Читать книгу The Remnants - W. P. Osborn - Страница 15

The dining room had been transformed into a bastion of stately indulgence. All three extensions of the long mahogany table had been installed and every one of the eight gold table candelabras were polished and set precisely six feet apart over the forty-eight feet of Belgian linen. Every single piece of the dolce silver service had been perfectly placed and all of the shelves holding the great French crystal had been emptied to meet the demand of this evening’s affair.

The serenity of the moment belied the fact that two hours earlier there had been an anxious exchange between the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Beechly, and Mr. Williams - Chief Butler and Head of the Household. The delicate issue had escalated rather seriously into an argument over which was the next appropriate choice of glassware and cutlery to be employed should the guest list be suddenly extended, by the simple addition, of just one more person.

Mrs. Beechly had defended the “former” cutlery and glassware that had been recently retired to His Lordship’s study because they better matched the new pieces, while Mr. Williams insisted on the newest glasses and cutlery, recently purchased for the garden house. The dispute was abruptly stopped when Lord Knowles had intervened personally from the library bellowing that they, “cease that bloody caterwauling this bloody instant.” To ease their concern, he further guaranteed that there was absolutely no need for such an exchange because he “bloody guaranteed there would be no bloody unexpected arrivals, or he would personally bloody bar them at the bloody door!”.

It wasn’t until the fish course that Her Ladyship first recognized the true extent of the calamity. As she chatted flirtatiously between Brigadier Colton-Marsh and the handsome young Captain Richards, her eyes cast to the opposite end of the table where she spotted the catastrophe immediately. The cutlery service set out for First Lieutenants Walls and Davis were from the old collection, which of course few would notice, but the glassware of the former presentation stood out profusely. Her eyes widened as her head slowly swung like a gun turret searching to calibrate her sights directly on poor Mr. Williams, who stood watching as cautiously as any regimental sergeant over his company of young servers who pirouetted and parlayed round the room. Though no gunfire was ever heard amid the discord of dinner, those angry volleys found their target nonetheless. Mr. Williams swallowed firmly and then seemingly gulped for air and clenched his lips as tiny beads of sweat broke from his temples. Clearly his only hope now was a divine intervention.

Maggie and Rose had been chosen to serve at the head of the table - a position that was highly coveted for serving at these regimental affairs since it was always Lord Knowles’ pleasure to provide gratuities to the staff based on their serving status in proximity to his own seat. Lieutenants Walls and Davis were seated at the corners of privilege next to His Lordship, astounding since they were the two villains who now headed up Lady Barbara’s “most wanted list.” Their rank and profile would not save them since they were now recognized by every staff member to be the reviled last minute additions to the already twice-expanded guest list. Her Ladyship had welcomed them about as generously as she would any horde of Vikings.

They had arrived unannounced barely a half-hour before five, in bold defiance of every rule of protocol. Cheering and laughing, they stamped their muddied boots on the marbled foyer. Reeking of horse and whiskey, they charged into the reception hall as though it were their own private mess. In truth, they presented themselves precisely as whom they were - two pompous young cavalry officers anticipating that their braided regimental mess kit would provide cover for a distinct lack of courtesy. Despite this frontal assault against the very citadel of propriety that Lady Knowles so closely regulated, it was soon evident that though decorum and good manners had been scuttled, family privilege had not. David Walls had always been and would always be, the much-favoured nephew of Lord Knowles, and therefore his unexpected arrival was merely a license he claimed without fear or consequence. The added offense of implicating his comrade-in-arms, Lieutenant Chester Davis prompted no word of apology from him and none was expected.

It was clear from the start that Mr. Walls had captured Maggie’s attention. He was remarkably striking and presented a confident charm beyond his years. Rose noticed it right away - the slow blush that crept up Maggie’s neck and into her cheeks was triggered by a scandalously devious grin from Mr. Walls.

“Uncle, this wine is extraordinary, a Fussily de Temps, n’est pas? An’87 or 88 I should think.”

His Lordship chuckled and shook his head defiantly, “You’re out of your league, my boy. I am pleased to tell you that this is a new vintage, a Chardonnay Nouveau from Provence - kegged in nineteen three and bottled just last year.”

“There’s your comeuppance.” laughed Winifred Charlton seated immediately to Chester’s left.

“Poor lad. I’m afraid his faulty nose is bred for bold horses and single malts not sensitive vintages,” snickered Chester and everyone laughed raucously.

“Now for the highlight of the evening,” Lord Knowles proclaimed, “we begin with a magnificent course of fish from our own stream.”

Maggie began her ‘tour des poisson’ with the easy precision of a well-rehearsed minuet, smiling and swaying around the corners of the head of the table. Rose followed with a large platter of vegetables - asparagus, petit white potatoes, carrots and lentils, on a broad engraved silver salver, framed by a pair of pristine silver tongs.

