Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Read online

  The house was quiet. I decided this might be a perfect time to examine Sir Hubert’s wing. I wanted to see for myself exactly how many rooms there were and what they were used for. I found myself tiptoeing through the long hallway that connected the two wings, which was silly because I was mistress of Eynsleigh now. I reached the other wing without being seen and stood in a dark hallway. No light came because all the doors were shut. I tried the first and it was locked. So was the second. Now I was rather annoyed. I went back to the drawing room and rang for Plunkett.

  From the state of his hair I’d say he had been having an afternoon nap.

  “Plunkett, I wanted to visit the rooms in the other wing and they all seem to be locked,” I said.

  “That is correct, your ladyship. Sir Hubert’s instructions were that these rooms not be disturbed.”

  I swallowed back my anger.

  “And yet you have obviously been in them to use the telephone.”

  “I have been in on occasion just to make sure everything is dusted and ready should the master return.”

  “Well, I should like to see them now, as new mistress of Eynsleigh,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but my instructions come from Sir Hubert, and if he said I was to keep those doors locked, then I’m not unlocking them until he tells me.”

  My anger was rising now. “You do realize that you will be looking for a new position shortly, Plunkett. The moment Sir Hubert returns and hears how obstructive you have been.”

  He was still looking at me with a smug expression on his face. “We don’t know when he will return, do we? It may be a while. He’s been off on climbing expeditions for years before. You know yourself that he had a fall and was ages recuperating in a Swiss clinic.” He allowed himself a little smirk. I fought back the desire to smack his face. “And when he eventually does return,” he continued, “he may be impressed that I obeyed his orders against all comers. And if you ask me, I don’t know why you are so intent on seeing the master’s study and his little sitting room. You have enough rooms at your disposal, don’t you?”

  “That’s not the point. The point is that I asked you to do something and you refused. In any household where I have lived, a defiant servant would be packing his bags the next day.”

  “When Sir Hubert tells me that he is no longer the master of Eynsleigh, I shall be happy to obey anything your ladyship wishes,” he said. “But in the meantime . . .” And with that he left me.

  Crikey, I thought. I don’t know what to do about this. If I sack him, he simply won’t go. I retreated to the drawing room and wrote a letter to Mummy, asking her to inquire among the domestic agencies in Mayfair to see who might have recommended Plunkett. I wasn’t about to go out again to post the letter, and I certainly didn’t trust one of the staff to do so.

  I was doubly glad that I had had a good tea with Mrs. Holbrook because dinner was another dismal affair. This time it was a rice dish with various bits of unidentifiable meat and sausage in it. This was followed by a custard such as would have been served in the nursery. I had to request that cheese and biscuits be brought to me. I summoned Fernando again.

  He appeared, wiping his hands on his apron and scowling.

  “Fernando, I thought I made clear what I wanted you to cook for me. I don’t recall saying rice and leftover meat.”

  “Is Spanish dish. Paella. Everyone like.”

  “I didn’t like. And I don’t recall the word ‘paella’ on the list of dishes I would like to eat for dinner.” I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I may have to let you go, Fernando. You are simply not up to snuff.”

  “Snuff?” he demanded. “This is taken for sneezing, no? You wish to have food that makes you sneeze?”

  “It is an English expression, Fernando. It means you are not up to the standard required in this house.”

  “Me, I don’t go until English lord return and tells me to go.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said, but I was feeling sick and scared. What if none of them would leave and Sir Hubert did not return for a year or more? Then I told myself his solicitor might know how to contact him. And his solicitor might also know whether I was legally able to remove defiant servants. Tomorrow, I thought. I would go to the solicitor tomorrow.

  I didn’t even bother to ask for a cup of coffee after dinner. The way things were going it would probably have poison in it. Or Ex-Lax at the very least. I went up to my room and managed to undress myself, rather than summon Joanie again and risk more open gas taps. Soon Queenie will be here, I thought excitedly. She wasn’t that bad, was she? And at least she was loyal.

  I opened all the windows again and stood at one of them. A rising moon was painting shadows across the park. I heard the distant hoot of an owl. The bark of a fox. The night creatures were abroad. Then I heard a noise I couldn’t identify. It sounded like a maniacal laugh. It was quite chilling and my heart did a little flip. A peacock? There had once been peacocks in the park, but I hadn’t seen any when I walked to see the gardeners. Besides, peacocks slept at night. And then I noticed light coming from the other wing. It was on the far side, so I couldn’t see which room was involved, but in the absolute darkness I could make out a glow. Either someone was outside that wing with a torch or a light had been turned on in one of the forbidden rooms.

