Death at Dawn - Caro Peacock [74]
‘Mrs Quivering’s compliments, and would Miss Lock kindly go down to the housekeeper’s room.’
Betty gave me a look that said, Oh dear, what have you done? and I followed Patrick’s black-liveried back down the stairs, wondering which of my many sins had found me out, almost certain that in the next few minutes I faced dismissal. I could only hope it was nothing worse than that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She was sitting at her desk with a pile of papers in front of her, cap tilted sideways as if she’d been running her hands through her hair. She looked tired and worried, but not especially hostile.
‘Miss Lock, it’s good of you to come down. I’m sorry to take you away from your pupils.’
Was it sarcasm? If so, there was no sign of it on her face.
‘As you may have heard, Miss Lock, we are planning to entertain a large number of people next weekend, a dinner for forty people on Friday and a ball for more than a hundred on Saturday.’
I nodded, not sure if I was supposed to know even as much as that.
‘Amongst other things, there is a deal of writing to be done: place cards, table plan, menus and the like. Mrs Beedle has suggested that you might take on the duty.’
She must have mistaken my look of amazement for reluctance and went on, rather impatiently.
‘I am sure you could accommodate it with your other duties. Mrs Sims could supervise some of the children’s lessons, if necessary.’
Almost overcome by relief and my good luck, I assured her, truthfully, that nothing would give me more pleasure.
‘Thank you, Miss Lock. I suggest you start this afternoon. I shall have a table brought into this room for you. The first thing I want you to do is make a complete and accurate copy of the guest lists here.’ She picked up from her desk several pages pinned together. My eyes followed the lists like a dog craving a bone. ‘Then you may use it to work from when you do the place cards. You understand?’
‘Perfectly, Mrs Quivering. I’m delighted to have an opportunity to be of use.’
By mid-afternoon I was sitting by the window in the housekeeper’s room, the precious lists on the table in front of me. There were three of them, the longest, some 120 names, consisted of those invited to the ball on the Saturday night. A shorter one listed the 40 guests who would also be at dinner the night before. An even more select group of 20 would be staying at Mandeville Hall for the weekend, the majority bringing valets or maids with them.
I read through the lists, looking for names I recog nised. The house guests included one duke, two lords, four baronets and their ladies, and six Members of Parliament. (I refrain from giving their names here because most of them were nothing worse than foolish and easily flattered, and I am sure they would not now want the world to know that they had ever set foot in Mandeville Hall.) I racked my brains, trying to remember what I’d heard or read about any of them. The duke was eighty years old or so, and I remembered from accounts of Reform Bill debates in the Lords that he had been a bitter opponent of it. Given his host’s views on the subject, it was not surprising to find him on the guest list. The same applied to two of the Members of Parliament, both to my knowledge die-hard Tories of the old school. I’d heard my father talk about them. It was a reasonable guess that the other four, of whom I’d never heard, shared their opinions.
‘Have you everything you need, Miss Lock?’
Mrs Quivering came sweeping into the room, followed by her assistant, who was burdened with a bad cold and an armful of bedsheets.
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs