With heads bent together like schoolgirls, Ruby and Fina quickly traded notes in the dimly lit hallway.
“Did you hear what she said about Dulcet?” said Fina.
“I did!” said Ruby. “There’s something odd going on there, no doubt. And I’d bet my life Granville is involved somehow.”
“Yes… you know, I didn’t like the look of him one bit, now I see him up close. And as for his friend!”
Ruby pitched her voice even lower. “Charlotte doesn’t seem too fond of Leslie Dashwood, either. I remarked to her earlier that he looked somewhat ill – perhaps his spleen – and she told me she suspects he may be troubled in his mind. We’d be best advised to steer clear of him this weekend, she said.”
“That’s one piece of advice I’m delighted to take,” said Fina fervently as they neared the saloon. “And let me tell you about Gayatri…”
Just then, a dark-coated figure nearly collided with them.
“So sorry – oh, it’s you, Charles! Why are you in a serving uniform? Were you at dinner and we didn’t see you?” asked Ruby.
“I… They… They’re short-staffed, you see, as many of the servants couldn’t make it in this weather. I served dinner and then attended the gentlemen in the study.”
“I’m ashamed that I looked right past you at dinner,” said Fina, feeling the warmth creeping up her neck for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Why was she nervous? “Will you be able to listen to the music in the saloon?”
Ruby interjected, “Doesn’t Ian count songwriting among his many talents? I heard Julia is also quite a nightingale.”
Glancing over his shoulder, presumably to ensure the omnipresent Grimston wasn’t lurking in the shadows, Charles responded in a whisper. “I should be able to stand out in the hall to listen, if not to watch. Grimston has to have his cigarettes or he gets moody,” he said, waving Ruby and Fina into the saloon.
As their eyes adjusted to the bright combination of electric and candlelight of the room, Fina noticed both Granville and Leslie were absent. The saloon was a long room with French windows at one end and a gleaming grand piano at the other. The guests were arranged – much like a stage play or a painting, thought Fina – around the mantel, sofas and small bridge table in the corner. Julia looked pensive. She lounged in the corner, smoking a cigarette; it was hardly the stance of a joyful singer. Fina noticed her fierce glare at Ian and Gayatri who were cosily ensconced in the corner. Despite their hushed conversation, Gayatri’s tinkling laugh floated across the room, as if it were a butterfly in search of an exit. In response, Julia stubbed out her cigarette in a bronze ashtray with striking ferocity. She marched over to Ian and Gayatri.
“Here comes trouble,” hissed Ruby. They made a beeline for the nearest sofa with a view of the brewing tempest.
Hands on hips, Julia said, “Ian, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone.” She glared at Gayatri.
With a sensitivity heretofore hidden beneath the rather superficial surface, Sajida jumped up and zipped over to her sister’s rescue. “Gay,” she said – pronouncing her sister’s pet name as guy – “I simply must ask you about Mother’s letter from today.” She opened her scarlet clutch and proffered the crumpled letter to her sister, while guiding her gently away from the smouldering Julia.
Ian, looking somewhat sheepish, made his escape to the piano.
Julia followed. She removed her blazer with the flourish of a matador – an effect heightened, Fina thought, by the pool of black satin lining that flashed as she tossed it on the nearest armchair. With deliberate insouciance, she undulated toward the piano, no small feat given her beanpole figure. Smoothing her hair and her blouse, she pursed her lips and leaned over the piano to whisper to Ian. Almost imperceptibly, Ian shrank like a frightened turtle from Julia. Whatever the conversation was, it was rather curt.
Wondering if these developing love triangles would affect their mission this weekend, Fina studied her friend in the next chair. Ruby sat, hands gently folded in her lap, gazing at the piano. Or, to be more precise, at Ian. Selkies and kelpies, thought Fina. While she was happy for Ruby – perhaps a teensy jealous – she hoped this infatuation wouldn’t distract her from gathering tidbits of gossip about the other guests. Infatuation. Hmph. She found herself glancing at Charles.
Charles topped up the guests’ drinks while they arranged themselves to pay appropriate attention to the music. The Earl raised his cut glass tumbler for Scotch, and then turned his attention to the piano. In a slightly slurred but contented voice, he said, “Play us a Christmas tune, by Jove!” Nimble on his feet, Charles dodged the Earl’s sloshing glass as he began to swing it in anticipation of the music.
Smirking slightly with urbane distaste, Ian nodded to Julia. They launched into a lively rendition of a song Fina hadn’t heard before, but it had the refrain ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’. A crimson-faced Earl grinned and hummed along – though clearly it was to a tune in his own head. The Countess patted her husband’s arm with a gesture that could have been interpreted as either condescending or encouraging, while Charlotte tried to ignore her uncle by staring at her apparently rather fascinating champagne glass. Other guests listened attentively – though it was a bit too serious, thought Fina, for the rather frivolous tune.
As polite applause broke out at the close of the song, Granville and Leslie stumbled in – with cigarettes escaping at gravity-defying angles from their mouths and tumblers free of liquid. Despite this, Fina thought Granville must be relatively sober, given that he had left his wineglass more or less untouched throughout dinner. Relatively. This was in sharp contrast to his friend who, as she knew all too well, had been on a strict diet of liquid calories since the afternoon.
“Ripping, absolutely ripping,” slurred Leslie, as he saluted the musical entertainment in the corner. Unable to balance all of his various accoutrements, he let his cigarette slip out of his mouth and onto the lap of Gayatri who was now sitting near the door.
Granville snorted with the undisguised glee of a drunk. Charlotte’s eyes were wide with horror as Gayatri quickly brushed off her second dress of the night. Sajida leapt up and rushed at Leslie. Slap. An angry red flush spread across Leslie’s face. She glared at him, saying nothing. Turning around like a soldier at the palace, she moved to tend to her sister.
Charles swooped over to Leslie to pull him away. “Please, sir, why don’t I get you another drink and find a seat for you – over here,” he said, gesturing to two chairs facing one another in the nether regions of the saloon.
Leslie stiffened, as if determined to kick his inebriation by sheer force of will. He and Granville allowed themselves to be installed in a corner obscured from Fina’s vision by a large mahogany chest.
Ruby grabbed Fina’s arm and whispered, “Did you see that? That slap was for more than that drunken accident.”
Fina nodded and grimaced in response as the next song commenced at the behest of the Countess, who was quick to return to the veneer of normalcy.
As apparent rapt attention was expected given their proximity to the performance, Fina’s face stayed fixed, while her mind wandered. There certainly was an atmosphere. And this atmosphere only made her more anxious. She was anxious to begin their search tonight. She was anxious that she would fail in her task and fail her friend. Fina reminded herself that they were in this together, and that she should stop putting Ruby on a pedestal. As her anxieties began to overtake her, she rose and wandered to the French windows.
As she passed by Granville and Leslie, giving them as wide a berth as possible, she heard a few snippets of their conversation. The strong smell of sour Scotch wafted over her as she tried to look casually out the window.
Granville said, “You know I’ll back you up, old chap.”
“Yes, but this whole Parliament business has left me unsettled. And that don – if he gets wind of this, not to mention the press…” responded Leslie.
“We’ll be leaving soon. Everything will be sorted out,” said Granville in a surprisingly soothing voice.
Good, she thought, I hope the scoundrels will be leaving soon.
Self-conscious about her position at the window – in case anyone was watching – she decided to look longingly out the window. She saw the delicate layers of cotton-like snow gently pressing against the lower panes. And still the flakes kept falling. There would be no chance of anyone arriving or leaving tomorrow morning, and perhaps not the morning after. She shivered as she thought about her mission for the night ahead.