A House Divided: An Easterleigh Hall Novel (12 page)

Matron's voice reached them. ‘There's young Bridie, Daniel, who is more trouble than you'd ever imagine, but you can trust her. A few of us do, but only a few. Others have more sense.'

Daniel laughed. Uncle Richard said, ‘That laugh's not from the heart, young Bridie.'

‘But it will be,' Bridie whispered to him. ‘I promise you that.'

He shook his head. ‘Like mother, like daughter. Heaven help the world.'

At seven p.m. Evie, Bridie and Annie wrenched off their aprons and removed their caps, then smoothed down their dresses before hurrying from the kitchen. They took the stairs up to the green baize door almost at a run, wishing they could just get on with the finishing touches to the meal. Evie said, ‘Susie will do as instructed, she's a grand lass, but . . .'

Annie laughed quietly. ‘Yes, indeed, but . . . Now is the time to smile and pretend we have nothing better to do, and thank him.'

They slipped into the grand hall, grinning at Ron, who was manning the reception desk with Kevin, then headed to the old billiard room, which was now the private dining room. There were only a few regular guests staying tonight, and they were already assembling in the sitting room for pre-dinner drinks. Bridie hesitated for a moment, but then relaxed. No, no, it was alright, Ron would take care of them, and they had simply put Sir Anthony's menu as à la carte for the guests. Her mam, as always, sensed her panic, and squeezed her arm. ‘All under control, bonny lass.'

‘Aye, mam. I just keep double-checking.'

Annie said, ‘It's as well, that's how we keep the mistakes to a minimum. Well done, pet.'

They entered the private dining room, Bridie following behind her mam and Annie. Moira and Polly, the evening waitresses, were circulating with the canapés, while Harry, as a director of the hotel, did the same with dry sherry. Bridie scanned the room, but then Sir Anthony saw them.

He approached, kissing the hand of all three women. ‘My dears, a triumph, as always.' He gestured around the room and at the flowers that Young Stan and his team of under-gardeners, Edward, Gerald and Gladys, had provided and arranged. ‘And the canapés, Bridie . . .' He kissed his fingers. ‘Another triumph. Now, come, meet my guests, some of whom you know.'

He led them forward and they followed, feeling like ducklings, ugly ones at that, Bridie thought, as some of the guests clearly wondered what on earth ‘downstairs' was doing upstairs. Her mother winked at her and Annie grinned, so she put back her shoulders, holding her head high. Sir Anthony made for Lady Margaret, who was talking to Herr Bauer. Bridie was surprised to see Bauer here, but then, it made sense. This was a Peace Club, and Sir Anthony was reaching out.

Lady Margaret was in full flow, almost neighing as they approached, ‘ . . . Franco is such a good man. He'll sort out the Republicans, and not before time, and your dear Führer, Herr Bauer, will do all he can
to help him squash the Reds, won't he? He's got the Luftwaffe, and my word, that Goering is such a charmer. A Great War ace, if memory serves me.' She looked so earnest, leaning forward, her face far too close to Herr Bauer's. Bridie thought someone should offer her a carrot.

So she'd met Goering then, and the dear Führer, or was she showing off? She was away a great deal, so it was possible.

Herr Bauer stepped back a pace and replied, ‘Sadly, I'm not privy to such information, Lady Margaret. I do not move amongst those in power in Germany.'

‘But dear Sir Anthony probably does, don't—' She stopped in mid-sentence when she caught sight of Sir Anthony with the staff. She flushed. Her hand went to the shoulder of her dress. Bridie saw a brooch, though it was more of a badge really, and one that was somehow familiar.

Evie said, ‘How nice to see you again, Lady Margaret. Ver is sorry to miss you but they're visiting Richard's parents in Cumbria.'

Bridie and Annie looked solemn, because it was a trip that had been arranged the moment Ver had seen that Lady Margaret had booked in to stay. As she'd made bread she had said, ‘She's become even more of a bore, such a snob. Do you remember the fuss when you and I fought for the vote for all classes, and she objected, feeling it should be kept for those of a certain social standing, on the basis that only a
certain echelon were bred to rule? She'd absolutely love a dictatorship, if she was the dictator.' As she had spoken, she had pounded the dough to within an inch of its life, and the rest of the staff had roared with laughter.

