T Kinsey - A Quiet Life in the Country (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 1)

The musicians we had heard in the village hall were Roland Richman’s Ragtime Revue, a band of some repute from London. They were Clarissa’s choice, it seemed. Lady Farley-Stroud’s disapproval had been loud and hearty, but she had eventually been persuaded that it was not, despite her firm belief to the contrary, her night and that the young people would prefer something a little more lively and up to date. Maude – who had turned out to be excellent company and quite a game old girl – had told me all this earlier in the afternoon. I was so glad she had. That little titbit had made Lady Farley-Stroud’s loud exclamations of enjoyment and attempts to tap her feet appreciatively all the more entertaining.

Lady Hardcastle had made her customary unobtrusive entrance somewhere between the early arrivals and the stragglers and it wasn’t until nearly nine by the hall clock that we spotted each other. She came over to ask how things were getting along.

‘Not so badly, my lady,’ I said, proffering my tray. ‘Do help yourself to a snack and some champagne-style vin de table .’

‘I see a career for you as head waiter at the Ritz with a line of patter like that.’

‘Thank you, my lady. Have you been here long? Are you having fun?’

‘Oh, you know how it is. I’ve been to better parties, but I’ve been to far worse. But Clarissa’s London friends are quite fun. They seem to have adopted me as some manner of Eccentric Aunt figure so I’m not wanting for respectful admirers.’

‘Not a racy big sister, then?’

‘Sadly not. I think my Disreputable Aunt years are well and truly upon me. What of you? Have you knocked the staff into shape?’

‘There’s at least one I wouldn’t mind knocking on her derrière , but all is generally well, thank you,’ I said.

‘Splendid, splendid. Oh, look out, here comes Captain Summers.’

‘Bad news?’

‘Frightful bore. Newly returned from India.’

‘Ah, Lady Hardcastle, there you are. I thought I’d lost you,’ said a suntanned, luxuriantly moustached man of about my own age.

‘What ho, Captain Summers,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No, not lost, just mingling. Armstrong, this is Captain Roger Summers. Captain Summers, my maid, Armstrong.’

‘Oh,’ he said with some bewilderment. ‘How d’you do?’ He turned quickly away from me and back to Lady Hardcastle. I curtseyed slightly, but politely, and melted a step or two backwards.

‘Is this what parties are like back in Blighty these days?’ he blustered. ‘Not sure I’ve quite got the hang of it yet. And this dashed awful music? American, isn’t it? Keep hearing it all over the place.’

‘It’s quite the thing with the young people,’ she said. ‘Give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll like it.’

‘Bah. Give me a military band any day,’ he said dismissively. ‘And this weather. So dashed cold.’

‘Oh, you Raj types and your silly complaints. It’s perfectly delightful weather.’

‘You were in India, weren’t you?’ he said. ‘Surely you noticed the difference.’

‘I was in Calcutta for a year or two, yes.’

‘What was your husband doing in Calcutta? Perhaps I knew him.’

‘My husband died in China before I got to India.’

Captain Summers was embarrassed. ‘I . . . er . . . I’m so sorry. I had no idea . . .’ Sadly, though, he didn’t quite know when to stop digging. ‘But does that mean you were in India on your own? Gracious me.’

‘Not alone, no. Armstrong was with me.’

‘Well, I never. Alone in India. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Then this must be a very exciting evening for you,’ she said drily.

‘What? Oh. Well, I ought to circulate, don’t you know. Got to put the old face about a bit. Try to be sociable and all that.’

‘Cheerio, Captain,’ she said brightly and turned to me. ‘Insufferable oaf.’

‘He’s just a little out of his natural environment,’ I said. ‘He’ll adapt soon enough.’

‘We’ll make a scientist of you yet, my girl. Yes, he might well adapt. Or become extinct. One can only hope.’

I was still laughing when Mr and Mrs Seddon arrived at Lady Hardcastle’s side. Mr Seddon was looking a little the worse for drink, while Mrs Seddon was positively bursting with forced good humour.

‘Good evening, Lady Hardcastle,’ she gushed. ‘How lovely of you to come. We’ll all be friends soon. So lovely to have the right sort of people around, isn’t it? Oh, and thank you for the lovely note you sent after lunch. Have you recovered from your turn?’

‘My t— Oh, yes, I’m much better now, thank you,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

‘And you’re settling in well?’

‘We are, thank you, yes. The house is nearly sorted out, my studio is coming together, and we’ve hired some extra servants. I think we’re going to be very happy here.’

‘It’s marvellous to have you as part of our little gang,’ said Mrs Seddon. ‘I’m sure we’ll see even more of each other once we and the Farley-Strouds are one happy family.’

‘I’m sure we shall.’

‘I’m so sorry, Lady Hardcastle,’ said Mrs Seddon suddenly. ‘You will excuse us, won’t you? I see the vicar and we need a quick word.’

‘Of course, nab him while you can. Toodle-oo.’

They walked off but we could still hear them as they headed towards Reverend Bland. ‘Lovely to have the right sort of people around you, isn’t it, dear?’ slurred Mr Seddon. ‘Got to be the right sort of people.’

Mrs Seddon hissed at him to be quiet. ‘I’m not in the mood for this now, James,’ she said. ‘We have other things to concern ourselves with.’

‘She’s the right sort of people, isn’t she, dear?’ he continued obliviously. ‘Got a title and everything. You know Clarissa won’t get a title, don’t you, dear? Her brother would, mind you. If she had one . . .’

He was dragged out of earshot before we could hear any more.

‘I say,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

‘They’ve been bickering all evening. I passed them in a corridor earlier and they were at it. Some couples are like that, aren’t they? My aunt and uncle were always at one another’s throats, but nothing would part them—’

I stopped talking when I noticed that Percy Seddon and his wife were trailing through the party a little way behind his brother.

‘. . . that dashed woman gets on my nerves,’ he said.

‘Oh, Percy, shush,’ said his wife. ‘She’ll hear you.’

‘’Bout time someone set her straight. She’s a pawnbroker’s daughter, not the Duchess of Gloucester. Even after her precious Teddy marries that wet nelly Camilla—’

‘Clarissa, dear.’

‘Really? What a wet name. Even then she’ll only be the mother-in-law of some impecunious minor gentry. You’d think he was marrying into royalty the way she carries on.’

‘Really, Percy. Shush.’

‘She’s forever poking her nose in at the office, too, y’know. In and out like a fiddler’s elbow. Talks about the place like she’s a partner . . .’

They drifted out of earshot.

Before I could comment, Sir Hector came over with a gaudily dressed stranger. I melted into the background again.

‘Emily, m’dear,’ said Sir Hector jovially. ‘Are you having fun?’

‘Enormous fun, Hector, yes. Thank you for organizing such a diverting evening.’

‘Bah! Not me, m’dear, it’s all down to the memsahib. I couldn’t organize m’sock drawer, what?’

She laughed with seemingly genuine delight.

‘But where are me manners? Lady Hardcastle, may I present Mr Clifford Haddock. Mr Haddock, this is m’good friend and neighbour, Lady Hardcastle.’

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ he said in an unpleasant, nasal voice.