When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 13

Horrocks

I

n case you were wondering, historically footmen were hired for their good height and impressive looks. Flings with Footmen is both a potential title for a tawdry tell-all as well as the reality for a good many high-strung families. The peacock known as Henry Horrocks was well aware of this. The golden-eyed, bronze-haired first footman at Hembry Castle waited for his chance to cash in on his tall, slender figure any way he could. When he first arrived at Hembry it was slow going since the Countess of Staton was the only woman about. True, she was older than Henry’s gran, but she was a rich old harridan and everyone looks the same in the dark. When the Countess didn’t see him as anything other than a piece of furniture or the cart that brought the tea and cakes, Henry dropped her, moving instead to her daughter-in-law, Hyacinth, a rich (slightly) younger harridan. Henry spotted Mrs. Jerrold Meriwether eyeing him through her monocle on more than one occasion, but Henry had never been able to contrive a way to begin an acquaintance that went past opening doors or serving her tea in dainty cups.

Henry thought the heavens opened and the angels sang when Miss Daphne appeared. She was indeed a Beauty, nearly as pretty as he was. So far so good. Since she was American she wasn’t constrained by social class the way the British were—in Britain there’s a place for everyone and everyone in their place, as Henry’s father used to say. When no one else was about, Henry had gone as far as speaking to Miss Daphne, idle chatter about how she liked it in England, how dreadful the weather was, blah blah blah. She didn’t seem to mind, and being American she wouldn’t know it was improper for the footman to dare to speak to a family member before he was spoken to. Whenever she passed him in the hallway, instead of staring through him as though he were a tapestry on the wall, Miss Daphne acknowledged him. True, it was a simple, “Good morning, Henry,” or “Good afternoon, Henry,” but it was more than the rest of the hoity-toities ever said to him except when barking orders.

Even with her greetings, Henry hadn’t been able to make much headway with Mr. Frederick’s daughter. Henry was sitting at the table in the servants’ hall musing over ways to lure Miss Daphne closer when he heard the voices of the butler and housekeeper drifting toward him from the butler’s pantry. He thought nothing of it at first. When Henry heard the pulled tones of Mrs. Ellis’ voice he began paying attention. He was too far to hear comfortably, so he moved to the seat at the farthest end of the table and listened harder. When he still couldn’t make out their words he gave up being discreet and stood this side of the pantry door so he could eavesdrop with better efficiency.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Henry heard Mrs. Ellis say.

“I mean his lordship isn’t here. He left behind a note saying he was with the Prince of Wales, so Mr. Frederick went to Sandringham House to ask his lordship to come home. His lordship has work to see to here. When Mr. Frederick spoke to the Prince’s guests, even the Prince himself, they all insisted his lordship never arrived. Lord Tilling was there, and he told Mr. Frederick that his lordship was never expected to attend that party. The men were there for a swimming excursion, which his lordship would never attend. He can’t swim.”

Mrs. Ellis chuckled. “A swimming excursion? Can you imagine the Prince of Wales in one of those short-sleeved swimsuits that stop at the knees? That must be a sight to see.”

“It may be of some interest to you to know that when men swim with other men and there are no ladies about they wear less than that.”

“And how do you know this, Augustus?”

“So I’ve been told, my dear. So I’ve been told. When Mr. Frederick was at Sandringham House, Lord Stenfield said he hadn’t seen his lordship in over a year. Lady Waltbury told Mr. Frederick she heard that his lordship had gone to London to visit a friend…”

“Yes?”

“But when Mr. Frederick arrived at Staton House the servants said his lordship hadn’t been there.”

Henry heard the creak of a chair as it scraped across the wood floor. He peeked around the open door as much as he dared and saw Mrs. Ellis sit across from her husband.

“What’s to be done, Gussie?”

“Poor Mr. Frederick is caught in the middle. There’s business that needs tending here at Hembry, and since his lordship isn’t here her ladyship has asked Mr. Frederick to do it. He won’t be returning to America any time soon, I can tell you that.”

“What about Mr. Jerrold? Or Mr. Windhall, the agent? Surely it’s Mr. Windhall’s job to take care of things?”

“Someone from the family always has final say over the agent, and her ladyship wants Mr. Frederick to do it and not Mr. Jerrold.”

“Hmm. And I always thought Mr. Jerrold was her ladyship’s favorite. At least that explains why Neddie was offered the position as editor of the paper.”

“Correct.”

“I’m glad something good has come from this.”

The chair creaked again and a dull light filled the room, spilling past the door into the hall.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Mrs. Ellis said.

“It always looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Not always.” Mrs. Ellis sighed. “Has anyone contacted Mr. Hough?”

“Why? Is someone ill?”

“About his lordship. If his lordship is to be found Mr. Hough is the one to find him.”

“No one has contacted Mr. Hough as far as I know.” The second chair creaked and Henry heard Mr. Ellis’ heavy footsteps. When you’re a footman you learn to recognize people by their footsteps. “Is there something I should know, Mary?”

“Nothing at all. I was only curious.”

