‘Tell Mrs Beddows to go and . . .’ she murmured.
‘Betty, sweetheart, you’ve got to wake up and—’
With a gasp, Betty sat bolt upright in bed. ‘Oh my goodness!’ she said, a look of near terror on her face. ‘I’ve just had the most horrible nightmare. I dreamed Mrs Beddows was trying to awaken me, and I told her to . . . Oh.’ She noticed Patty standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry, miss,’ said Patty. ‘It’s Mrs Beddows. She rang down, but when Lily went up to her, she sent her away with a flea in her ear and insisted we get you.’
In a state of near panic, Betty pulled on a dressing gown and hurried from the little bedroom, brushing past Patty with a muttered, ‘Sorry, Patty, must dash.’
I flopped back on to my pillow.
‘Can I bring you up a cup of tea, miss?’ said Patience.
‘No, dear, it’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll be down to the servants’ hall in a minute. I’ll get myself one then, before I take a tray up to Lady Hardcastle.’
‘It’s no bother, miss, really.’
‘You’re very kind,’ I said. ‘But I’ll be fine. I don’t suppose you could take one of these trays back down, though, could you?’ I indicated the wreckage of our picnic on the rug. ‘I can’t manage them both.’
‘Of course, miss,’ she said, and set about stacking the empty plates. ‘I reckon I can fit it all on one,’ she said.
And in no time at all I was alone again. I contemplated trying to get back to sleep, but there really wasn’t much point, so instead I set about getting up and ready for the day.
After a hearty breakfast in the servants’ hall, I took a tray up to Lady Hardcastle. I knocked and entered without waiting for a reply, which I didn’t think would be forthcoming anyway. To my amazement, she was sitting up in bed, writing in her journal.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘How was your evening?’
‘Very enjoyable, thank you, my lady,’ I said, putting the tray down on the writing desk by the window. ‘And how about yours? You’re rather more . . . upright than I had anticipated.’
‘It wasn’t that sort of do, sadly,’ she said. ‘Plenty of nibbles and a good quantity of rather nice champagne, but I rather felt I needed to keep my wits about me. Wouldn’t want to give Fishy’s new venture a bad name by having a drunken old biddy making a show of herself while the gentlemen of the press looked on.’
‘How very thoughtful of you, my lady.’
‘Well, quite. As it turns out the role of Lord Lushington was expertly played by Fishy’s Uncle Algy, so I needn’t have worried.’
‘Did we know there was another Codrington in the house?’ I asked.
‘He’s Fishy’s uncle on his mother’s side, a Garrigan rather than a Codrington. Apparently, he’s part of the fixtures and fittings, and Fishy inherited him when his parents died. Lovely old chap, probably a bit of a lad in his day – he got blotto and tried to get some party games going before Fishy ushered him out.’
‘Poor chap,’ I said. ‘Sounds like he would have been the life and soul.’
‘On any other occasion, he might, but poor Fishy was trying to act the grown-up, so he had to go. What did you do?’
I told her about the picnic in the bedroom as I poured her tea and handed her a round of toast.
‘Can’t say I’ve seen anything of the fair Rosamund that would give the lie to Miss Buffrey’s assessment of her as a nasty piece of work,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘I say, you couldn’t do me an enormous favour, could you? I think I left my reading glasses in the great hall.’
‘Have you considered wearing them around your neck, my lady?’ I suggested.
‘I suppose I could,’ she said absently. ‘But it’s much more fun to have you fetch them for me. You make such entertaining noises when you’re huffy.’
I tutted, and set off in search of the missing optical aids.
Ignoring protocol, I used the main stairs and hang the consequences. In truth, it wasn’t so much an act of rebellion as an acknowledgement that I had absolutely no idea where the great hall was, and I didn’t believe I had any chance at all of finding it using the servants’ secret passageways. The staircase was wide, and swept in a gentle curve to the entrance hall. I got the feeling it had been designed for grand entrances and exits by the earl and countess. What a shame there was no countess for Lord Riddlethorpe to sweep down it with.
Despite my initial uncertainty, it turned out that the great hall was very easy to find – I just followed the sounds of bottles and glassware being put into crates.
It really was a great hall. Thankfully, the hunting in this part of the country was limited to fox, so the walls were free of the usual racks of antlers, but Lord Riddlethorpe wasn’t ashamed to show trophies of his own. In a delightful display of eccentricity, he had placed motor car badges, a radiator grille and even a wheel, complete with tyre, where his ancestors might have hung banners and trophies of war or the hunt.
I said a cheery good morning to the housemaids who were working their way through the wreckage wrought by last evening’s party. They had their work cut out, and I assured them that I wouldn’t be getting in the way, but wondered if any of them had spotted a stray lorgnette anywhere.
‘Over there, miss,’ said a plump little girl with mousey hair and a smudge of soot on her nose. She nodded towards a table by one of the huge windows.
Sure enough, the stray glasses were exactly where she had indicated, sitting atop a sheet of foolscap paper. I picked up the lorgnette and folded it, slipping it into my pocket. I was about to leave, but curiosity got the better of me and I had a quick look to see what was written on the paper. It was a list, written in Lady Hardcastle’s neat hand.
Ladies’ Race:
1. Lady Hardcastle
2. Mrs Beddows
3. Lady Lavinia
4. Miss Titmus Miss Armstrong
Gentlemen’s Race:
1. Lord Riddlethorpe
2. Mr Featherstonhaugh
3. Mr Dawkins
4. Herr Kovacs
Mr Waterford shall act as Starter and Race Director. Miss Titmus shall be the Official Race Photographer.
I hurried back upstairs and burst into Lady Hardcastle’s room without knocking.
‘I say, steady on, dear,’ she said. ‘It’s just a pair of reading glasses. No need to rush so.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘Oh, the lorgnette. Yes, here you are, my lady.’ I passed her the silver reading glasses.
She took the lorgnette, flicked it open and held it up while she re-read her journal entry. After a few moments, she slowly lowered the device and looked over at me.
‘Is there something the matter? You look confubuscated. Bumsquabbled, even. Whatever’s happened?’
‘I saw a sheet of paper in the great hall, my lady,’ I said.
‘That can be quite a traumatic event, I agree.’
‘What? No, there was something rather surprising written upon it.’
Realization slowly dawned. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘The races. Are you pleased?’