A Countess Below Stairs (16 page)

Dr Lightbody made noises of sympathy.

‘I can give you so many examples… I’ve discovered that they knowingly employ a mental defective in the kitchen; the girl can’t even speak, I understand. And even in the family itself…’ She flushed. ‘Rupert’s old uncle … I have seen it with my own eyes. He actually … handles the maids!’

Hungry for details, Dr Lightbody laid down his fork but Muriel was off on another track. ‘I could give you a hundred instances … Rupert has this great dog who is allowed everywhere, even into the bedrooms’. She shuddered. ‘And even socially … They entertain Israelites of a kind that would not have been permitted over my father’s doorsteps.’ She lifted her blue eyes to his face. ‘You see why I am distressed?’

Dr Lightbody reached across to take her hand, thought better of it and took, instead, the Sauce Tartare.

‘Indeed I do.’

But he saw, in fact, a great deal more. Ever since Miss Hardwicke had invited him down for the wedding, the conviction had been growing in him that this was his chance. To found an institute in one of England’s most famous houses, to spread the doctrine of the new eugenics free from the endless financial anxieties that had hitherto pursued him - here, clearly lay his destiny. He had seen pictures of Mersham - the library, for example, would make a perfect lecture theatre.

That was if Miss Hardwicke really had, as she seemed to, the upper hand…

‘Don’t you see, my dear young lady,’ he said now, ‘you have a task. A mission. You have been singled out!’

‘Yes, I know. And of course I shall act. After the wedding I mean to—’

‘After the wedding?’ said the doctor. ‘My dear, I beg of you, don’t wait, don’t procrastinate! Remember you are acting in the best interests of these unfortunate people. Take the lady with senile dementia. There is a paper by Schuster and Filemann which shows conclusively that the old are better off with others like themselves, protected from stresses and strains which they can no longer endure.’

Muriel nodded. ‘It is certainly what one always feels when confronted with such people,’ she said, remembering the broken flowerpot, the appendix in its glass.

‘And the defective kitchen girl… What if she should get herself into trouble, as girls of that kind are so apt to do? Another deformed human being brought into the world. Would you ever forgive yourself?’

‘No, indeed. You are right; you are perfectly right. You have helped me so much.’ She smiled up at him and this time the doctor did permit himself a quick squeeze of the soft, plump hand.

‘It is hard, I know,’ he said. ‘AH reformers must endure opposition and calumny. I myself …’ He sighed.

‘I know, I know … You must forgive me,’ said Muriel. ‘I’m afraid I’m not quite myself this morning. You see there is this little girl who is to be a bridesmaid …’

She launched into a description of the morning’s events.

Dr Lightbody was shocked. ‘You have been abominably treated. You mean you had no idea that the child was so severely handicapped?’

‘None at all. Rupert just kept saying how pretty she was, how sweet.’

The doctor’s blond eyebrows met together in a frown. ‘To have a conspiracy of silence on such a topic is gross dishonesty indeed. Still, if as you say, your nance is so fond of the child, tact and diplomacy will be needed. Let me see …’

Two hours later, the doctor let himself into his flat. He was in the best of spirits. Though he regretted the eagle. Miss Hardwicke had been right. Dagos and foreigners could risk an accident, but not he. And Miss Hardwicke had extended her invitation not only to the wedding but to the houseparty for the ball which preceded it. If only Doreen wasn’t so unpresentable. He supposed he’d have to take her along, but the embarrassment would be almost unendurable.

‘Doreen?’ he called now.

There was no answer. Instead, his landlady came puffing upstairs, her fat, powdered face full of self-importance.

‘She ‘ain’t ‘ere. They bin and took her away in an ambulance.’

‘An ambulance!’

‘Aye. She bin coughin’ somethink ‘orrible - well, you know how poorly she was. But she would go out and go and get you a pork chop for your tea and in the butcher she ‘ad this turn. Blood comin’ out of her mouth an’ all. So they sent for an ambulance and they took her away. In the Samaritan she is, on Edgeware Road.’

Dr Lightbody stared at her. He caught himself wondering what had happened to the chop.

‘How terrible!’ he said. ‘How absolutely terrible!’