Lady Margaret's smile was forced. ‘Indeed. I shall miss catching up on her news. It would have been good for Penny to talk to James, too. Is he also away?'

Bridie replied, ‘No, he's still at Home Farm, beavering away doing something dirty. It's only us cooks here this evening.'

Her mother reached around and poked Bridie's back in a warning. Harry had been passing, and now filled the silence that had fallen. ‘Not just the cooks, if you don't mind, young Bridie. What about we men? Nothing wrong with a good day's work, eh?'

Sir Anthony forced a laugh, clearly feeling the conversation was out of control and also still a little uncomfortable with Harry's choice of wife. It was felt that he would, in his heart, have preferred someone from the same drawer as his family, but had never actually put this into words. He grabbed a glass of sherry off Moira's tray. Evie and Annie took one too. Bridie obeyed her mother's frown and did not, feeling a sulk coming on, until she saw the broad smile that Herr Bauer flashed her. ‘Ah,' he said, ‘never fear, young Bridie. The years pass soon enough. And your uncle, he is well?'

‘Yes, thank you, Herr Bauer. Uncle Jack is very
well. I hadn't realised you were also Sir Anthony's friend as well as Colonel Potter's.'

Lady Margaret swung round. ‘Colonel Potter, really?' Her tone was sharp.

Herr Bauer sipped his champagne, as though he was thinking. He said at last, ‘Ah, I realise why you might think that. We passed a comment or two at your uncle and aunt's wedding, I believe, while we were looking at the flower bed with the estimable young gardener.'

Bridie thought back. It was later, when she walked across to see how the men were doing, that she had seen Colonel Potter and Herr Bauer deep in conversation as they strolled from the ha-ha towards the house. She started to shake her head, then saw the look in Herr Bauer's eyes. Was it a warning? Just then, Penny Granville bounded up like a colt, all arms and legs, jogging her mother's elbow. The sherry slopped. ‘So sorry, Mother, but one of Sir Anthony's friends has a house in Germany. They would like us to visit. Please say we can. We could ski this time, rather than just shop and attend the theatre.'

Sir Anthony smiled. ‘Ah, Penny, I believe you know Bridie Brampton and her mother, Lord Brampton's daughter-in-law, and here is my daughter-in-law, Annie Travers.'

Bridie was pleased and surprised that Sir Anthony actually sounded welcoming towards Annie. Could he be starting to value her, at long last? Penny bared her long teeth in a smile. Yes, very much like a colt.

‘Yes, we've met.' That was that, and she was off.

Herr Bauer bowed. ‘Ladies, so delightful to see you again.' He drifted off. Sir Anthony escorted them on to other groups who clearly had nothing to say to mere staff. Finally, Evie waved Sir Anthony to a halt. ‘If you want to feed the multitude, Sir Anthony, we need to leave you to the canapés, and don our aprons again. Thank you so much for holding your dinner party with us. As always, you support us to the best of your ability, and your ability is very great.'

Sir Anthony smiled. ‘You are a force for good, Evie. You always have been and always will be. I hope that I am able to help for a while yet.' He looked strange, almost sad. He turned to Annie and seemed about to add something, but the moment passed and he merely touched her arm. ‘My grandsons are well?'

Annie's surprise was evident. ‘Very, thank you, Sir Anthony.'

‘Now, I must return to my guests.'

The three women left the private dining room. As they moved towards the green baize door, Annie muttered, ‘Do you think he might be unwell? He asked about the boys, who in many ways don't exist for him.'

She was clearly torn between relief and confusion. Evie said, ‘Perhaps he's coming round to the idea that you and Harry school them at Easton elementary, not Eton?' The two women laughed quietly.

Bridie clattered down the stairs behind them. ‘Perhaps he looks at Penny and thinks how lucky he is to have you and not a pony.'

Bridie heard their laughter as they swung into the kitchen, where Susie was lifting the lid on the potatoes. Bridie scanned the table, checking that all the implements were laid out correctly. Evie shook her finger at Bridie. ‘Penny's a perfectly pleasant young woman. Now, we've work to do, but I agree, Annie, Sir Anthony is not quite himself.'

The dinner party for Sir Anthony was much like any other, Moira and Polly reported, except that Tim had arrived. Worse, he had worn black tie when all the others wore lounge suits.

