‘I suggest double-doubles,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, as the houseguests assembled on the croquet lawn.
‘Really, Fishy,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘You do talk such utter rot. What on earth is double-doubles?’
‘We play doubles, but each partner is actually two people. Four a-side, d’you see? Each pair owns a ball. Sort it out between you who takes the shot. Any ball moved by the dogs has to be played from where they leave it, mind you. They’re an additional hazard.’
‘Girls against boys? Or draw lots for partners?’ suggested Mr Waterford.
‘You can draw lots if you like, dear,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘But I’m playing with Harry.’
There followed a good deal of discussion, negotiation, and general horse-trading before the sides were finally agreed. I followed none of it, and instead sat with Betty on a stone bench beside the lawn.
Croquet, it has always seemed to me, is a thoroughly pointless activity. I’ve never seen anyone who was able to play with any degree of skill. I’ve never seen a game where anyone actually cared about the result. Mostly it seems to be an opportunity to lark about outdoors while chattering inanely. Nothing wrong with tomfoolery and inane chatter, of course; it’s just that a croquet lawn always seems such a bland, featureless place to do it. What about a game of hide-and-seek in the woods? Or blind man’s buff by the lake? There were one or two in the party I’d have happily seen get a dunking.
Lady Hardcastle wasn’t keen on the game, either, but she seemed to have been partnered with Miss Titmus, so at least she would have amiable company.
Betty and I watched the proceedings with one eye each, in case we were called upon later to comment or commiserate. The play was as pedestrian and unskilled as predicted, although the Dalmatians did add a pleasing element of danger and unpredictability. I wondered if the Croquet Association might be persuaded to add ‘mischievous large dogs’ to its list of approved equipment. Most of our attention, though, was focused on earwigging their conversations as they passed us.
‘. . . but, of course, without his spectacles he had no idea which platform he was on, so he ended up at Norwich, still clutching the package of tripe.’
‘Oh, Emily, you are silly,’ said Miss Titmus.
‘To this day, no one knows what happened to the Polish attaché’s new boots.’
I gave Lady Hardcastle a little salute as they passed by.
Next to come past our bench were Herr Kovacs and Mrs Beddows. They said nothing. Indeed, it didn’t appear that they’d said anything at all to each other since they started playing. Their faces were impassive masks, either of intense concentration or complete distraction. I watched for a moment, and the poor quality of their play confirmed that it was the latter. They were both elsewhere.
Lady Lavinia and Harry were altogether more talkative, but no more interested in the game.
‘Since we were at school, I think,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘She was always the ringleader. I think it irks her that we’re not still all in her thrall.’
‘What about her husband?’ asked Harry. ‘She never talks about him.’
‘No, she never does. Theirs is not a relationship filled with love and romance.’
‘Which is why she didn’t bring him?’
‘Quite. She seldom allows him to accompany her. We always joke that she leaves him chained in the cellars when she’s away. Sometimes I wonder how much of a joke it really is.’
Harry laughed.
Mr and Mrs Beddows did not seem to fit anyone’s idea of a happy couple, I thought. If Miss Titmus’s assessment was correct, they were only one small indiscretion away from a scandal. Unless she had misinterpreted things, and Mrs Beddows was just worried that she’d not left him enough food in the cellar.
I chuckled to myself. Betty looked questioningly at me, but I was unable to explain before Lord Riddlethorpe and Mr Waterford passed our way. They were similarly uninvolved in the game, but also deep in conversation.
‘. . . well, I’m not bally well selling it to him,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘We’ve only just launched the company and he’s already circling. I’m sure he means well. At least, I hope he does. But, I mean, really . . .’
‘Just bear it in mind, Fishy, that’s all,’ said Mr Waterford. ‘The newspapers don’t seem to have made much of it so far, but if any of them decides to cause a stir, we’re sunk. I’m not sure a new team could weather a scandal like that.’
‘Like what, exactly?’
‘Dilettante aristocrat playing at running a motor racing team; young driver killed in a racing game after a party. They could have a field day, if they chose to. And it’s only a matter of time before someone in Fleet Street chooses to.’
‘Is that how you see me, Monty? Just a dilettante aristocrat playing games?’
‘No, Fishy, of course not.’
‘Then stand beside me. We’ll have no more truck with Kovacs and his cynical dealings. We’ll just have to show him who’s the best on the circuit. Shut him up for good.’
Chapter Eleven
The croquet match was abandoned when it finally descended into complete chaos. It hadn’t been far from disarray since it began, but when Lord Riddlethorpe and Lady Lavinia began some serious sibling sniping over the legality of an attempted stun shot, Lady Hardcastle calmly suggested that they call it a day. Mrs Beddows and Herr Kovacs declared themselves the winners, and no one else had the will to argue.
The guests ate lunch on the terrace and the mood had lifted once competition was removed from the equation. Betty and I stayed to help serve once the household servants had brought everything out.
‘The problem with you, Jake,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, ‘is that you’re too competitive.’
‘It’s your problem, too, brother dear,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘You’ve never been able to cope with the fact that I’m so competitive. You never could stand being beaten by your little sister.’
The guests laughed.
‘Not today, though, dear heart,’ he said. ‘Roz and Viktor won today.’
‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘We let Roz say she’d won because she’s even more insufferable than you when she loses.’
Most of the guests laughed. Mrs Beddows glowered.
‘We won fair and square,’ said Mrs Beddows. ‘Didn’t we, Viktor?’
‘Square und fair, ja,’ said Herr Kovacs, eliciting more laughter.
‘You can’t say fairer than that,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe.
‘Or squarer,’ said Mr Waterford.
The laughter continued. Things, as far as I could see, were back to normal.
‘You three must have been a force to be reckoned with in your schooldays,’ said Mr Waterford.
‘Four, surely,’ said Herr Kovacs.
‘Four?’
‘Was there not a fourth girl that was mentioned the other evening? The girl next to Lavinia in the photograph?’
‘A story for another time, I think we said,’ said Lady Lavinia quickly.