Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [55]
“You’re right,” said Daisy. “Lady Sarah will faint given the opportunity, but it’s all an act.”
“But why aren’t they frightened?”
“Because they really think it will turn out to be a series of accidents. Because violent things only happen to the lower orders. The murderer must be feeling uneasy.”
“I hope so. Take good care of your mistress. She’s a brave girl.”
The Earl and Countess of Hadshire arrived the following day. Maisie Chatterton’s mother came, then the Petersons’ aunt, and so the arrivals continued. A harassed Lady Hedley was glad that it was only the girls who had summoned parents and relatives.
Servants were run ragged trying to find accommodation for the new guests and for their servants.
“We should never have let you come here,” said Rose’s mother, Lady Polly. “Most weird. I learn there has been no proper protocol with regard to the seating at the dining-table. And when that poor gel was found dead, not even a bit of half mourning.”
“Did you pay Hedley to invite me?” asked Rose.
“Pay? Why should we do that?”
“I learned that he had charged the girls’ parents—the ones that were failures at the last season—-for the invitation, promising to find them husbands. The men were charged for a chance at getting their hands on the Americans’ dowries.”
“We must leave at once!”
“We can’t,” said Rose. “The police are not letting anyone leave until everyone has been thoroughly questioned.”
“My maid tells me a story about the deaths is in the Daily Mail and that the village is crawling with reporters from other papers. The castle servants must be very disloyal. The Mail has printed the names of all the people here.”
“I am sure some of the castle servants have relatives in that run-down village,” Rose said, “and one of the villagers saw a way to make some much-needed money.”
“Shocking! And why didn’t Hedley do something about the housing of his tenants? There is republicanism afoot, not to mention Bolshevism, and bad landlords just play into their hands. Your father has had strong words with Hedley about it.”
“I am glad you are here, Ma, but I am not an invalid. I cannot stay in bed the whole time. I am going to rise and go down for luncheon.”
Lady Polly listened in horror as Rose gave instructions to Daisy to find one of her divided skirts and a plain white blouse. “You must dressl“ wailed Lady Polly. “These are trying times. And what on earth is that disgraceful garment?”
“It’s a corselet.”
“Where is your long corset? A woman should be properly boned”
Rose decided to he. “The doctor said my clothes should be as loose as possible.”
“Oh, in that case ... but not a blouse and skirt for luncheon. The tea-gown, Daisy. The pink one. No padding, Rose? You will look most odd. Still, I am sure they will excuse your appearance. Perhaps a little rouge, Daisy.”
“No rouge,” said Rose. “And Daisy, just brush my hair and tie it back with a ribbon. I am, just for once, not going to have the weight of those pads on my head.”
Luncheon was a fairly silent affair. The Petersons’ aunt, a Miss Fairfax, had been overheard to say loudly and forcefully that her nieces should never have been allowed to visit such a monstrous place and the men were hopeless and dilettante. She was a large, raw-boned woman with square hunting shoulders, a prominent nose and sharp grey eyes. Her voice had an American twang, which might have been pleasing to the ear had she not used her voice to condemn everything in sight. Hers was practically the only voice raised at the table, where everyone was now seated in correct order of precedence.
Rose was seated on the marquess’s left: and her mother on his right. At the other end of the table, her father was on the marchioness’s right and Lady Sarah Trenton’s father, Viscount Summertown, on her left. Harry was with the least-distinguished in the middle of the table. He had Maisie Chatterton on one side and Mrs. Jerry Trumpington on his other.
At last, over the pudding, Margaret Bryce-Cuddlestone raised her voice.