CHAPTER NINE

Rupert returned from London nursing a single and obstinately-held idea. Anna must go. She must go now,’ immediately, before the wedding. She must be given the four weeks wages she would still have earned and be sent back to London. He was simply not prepared to have coal carried to his study by a girl whose brother had cut his teeth on the Crown of Kazan. The thing was intolerable and in any case Anna herself, as he now saw, had been a disruptive force ever since she came to Mersham. Once Anna went, reasoned Rupert with impeccable logic, everything would be all right. He would stop having nightmares. Uncle Sebastien would stop playing Stravinsky, Potter would sell the mare. Above all, Muriel, his chosen bride, would be loved and appreciated as she deserved to be.

He began, therefore, by tackling his mother.

The dowager was in her boudoir dealing with some last minute wedding invitations. There were dark circles under her fine, grey eyes and rather more chiffon scarves than usual seemed to have slipped from her shoulders to the floor.

‘Dismiss Anna!’ she said horrified. ‘But why, Rupert? She’s leaving anyway after the wedding.’

‘After the wedding,’ said Rupert, firmly if obscurely, ‘is too late.’

Lady Westerholme looked in bewilderment at her son. ‘Too late for what, dear?’

Rupert changed his tactics. ‘I found out quite a lot about her background when I was in town, Mother.

Apparently she comes of a very distinguished family indeed.’

The dowager received this information without surprise. ‘Well, so I supposed. She has such lovely manners and speaks such pretty French. But really I cannot see that as a reason for sending her away before she wants to go. Look at the poor tsar. He couldn’t have been more distinguished and now he’s dead. And your Uncle Sebastien is so fond of her.’

‘Yes, well, that’s another thing—’

‘No, you’re wrong, Rupert. Uncle Sebastien doesn’t lay a finger on her, I’m sure. She’s like a daughter to him. And Baskerville adores her.’

A sudden memory of Anna held at bay by the lake, her hair tumbling in disarray over the desperately-held towel, made Rupert momentarily shut his eyes.

‘Are you suggesting that we employ our servants for the sake of my dog?’ he asked savagely.

The dowager stared at him. ‘Why are you so angry with her, Rupert?’

‘I’m not. Mother.’ He tried again. ‘But you know Muriel doesn’t care for her.’

‘Oh?’ The dowager’s tone was distinctly cool. ‘I should have thought Anna was working very well for Muriel. I’ve been past Muriel’s room three nights running and found Anna sitting outside on a hard chair waiting up for her until well after midnight. And considering she’s up again at dawn to exercise—’ She broke off, put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear.’

Rupert’s face was like thunder. ‘I see. So Anna’s been exercising the new mare. I might have known it.’

‘Now, Rupert, you mustn’t blame Anna. It was Potter’s idea - he’d been watching her with the mare and he guessed she could ride. You must remember he only has the one boy now and there’s a great deal to do at present.’

‘I told Potter to sell the mare again. He has my strict instructions.’

‘Yes, of course; he’s going to, dear. But you can’t sell a horse like that to anyone.’ Her eyes softened. ‘She’s a beauty, Rupert. I tried her. Potter sent Alice to ask if Anna could borrow my habit. Anna wanted to ride bareback - he was very shocked! So I went down to see and they persuaded me to take her out just for an hour.’

Rupert forgot his anger. ‘I’m so glad, Mother. You’ve not been out since… George died, have you?’ His face lit up. ‘I’m an idiot! Of course, I’ll keep her here for you. Then you can come up whenever you like and—’

‘No, no, Rupert. That’s out of the question. It’s sweet of you, dearest, but it would be quite wrong. If Muriel doesn’t care to ride she certainly won’t want to keep horses for her mother-in-law. I’ll be very snug down in the Mill House, you’ll see.’ And the dowager frowned, for Colonel Forster was fussing about putting in a damp-course for her before she moved, not realizing that she had to be in there the day after the wedding. ‘As for Anna, dearest,’ she went on resolutely, ‘you and Muriel must do what you think best, of course. It would be very wrong of me to interfere. Only remember, Mrs Bassenthwaite is not at all well.’

It was Proom, accordingly, that Rupert summoned to his study.

To the suggestion that his newest housemaid be sent away with a month’s wages in lieu of notice, the earl’s butler listened with a sinking heart. Since Anna’s arrival, Mrs Proom had only thrown two flowerpots and they had been small ones.

‘Might I ask why you wish her to be dismissed, my lord?’

Rupert frowned. ‘Miss Hardwicke doesn’t care for her.’ And as Proom continued to stand impassively before him, he went on: ‘But that isn’t it. I found out certain things about her background which makes it most unsuitable that she should be employed as a domestic’

Proom nodded. ‘Mrs Bassenthwaite and I were, of course, aware that she was of gentle birth. For this reason we were extremely reluctant to employ her.’