  I put on my dressing gown and tiptoed out of my room and along the upper hallway to the stairs that led down to the other wing. I crept down, one by one, holding on to the rail. I stood on the bottom step and took a deep breath before tiptoeing forward. The bottom hall was still in complete darkness, but there might be a sliver of light coming out from under one of the doors at the far end. I was about to go ahead and listen at each of the doors when I heard the sound of feet approaching. I retreated and flattened myself against the wall of the staircase. The footsteps came closer and then a figure emerged right in front of me, turning into the forbidden hallway. I put my hand to my mouth so that I didn’t cry out. The figure was dressed in a flowing skirt with some kind of shawl over the head. It was swallowed into the darkness of that hallway. I waited to see if a door opened and closed but heard and saw nothing. Then from the darkness that awful maniacal laugh.

  I’m afraid my fear got the better of me. I retreated up the stairs and into my room, putting that chair under the door handle again.

  Chapter 16

  THURSDAY, JUNE 27, AND FRIDAY, JUNE 28

  Rude and unhelpful servants, gas taps, a fall down the stairs and now a ghost. Goodness, what more can there possibly be?

  I lay in bed, my heart still thumping, wondering if what I had seen was indeed a ghost. The flowing skirt and the shawl over the head signified a bygone age and way of dress and didn’t belong to anyone on the staff. Joanie and Molly were the only two females, and they were both slight little things. This woman was taller and straighter, but certainly not as big as Plunkett, Fernando, or McShea. Besides, why would any of them be creeping around at night wearing women’s clothes? And what about that laugh? It didn’t even sound human. My mind wandered over demons and vampires . . . subjects I would have laughed about in the daylight.

  I tried to examine what I had seen logically. Having grown up in a Scottish castle and stayed at various old houses, I was well acquainted with ghosts. I had seen them for myself at Kensington Palace. But did ghosts make a sound? I had been alerted by the approaching footsteps. The ghosts I had seen just wafted, moved without effort. And they were accompanied by a sort of chill in the air, an uneasiness that made one shiver.

  So I had to conclude that this had to be a real person. But what was she doing at Eynsleigh and whom had she come to visit? I remembered Ben asking about the old woman and then becoming embarrassed and shutting up quickly. Well, I wasn’t about to go downstairs again in the darkness. I’d wait until daylight and then I’d quiz Plunkett.

  I lay in bed, my mind still in turmoil. So many things that didn’t feel quite right about this house and now this. Sir Hubert had sensed something was wrong from far away. Then why the devil didn’t he come home and put everything right, I thought angrily. I didn’t want to be here alone. I couldn’t cope with it alone. I wanted an ally. Most of all I wanted Darcy’s arms around me. Not long now, I told myself, and I’d have him lying in bed beside me, his arms around me, and then . . . I stopped myself from going into more detail about the next bit.

  Morning dawned bright and sunny. Looking out onto the dewy grass, it was hard to believe how unnerved I had been last night. Now I was determined to get at the truth. I washed, dressed and went down to breakfast. There was no sign of kidneys or kedgeree on the sideboard, but there were scrambled egg and toast. Clearly I was to live on nursery rations, whatever I said to Fernando. Hurry up, Queenie, I thought. At least if she was cooking I wouldn’t go hungry. That girl loved to eat! Then, of course, I worried that she was having such a good time with Darcy’s relatives that she wouldn’t want to rejoin me. I remembered all the times I had wanted to get rid of her, wished she’d go away, and now I was actually pining for her. How strange life is.

  After breakfast I summoned Plunkett.

  “You rang, my lady?”

  My nerves were already frayed. I almost snapped back, “Who else do you think pulled the bell rope? The ghost?” But I took a deep breath. “Plunkett, last night I saw a person walking down the lower hallway of the other wing. A female person, Plunkett.”

  His face twitched nervously. “Maybe it was Joanie going to check on something.”

  “Check on what?” I asked. “You told me yourself that the rooms were to be kept locked. Besides, this person was bigger than Joanie and wore strange clothing . . . a big shawl over her head and flowing skirts.”

  He was shifting anxiously from foot to foot, something I had noticed he did when nervous. “You must have been mistaken, my lady. Of course it is possible that the house is haunted, although I have never seen a ghost myself. But these old houses . . . well, they are bound to have at least one ghost in residence, aren’t they?”

  “It wasn’t a ghost, Plunkett. I heard footsteps. Ghosts make no sound—at least, I suppose they might moan, but their feet don’t tap on the floor. Now, clearly you know something about this, so I’m going to have to ask you to give me the key to those rooms so that I can take a look for myself and find out the truth.”

  “I told you, my lady. I can’t give you the key,” he said, but he was rattled now.

  “Then I shall have to take measures on my own. I will report to the police that I saw an intruder last night and we need to know if anything was taken. They will do a thorough investigation, I expect, and want you to open every door.”

  He blinked a couple of times; then he said, “Very well, my lady. We were trying to keep it from you. If we’d had time to prepare and had known you were coming we could have handled things differently.”

  “What are you trying to say, Plunkett?”

  He couldn’t meet my gaze. He was staring down at his boots. “The master’s mother.”

  “Sir Hubert’s mother? She’s here? Why wasn’t I told?”