As one course was removed, to be replaced by another, they worked on, and in between they fulfilled orders off the à la carte menu for the other guests, served by Robert and Enid from Easton. At last, as the coffee and cognac were served, and the staff dismissed at Sir Anthony's request, they sat fanning themselves in the heat of the ovens. Moira and Polly headed for their beds in the staff quarters in the renovated attic, Robert and Enid cycled back to Easton, and Annie headed home with Harry to their house in the grounds, looking happy.

Evie eased herself from her stool. ‘I'm heading to my bed too. Don't be long, Bridie, and don't forget the accounts for your da from Ron's study. Make sure you turn your bicycle lamp on the moment you
set off, because some of our diners will be driving home, and I want you to be visible.'

Bridie raised her eyebrows as the list of precautions continued to flow from her mother. Maudie popped her head out of the scullery, grinning, ‘Ah, Evie pet, she's as safe as houses using the back lanes, remember. You can't get a car down there, even if you wanted to. Mother Hen comes to mind, so it does.'

At that moment the bell rang in the passage. It was the private dining room. Bridie waved her mother home. ‘I'll go.'

She ran up the stairs, feeling not in the least tired, because her meal had been a success, and she had been given more responsibility than ever before. She skidded across the hall and opened the door into the private dining room. Sir Anthony swung round; a gentleman was standing, speaking, down the far end. He stopped. Sir Anthony rose and came to her. ‘I expect the staff to knock, Bridget.' His voice surprised her, it was so cold.

‘I'm so sorry, I forgot,' she replied.

She saw Tim feeling embarrassed for her, but doing nothing to help as he would once have done, and she was glad he stuck out like a sore thumb sitting in his dinner suit. Sir Anthony asked for another bottle of cognac. ‘Knock next time, this is a private meeting.'

‘Yes, Sir Anthony, I'll send Kevin with it. He will knock.' She snatched a look at Tim. His dark eyes
met hers, which she made sure were full of distaste. On his lapel was a brooch, or was it a badge? It was the same as the one Lady Margaret wore. Now she noticed that many of the diners wore such a one. It was only as she closed the door behind her that she realised what she had seen: it was the Fascist membership badge.

She asked Kevin to take in two bottles of cognac, then she walked from the kitchen to the stables. She hung over Prancer's stall, talking to him, her mind working. Perhaps these Blackshirts really were a movement for peace, or why else was Sir Anthony involved? But what about the fighting, what about Cable Street? What about the liking for the Nazis?

‘Life's a tricky beast, isn't it, Prancer pet?' He nuzzled her cap, then her neck. ‘You stay in your stall; it's simpler, lad.'

She was tired now, but still had to collect Ron's accounts which he wanted her father to check. She didn't know why Ron liked the upstairs study, but he said he could think more clearly there. The others used the one along from the kitchen, which Uncle Richard had organised.

She gave Prancer one last pat, and hurried down the steps into the kitchen, then up the stairs into the grand hall. The lights were on in the sitting room, and she could hear the murmur of voices. She checked to see if any of the regular guests needed anything. Mr and Mrs Stansfield and their daughter were chatting quietly. She waved as Mrs Stansfield
grinned at her. ‘Lovely meal again, Bridie. We so enjoy coming. Thomas sends his regards to you all, and a big kiss for Matron, though I will not be the one to deliver that.'

‘If you want to live, please do not. Do you need anything?'

‘Nothing more, but thank you.'

‘Just ring if you do.'

She carried on up the stairs, smiling at Kevin, who sat behind the reception desk and would stay there until the last guest had gone to bed, or left the hotel. Thomas had been a wartime brain injury. Well, not quite brain, perhaps mind-injured would be better, or so Mam said. He had made a steady recovery, though it had taken time. He was now a surgeon. She made her way along the landing. A soft light spilled from the study, and she approached, puzzled, hearing movement. She stopped in the half-open doorway, then pushed it open quietly. Tim stood in front of the oil painting which hid the safe.

‘What on earth are you doing here?'

He spun round at the sound of her voice, his shock clear. ‘I thought you'd gone home.'

‘Well, I haven't. What on earth are you doing?'

He moved to the desk. ‘I was talking to Sir Anthony about Easterleigh Hall. He said the view from the study windows was wonderful.'

She pointed to the window. ‘It's dark.'

He walked across. ‘No, see, there's a hunter's moon. Then I saw the painting. It's lovely.'