Chapter Two

In which the butler is almost undone and I am forced to flee the room

We did not make it to supper.

I do not believe I have ever begged so hard for anything as I begged Richenda to excuse me from supper, but it was barely five o’clock when we heard the crunch of gravel under the wheels of an automobile. Later I heard Stone was only halfway across the hall before the door flew open and Hans erupted through the front door. ‘Practically threw his hat at me,’ Stone said, ‘begging your pardon, miss, but I have never seen a thing like it.’ He coughed. He was serving me ‘a light refreshment’ in my boudoir as dinner had been put ‘on hold for the present.’

‘In all the time I’ve served Mr Muller I have never known him show,’ and at this point Stone bit his lip, ‘I have never known him show,’ – and here his voice definitely wobbled – ‘emotion before the staff. Even in the bad days when the first Mrs Muller was still with us, he always kept himself well in hand.’

‘I fear he was alarmed by Mrs Muller’s telegram,’ I said. ‘He must have returned fearing the worst.’

‘I understand that, miss, and I have never thought Mr Muller to be lacking in the sensibilities natural to a gentleman of his standing. But a hat in the face, Miss Euphemia! It is quite without precedent.’

I did not make the mistake of offering to speak to Hans about the matter. I realised that it was a measure of how truly disturbed Stone was that he had even gone so far as to mention it to me. And then there was a moment, an horrific moment, when he had picked up the creamer before the teapot. Fortunately, he checked himself in time and replaced the milk jug before doing irreparable damage to this career. For such a faux pas Stone would have undoubtedly given himself notice to quit on the spot, but the moment passed. He retired back to his butler’s pantry to calm his nerves and to do his best to wipe that last two hours from his mind. In some butlers this might mean liberating a part of the wine cellar, but Stone, I knew, took his consolation in polishing.

I had barely taken two sips of my tea when the gong for dinner sounded. I could barely imagine Stone’s confusion. The poor man would not know if he was coming or going. I had already changed for dinner, and while it was unclear if this was the first or second bell, I made my way to the drawing room hoping for a little courage in the form of a small sherry.

Stone was present once more and his implacable face told me as far as he was concerned our previous conversation had not happened. I barely nodded at him as I collected my sherry from the tray he held out to me. His eyelids flickered at my cavalier treatment and I sensed his assent. Our respective positions were restored.⁸

There was no one else in the room. I went to the window and drew back a heavy drape so I could watch the evening come into its full glory. We had yet to embrace the early dark nights of winter, but the shading of blues, purples, and greys across the vast expanse of sky that hung over the Muller Estate showed that twilight had already put on her evening dress and was preparing to come downstairs. Unlike my employers.

I spent a while at the window sipping my sherry. Stone appeared at my elbow to take away my empty glass and enquiring if I required another. I shook my head. With little else to do I made my way across to the piano. The lid was a little stiff. I ran my fingers across the keys. The instrument was in need of tuning, but not badly so. I played from memory some of the pieces my mother had made me practise for hours. The learning had been torture, but they were so ingrained in me by repetition that I could now play easily and with little thought. I gazed out of the window, watching the last sigh of the day and played on.

‘I didn’t know you could play.’

Richenda’s voice cut through my thoughts like the sound of a chainsaw during an afternoon picnic. I stood up quickly, closing the lid and almost trapping my fingers. ‘I haven’t for a very long time,’ I said, ‘but it seems some things never leave you. My mother was a hard taskmaster.’

‘Your mother?’ asked Richenda.

Hans appeared behind her. ‘I haven’t heard that instrument played since my wife died.’ Richenda gave a loud snort.

‘I’m so sorry, Hans,’ I said. ‘I didn’t meant to bring back bad memories.’

‘Not at all. I shall get the instrument tuned for you. Perhaps Richenda …?’

‘Not on your life,’ muttered Richenda under her breath, but aloud she said, ‘My talents are more on horseback than in the drawing room, my dear.’

‘Of course, my dear,’ said Hans, ‘whatever makes you happy.’

I shivered. They were not normally the kind of couple who treated each other with open affection. Of course, Hans is the kind of man who opens doors, remembers shawls, ensures his wife always has to hand whatever trifles she might want,⁹ but he and Richenda have never been a cooing couple.

‘Shall we dine?’ asked Richenda brightly. ‘As Hans came back unexpectedly I have no other guests arranged, but I am sure dining en familie will be just the thing.

‘Delightful,’ said Hans. ‘You must pretend I am not here and carry on as you two normally would without my supervision.’ Hans’s face remained unreadable, but there was something behind these words I could not fathom. I felt my appetite disappear. I wished someone would simply tell me what was going on. I looked around for Stone, but like any good servant on the eve of a family discussion he had disappeared.

Soup was already set out at our places. It had become the latest fashion to walk into the dining room and find the first course awaiting you. I wondering how long this soup had been waiting. Fortunately it transpired to be a cold pea and mint soup. At least, I assumed it was meant to be cold.

Stone reappeared to pour wine. Hans nodded at the bottle and turned to his wife, ‘As you were saying, Richenda, I think life in the country …’

‘Pas deviant, the servants!’ exclaimed Richenda.

‘My dear, we are hardly discussing a grand family secret.’ Hans turned his attention to me. ‘Euphemia, Richenda and I have decided that after all your recent adventures, and Richenda’s lack of adventure, it would do the two of you a great deal of good to spend a few days in town. Richenda has never really had the experience of sampling London life and I find myself interested to know if it is something she would enjoy.’

‘Hans is talking of buying a London house!’ exclaimed Richenda.

Her husband flicked an annoyed gaze in her direction. ‘It is far from decided,’ he said levelly. ‘Whatever happens, as far as I am concerned this is the family home and where we shall be spending the majority of our time. The estate needs my attention.’

‘You have a factor,’ said Richenda.

‘And excellent though he is,’ countered Hans, ‘a country estate thrives best with the family in residence.’ His tone was not unfriendly, but it was final.

Richenda bridled, took a hearty bite out of bread roll, and chewed aggressively. Hans ignored her and sipped at his wine. I began to wonder how I could feign some kind of mild illness.

Then Richenda swallowed. She gave Hans a blinding smile. I think like me, he also assumed this was indigestion, because neither of us were prepared for the tone and words she poured like syrup across the room. ‘Of course, I perfectly understand. Whatever you wish, Hans. As your wife I will always support you.’

‘And I you, my dear,’ said Hans. A little sweat had formed across his upper lip.

‘Then you will be delighted to learn Euphemia and I are indeed planning a London trip. I am writing to my chosen hotel to confirm dates this evening.’

‘That is excellent,’ said Hans, warily. ‘May I ask when you plan to depart?’

‘It is all almost settled,’ said Richenda. ‘Do not worry. I have thought it all through and we will not need to drag you from office. Euphemia and I can manage perfectly well alone.’

One of Hans’s eyebrows rose. ‘You do not wish me to escort you in town?’

‘Oh we will be perfectly fine,’ said Richenda airily. ‘I am a married woman and Euphemia is my companion. There is no necessity for you to take time away from your office or whomever else – I mean whatever else keeps you in town.’

I shot upright. ‘Excuse me, I feel unwell,’ I said and fled the room. I felt Hans’s eyes on my back and I knew he felt betrayed, but there was no way I was staying to be an awkward third in the conversation Richenda was brewing.

⁸ I had already made a friend of one butler. Two would be going beyond folly.

⁹ In Richenda’s case this is usually cake.