Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding Read online

“I don’t know where you have been employed before,” I said, “and I don’t know whether you think I am only a young woman and therefore will accept anything, but I will not accept another meal like that again.”

  “Sorry, lady,” he said. “You have to understand we not expecting you. No good food in house.”

  “Then what do the servants eat?” I asked.

  “I make them a stew, or a rice dish. Peasant food.”

  “Well, peasant food would be better than this,” I said. “Tinned soup? And that lettuce was wilted.”

  “Sorry. I’ll have the shop send up some good vegetables for you.”

  “Is there no longer a kitchen garden here?” I asked. “I remember a beautiful big garden with all kinds of fruit and vegetables.”

  “I don’t know what they grow. Not much. No people to feed. And I no go to pick vegetables. Most time come from shop.”

  “Then send someone to the shop today if you must, but I expect a better standard of food tonight,” I said and stormed out again.

  At the top of the stairs I paused to catch my breath. I found I was shaking. I wasn’t used to this and I hated it.

  Chapter 11

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 26

  EYNSLEIGH, SUSSEX

  Being mistress of Eynsleigh is tiring. I’m tempted to get rid of the entire staff and start afresh, but I can’t really do that without Sir Hubert’s permission. Fernando might cook well for him! It’s that they see me as an interloper and clearly resent having me here.

  By the end of the day my bedroom had been cleaned and dusted and the bed made. I met with Plunkett and told him to bring in the women from the village as much as he needed to make the house habitable. He looked worried. “It all costs money, my lady,” he said, “and we’ve been living on quite a tight budget.”

  “Sir Hubert assured me there were funds in the bank to run the place,” I said.

  “Maybe he’s been gone longer than he expected and planned for,” Plunkett said. “Perhaps you should write to him and ask him for more.”

  I could see that this might be true. Explorers scaling mountains across the world probably aren’t the most practical people and lose track of time.

  “Then do your best for now,” I said. “What is the name of the bank? I shall visit the bank manager.”

  “That wouldn’t do any good,” Plunkett said. “There is a standing order for a specific amount to be paid in every month. Only Sir Hubert can change that.”

  “But I do still need a maid,” I said. “I can pay for her out of my own pocket until we sort things out with Sir Hubert.”

  “Then I suggest you contact one of the agencies in London, my lady,” he said stiffly.

  “I don’t wish to pay their prices. I’d prefer a local girl who is willing to learn. I’m sure you can ask around.”

  “We don’t have much contact with the local people,” he said. “You can ask the women when they come in. They’ll know.”

  I wasn’t sure whether he was being deliberately unhelpful or not.

  “Maybe you can send up Joanie to help me, until you find someone,” I suggested.

  “Joanie has enough to do with cleaning a house this size.” He was now only a small step away from insolence.

  “I’ll only need her for a few minutes to dress and undress me.”

  “I’ll ask her. See if she’s willing,” he said.

  There was a pause during which I tried to formulate many conflicting thoughts. “How long have you been here, Plunkett?” I asked.

  “Just under a year, my lady.”

  “And before that?”

  “I was with the old Lady Malmsbury. Do you know her, by chance?”

  “No, I’m not acquainted with her.”

  “A grand old lady. One of the old school,” he said.

  “I hope she expected a higher standard than you’ve achieved in this house,” I said.

  “Of course. But standards do slip when there is only a skeleton staff and nobody in residence. If Sir Hubert had told us he was coming home, everything would have been shipshape by the time he arrived.”

  “Then let me see what you are capable of so that I can write to Lady Malmsbury and tell her.”

  “That wouldn’t do no good,” he said hastily, reverting to his Cockney background for a second. “She died. That’s why I had to look for another position.”

  Clearly we weren’t making progress.

  “Will that be all, my lady?” he asked.

  “For now. I shall wish to examine the household accounts.”

  “Now?” He did sound startled this time. “May I suggest tomorrow morning when I can have them ready for you?”

  I should have insisted on right that minute, but I didn’t think he’d have time to create a fake accounts book by the morning. Anyway, I’d easily be able to verify with the bank how much was coming in each month.

  “Very well, tomorrow morning,” I said in a voice that indicated I was displeased. “And I’d like to meet with the gardeners later today.” I paused. “On second thought, I’ll take a stroll through the grounds and find them myself.”

  “They could be anywhere,” he said.

  “They had better be on the grounds and working,” I added.

  I thought about Plunkett as I walked away. I couldn’t picture anyone of my class, especially an older countess, hiring a butler like Plunkett. Perhaps he had taken great pains to act the perfect butler, subservient and refined, to his former mistress but was simply not bothering with me. I had never come across a butler who didn’t have impeccable manners and speech. In fact most of them behaved as if they were at least ten rungs above us on the social scale.

  I put on stout shoes and went out for a walk. No sign of gardeners in the formal part of the grounds. I went around the house, past the tennis court, and headed for the kitchen garden. To my surprise I found fruit trees with plenty of fruit on them, a bed of strawberries, runner beans and peas almost ready to be picked. So why had Fernando claimed there was no produce coming from the kitchen garden? Unless, of course, there was something going on behind my back. Was the produce being sold by the gardeners, or even by Fernando, for a nice profit?

