A Season of Secrets (49 page)

The taxi swept through Outhwaite, and Carrie’s hands tightened in her lap, her mind racing with thoughts of what she would have to check on when she arrived and what else
she would have to do.

What staff, for instance, would the Duke and Duchess be bringing with them? For long weekends at Monkswood most couples arrived with a lady’s maid and a valet. Unpretentious as Thea and
Olivia had led her to believe the Yorks were, they were royal. That they would arrive with just two servants with them was unlikely. The Prince of Wales, for instance, never travelled anywhere
without an equerry. The Duke of York might similarly arrive with an equerry as well as his valet, and an equerry would have to be accommodated as a guest, not as a servant.

She was still musing over things it was impossible to be sure about, and wondering what kind of menus Mrs Huntley had arranged for the weekend with Cook, when Gilbert propelled her into the
drawing room at Gorton and both Thea and Olivia rushed towards her and almost hugged her to death.

‘Isn’t this a hoot, your being housekeeper at Gorton when all you wanted to be here was a tweeny?’ Thea exclaimed, her narrow green eyes alight with satisfaction at the way
things had turned out.

‘Come and sit down and tell us what it is you will have to do,’ Olivia said, trying to drag her towards a sofa.

Laughingly, Carrie disentangled herself from their hugs. ‘You are a goose, Olivia. I’m here to work, not sit in the drawing room on a sofa! I’m going to have a meeting now with
Mr Jennings and Cook, and until the Duke and Duchess leave you probably won’t see me again. So goodbye – but don’t forget that, if we do meet in the house, I’m Mrs
Thornton.’ It was a reminder to Thea and Olivia that her being at Gorton as its housekeeper was not play-acting and had to be viewed with the appropriate seriousness. Glad that she had that
matter sorted, Carrie turned all her thoughts to the reason she was there. First a meeting with the butler and the cook; then a general meeting of all the maids and male staff; then an inspection
of the Yorks’ guest suite, and the bedrooms set aside for whatever staff were accompanying them. There wasn’t much time, and she couldn’t afford to waste another minute.

The next afternoon, when Elizabeth and Bertie arrived at Gorton, Carrie, Mr Jennings and all the impeccably uniformed members of staff were lined up in the vast circular hall
in order to greet them.

Gilbert introduced both Carrie and Mr Jennings by name.

Carrie dropped into a curtsey. Bertie gave her a brief nod, but Elizabeth, swathed in fur, paused long enough to give her a very sweet smile.

As Gilbert escorted the Yorks up the grand staircase to their rooms, Carrie had to bite her lip to contain her elation. She had not only
seen
the Duchess of York; she had been presented
to her by name and the Duchess had actually smiled at her! When she went back to her duties, she was dancing on air.

Late that evening, after the entire day had gone flawlessly and she was seated alone in the housekeeper’s room, deeply thankful that there had not been even the tiniest hiccup, there was a
knock on her door. She opened it, expecting to come face-to-face with an equally thankful Mr Jennings.

‘You don’t mind, do you, Carrie?’ Olivia, still wearing an evening gown, was carrying a bottle of white wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. ‘I just
can’t bear not being able to chat to you, when we are both under the same roof, and I wanted to let you know how happy Elizabeth and Bertie are with everything. The poor things have had such
a busy time lately, what with it being King George and Queen Mary’s Silver Jubilee celebrations and Prince Henry’s wedding. Last week they had a full three-day programme in Paris
representing Britain at the annual banquet of the Caledonian Society of France – whatever that may be.’

With a welcoming smile Carrie closed the door behind Olivia, took the bottle and glasses from her and, as Olivia made herself comfy in one of two armchairs, said as she uncorked the bottle,
‘Is your father pleased with how the Yorks’ visit is going?’

‘Ecstatic! You should know by now, Carrie, that in Papa’s eyes you can do no wrong.’

Carrie’s habit of blushing embarrassed her again, but her head was bent over the glasses as she poured the wine, and so Olivia didn’t notice.

‘Elizabeth kept the table in a roar at dinner,’ Olivia said as Carrie handed her a glass of wine. ‘She was telling us how, when in Paris, an enormous Frenchman dropped to his
knees in front of her and said fervently that he wished France possessed people like her and Bertie – though he didn’t use Bertie’s Christian name, of course. She said she
pretended that it was perfectly normal to have a huge Frenchman with a
Légion d’honneur
in his buttonhole kneeling at her feet. Even Dieter chuckled.’

