Gentlemen Formerly Dressed (6 page)
Read Gentlemen Formerly Dressed Online
Authors: Sulari Gentill
“Rowly!” Wilfred jarred him out of his contemplation.
It was only then Rowland realised that Bruce had stopped talking⦠and he had no idea what the minister had said.
“As Spats was saying,” Wilfred said pointedly, “Lord Pierrepont's death could cause a scandal that would permanently derail the conference.”
“Yes⦠why?”
“Because it seems the last person to see him alive was Cordell Hull, the American Secretary of State.”
Rowland was confused. “Are you suggesting the American Secretary of State killed Lord Pierrepont?”
“No, of course not.” Bruce drew on his cigar. “But the Americans may see any investigation of their delegates as hostile, diplomatically speaking.” He shook his head. “Don't let their obsession with freedom of speech fool youâAmericans are rather sensitive.”
“I see.” Actually, Rowland didn't see. He had no idea why Bruce was telling him this.
“Of course, one can't just ignore the murder of a peer,” Bruce went on. “Scotland Yard will handle the affair as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, but I did want to impress upon you, Rowland, the importance of being discreet. Particularly with the more salacious aspects of Lord Pierrepont's demise.”
Rowland smiled. “You mean the nightie, I suppose.”
“Yes, quite. It would probably be best if you did not mention that rather perplexing detail to anyone. In fact, the less said about Lord Pierrepont the better.”
“Surely there will be an investigation?” Rowland asked, vaguely disturbed by the manner in which murder was being treated as a political inconvenience.
“My dear man, of course! In fact I believe the Yard has already found a suspect.”
“There are one or two reporters sniffing about,” Wilfred said. “They're asking questions and we wanted to make sure that you don't give them a headline sensational enough to scuttle any hope of an agreement.”
“How could they possibly even know to ask me?” Rowland replied.
Wilfred frowned. “We gave our names to Samuel Playfair.”
“Who's Samuel Playfair?”
“The steward.”
“I thought his name was George.”
“They call all the servants George at Watts⦠it's easier for the members to remember that way.”
Rowland thought back to the rowdy luncheon at the gentlemen's club. He supposed Playfair could count himself lucky the members didn't want to call him “Bunky” or something equally absurd.
“What do you know about the new government of Germany, Minister Bruce?” he asked.
Bruce looked at him, startled.
“Rowly⦠we are talking aboutâ” Wilfred began.
“Yes, yes, I won't tell anyone about the nightie,” Rowland promised impatiently. Then he asked his question again.
Wilfred cleared his throat. “I've told Spats about your experiences in Germany, Rowly.”
Bruce shook his head. “A terrible business. The SA could potentially thrust Germany into civil war. Rest assured, Rowland, the governments of Europe have been vocal in their condemnation of the excesses of Röhm and his Stormtroopers.”
“I don't think you understandâ”
“I think you'll find I do.”
“This is not simply about SA thuggery. The Nazi government is on an aggressive path.”
Bruce regarded him sternly. “The Germans are at this conference in the spirit of co-operation, Rowland. They have territorial interests, yes, but I believe you'll find they are restricted to the
Saarland and other traditionally German regions.” He sighed. “I'm afraid talk of German expansionism is premature and generated by a few warmongers and conspiracy theorists.” He looked Rowland up and down. “How old are you if you don't mind my asking? I don't suppose you saw service.”
“No, sir, I didn't,” Rowland said tightly. War service was the trump card which the men of his brother's generation liked to play against his own⦠a kind of imprimatur which gave them the right to decide all matters thenceforth.
“Well, I saw a great deal.” Bruce rubbed his knee. “I served at Gallipoli and now I deal with the Turks in an international spirit of co-operation and mutual respect.” He pointed at Rowland with his cigar. “I can tell you the biggest threat to Australia at the moment is not German theatrics but the American Agriculture Bill which will have a devastating impact on our exports.”
Rowland dragged his hand back through his hair, frustrated.
Wilfred intervened, “I do feel, in this instance, Rowly might offer some insight into the mood in Germany.”
Rowland looked sharply at his brother, surprised by his support.
“Perhaps,” Wilfred continued cautiously, “if you were to provide Rowly with a letter of introduction to one or two people who are interested in these matters⦠maybe someone close to Ramsay MacDonald. You never know, Rowly may be able to give some perspective to his dogged insistence upon disarmament.”
Bruce frowned, his eyes narrowing as he considered the suggestion. “I fear it will be a waste of time, Wil.”
“Even so,” Wilfred replied.
“Very well.” He turned back to Rowland. “You keep Lord Pierrepont's peculiar penchant under your hat, and I'll see what I can do.”
At meals ladies always should be served first, even when there are men guests present. In no circumstances are bad manners more noticeable than when displayed at the table. To eat badly is to commit one of the greatest offences against the laws of politeness. Innate refinement will sometimes protect a woman in this direction, but unless girls have been subjected to proper home training in table manners they grow up usually with habits as vulgar as those of men whose home upbringing has been neglected.
A few points in training children that may be helpful to mothers are as follows:âThe soup plate should be tilted away from the edge of the table, and soup should be taken from the side of the large spoon provided. Bread should not be crumbled into the soup, but broken with the fingers from a thick piece placed at the left hand. If special fish knives are not provided, fish should be eaten with two forks, or a fork and a piece of bread. When one is eating a dish that requires the use of a fork in the right hand, the fork may be held with the tines turned up; otherwise it is not correct to do this. Rissoles, mince and similar made dishes should be eaten with a fork only. All sweets, where possible, should be eaten with a fork alone. A spoon and fork may be used for fruit tarts, stewed fruit or other dishes of syrupy nature. Either the spoon or the fork should be raised to the mouth for the purpose of receiving fruit stones. In the case of plums and other fruit with large stones, it is better to separate the stone with the spoon and fork before putting the fruit in the mouth. When a course is finished the knife and fork or spoon and fork should be placed close together.
