‘I see,’ said Lady Hardcastle, making a few more notes. ‘Do you have any other regular visitors, any other friends?’
‘None as I can think of,’ said Mrs Carmichael. ‘Farmers tends to keep close to their neighbours case they needs help when things go bad. But that i’n’t to say they’s friendly, so no one travels miles for social calls, not like in your world. Them’s the only ones as we see and I reckon you got a picture now of how Spencer didn’t exactly get along with any of ’em.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Carmichael,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I understand you have children. They must be saddened by this terrible news.’
‘Two daughters and a son, yes,’ she said, a little more warmth returning to her voice. ‘The girls both married and moved away. I’ve written to them but I don’t know as they’ll come for the funeral. One’s in Portsmouth, married a sailor. T’other’s in service in London; lady’s maid, she is, and her fella’s a valet.’
‘I worked in London myself,’ I said, looking over at Lady Hardcastle.
‘Done all right for yourself now, a’n’t you,’ said Mrs Carmichael. ‘It don’t seem such a bad life. Better than this, sometimes, I reckons.’
‘And your son?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Our Morris? He’s still here. He’ll be out cleaning the sheds.’
‘Will he take over the farm?’
‘I should have liked to think so,’ said the widow, sadly. ‘But I just don’t know. He could make a good living for hisself, and lord knows I can’t run the place on my own.’
‘But…?’ prompted Lady Hardcastle.
‘But he hates the place. He only ever stayed for me. Now that his father’s gone, don’t seem like there’s nothing to keep him here. He’ll be off soon enough, I reckon.’
‘Did he get on with his father?’ asked Lady Hardcastle. Mrs Carmichael simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged as though to say, “Really? Have you really not been listening?”
We sipped our tea in silence for just a few moments longer, but it was clear that there was little more to say.
‘Well, Mrs Carmichael,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘we oughtn’t to take up any more of your time. Once again, I’m sorry we had to intrude upon your mourning, but we really do want to get to the bottom of all this.’
‘I do understand, missus,’ said Mrs Carmichael. ‘But I hopes you does, too. Like I said, there’s shock and a little sadness like there always is when someone passes, but in the long run he’ll not be sorely missed.’
We said our awkward goodbyes and promised that we would be keeping Mrs Carmichael informed of our progress. She saw us to the door and we stepped carefully across the yard to the waiting motorcar.
‘Well that was a little odd,’ said Lady Hardcastle as Bert drove us to The Grange.
‘Not quite the grieving widow I was expecting to meet,’ I agreed. ‘She was upset, but I wouldn’t say that her husband’s death was the cause of it. She was pleased to be rid of him.’
‘There was certainly an element of that, yes. We should have a proper ponder. Perhaps Gertie will have some insights; she must have known them all for years.’
The journey from Top Farm was a short one and it wasn’t long before the tyres were scrunching on the gravel drive outside the impressive Georgian manor house. The brakes squealed, the car stopped, and Bert stepped smartly out to open Lady Hardcastle’s door. I let myself out the other side as he helped her to clamber out, and waited while she straightened herself out.
‘Oh,’ she said abruptly. ‘The picture.’ She leant back inside the car looking for the drawing we had brought for Lady Farley-Stroud. I let her rummage around for a short while before tapping on the window and pointing at the brown-paper package I had picked up when I got out of the car.
‘Is this what you’re looking for, my lady?’ I said, innocently.
She scowled, and struggled back out of the motorcar.
‘I expect you think that’s rather amusing,’ she said as we walked towards the shining, red front door.
‘Pardon me, m’lady,’ said Bert from beside the motorcar.
Lady Hardcastle turned. ‘Yes, Bert?’
‘I was wondering if I might go down to the kitchens for a cuppa, my lady.’
‘Why Bert, of course. How silly of me to forget. Yes, please do. I shall ring for you when we’re ready to leave. Until then, you have my permission to lounge and idle.’ She winked, and with a smile and a touch of the peak of his cap, he set off for the servants’ entrance at the back of the house.
‘I say, Flo, we really must get one of those,’ said Lady Hardcastle as he walked out of sight.
‘A chauffeur, my lady?’ I said.
‘No, you goose, a motorcar. Can’t you just picture me behind the wheel with you by my side? Free to come and go as we please. Roaring down the highways and byways…’
‘Crashing into ditches and trees,’ I said.
‘O ye of the tiniest amount of faith,’ she said, aiming a flick at my ear. ‘It can’t be all that difficult. Bert manages it and he’s scarcely possessed of the keenest of minds.’
‘I agree he’s something of a plodder, my lady, but he has a certain single-mindedness about him. He has the advantage of having a dogged determination to concentrate on the task at hand. He’s not a flighty old biddy who always has her mind on something else.’
‘Pfft,’ she said. ‘I know a lady’s maid who might not get any supper.’
‘And I know a grumpy old widow who might struggle to cook supper for herself,’ I said, dodging another flick.
She laughed and rang the doorbell. ‘A telephone and a motorcar, pet, that’s what we need.’
Jenkins, the Farley-Strouds’ butler, answered the door.
‘Lady Hardcastle,’ he said with a welcoming smile. ‘And Miss Armstrong. Please do come in.’ He opened the door fully and ushered us inside, and then helped both of us with our hats and coats and put Lady Hardcastle’s walking stick into the new elephant’s-foot umbrella stand. ‘Lady Farley-Stroud had hoped you might be calling. She asked me to take you to the drawing room.’
He led the way, though we had spent enough time in the house by now to know our own way.
‘Please make yourselves comfortable,’ he said, indicating the chintz-covered chairs.
‘Thank you, Jenkins,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Are you well?’
‘Passing well, thank you, my lady. How very kind of you to ask. I shall tell my lady that you’re here.’
He bowed and left.
The room, like the rest of the house, was slightly dated and dowdy, with a faintly melancholy air of faded elegance. But it was warm and welcoming for all that, and it was surprisingly easy to become very comfortable very quickly.
Lady Farley-Stroud arrived with Jenkins after only a few minutes and waved me back into my chair as I attempted to stand up.
‘Sit down, m’girl,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t have one of me own servants sitting on the best furniture, but Emily treats you as part of the family and who am I to make a fuss.’
I nodded my thanks.
‘Hello, Gertie, darling,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I do hope you don’t mind us dropping in.’