  When the cat’s away, I said to myself. It was possible that Sir Hubert had even given them permission to sell excess produce. I’d have to tread carefully. I came around a potting shed and found two young men, sitting on upturned barrels, smoking. They leaped to their feet, startled.

  “Yes, miss?” they asked. “Was you wanting something?” They were skinny specimens who would have looked more at home loitering on a street corner than digging in a garden bed.

  “Yes, I was wanting my gardeners to be doing some work,” I said.

  “You’ve taken over this place?” one asked. “We didn’t hear nothing about that.”

  “Anything,” I corrected. “We didn’t hear anything. And apparently you didn’t hear about my arrival because Sir Hubert’s letter went astray. I am Lady Georgiana, so you will refer to me in future as ‘my lady.’ I am Sir Hubert’s heir and am going to be living here in future with my husband. I have arrived before my wedding to make sure the house and grounds are in good shape.”

  I saw the gardeners shoot each other a quick glance.

  “I must congratulate you,” I said. “The kitchen garden is looking splendid. The Spanish cook doesn’t seem to have much idea about English food, so please make sure that good fresh vegetables are delivered to the kitchen each morning. The runner beans look almost ready to be picked. And those plums and strawberries are wonderful.”

  “Yes, melady,” one of them muttered. I realized then that I might be right in my assumption that produce was being shipped out to be sold.

  “And I notice that the fountain is not working. I was very fond of that fountain in my childhood. Please make sure it is working as soon as possible.”

  “That’s not really our job,” one of them said. “There might be broken pipes and things.”

  “Are you the only outdoor staff these days?”

  “Yes, your ladyship,” the other one said. “Plunkett said we didn’t need more than two gardeners.”

  “Then I suggest you take a look at the fountain and if you can’t fix it yourselves we will call in a plumber from the nearest town.” I stood looking at them until neither one could meet my gaze. “What are your names?”

  “Bill, your ladyship,” one muttered. “Bill Bagley.”

  “And you?”

  “Ted Hoskins.” He didn’t meet my gaze.

  “And you are local men?”

  “No. I’m from Croydon. He’s from Hastings.”

  “And what happened to the former gardeners? I remember some older men.”

  “I don’t know, your ladyship. We were both hired recently.”

  “I see. Well, I shall be inspecting the grounds and making a note of areas that need work. Those herbaceous borders, for example. There are more weeds than flowers. Get working on those right away.”

  “Yes, my lady,” came the muttered reply.

  I sensed them still staring at me as I left. Now I was feeling really worried. Why had the entire staff been replaced? None of these people seemed overly suited to their jobs or like the sort of servant I was used to. I realized our servants at home were Scottish and maybe servants in the south of England were not as likely to be humble and polite. But I had stayed in great houses nearby. I had actually stayed at Farlows, not more than a mile away, and that house had certainly run smoothly: smoothly enough to hold a house party with the Prince of Wales as a guest!

  I put it all down to Plunkett. I surmised he had been hired to replace the retiring Rogers and had brought in his own sort of people, servants who would be likely to get along with him. Oh dear. I sighed. I hated conflict. I was almost feeling ready to go back to London, to write to Sir Hubert thanking him for his kind offer but telling him I’d rather live in a basement flat with a nosy landlady or a bijou room on a top floor! I wondered if I should call Zou Zou. If anyone could sort people out, it would be she. But then that would be admitting my own failure. I’d have to be mistress of my own house someday, and the sooner I learned the skills, the better.

  Thus resolved, I went back into the house. Plunkett was hovering. I rather suspected he had been spying on me from the window. I decided to telephone Belinda. Perhaps she could bring my dress down for a fitting and cheer me up.

  I looked around the front hall for a telephone.

  “Where is the telephone, Plunkett?” I asked.

  “The only equipment is in Sir Hubert’s study and he keeps that locked when he’s not here,” he said. That smug look had returned. “Besides, the line is disconnected when the master goes away.”

  “Then we will have to have a new connection made and the telephone in the front hall hooked up again,” I said. “I shall need to speak with people to coordinate my wedding plans.”

  “You’re not planning to be married from here, are you?”

  I was so tempted to say yes, I was. And what’s more, the king and queen would be in attendance. But I’m too honest by upbringing, having had a nanny who once washed out my mouth with soap for a lie. “No, I’m being married from my family’s London home.”

  “And you don’t want to stay with them now, while all the arrangements are being made? So much more convenient.”

  “Anyone would think you were trying to get rid of me, Plunkett,” I said sweetly.

  He had the grace to blush then. “Oh no, my lady. Just thinking that this is harder on you, being so far from London.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” I replied. “But I am determined to surprise my future husband with a perfect home when he returns from abroad.”

  “He travels a lot, your future husband, does he?” I could see him weighing up how often he’d have to deal with an assertive male around the place.

  “He does.”

  “What sort of line of work is he in?”

  “It’s terribly hush-hush,” I said. “He goes around the world apprehending criminals.”