Carrie seated herself in the opposite armchair. ‘And was the table service perfect at dinner? Mr Jennings said it was, but he may simply not have wanted me to get into a pickle of
worry.’

‘Everything went as smoothly as clockwork. The only slight dampener on the evening was Elizabeth retiring to bed early. Ever since Paris she’s felt as if she was coming down with
flu, hence her wanting to rest up as much as possible this weekend. She’s hoping to stave it off.’

She leaned her head against the back of the armchair. ‘It’s wonderful to have you at Gorton again, Carrie.’

‘It’s wonderful to be here. Just before you knocked at the door I was remembering the first day I came here. I was very nervous and your mother made everything all right within
minutes.’

‘And then you introduced us to Hal, and Thea was rude about him, and you and Thea fell out over it. I remember that day so well, Carrie. We had happy childhoods playing by the river,
didn’t we?’ The expression in her hazel eyes changed and became suddenly sad. ‘I always hoped I’d see my children playing on the river-bank and watching the voles, just as
we used to, but I don’t think I’m going to have any children, Carrie – and you can’t imagine how ghastly it is to want a baby and not be able to start one.’

Carrie couldn’t and so, although her tender heart ached for Olivia, she remained sensitively silent.

Olivia bit her lip. ‘There’s something else that’s ghastly as well, Carrie. Though I know Dieter loves me, I think he’s sometimes unfaithful to me. Lots of my
friends’ husbands are unfaithful. Their wives accept it as just being part of life, but I can’t. I think of how happy Papa and Mama were and I want a marriage like that.’ Her
voice shook, and unshed tears glittered on her eyelashes. ‘I want Dieter to be as true to me as I am to him. It isn’t too much to ask, Carrie, is it?’

‘No,’ Carrie said fiercely. ‘Of course it isn’t.’ She leant forward, taking Olivia’s hands in hers, her eyes dark with concern. ‘But I can’t
imagine it to be true, Olivia. Dieter always looks so happy to be with you – and sometimes, when you are in the same room as him, he hardly lets you out of his sight. I can’t believe
that, feeling as he so obviously does about you, he would be unfaithful. How silly would that be?’

‘But men
are
sometimes silly.’ Remembering that Carrie had had very little experience of men – and that whatever experience she may have had, it would not have been with
sophisticated men like Dieter – she said, ‘Have you ever had a boyfriend, Carrie? You’ve never said.’

For once Carrie didn’t blush. Releasing hold of Olivia’s hands and leaning back in her chair, she said, ‘I’m twenty-eight, Olivia. Of course I’ve had
boyfriends.’

Entranced, Olivia forgot her dark thoughts where Dieter was concerned. ‘Who were they? What were their names? Do tell!’

Carrie’s eyes danced in amusement. ‘One of them was John Size, a farmer from Skeeby, on the other side of Richmond. And Ted Ramsden asked me to marry him, but I turned him
down.’

‘Ted Ramsden? The Ted who was Monkswood’s gamekeeper and who went to work for Lord Rochdale?’

Carrie nodded.

Knowing how few opportunities there were for anyone in service to be able to conduct a courtship that ended in a proposal, Olivia’s eyes were the size of saucers. ‘You turned him
down? But why, Carrie?’

This time, knowing she couldn’t possibly tell Olivia the real answer, Carrie did blush. ‘He wasn’t the one,’ she said simply. And then, thinking that now she’d
begun saying things about herself that she’d never told anyone before, she might as well be in for a penny as a pound, she went on, ‘That wasn’t the only proposal I
received.’

‘Goodness gracious! Who did your second proposal come from?’

Carrie tilted her head a little to one side, paused only fractionally and then said, ‘Hal.’

Olivia stared at her, opened her mouth to speak and couldn’t.

‘I don’t know why you’re so speechless with amazement, Olivia.’ There was genuine surprise in Carrie’s voice. ‘Both Hal and I know it’s what you, Thea
and practically the whole of Outhwaite have always expected would happen.’

‘Yes, but . . . But for you not to have told us . . .’

‘There was nothing to tell. He loves me – but in the same way I love him, which is as a friend. He isn’t
in
love with me. He’s still obsessed by Thea. I think he
thought that if he married me it would put an end to his temptation, where Thea is concerned.’

Olivia’s forehead furrowed in a frown. ‘Temptation? I don’t know what you mean, Carrie.’

