One of the housemaids looked up with a grin. “’Tis where the extra male servants sleep, sir, when there’s a big party stayin’.”
“Not that there’s been no big parties stayin’, not fer years,” her friend said. “There, sir, ’tis done.”
Picking up their buckets and cloths, they bobbed curtsies and took off, their heavy feet clattering on the uncarpeted service stairs.
“No big parties? What a pity,” Lance murmured.
“Now, now,” Denny said, with a wicked grin. “You have enough ladies on hand for your entertainment, surely, without yearning for more. Who do you have in your eye for amusement? The little duchess?”
Lance had no wish to drag the duchess —Lily— into Denny’s notice, to be subjected to his ribald comments, so he said only, “Under the nose of her husband? I think not. One of the heir’s sisters showed me around the place — Miss Charlotte Merrington. She has a promising gleam in her eye, although she rang a peal over me when she thought I was flirting with her. Reminded me that I am engaged, if you please. As if I could forget Patience!”
“Were you flirting?”
“Only a very little.”
“Which one is she?”
“The one with blue ribbons. Yes, you may well laugh. They look so alike, they wear different coloured ribbons.”
“I have not had a good look at the ladies yet, but I have been asked to help out in the dining room tonight, so I shall see her then. I shall keep my eye open for that gleam in her eye.”
“No mischief, Denny, if you please. This is a profitable little venture here, especially if the duke decides he wants portraits of all the females, and I do not want anything to interfere with that.”
Denny pulled a face. “Spoilsport!”
6: Questions
Jamie noticed at once that Mr Chamberlain’s valet was one of the footmen attending at dinner that evening. It was quite usual for visiting valets to help out in the dining room, if asked, and although some were too full of their dignity to oblige, clearly Pendleton was not of that ilk. He had been found a set of the duke’s livery, and there was no doubt he looked the part. He was tall and well-formed, and were he to be clothed in his master’s garments, would look every inch the gentleman. His manner was deft and unobtrusive, however, the perfect footman, and if Jamie had not had some interest in him, he would barely have noticed him at all.
But he was intrigued by a manservant who was also an expert fencer. Fencing was the province of gentlemen, in the main, and although it was not impossible for a man from the lower orders to pick up some aptitude with a blade, this man was greatly skilled. So when the ladies had withdrawn, the port had been set out and the door closed behind the servants, Jamie found a seat beside Mr Chamberlain.
“I enjoyed your fencing bout yesterday,” he began. “I am no expert, but even my inexperienced eyes could appreciate the skill exhibited in the Marble Hall.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chamberlain said, in his pleasant manner. He was relaxed, one arm over the back of his chair, the other twirling his port glass.
“Your valet is equally skilled, and I confess, it is unusual to see a manservant exhibit such prowess in what is generally regarded as a gentleman’s sport. Where did he learn such expertise?”
“I have no idea,” Mr Chamberlain said, but there was a tautness in his manner now, a narrowing of the eyes, that Jamie found interesting.
“How did you come across him?” Jamie said with studied casualness. “I cannot imagine that you picked him up from an agency.‘Valet wanted, good references required, must be adept at polishing top boots and starching neckcloths, and also an expert fencer.’”
Chamberlain laughed, raising one hand to acknowledge the point. “No agency was involved, it is true. I found him in Tuscany, at a fencing school in Florence, where he was earning a modest wage by teaching the less adept. I found him a useful sparring partner, and, upon learning that he had some training as a valet, immediately engaged him.”
“Yet he is English. I wonder how he came to be in Tuscany,” Jamie ventured.
“I have never asked him,” Chamberlain said, with the slightest shrug of one shoulder. “Englishmen end up in other parts of the world for a thousand and one reasons, Hammond, none of them very interesting.”
“How long were you in Tuscany?” Jamie said, feeling that he could not pursue the question of the valet any longer.
“Two years,” he said, leaning forward with sudden eagerness. “I never wished to go up to Oxford, so my parents agreed that I might go abroad instead, if circumstances permitted travel, so that I might improve my knowledge of art, and it was the most glorious experience. Rome, Florence, Venice… I visited them all, but settled in Florence for a full year. Have you ever been there, Hammond? No? Ah, I pity you, for it is an experience I feel every Englishman should enjoy at least once. The churches, the piazzas, the frescoes, thelight…”
After that, there was no getting him away from the subject, so Jamie smiled and nodded and let him talk as he would, until the duke rose to join the ladies.
That night, Jamie lit extra candles in his bedroom and sat down at the small table in the corner to write a letter.
‘To Dr J Ingleton, St Mark’s, Lingwood Green, Norfolk. Sir, I trust you are well and not working too hard on my father’s family trees. I have another little investigation for you, if you have time. As you may have heard, we have received another gift from the mysterious Mr Goodenough, one Lance Chamberlain, a portrait painter of some renown. His father, Sir Bradley Chamberlain, lives at Ewell, in Surrey, and according to his son, the family has suffered no scandal in its history, but perhaps you have information to the contrary. I am also interested in C’s manservant, one Denzil Pendleton, who appears to be a competent valet but is also an expert fencer, an unusual combination, as I am sure you will agree. I should very much like to know more about both these men, for I am convinced that something in the history of one or other of them attracted the notice of Mr Goodenough, and that is a mystery I should very much like to solve. I remain, sir, your respectful servant, James Hammond.’
Satisfied, he folded and sealed the letter, blew out all but one candle, and climbed into bed to read a verse or two of the Bible before sleep overtook him.