  “She didn’t want anyone to know,” he said. “She didn’t want her son to know.” He shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “She was going . . . well, a bit senile, you know. Acting unpredictably. Roaming out at night. So before he went away last time he put her into one of these homes where they take care of elderly gentlefolk. For her own safety, you understand. Well, she didn’t like it. She’s not the sort of person who likes being bossed around or restrained in her room. So she escaped and came back here a few months ago. And made us promise not to tell anyone she is here, because she won’t be sent back.”

  “Then I must go and meet her. Does she know that I am in the house? She will think me rude that I haven’t done so.”

  “Maybe not, my lady,” he said. “She is . . . well, she’s not quite all there now. Lives in her own little world. Sleeps most of the day and tries to wander around at night.”

  “Do you think it right that she remains here? Wouldn’t she be receiving better care at the home she escaped from?”

  “She’s being well looked after here,” he said. “We’ve hired a woman to be with her day and night. She still enjoys her food and wine, that’s for sure. I would have written to Sir Hubert but the only address we have for him is the British consul in Buenos Aires. It could be months before he gets the letter and in the meantime it’s not up to us to make decisions for her ladyship.”

  “I suppose not,” I said. “Nevertheless I would like to meet her once. Maybe she will welcome a chat with one of her own kind. It may bring her back to the real world for a while.”

  “You never know, my lady. Sometimes she can seem almost normal; then other times she’s off with the fairies.”

  “When would you suggest a good time, then, Plunkett?”

  “Maybe after dark, my lady. Like I say, she sleeps for most of the day and then wanders around all night. Like a ruddy bat . . . Sorry for the language, my lady.”

  I actually laughed. “Then you shall take me to see her when it gets dark,” I said.

  “Very well, my lady. I’ll inform Mrs. Pritchard, who looks after her.”

  After he had gone I felt a lot better. Now so many things were explained: the light and noises from the far wing. The bottle of good wine in the kitchen. Maybe even the fact that we were eating so poorly, since the good stuff was going to the Dowager Lady Anstruther. Maybe she even had a taste for Spanish food, which was why Fernando had been hired. And then another idea came to me. Maybe she was the one who had turned on the gas tap and been through my things. I’d have to see about getting a lock for my door.

  After breakfast I went into the library to look for Burke’s Peerage. It’s a volume that every family like ours has on hand. The library was one of the rooms that had not been opened up and dusted yet, and the big table in the center was still covered in a dust sheet. Sunlight came in through leaded panes and dust motes danced in the air. The walls were lined with ancient leather tomes and a spiral staircase led up to a gallery above. It was a splendid room, even shrouded and dusty as it was now, and I stood there, looking around with satisfaction, wondering how many generations had read these same books and realizing with awe that this was now effectively mine. Golly. I pulled the dust sheet off the table and chairs, creating a cloud that made me cough. Then I starting searching the shelves. Eventually I found what I was looking for. I sat at the leather-topped table as the sunbeams fell onto me. It was all very tranquil and timeless and for the first time I was able to appreciate that this lovely house was my home. Oh, there were annoyances at the moment, but soon all would be smoothed over and Darcy and I would have a wonderful life here.

  I found the entry for Cecil Peregrin, Eighth Earl of Malmsbury, Kilton Castle, Cumberland. This must be the son of the old lady who’d employed Plunkett. So far away, I thought. What had made Plunkett take a position there? By his speech he was clearly a Londoner. I found writing paper in the drawer and wrote a letter to the current earl. I asked him whether the family had been satisfied with Plunkett and whether he had been given a good letter of recommendation. Then I had the Bentley brought around again. I wanted to post my letter to Mummy and also to go into Haywards Heath to visit the solicitor.

  “If you just have letters to post, one of us can bicycle into the village, my lady,” Plunkett said, sounding quite pleasant for once. I suspected he was relieved that I now knew the secret of Lady Anstruther.

  “Kind of you, but I have some errands to run in Haywards Heath as well,” I said. “Oh, and about the telephone . . .”

  “It will be hooked up this morning, my lady.”

  I was feeling quite pleased with myself as I drove between the high hedges and was brought back to the realities of life only when a tractor emerged from a field right in front of me and I had to slam on the brakes, missing by inches the cart of manure he was towing. After that I drove with more caution. The letters were posted. I exchanged pleasantries with the postmistress about how fine the weather was and how one could never expect it to last but she hoped it would last until the village fete on Sunday.

  “If we’d known you were going to be living at Eynsleigh I’m sure the vicar would have asked you to open it,” she said. “As it is they’ve got some girl who was runner-up for Miss Sussex Dairy Queen. She’ll show a lot of bosom and leg if you ask me.”

  I was about to leave when she added, “There was a letter came for you this morning.” Hope leaped in me that it was from Queenie, answering me that she was on her way. But then I remembered I had only written to her yesterday and even though the post office was incredibly speedy I couldn’t expect a reply from Ireland for a few more days. Then the postmistress went on, “Awful grand, it were. With a crest on it and all.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “May I have it?”

  “I sent it out with Jones on his morning round, my lady. It will have been delivered at Eynsleigh by now.”