A Death in the Loch Read Online Free
fishing for news of the ceremony.
‘Now that is an excellent idea. I shall send you to choose one. Your taste is much closer to Hans’s than mine. Much as I love Hans, he is unimaginative.’
Hans Muller had exquisite taste, which Richenda sadly saw as dull. ‘I can’t buy his wedding present for you!’ I said, aghast. ‘That’s far too intimate!’
‘We won’t tell him, silly,’ said Richenda, twirling her necklace so it glinted, ‘and wouldn’t you prefer Hans got something he liked rather than something I picked?’
She had me there, but I could hardly say so. Richenda took my silence as acceptance. ‘Now come and see what I’ve got you for Christmas. I know it’s two days off, but I can’t wait to show you and you won’t be joining us for lunch anyway.’
She dumped four hat boxes on my bed and looked at me expectantly. With a sinking heart I unboxed four hats in quick succession, all of them purple and green: a huge straw summer hat, a winter cloche, a band complete with foot-long feathers, and something daring and floppy that Richenda explained was French. ‘They all match,’ she said happily. ‘These can become your signature colours. You will be so stylish.’
Personally I thought I would look like nothing more than a mouldy cabbage, but I managed to swallow my bile and thank her profusely. I also gave her my gift, which was a pair of enamelled earrings, coloured in blues and greens. Although not expensive they were unusual and bright. To my surprise Richenda loved them and even embraced me.
On Christmas Eve Bertram and Richard got drunk. Richenda and I, Richenda also slightly tipsy, helped the staff decorate the big tree in the hall. The tenants had already had their party, but tonight the servants were given their gifts and instead of the Stapleford tradition of giving them new uniforms Richenda and Bertram had persuaded Richard to give them all a small cash bonus. Small to Richard, but very gratefully received.
It was very late, when Richenda and I were on the point of retiring, that the front doorbell rang and Gilbert Barker arrived. Richard and Bertram swept him off to investigate the contents of further decanters, all enmity forgotten with the aid of Christmas spirits.
Richenda and I went to bed.
The next day did not begin well. I heard Richard shouting and grousing. Mrs Lewis delivered my breakfast personally and by her manner rather than her words let it be known she thought it disgraceful I was not to join the family for the festivities. Instead, she promised me a fine meal again delivered to my boudoir. ‘Although I am afraid I may not have the time to deliver it myself, and may have to send Mary, who I believe you know as Merry.’ She looked at me down her crooked nose and nodded once. It seemed Merry was to be given liberty to keep me company for a while due to the family’s poor behaviour. I nodded back. None of this was said between us. I judged Mrs Lewis to be a very shrewd woman and a very fair one too. I wondered how long she would stay in the Staplefords’ employ, and indeed why she had ever taken the post in the first place.
‘I’ve been called Merry since I arrived here!’ cried my friend as she erupted through my doorway. I dropped my book.
‘Merry Christmas!’ I said.
Merry gave me a scathing look as she dumped her tray down on my table. ‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘No! Er – would Happy Christmas be better?’
Merry threw herself down on the edge of my bed. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘It’s being an awful Christmas,’ she said. ‘Merrit’s been sent down to Peterfield. I don’t know why, but I bet that Lewis hag had something to do with it. She doesn’t approve of relationships between staff.’
‘Most houses don’t,’ I said calmly, ‘but Richard and Richenda have both made it clear that they have no problem with the two of you being engaged. I think their word counts for more in this house than that of Mrs Lewis.’
‘Pah! And
‘Now that is an excellent idea. I shall send you to choose one. Your taste is much closer to Hans’s than mine. Much as I love Hans, he is unimaginative.’
Hans Muller had exquisite taste, which Richenda sadly saw as dull. ‘I can’t buy his wedding present for you!’ I said, aghast. ‘That’s far too intimate!’
‘We won’t tell him, silly,’ said Richenda, twirling her necklace so it glinted, ‘and wouldn’t you prefer Hans got something he liked rather than something I picked?’
She had me there, but I could hardly say so. Richenda took my silence as acceptance. ‘Now come and see what I’ve got you for Christmas. I know it’s two days off, but I can’t wait to show you and you won’t be joining us for lunch anyway.’
She dumped four hat boxes on my bed and looked at me expectantly. With a sinking heart I unboxed four hats in quick succession, all of them purple and green: a huge straw summer hat, a winter cloche, a band complete with foot-long feathers, and something daring and floppy that Richenda explained was French. ‘They all match,’ she said happily. ‘These can become your signature colours. You will be so stylish.’
Personally I thought I would look like nothing more than a mouldy cabbage, but I managed to swallow my bile and thank her profusely. I also gave her my gift, which was a pair of enamelled earrings, coloured in blues and greens. Although not expensive they were unusual and bright. To my surprise Richenda loved them and even embraced me.
On Christmas Eve Bertram and Richard got drunk. Richenda and I, Richenda also slightly tipsy, helped the staff decorate the big tree in the hall. The tenants had already had their party, but tonight the servants were given their gifts and instead of the Stapleford tradition of giving them new uniforms Richenda and Bertram had persuaded Richard to give them all a small cash bonus. Small to Richard, but very gratefully received.
It was very late, when Richenda and I were on the point of retiring, that the front doorbell rang and Gilbert Barker arrived. Richard and Bertram swept him off to investigate the contents of further decanters, all enmity forgotten with the aid of Christmas spirits.
Richenda and I went to bed.
The next day did not begin well. I heard Richard shouting and grousing. Mrs Lewis delivered my breakfast personally and by her manner rather than her words let it be known she thought it disgraceful I was not to join the family for the festivities. Instead, she promised me a fine meal again delivered to my boudoir. ‘Although I am afraid I may not have the time to deliver it myself, and may have to send Mary, who I believe you know as Merry.’ She looked at me down her crooked nose and nodded once. It seemed Merry was to be given liberty to keep me company for a while due to the family’s poor behaviour. I nodded back. None of this was said between us. I judged Mrs Lewis to be a very shrewd woman and a very fair one too. I wondered how long she would stay in the Staplefords’ employ, and indeed why she had ever taken the post in the first place.
‘I’ve been called Merry since I arrived here!’ cried my friend as she erupted through my doorway. I dropped my book.
‘Merry Christmas!’ I said.
Merry gave me a scathing look as she dumped her tray down on my table. ‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘No! Er – would Happy Christmas be better?’
Merry threw herself down on the edge of my bed. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘It’s being an awful Christmas,’ she said. ‘Merrit’s been sent down to Peterfield. I don’t know why, but I bet that Lewis hag had something to do with it. She doesn’t approve of relationships between staff.’
‘Most houses don’t,’ I said calmly, ‘but Richard and Richenda have both made it clear that they have no problem with the two of you being engaged. I think their word counts for more in this house than that of Mrs Lewis.’
‘Pah! And
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