  The wary look had definitely returned. I’ve rarely seen a man whose face betrayed his emotions more clearly.

  “So to get back to basics: those gardeners do not seem to be working hard. You will make sure they understand that their jobs depend on their willingness to work.”

  “I’ll tell them,” he said.

  “What happened to the older gardeners?” I asked. “When new young men are hired there is usually an older retainer who can teach them their duties.”

  “The old gardeners either died or wanted to retire,” he said. “Sir Hubert hadn’t changed his staff for years, so they all got old at the same time. And these two came highly recommended. One of them had worked for the parks in Hastings and the other had worked at a big nursery.”

  “But not in a large estate like this,” I said. “And I presume that both of them had a supervisor who told them what to do. Not the same as taking initiative, is it? Anyway, the gardeners have been told to examine the fountain. If they can’t get it to work, then a plumber will have to be called from Haywards Heath.”

  “That could be expensive,” Plunkett said quickly.

  “Then we will have to examine the books and see where we can save a little. Maybe the staff wages are too high, given the amount of work they are doing.”

  I made a grand exit, worthy of my mother, going up that sweeping curved staircase. It was only marred by my catching my toe on one of the stair rods and pitching forward. Luckily I was able to save myself and I don’t think Plunkett saw. I opened one door after another along the bedroom floor. So strange, I thought. A couple of bedrooms completely devoid of furniture, and others clearly piled with items under dust covers. Why not leave all the rooms as they had been with beds ready for guests? I went up one more floor. This staircase was not so grand, but I found myself in familiar territory. I had run along this corridor as a small child! And at the end was my nursery. I opened the door and there it was, just as it had been. The big rocking horse in the window. The low bookcase with a couple of rag dolls sitting on it looking forlorn, the small bed with the embroidered quilt. It was like stepping back in time. And a wonderful thought came to me—one day my child would be sleeping in that little bed and I’d tiptoe up to kiss him or her good night.

  I came down again in a much better frame of mind. It was just a question of making this new staff toe the line. I expected it was the same for any new mistress of a great estate, trying to mold the staff into her way of thought. I was now determined to stay on and to bring Eynsleigh back to its former glory!

  Chapter 12

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 26

  EYNSLEIGH, SUSSEX

  I went to sit in the morning room, which is not normally done in the afternoon! But the more formal rooms had not yet had the dust sheets removed. I rang for tea and had a cup of pale liquid brought to me, with a biscuit in the saucer. Oh dear. Fernando made tea in the continental fashion. I drank it and sat there, making lists of things that would have to be done before the wedding as well as things that needed doing to the house.

  Find a maid for me.

  Bring women in to clean.

  Mend fountain. Plumber if necessary.

  Hook telephone up again.

  Go through accounts. See where we can cut.

  It all seemed quite daunting and I felt terribly alone and vulnerable. I had had such high hopes. I remembered Eynsleigh as a warm and friendly place. When had it all started to go wrong? I wondered if Mr. Rogers was still living nearby or if he had retired to his own part of the country. Perhaps he or Mrs. Holbrook could shed some light on how someone like Plunkett was hired.

  I went up to find writing paper and wrote to Belinda. I tried to make it sound cheerful, but I finished with I shall try to come up to town in the next few days, but I need to get Eynsleigh back to working order first. A lot to be done. You wouldn’t like to come down and work on my dress here, would you?

  I addressed the envelope, put a stamp on it and rang for Plunkett. “Can you see that this goes out when the postman comes tomorrow?” I held it out for him.

  “The postman doesn’t come here,” he said. “All of Sir Hubert’s mail goes straight to his solicitor.”

  Oh golly, I thought with a sigh. We really were well and truly cut off from the world. I would have to go into town and see if the postman could put me on his route again.

  At six o’clock I went upstairs to change for dinner. I knew it was only me, but I wanted the staff to know that standards would be kept. I had brought one evening dress, leaving the lovely new creations for my trousseau. I tried to get into it single-handedly, but in the end I had to give up. Whoever made evening clothes expected their wearers to have a maid, or at least a willing husband. I went over and rang the bell. After a few minutes Joanie appeared. “You rang, my lady?” she asked.

  “Yes, Joanie. I need help getting dressed. These evening gowns all have hooks down the back. Impossible to put on alone.”

  “Right-oh,” she said. At least it wasn’t “Bob’s yer uncle,” which was what Queenie always said. I thought of her quite fondly at this moment. At least she was willing and cheerful. This one looked as if she could curdle milk. She yanked the dress over my head and swore to herself as she wrestled with the hooks. “You can do your own hair, can’t you?” she asked. “Because I’ve got ever so much work to do, what with cleaning all these rooms.”

  “Yes, I can do my own hair, thank you, Joanie. And I have told Plunkett that we are to employ the women from the village until the house is back in working order. When I have examined the books I shall see if we can take on a second maid.”

  “Can I go now, my lady?” she asked.

  “Yes. But I shall need you to help me out of this dress after dinner. I realize I need to employ a lady’s maid as soon as possible.”