‘And Miss Titmus?’
‘“Titmouse”, Roz calls her. Charming, but somewhat put upon by her more glamorous friends, I feel.’
‘Lady Lavinia, too?’ I said. ‘It seems odd that Miss Titmus should choose to spend her time with people who bully her.’
‘To be fair, no, not Jake. I think Helen and Jake are quite close, and she has to endure Roz’s company as part of the bargain. They seem to come as a set.’
‘Mrs Beddows does seem to like to be surrounded by the easily controlled. Her maid is terribly quiet and diffident.’
‘Roz brought her maid?’
‘Yes, my lady. She and I are sharing a room.’
‘When did she get here?’
‘She came in the car with the ladies,’ I said. ‘She didn’t get out until you’d all gone inside.’
‘Well I never,’ she said. ‘My vaunted powers of observation are obviously on the wane.’
‘It’s old age, my lady,’ I said as she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a silk dressing gown. ‘You said yourself that you were getting on a bit.’
I got a ‘harrumph’ for my troubles, and we set about preparing her for the evening’s festivities. Once she was finally brushed, polished, and ready to face the world, I slipped away to my shared room and supper with Betty Buffrey.
I had lain for quite a while on my bed, reading The Time Machine and revelling in my unaccustomed leisure and sloth. Ordinarily, I loathe inactivity, but there’s something about being away from home that seems to encourage indolence and turn it into a pleasure rather than a torment. Indeed, I was enjoying the solitude so much that I was very nearly disappointed when Betty finally came in.
Whereas others might bowl boldly into a room – especially one that had been temporarily designated as their own – with a ‘here I am’ flourish, Betty Buffrey entered quietly, almost apologetically, as though she felt that she might be intruding. It was true that she was unused to sharing the room when she was at Codrington Hall, but I very much imagined that she would have entered thusly even had she known the room to be empty.
‘Evening, Betty,’ I said cheerfully, trying to put her at her ease.
‘Oh, hello, Miss Armstrong,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I can find somewhere else to sit, if you wish.’
‘Don’t be so silly,’ I said. ‘Come on in and join me. I’m the interloper, if anyone is – this is usually your room. To be truthful, I’d relish the company. I’d been enjoying being on my own, but the attraction soon pales. I rather fancy having someone to talk to.’
‘Oh,’ she said, sounding slightly surprised. ‘Well, if you’re sure, then I should like that very much. Will you be going down to supper in the servants’ hall?’
I could see she didn’t relish the idea. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I took Mr Spinney up on his kind offer to send supper up here for us both.’
She relaxed. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said. ‘I’d have come down with you, of course, but I really do prefer to be up here, away from the noise and the chaos.’
‘Me too,’ I half fibbed. I actually don’t mind a bit of noise and chaos, and have been known to seek out boisterous company to liven things up a bit, but for this week I, too, was glad of the peace and quiet. ‘Oh,’ I added, ‘and I also accepted his kind offer of a bottle of champagne. He said Lord Riddlethorpe wouldn’t notice it missing, but from what I’ve seen of his lordship, it was probably his idea.’
‘Gracious,’ said Betty with a girlish giggle. ‘How wonderful. I’ve never had champagne before.’
‘You’ve never . . . ?’ I said incredulously.
‘Never been offered it before,’ she said.
‘Does Mrs Beddows not drink it?’
‘She guzzles it down as if it’s about to go out of fashion. But it would never occur to her to offer me any.’
‘Well, we’ll soon set that straight. I only hope you like it after all that anticipation.’
She sat on her bed and began unbuttoning her boots. She was still struggling with the second boot when there was a knock at the door, so I rose to answer it rather than simply call for whoever it was to come in.
I found Patience standing there, holding a very large, heavily laden tray. I couldn’t see an easy way to take it from her so I stepped hastily aside. ‘Come on in,’ I said. ‘Pop it on Miss Buffrey’s bed and we’ll sort it out from there. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, thanks, miss,’ she said, struggling towards the bed as Betty hopped out of the way.
‘It’s really very kind of you to bring us this,’ I said. ‘Thank you so very much.’
‘My pleasure, miss,’ said the young kitchen maid cheerfully. ‘Gets me out of the kitchen for a bit, don’t it?’
‘It does, indeed. Would you care to linger? Join us in a sandwich, perhaps?’
‘No, miss,’ she said. ‘Better not. Mrs Ruddle is lovely and all, but it don’t do to take the mickey, eh?’
‘No, Patience, I suppose it doesn’t.’
‘Patty, miss.’
‘Righto, Patty,’ I said. ‘Well, thank you again for the supper. And thank Mrs Ruddle, too.’
‘Will do, miss,’ she said as she all but skipped out of the room.
Betty, now finally free of her other boot, had just come over to help me examine and unload the tray when there was another knock at the door.
‘Come on in,’ I called. ‘The party’s just beginning.’
The door opened, and in came Mr Spinney with his own tray, this time holding two bottles of champagne, glistening with condensation, and two glasses.
‘Here you are, ladies,’ he said, setting the tray down on the bed beside the food. ‘A little treat for you both.’
‘Gracious, Mr Spinney,’ I said. ‘Two bottles?’
‘Well,’ he said with a wink. ‘No point in being stingy with it, is there?’
‘It’s jolly nice of you to bring it all the way up here yourself,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure, miss,’ he said. ‘Adds a bit of mystery and tension if I go missing for a few moments on a busy evening. Keeps everybody on their toes. “Where’s Mr Spinney got to?” they say. “Better make sure everything’s perfect – the old codger could be anywhere. Don’t want him to catch us shirking.” Works wonders.’
Betty and I both laughed. ‘You’re welcome to linger,’ I offered. ‘Join us for a sip or two.’
‘A kind offer,’ he said. ‘But I’d better be getting back. The trick only works if I really do appear out of nowhere once in a while. If I play the Charley-wag for too long, they get complacent.’
‘Right you are, Mr Spinney. I hope everything goes smoothly this evening.’
‘It’s certain not to, Miss Armstrong,’ he said. ‘But the test of our mettle is how well we cope with the inevitable disasters, I always say.’
‘Then I hope all your disasters are little ones.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Have a pleasant evening, ladies.’ He left, closing the door behind him.
‘Well,’ I said, indicating the two trays. ‘It seems supper is served. What do you think: a picnic?’
‘A what?’ laughed Betty.