Rose was positioned perfectly to witness the entire disaster. Trailing precisely opposite Maggie as she glanced up just in time to witness the catastrophe that followed. Maggie stood at His Lordship’s left, bending slightly to present the platter of baked trout.

“Umm, trout, I do love fresh baked spring trout”, muttered the old warhorse, still fidgeting in his starchy new regimental dress.

David Walls did not hesitate to seize the opening his uncle had offered as he stared ruefully into Maggie’s eyes, ”Yes, indeed. Young and fresh and wrapped in a most lovely presentation.”

Lord Knowles continued his tutorial as he reached for his choice of the largest fish on the platter. “Yes, yes it’s my absolute favourite fish. Cook adds in the shallots and shredded parmigano cheese at the precise moment, so it all bakes together in absolute perfect splendor. Sir Lawrence and I watched her prepare this dish once when we caught a batch of brook trout up our stream just pass the mill. Ah, yes, this is always just divine.”

Suddenly Maggie’ eyes flashed wide open as her lips pursed in pure agony as she turned abruptly to face Mr. Walls. She whimpered a soft “Mmmm” of dread.

Never lifting his eyes form his swollen fork, His Lordship blustered on, oblivious to the engagement to his immediate right. He chats enthusiastically with the young lieutenant to his left, “So, tell me now Chester, precisely when do you undertake this year’s regimental maneuvers?”

Maggie pulled back quietly from the table and sidestepped adroitly to the back of Lieutenant Walls’ chair. Her platter began to shake slightly and the colour had drained from her face. She glanced up to Rose and gave her an anxious look, as if she were under attack. “We’re not scheduled to start ‘til early September this year. Seems a rather extraordinary delay - apparently ordered directly from Whitehall.”

Rose stared back curiously toward Maggie while she continued on her own course, stooping slightly to present to Mrs. Charlton.

“Not ‘til September. That’s unheard of. Its months too late.”

Winifred couldn’t hesitate to chime in, “Poor lads. You’ll need to delay your holiday in France then.”

Rose next jerked her head to the left signaling to Maggie to continue on and move ahead.

“Never fear, sister darling. David has already booked the six of us for mid-June.”

Winifred’s smile widened in anticipation, “So where does the invasion tour run this time?”

Maggie hesitated for a moment, pursed her lips again, closed her eyes and stepped forward to properly serve Lieutenant Walls from his left. Rose continued to track the developing calamity as she floated around the corner of the table arriving just in time to confirm Maggie’ predicament.

“Land at Brest, then Paris, then on to St. Tropez.”

It was clear to Rose that Walls had been waiting in ambush and would pounce at his first opportunity.

“I trust that you’ll stay out of mischief this time. No more cables from the constabulary in Marseilles,” Lord Knowles intoned.

The assault began when Walls deliberately dropped his table napkin and then leaned to his left. He then slipped his hand down below the edge of the ivory lace tablecloth to begin a slow exploration under Maggie’s skirt and up between her legs. Oblivious to the dilemma, Winifred continued her commentary on the prospective tour, “Yes that will be the challenge for the lot of you. Tell me who all will be attending this excursion?”

Chester looked down and blushed slightly, “Oh just the regular “Company of Irreverants” - Lester Fox, Ainsley, Laughton and Nelson Griggs.”

“Ainsley, Griggs and the two of you!” Laughed Winifred, “Oh, my darling boy, that confirms it. You’ll all be in the brig before the first week-end.”

Rose stopped dead in her tracks and starred helplessly at the scene now unveiling before her. It became evident that catastrophe was about to follow in a matter of seconds. Maggie stood frozen, inhaled briefly and for a moment it appeared that she would collapse where she stood. David Walls leaned closer to her cheek and whispered, “Now, tell me sweet, did you wear those lovely garters just for me?”

That casual humiliation triggered an explosion that tore across the room. Maggie instantly swung hard to her right and crashed the heavy platter directly into the side of Walls’ head with such force that he flew from his chair. A tidal wave of trout and ‘Sauce Breton’ surfed across the table forcing every person at that corner, except David, to leap to his feet, leaving no one unscathed.

Winifred screamed as though she was shot. Lord Knowles bellowed repeatedly, “What the Hell, what the bloody Hell?” as he frantically wiped the spray from his uniform chest.

A stunned Mrs. Charlton pleaded, “Oh dear me!” and immediately began to try to swab her cheek and sleeve.

Chester paused looked down at his own chest then grinned and laughed aloud, “Dead shot, dear girl, bang on!”

