Across the foot of this last page, in what Michael thought was the unknown Rosa’s handwriting, were the words: ‘What a cruel and unpleasant bunch of people! I am ashamed to think I have an ancestor among them!’
He wondered briefly which of the players in the long-ago drama had been Rosa’s ancestor, but could not see that it mattered. He reached for the other package, disentangled the string, and began to read the contents. The first was a letter from the ubiquitous Maria.
Deadlight Hall
November 1882
My dear Mr Breadspear
I was very glad to hear from you that the inspection of Salamander House concluded that no blame could be attached to you. I was also pleased to hear that the inspectors enjoyed the lunch you arranged for them. I dare say such people do not often have the chance of sampling grouse, and it was generous of you to serve your best wines, as well.
It cannot be easy for you to arrange such occasions in your house, after the terrible tragedy, and I am glad to think that much of the unpleasantness about that is dying down. Perhaps ‘unpleasantness’ is rather a mild word to use, but you will know what I mean.
What is not dying down, however, is the annoyance caused to me by that man, John Hurst, with his visits to the Hall and the books he brings for the children. I always look at the books very sharply before allowing them into the house, for on his own shelves at Willow Bank Farm, Mr Hurst has a number of very questionable volumes (some are even in French), which he brazenly says are great literature. There are paintings on the walls of the farm which Hurst calls Art, but which to my mind are nothing better than shameful flaunting hussies. During the lunch he gave for the ladies of St Bertelin’s Church charitable committee I did not know where to look. The lunch itself was what I can only call ostentatious.
It is a pity that the likes of Sir George Buckle take such notice of Mr Hurst’s opinions, although I dare say Hurst’s contributions to the Parish coffers will have much to do with that. But then Sir George seldom knows what goes on in his own household, never mind the wider world beyond. I know for a fact that one of his maidservants has regular assignations with young men whom she meets in the buttery at Buckle House, and is acquiring a very undesirable reputation among the drinkers at the King’s Head. Sir George would be shocked to his toes if he knew he was employing such a hussy in his house, although he will probably find out eventually, on account of it becoming common gossip not only in the King’s Head, but also the Coach and Horses. Not that I have ever frequented either place.
I dare say you will recompense me for the cost of sending the carrier to Salamander House to bring Douglas Wilger back to Deadlight Hall after the accident in your kiln room. A matter of one shilling and sixpence, which I feel is not excessive since the carter lifted the boy on and off. I am sending the note of fee with this letter.
Respectfully yours,
Maria Porringer (Mrs)
Deadlight Hall
November 1882
My dear Mr Breadspear
Regarding your enquiry about Douglas Wilger’s injuries, he is recovering, although his behaviour leaves much to be desired. I have pointed out to him how fortunate he is to have been saved a worse fate, and how he might well have lost an eye in the accident, but he is disobedient and ill-mannered. The two Mabbley girls are his constant companions. I do not care for particular friendships at Deadlight Hall as these can lead to all kinds of trouble among the older ones (I will not give further details of the kind of troubles these might be, being one as was brought up to consider reference to such things indelicate, but you will take my meaning). However, at least Rosie and Daisy Mabbley push Wilger’s wheeled chair around, which is fortunate, since I have no time for it.
I intend to send the Mabbley girls to you, as Wilger’s replacement in the kiln room. It will separate those three, and it is high time those girls started to earn their keep. I must warn you that both have a rebellious streak and will need a firm hand.
Very truly yours,
Maria Porringer.
Deadlight Hall
December 1882