The new telephone. Of course. It had finally been installed after weeks of delays and what Lady Hardcastle had impatiently referred to as ‘a great deal of frankly unnecessary palaver’. I still wasn’t entirely certain we needed such a thing, but I was unable to deny the convenience of not having to traipse to the post office to send a wire.
I went through to the hall and picked up the earpiece from the wooden box mounted on the wall. I was still unsure of the etiquette of using the thing, but we had agreed that if I were to treat callers in the same way I would treat unannounced visitors to the house, I couldn’t go far wrong.
‘Hello,’ I said loudly and clearly. ‘Chipping Bevington two-three.’
‘Hello?’ said a strident, female voice. ‘Hello? Is that you, Emily? Hello?’
I recognized our caller as Lady Farley-Stroud, the wife of the local landowner. ‘No, Lady Farley-Stroud, it’s me, Armstrong.’
‘Armstrong?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ I said. ‘Shall I fetch Lady Hardcastle?’
‘I say, would you mind awfully fetching Lady Hardcastle for me? I’d like a word.’
I put the earpiece on the hall table and went to fetch Lady Hardcastle, but she was already on her way out of her study. ‘Is that Gertie on the telephone? I swear she’s getting a little deaf. Did she say what she wanted?’
I shook my head and left her to it.
By the time Lady Hardcastle had finished on the telephone, the tea was brewed and I was sitting down in the morning room for what I felt was a well-deserved rest. I put down the newspaper and raised an eyebrow enquiringly as she joined me.
‘Did Miss Jones plan anything for dinner?’ she said, helping herself to a cup.
‘Nothing special, my lady,’ I said. ‘She suggested we might finish off that ham pie with a bit of salad from the garden. She didn’t want to cook anything new that might result in leftovers, what with you and I going away for a week and all.’
‘She’s a good girl, that one. In that case, how do you fancy dinner at The Grange?’
‘Me, my lady? Not just you?’
‘No, both of us. Gertie specifically requested your presence.’
‘Gracious,’ I said. ‘I’m moving up in the world.’
‘So it would seem. She’s developed quite a fondness for you since the farm poisoning. And respect, too.’
‘How very flattering,’ I said with a smile. ‘Did she offer any explanation for this sudden invitation?’
‘Sir Hector has a problem for us to solve, apparently. Something “suitable for your unique talents, m’dear”, or so she said.’
‘Unique talents, eh?’ I said.
‘We are uniquely talented.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, and poured her a cup of tea.
‘Oh, come on, Flo, we are. Fake suicides, murderous circus folk, bludgeoned trumpeters, poisoned farmers, haunted pubs, missing trophies . . . We’ve solved them all. Who else around here can say the same?’
‘Well, when you put it like that . . .’
‘Exactly,’ she said, dunking a triumphant shortbread biscuit in her tea. ‘And the next mystery we have to solve is what on earth’s bothering Hector so much that he feels he has to enlist the help of the local weird widow and her maid.’
I chuckled into my teacup. ‘The Case of the Disobedient Dog?’ I suggested. ‘The Missing Cufflink Affair?’
‘I do agree – it’s hard to imagine anything especially exciting happening in their lives. I adore them, but life for them does seem to be something that happens to other people.’
‘Although they did have a dead trumpeter in their library after their daughter’s engagement party.’
‘And Gertie was at The Hayrick when old whatshisname snuffed it and fell face-first into his pie,’ she added.
‘So death is something that happens to other people when they’re around, too.’
‘I say,’ she said, looking up suddenly. ‘I do hope no one’s died.’
‘I should have thought she’d have been round here already if they had, my lady. It’ll be local kids scrumping apples or a misplaced set of fish knives, more than likely.’
‘I think you’re probably right,’ she said, and put down her cup. ‘But dinner and company will be most welcome, and a splendid way to begin our break.’
‘Your break, my lady,’ I said.
‘Oh, pish and fiddlesticks. You’ll be taking a break, too, as well you know.’
‘Sleeping in the attic in a shared room,’ I mumbled. ‘Eating in the servants’ hall.’
‘Oh, shush. You know you’ll be able to tag along with me, and we’ve already spoken about trying to get you a ride in one of the racing cars. And you do so revel in the below-stairs gossip. You’ll have a fine old time, and you know it.’
I smiled. ‘Well, when you put it like that . . .’
‘Quite so. Now we’ve a couple of hours before we need to dress for dinner, so I think a little piano practice would be in order.’
‘Right you are, my lady,’ I said breezily. ‘Have fun.’
‘No, dear, for you. You really do need to put some effort in if you’re ever going to master the instrument. I shall read the newspaper.’
She had been trying to teach me the piano on and off for many years, and had become quite zealous in her attempts of late. If I’m properly honest, I should have to say that I really quite enjoyed it, and was secretly rather pleased with my progress. Unfortunately, there was something about the idea of having to ‘practise’ that turned the whole endeavour into a chore. I’m afraid I exhibited a childlike reluctance to knuckle down.
‘But I’ve still got packing to do, my lady,’ I said. ‘I haven’t even made a start on my own things yet.’
‘Pish and fiddly fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Go now. Play.’
‘Righto, my lady.’
She picked up the newspaper and squinted at it. ‘I say, would you be an absolute poppet and fetch my reading whatnot for me? I left it on my desk.’
She had recently abandoned her reading glasses and had taken to using an old-fashioned lorgnette, which she seemed to be unable to manage to keep with her. The lens frame folded and swivelled into the handle, forming a rather intriguing silver pendant, which, as was the designer’s intention, could be worn around the neck on a chain. For reasons unknown, Lady Hardcastle eschewed such conveniences.
I tutted, sighed theatrically, and set off in search of the errant eyewear.
Having retrieved the lorgnette, I went obediently to the drawing room and sat at the piano. I played for the best part of a mostly pleasurable hour and only threatened to punch the instrument once. Herr Mozart, on the other hand, was lucky he was already dead, or I’d have been on the next boat train to Vienna to give him what for.