Rose dropped her tray on the edge of the table and ran toward Maggie’s side. Maggie, now beside herself with rage, reached across Walls’ place setting, grabbed his wine glass and poured it directly on his head. “How about a little “Chardonnay Nouveau” to help settle your trout, Lieutenant, sir!” She then tossed the glass across the table and turned to meet Rose in a near collision.

Walls remained where he fell - covered entirely in fish, sauce and wine, the largest of the remaining trout having landed squarely in his lap. Rose tried to pull Maggie away as Walls stood up and replaced his chair. His eyes narrowed in a cold rage and his nostrils flared violently, “You horrible, wicked little bitch,” he screamed. “You should be shot for this,” he raised his hand to strike her just as Rose stepped between them.

Lord Knowles immediately intervened to take command of the situation. “That will be quite enough, Mr. Walls!” David blanched, lowered his hand. He turned to his host, nodded and began to wipe clean his face and tunic.

The remainder of the household raced into action like an ambulance brigade attending to its victims. At the far end of the table Lady Barbara appeared to have expired and was quickly attended by Captain Richards, followed closely by a party comprised of Mrs. Beechly and two of the younger female guests. “My God. Oh dear God!” Barbara moaned again and again. Rose grabbed Maggie by the arm and pushed her through the service door into the anti-chamber. Maggie was now weeping and screaming hysterically, “He shoved his hand up my skirt, nearly into my knickers! That filthy pig - that awful filthy pig!”

Rose was certain that Maggie’s hysterics would be heard next door and tried her best to quiet her down. “Shush, there now, Luv. It’ll be alright - you just calm down and everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

His Lordship then charged through the service door still wiping his sleeve and dragging Mr. Williams in tow. “Williams, I want her out of here this minute - not tomorrow, not next week, immediately!” he shouted pointing directly into Maggie’s face. He then steamed straight ahead to stand over her, “Young woman,” he roared, “I don’t know what game you’re playing here but I assure you that you will never work in service in any house of quality in all of England. I shall see to that personally!”

Lord Knowles then stormed back out through the service door, which continued to swing violently, long after he’d passed. Williams jumped in to continue the foray by grabbing Maggie’s left arm, “Right then, you, get below and pack your things. I want you on the livery and out of here within the hour.” He turned the two junior kitchen maids and continued his regimental orders, “Daisy, you and Ida go out there and clean up that mess out there and get ready to continue serving the remainder of this dinner.” Maggie bit her lip and trailed Rose’s tug down the back stairs.

Forty minutes later Maggie stood at the kitchen door assembling the last of her coat and luggage. She had two bags at her feet - one a large flowered rucksack and another smaller leather case. Lily was helping her with her coat when Rose rushed in and began to hug Maggie tightly. “Oh, God, it’s just so dreadfully unfair, so horribly unfair!” She kissed Maggie on the cheek and stepped back to grasp her by the shoulders, “Never mind, you’ll be all right, you’ll get past this.” Rose then pushed a small roll of bills into her hand, “Sorry Luv, but it’s all I’ve got just now. Its only three pounds but it should help you get through for a while.”

Lily intervened quietly, “You best get back upstairs quickly Rosie or it’ll be the two of you on the road tonight.”

“I’ll come find you as quick as I can, hopefully my day off.” Rose then disappeared through the hallway to the stairs.

“Tell me, Luv, have you somewhere safe to go?” Lily queried,

“No, nowhere, there’s no one of my family left.”

Lily stepped forward and whispered, “Try the Black Swan in town. Tell Mrs. Peters that you want a quiet room at the back. You’ll remember her from the garden festival. She was the judge who voted against Lady Barbara.”

She then quietly retrieved a small packet from her apron pocket and pressed into Maggie’s left hand. “It’s only another few pounds - it’s a pittance of what you deserve. I will come to town on Saturday, try to meet me at Mr. Jameson’s - you know the dry grocer, at around noon. He’s a very good friend, we sing in the church choir together and he might be able to help us out.”

“Thank-you Mrs. Quayle, you’re most kind. It’s as if you’re the only family I’ve got at all, “ Maggie blubbered.

Lily reached up and hugged her close, “There, there child, it’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Maggie returned the kiss just as Mrs. Beechly charged in and began to fume at Lily. “Mrs. Quayle you will return to your duties in the kitchen immediately and you, young woman will leave these premises this minute.”

“God bless you, child,” Lily whispered as they separated.

Maggie nodded, picked up her bag and stepped quietly through the door toward the old horse cart that waited for her near the livery gate. Lily eased the door shut just as a drizzle of cold rain began to glance off the window.

“When will it ever end? Another poor girl tossed out from this house - another poor victim of English chivalry. What a waste, what a terrible bloody waste.”

* * *