Henry tiptoed away wringing his hands until they were raw. A goldmine! His lordship has vanished and he’s never where he said he was going to be. Mr. Frederick is taking over the duties at Hembry. Miss Daphne wouldn’t be leaving for America any time soon. Mr. Hough has the means to find his lordship, at least according to Mrs. Ellis. Henry’s thoughts danced a jig. Which one of those nuggets should he focus on first?

He saw the time and knew he should be upstairs helping Colin with the dining room. But Colin was there, and he was such a hobknocker, Colin, always smiling, always running from there to here and back again, getting his work done first, acting like he was first footman when everyone knew better. Getting ideas past his station, Colin was. Henry passed the green baize door and stopped. Of course! His lordship’s room. There must be secrets to be found in his lordship’s room. He peeked in the dining room, saw Colin setting out the plates, and slipped unseen upstairs. When no one was looking Henry let himself into his lordship’s bedroom. It was a handsome room befitting the Earl of Staton with its beige walls with gold moldings, a marble hearth with the logs laid in a neat pile, ready for his lordship’s return. On the mantelpiece was a gold-framed mirror, a Baroque clock, and Baroque candelabras while two wide tapestry-covered chairs sat before the hearth. Across the room was the canopy bed, and near the window was his lordship’s gold-plaited desk with teal enamel inlay and outturned lion’s feet. The curtains were drawn and the candelabras unlit, but Henry didn’t need light to know his surroundings. He brought firewood to this room often enough.

He found his way to his lordship’s desk and opened the long top drawer, which contained nothing but quills, pen knives, paper, and ink jars. There was a second drawer to the right, though that one was locked. How to unlock the drawer? A pen knife? Someone might see that the lock had been tampered with, but who knew what treasures Henry might find in there. There had to be something here to supplement his meager salary by a quid or ten or more. Henry reached into the drawer for a pen knife, but then the book on the bedside table caught his attention. He saw the title, Our Mutual Friend by Dickens. The only book Henry had ever read in his life was written by Mr. Dickens so the footman was interested enough to look inside. Henry opened the cover and found the book hollow, the pages cut away from the center, leaving a hole large enough to hide a packet of letters.

Henry pulled out the packet and separated the letters. He chose one to read—a love letter! It was mushy as well-written love letters should be, with the appropriate “You are my light” and “I can hardly remember not having you in my life” and “Where would I be without you” and “You are my life’s true companion” and other such nonsense. The letter wasn’t signed, but it doesn’t need to be, Henry thought. Someone loved the Earl, probably someone the Earl loved in return since he kept the letter in this secret place. A little digging may reveal the identity of the letter’s author and possibly even the Earl’s whereabouts. After all, where else would the Earl disappear to except to be with his beloved? Henry thought of the countless young women her ladyship had invited to the castle with the hope of enticing her eldest son into marriage. So one of them had caught the Earl of Staton’s eye after all. Henry tucked the letter safely into the pocket in his livery waistcoat.

The second letter wasn’t that interesting. It was a note to the current Earl from his father, though it didn’t make much sense, talking about how the 8th Earl cared for his son no matter what, he would always be proud of him, more blah blah blah. Rubbish the letter was, too soppy for Henry’s taste. He stuck that letter into his pocket too—after all, you never knew what would come in handy later—and he picked up the final letter.

Henry licked his lips as he read it, as though he could taste the fortune this one would bring. The note was from some woman asking for help, not for herself but for her poor innocent baby. Oh! Henry skipped across the floor, clasping the letter to his heart. So this is what it feels like to discover you’ve been left a fortune by a long-lost uncle. A secret love, a cryptic note from the old Earl, and an infant! Was the love letter and the baby letter from the same hand? Henry would decide later. He tucked the last letter into his protruding pocket and danced a sailor’s jig. He wanted to rush down the stairs to the servants’ hall and pass the letters around for everyone to see, but he couldn’t. He heard voices outside the door and the light tread of two maids. He flattened his livery, patted his hair, and exhaled. He stood by the door, listened, and, hearing no one, glided away. He had every business being in his lordship’s room this time of day and how dare you think otherwise.

Mr. Ellis found

his wife standing in the doorway of his lordship’s room staring toward the bed.

“Is everything all right, my dear?”

“Augustus, you scared me.”

“It’s something we’re equally adept at—sneaking up on people. It’s an occupational hazard for the staff—the knowledge that we could be lurking anywhere at any time.”

“That’s more true than you know. Shouldn’t you be in the dining room? It must be time.”

“They’re about to go in, but I wanted to let you know his lordship is expected home on Thursday. Her ladyship had word this evening.”

“Thank the Lord. I’m afraid one of these days his lordship is going to leave and never come back.”

“Let’s hope not. Have Ruth and Jemima give this room a thorough going over before he returns.”

“Good gracious, Mr. Ellis. How would I ever survive without you telling me how to do my job?”

Mr. Ellis looked both ways down the long hall, and when he saw no one he kissed his wife’s cheek. He turned to leave but stopped. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing at all. I was just wondering when his lordship would be returning home.”

“Now you know.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Ellis looked at the table by the bed. “Now I know.”