It is a bad plan always to give children the least attractive parts of a dish, that being apt to make them greedy for dainties when they are visiting. The knife should never be used to convey food to the mouth, and the special knife for butter should always be used, likewise the sugar spoon in the bowl, instead of individual teaspoons. When one is using knife and fork, the elbows should be kept close to the sides. If a plate is sent for a second helping, the knife and fork should be placed close together, as much to, the side of the plate as possible. Nothing except fruit pips, stones, or skin, should be taken from the mouth with the fingers. Pieces of bone, gristle, etc., should be taken from the mouth with the fork and quietly placed on the side of the plate. Always leave the spoon in the saucer, and when it is necessary to do so stir tea, coffee, or cocoa as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. The mouth should never be filled too full, and undue haste in eating should be avoided. No one should leave a meal table until everyone has finished. A guest should not fold the table napkin, but leave it on the table more or less crumpled.
The West Australian, 1933
M
rs. Wilfred Sinclair was genuinely glad to see her brother-in-law's entirely unacceptable friends. Kate had always liked the bohemian entourageâsomething which her husband claimed was due to her too kind and persuadable heart. She knew of course that they lived at
Woodlands House
under Rowland's patronage and what seemed an ever-present cloud of scandal. Wilfred maintained that they were exploiting his brother's generosity, using Rowland while they turned the Sinclairs' grand Woollahra residence into some kind of artists' commune.
It was not in Kate's nature to contradict her husband and accordingly she'd never mentioned her fondness for her disreputable brother-in-law's set in Wilfred's presence. Indeed, she'd been
surprised that he'd not objected to her suggestion that they be included in the invitation to luncheon. But perhaps this newfound tolerance had something to do with whatever had happened in Germany. Wilfred had returned from Claridge's angry and distressed. He had fired off several telegrams back to Australia, but had said nothing more to Kate than that Rowland had found trouble and that his useless unemployed friends had at least stuck by him.
And so she had not been expecting the plaster cast and sling.
“What have you done to yourself, Rowly?” Kate enquired as he kissed her cheek. “Wil didn't say you'd hurt yourself.”
Rowland had no time to reply before their hostess intervened.
“Oh, my Lord,” Ethel Bruce exclaimed. “This simply won't do⦠Why, we're serving crown roast!” The matronly wife of Australia's eighth Prime Minister looked at the cast in horror. “It'll have to be a consommé⦠there's nothing else for it!”
“Uncle Rowly broke his arm in Germany,” Ernest announced solemnly.
“Yes, well, that explains it!” Ethel said, walking towards the door. “You must excuse me⦠I should speak to Cook.”
Rowland wasn't quite sure what it explained.
Lunch with the Bruces was quite the gracious affair: elegant and formal. Clyde visibly paled as he beheld the numerous pieces of gleaming cutlery which rippled outwards from the fine china plates at each place setting. He had never become accustomed to the complexity of dining with the upper classes and, for a moment, he envied Rowland his injury. As it was, the rest of them would have to work out how and when to use the various utensils with some sort of proficiency and decorum.
“My goodness, Mrs. Bruce,” Milton said, winking at their hostess. “It must have taken you a while to polish all these.”
She laughed. “Great Caesars! Go on!” She flapped her hand at the poet. “You are a card, Mr. Isaacs.”
With a smile and a flourish, Milton offered their hostess his arm and escorted her to the table.
The conversation at luncheon was mostly light and inconsequential, until Ethel Bruce herself raised the subject of Lord Pierrepont.
“Stanley dear, did you hear that poor Bunky Pierrepont has died? Tragic⦠so very tragic.” She turned to Kate. “You would have simply adored Bunky, Katie dear. Quite the old rogue, but charming in his way.”
Bruce and Wilfred said nothing. Rowland broke the silence. “I say, did you know this chap Pierrepont particularly well, Mrs. Bruce?”
“I wouldn't say well⦠he was more of a robust acquaintance. Stanley played golf with him at St. Andrews on and off, and I'm sure we've had him for dinner once or twice, haven't we, Stanley darling?”
Bruce finished chewing before he replied. “I can't say I recall, my dear.”
Milton shook his head gravely, despite the mischievous gleam in his eye. “It was an unfortunate way to go.”
“Unfortunate?”
“Most people would, I imagine, consider being murdered in one's own bed somewhat unfortunate.”
“Murdered?” Ethel Bruce's eyes widened, and her hand splayed against the base of her throat. “But however do you know that, Mr. Isaacs?”
“You must have read it in the paper, Milt,” Rowland said pointedly as he glanced at the poet.
Wilfred glared at them both.
Their hostess thought for a moment. “No, I'm sure it didn't mention anything about murder, merely that Lord Pierrepont died in tragic circumstances⦠I suppose it would be difficult to die in a manner that wasn't tragic⦠but murder? Why that's simply dreadful! Are you sure, Mr. Isaacs?”
“Um⦠perhaps not⦔ Milton rubbed his forehead, clearly having caught the message in Rowland's gaze and the hostility in Wilfred's.
Edna and Clyde watched curiously and said nothing.
Mrs. Bruce turned back to her husband. “Do you recall the article, Stanley?”
Again Bruce took his time, chewing and swallowing before he replied. “I'm afraid I barely glanced at the paper this morning, Ethel. But I understand there may have been something suspicious about Pierrepont's demise. Better leave it to the constabulary, don't you think, my dear? This new cook you've taken on is excellent.” He nodded at Rowland. “What a gastronomic shame you must confine yourself to consommé, young man. The roast is undeniably superb.”
