Murder at the Spring Ball: A 1920s Mystery by Benedict Brown (romantic novels in english .txt) 📗

“Her father will outlive her and that’s something you can bet on. Shrivelled old Belinda will have drunk herself to death long before-”

She never finished the sentence as, just then a looming figure appeared in the doorway and everyone held their breath.

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” My grandfather took a hesitant step into the kitchen, like a schoolboy entering the teacher’s corridor. I’d never seen him look so uncertain before. “I thought I’d come down and say hello.”

Todd the chauffeur bolted to his feet and a couple of the gardeners did the same. There was an awkward hush as Fellowes looked about at his colleagues in the hope that one of them might know what to say next. When none of the adults could make a decision, I decided to offer my grandfather a chair.

“Well… yes, Christopher. Why not?” He asked the question as if hoping that someone would provide a good reason. “I’m happy to see that you’re being fed… Growing boy and all that.”

I was taken aback by the change in him. This wasn’t the same Lord Edgington who had brought the Ealing Strangler to the gallows or cracked the Bow Boys crime ring. As he sat down at the table, he was acting like a stranger in his own house.

“Please, everyone, sit down,” he said and the men slowly retook their places at the long, wooden worktable. They looked as sombre as mourners at a funeral.

“Are you hungry, Lord Edgington?” Cook enquired. “Would you like some broth?”

Regaining something of his composure, Grandfather sat up straighter and shook his head. “It looks delicious, Cook, but I should really refrain. Though I’m sure Fellowes will have told you how I much I enjoy your soups.” My grandfather was the only living person who could make such a claim.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “It occurred to me this evening how strange it is that there are rooms in my house that I’ve never visited and people who live here I’ve never spoken to.” As he said this, he cast his gaze towards the two, normally rowdy gardeners, who looked down at their hands in reply. I was coming to think that my parents were right and old Grampapa had finally lost it.

“Would you like a drink, Milord?” Fellowes was up on his feet and had assumed his butlering pose; heels together, feet turned out, chin raised high. “We have a nicely aged whisky. I know how you like your single malts.”

“That won’t be necessary. Sit down, man.” The vein of annoyance reappeared in his voice but died away again just as quickly. “And please, everyone, go back to your game. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

On catching her master’s raised voice, Delilah poked her sleepy head out of her basket before bumbling over.

“So what did you come here for, Grandfather?” I asked. He looked straight at me and I wished I could take my question back and hide in the pantry.

“I came to talk to everyone. You see, I may be the occupier of Cranley Hall, but you…” He peered around the nervous visages of his employees. “All of you, are its heart; its lifeblood. A house is nothing without humanity and that is what you provide the place with.”

There was some appreciative murmuring, but the staff kept their eyes low, as if Lord Edgington was a star that was too bright to look at directly.

When the voices faded out, he continued. “I can see that my plans are going to make life more complicated over the next month, but I know you all have it in you to cope with the changes.” He paused and his moustache wiggled a little like he’d heard something funny. He pointed over to his chauffeur and serving staff. “Todd, Fellowes and Halfpenny, I’m expecting you to lead the younger members of staff in their duties and address any problems they might have.”

The three men looked proud to be singled out by name, and my grandfather moved on.

“Cook, you needn’t worry. We’ll be bringing in a fleet of assistants to prepare the food for the party and Christopher here is in charge of the menu, so it shouldn’t be any more work for you than normal.”

He scanned the faces of the young maids. “To the rest of you, I’m afraid you’re going to have your work cut out. We’ll be using rooms in the house which haven’t been opened in years. Not just the ballroom and salons, we’ll have a number of guests staying the night and so the unused bedrooms in the east wing will also be required.”

It was the gardeners’ turn next and they finally looked up at him. “The gardens will need to be at their very best too. I know that change can be frightening, so try to stay focussed on the end result. Cranley will look more beautiful than she has in a century and I believe in each and every last one of you.”

His rousing words finally seemed to have had an impact and Alice smiled across at me enthusiastically as Grandfather finished his speech.

“You probably think I’m quite mad. But I promise that’s not the case. I merely want to fulfil a few lifelong dreams, while there’s still time.”

“Very good, Milord,” Fellowes offered in reply, and his words seemed to rally his colleagues. There was a buzz of chatter as Grandfather stood back up and, like celebrants before communion, we all rose.

“I’m sure the ball will be wonderful, your lordship,” Cook added and performed a little curtsy where she stood.

“That’s right.” The old man smiled, finally looking comfortable in his own kitchen. “Wonderful is just the word for it.”

Chapter Six

After Todd dropped me off at school that week, the days dragged by. I can’t say I’ve ever been particularly scholarly (if that’s the right word for it) but after my weekend of surprises, each sixty-minute period at Oakton Academy took forever. I