Carrie suppressed a sigh. Olivia had one of the nicest natures of anyone she knew and she always looked breathtakingly sophisticated – so sophisticated that you had to know her really well
before you realized that she sometimes failed to understand things that were, to other people, quite obvious.

She said patiently, ‘Just because Hal made a decision years ago that he wasn’t going to compromise his socialist principles by marrying a member of the aristocracy – or even
having a long-term love affair with a member of it – doesn’t mean to say he isn’t constantly tempted to go back on that decision.’

‘Oh, Carrie. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for Thea if he did? Kyle has given up on her. It happened last year, when they were guests of Prince Edward at the Fort. He again asked Thea to
marry him. She said she couldn’t, when she still cared for Hal so much, and he told her that she was a fool and his patience had run out.’

Carrie, who knew this – she had had a telephone call from Thea the day after it happened – said, ‘Thea’s obstinacy in clinging to the hope that there’s a future for
her with Hal is equal to Hal’s obstinacy in being determined that her hopes will never be fulfilled.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I hate to bring this to an end, Olivia love, but you
can lie in, in the morning. I can’t. I need to go to bed.’

‘Oh, of course!’ All concern, Olivia leapt immediately to her feet. ‘I think Bertie will probably go out with Papa and Dieter tomorrow shooting pheasants, and that Elizabeth
will stay at Gorton, cosily tucked up in front of a fire, eating chocolates and drinking sherry and chatting with me and Thea.’

‘It sounds blissful,’ Carrie said, amused at how different her own day was going to be. ‘Goodnight – God bless, Olivia. Pleasant dreams.’

Carrie’s own dreams were rudely shattered three hours later by a sharp, urgent knocking on her sitting-room door.

Instantly wide awake, she swung her legs from the bed, grabbed hold of her dressing gown and, as she hurried out of the bedroom and through the sitting room, pulled it on.

She opened the door to an ashen-faced Mr Jennings. ‘We have an emergency, Mrs Thornton.’ There was nervous perspiration on his forehead. ‘The Duchess has been taken ill. I
don’t know what her temperature is, but her maid says it’s dangerously high. Lord Fenton has telephoned Dr Todd and he’s on his way here now.’

Carrie didn’t waste time in any expressions of shock. She said swiftly, ‘Please return to Lord Fenton. I’ll be with the two of you in just a couple of minutes.’

She was accustomed to handling dramas and emergencies at Monkswood, but none of them had included the sudden illness of a royal duchess.

With hands that were slightly unsteady, she dressed, coiled her long plait of wheat-gold hair into its usual neat bun, washed her face and was outside the door of the Yorks’ guest suite,
if not in a couple of minutes, then certainly within ten minutes.

Gilbert said, ‘Todd will be here any second. The Duke is with the Duchess, as is her maid.’

‘If the Duchess has a high temperature she’ll need plenty of fresh lemon barley water to help bring her temperature down. I don’t think there’s any need to disturb
Cook’s sleep, but I’ll wake a couple of the kitchen staff, two of the housemaids and a footman.’

Again she didn’t waste time talking unnecessarily. Leaving Gilbert and Jennings waiting for Dr Todd’s arrival, Carrie roused the minimum number of servants that she thought would be
required to see to the Duchess’s comfort during the night and instructed that the guest bedroom adjoining the suite occupied by the Yorks should be made ready for the Duke, so that his sleep
would not be disturbed by the medical care being given to his wife. Then she went into the kitchen and instructed one of the kitchen maids to begin making fresh lemon barley water.

Twenty minutes later, when Dr Todd emerged from the Duchess’s bedside to the room where Gilbert was anxiously waiting for news, Carrie was with him.

‘Bed rest and nursing care are what is needed, Lord Fenton. The Duchess’s temperature is one hundred and two degrees. My advice is that she doesn’t consider a return to London
until it is back to normal.’

‘But she’s not in danger?’ Panic of any kind was alien to Gilbert, but the prospect of a royal guest dying beneath his roof was decidedly unnerving.

‘No. If I thought she was in the remotest danger I would be informing her personal doctor and demanding that he travel north forthwith. That, thank God, isn’t the case. However,
there
is
a difficulty.’

‘Which is?’

‘The Duchess’s maid is similarly indisposed.’

Gilbert uttered an oath he’d never before in his life uttered in front of a woman.

Carrie didn’t flinch. She understood only too well how he was feeling.