‘Well, then…’

‘However, it must be stated, my lord, that Anna has done everything she could to overcome her handicap. This is not to say that her adherence to the views of Mrs Selina Strickland have always been beneficial. In feet, only this morning James was threatening to throw all three volumes of the Domestic Compendium into the lake, Anna having asked him for calcined magnesia to polish Miss Hardwicke’s bedside grapes. But—’

‘Asked him for what?’ interrupted Rupert.

‘Calcined magnesia, my lord. It is a substance which is used in certain circles,’ said Proom dismissively, ‘to bring a heightened bloom to the fruit. A process analagous to the annotating of plums with Reckit’s Blue. Needless to say, I have never permitted such practices at Mersham. The fruit here is never tampered with.’

Rupert put down the paper knife with which he had been demolishing a number of hapless envelopes.

‘I can’t help wondering why they accept her, Proom? They must know she comes from a totally different world.’

‘Yes, my lord. They do.’ He paused, considering how much to put into words. ‘Perhaps it’s not generally realized that what a servant dreads is not hard work, it’s boredom. Housework can be extremely monotonous. And Anna … well, youcan say a lot about Anna, but not that she is boring.’

‘No,’ said Rupert, allowing himself a wintery smile. He got up, went to the window, started playing with the tassel of the blind…

‘Things are not very easy at the moment,’ continued Proom, who had left Mrs Park searching wild-eyed through her cookery books for an alcohol-free wedding cake. ‘Periods of transition are always unsettling and Lady Westerholme will be greatly missed. To dismiss Anna now would not be at all good for morale. It would be regarded as a very grave injustice.’

‘But if she were paid—’

‘My lord, there is no way you could get Anna to accept money to which she would feel she was not entitled. She is extremely proud. She is also looking forward very much to the wedding. Russian weddings, as you are probably aware, are very different. Anna is planning to cut her hair.’

‘No!’ The earl had swung round, his voice, his whole manner so peremptory, that Proom looked at him in amazement.

‘There is nothing in the regulations to prevent it, my lord and—’

‘I forbid it,’ said the Earl of Westerholme. ‘I forbid it utterly and you may tell her so.’

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To his own surprise, on going to talk to Muriel who was writing letters in Queen Caroline’s bedchamber, Rupert received no thanks for his efforts to get rid of Anna.

‘Rupert, I beg you not to concern yourself with the indoor staff. I’ve told you that I mean to see to all that. After all, I don’t interfere with the running of the farms or the forests, do I, even though—’ She paused delicately.

‘Even though it is your money that makes it possible for me to go on running them,’ said Rupert levelly. ‘Yes, that’s true. And I certainly have better things to do than interfere with the servants. But I knew you were not pleased with Anna and…’

Muriel put up a restraining hand. ‘I admit that Anna is not what I call natural servant material, but I am not displeased with her work. Last night when we came back from London they sent a most unsuitable girl to wait on me - a long-nosed, frizzy-haired creature with a most impertinent manner.’

‘That’ll be Louise. She’s head housemaid, you see and—’

‘Please, dearest, there’s no need to explain. Let it suffice that I am perfectly prepared to put up with Anna until the maid I have ordered from Switzerland arrives. What I did want to speak to you about was your dog.’

Baskerville, hearing himself referred to, turned his massive head. Among his many excellent qualities, the earl’s dog did not number a quick intelligence. Even he, however, had gathered that, incredible as it seemed, his natural behaviour was not wholly pleasing to Muriel Hardwicke. Now, in a heroic effort to conform, he sat on his haunches by the door, repressing an almost overwhelming desire to examine the livestock under the fourposter, and ruining the patient, Landseer pose he had adopted with frequent and enormous yawns.

‘What about my dog?’ said Rupert lightly, momentarily letting his hand rest on Muriel’s hair. Perfectly groomed, perfectly golden, with its metallic lustre it Ś looked more as if it had been mined than grown.

‘You have often said,’ Muriel continued, ‘that my good nursing, my attention to hygiene, saved your life.’

‘Yes, I have said it,’ said Rupert, smiling. ‘And I still do.’

‘Well then, I know you will understand when I ask you not to bring Baskerville into my bedroom. Or into our bedroom when we are married.’ The pansy-blue eyes looked up appraisingly and it occurred to Rupert, suddenly, how rarely Muriel blinked. ‘I don’t know if you’r aware of the work by Bestheimer and his associates on the transference of canine worms to the back of the human eyeball, but I assure you if you were—’