splendid,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘You must come. Don’t dress – the gentlemen will be in lounge suits. We try to keep it as informal as possible with so many of the villagers taking part in the proceedings. Don’t like them to feel out of place, you see?’

‘Very thoughtful,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But we’d still better go home and change. When does the fun start?’

‘Eight o’clock sharp. If you arrive any time after seven you can join us in the library for a livener before the show.’

‘We’ll see you then,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Come on, Flo, let’s go and get out of these togs.’

We slipped out, unnoticed, and made our way home.

* * *

We arrived back at The Grange at half past seven, suitably attired as though for a quiet evening in with friends. We could hear the murmur of pre-show activity coming from the ballroom as we were led across the hall and into the library by the eternally unflappable Jenkins.

Sir Hector noticed our arrival at once and beckoned us over to the drinks cabinet.

‘Fizz?’ he said, indicating an open bottle of champagne.

‘Oh, rather,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do you know, I’m not sure I’ve ever declined an offer of champagne in my life.’

He chuckled. ‘And one for you, m’dear?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘I know for certain that I’ve never turned one down.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘Experience shows that it’s best to approach the Boxing Day show with a snifter or two under the belt. Helps liven things up, what? And if things get too bad, it can help you snooze through the worst parts instead. Good health.’

He raised his glass.

‘Cheers,’ said Lady Hardcastle and I together.

We left him to his barman’s duties and stood for a while, surveying the small gathering.

‘Well, that’s frightfully irritating,’ said Lady Hardcastle after a few moments.

‘I was thinking that,’ I said. ‘Apparently, dark blue worsted is this season’s “in” fabric.’

Baden Beaufort – Lady Farley-Stroud’s brother-in-law – Julius Goodheart and Sir Edward Chambers were wearing suits in a variety of styles, but they were all cut from a high-quality, dark blue cloth. Even Dr Fitzsimmons was sporting a blue suit.

‘The only one we can definitely rule out is the vicar,’ I said. Reverend Bland was wearing his customary ecclesiastical black.

‘Although Jag is dressed in blue,’ she said.

I looked in the direction she indicated and saw that the vicar’s wife, Jagruti, was wearing a dark blue saree run through with golden thread in a broad pinstripe.

‘You’d not shin up a drainpipe in a formal saree,’ I said.

‘Pyjamas come from India, though, don’t forget. They’d make a much more practical outfit for clambering up walls in the dead of night.’

‘True, but we know nothing of Mrs Bland’s collection of pyjamas. Although I doubt she wears size nine Oxfords.’

‘Yes, that’s a point – shoes. Have you seen any that might fit the bill?’

‘It’s a room full of gentlemen wearing dress shoes,’ I said. ‘They all fit the bill.’

‘Remember Hanover?’

‘Oh, really, my lady,’ I said. ‘Here? No.’