Page 2 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“Pardon me?” said Lady Madeline.
“I spoke out of turn, M’Lady, forgive me.”
“Oh,” said Madeline, unable to hide the joy on her face, “it’s true. But how did you know?”
“It’s the gossip downstairs, M’Lady.”
“I should have known.”
Lisbelle began the task of putting up Lady Madeline’s hair. “We don’t talk much amongst ourselves, you see, and we don’t hear much. And so, we’re hungry for news when it comes round.”
“I see. Well then out with it. What have you heard?”
“Oh, not much, like I said. Only that Lord Oliver has ... intentions.” She smiled at her lady through the mirror. “On account of the fact that Oskar Braun the music master has designs on Mrs Andrews.”
“Mrs Andrews! Our cook?”
“Indeed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, M’Lady, they say Mr Braun’s got a bit of gout that troubles him from time to time, but it’s no bother if he hasn’t had any drink, which he’s inclined to do from time to time. A pint of champagne every day at midday for Mr Braun, like clockwork. Ever notice his hands shaking when your lesson’s coming to an end?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
“Well, they do. At any rate, Mr Braun, he comes downstairs, and he plays it all sweet-like on Mrs Andrews. She gives him his pint of champagne. If it was only for the drink, you would think he’d take it and be off. Well, Mr Braun takes his drink, and he sits and he leans his elbows on the table and stares over his tumbler at Mrs Andrews like his eyes are going to fall out of his head. He talks an awful lot to her. And Mrs Andrews, she tells us all the details after he’s off. It turns out one of his students is a Lord by the name of Sigmund out of Surrey.”
“Lord Sigmund of Surrey. I can’t say I’ve heard of him.”
“No matter if you did. There’s a footman for Lord Sigmund who once filled in as valet for a visiting courtier by the name of Mr Gardiner. This Mr Gardiner, as it turns out, also suffers from gout and required, every morning at ten, an egg whipped in a half pint of sherry. Well, this footman-valet, name of George, he goes out because the house’s store of sherry has been depleted because Lord Sigmund apparently suffers from gout quite a lot – often at night when everyone else is asleep and he can access the cellar all by himself. They say he falls asleep down there from time to time. Although, to be honest, M’Lady, I don’t understand how such drink can be the simultaneous cause and cure of gout if you were to ask me.”
“Lisbelle,” said Lady Madeline, “does this tale of yours have an end?”
“I’m getting there, M’Lady. Won’t be a moment. Where was I? Oh, yes, so this footman-valet, George, he has to go and find some sherry spit-spot. He goes to a local vintner, and there he runs into a footman for ... guess who?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Your Lord Oliver!”
“Is that so?”
“He does. And he chats with him. And this footman for Lord Oliver, he tells George that he hasn’t had much of a request in the house for sherry as of late, for the Lord is all light in his step without the stuff. And George asks him why, you see, and this footman says it’s because Lord Oliver has been courting a certain Lady who resides at Aspendale House and fancies her enough to set his noble sights on marrying her!”
Lisbelle put the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle.
“Fascinating,” said Lady Madeline.
“So you see, My Lady, we don’t hear much. But we hear some things. And there, I believe you’re finished. And now, the gentleman has been waiting sufficiently for you, M’Lady. I think you ought to go downstairs and drop his jaw.”
Lady Madeline beheld herself in the mirror. Lisbelle had left small, lustrous ringlets dangling in front of her forehead. The rest of the hair was piled up and held in place by a bandeau studded with silver sequins.
“I ... oh, Lisbelle, I don’t know what to say. Thank you!”
“All in a moment’s work, My Lady. It isn’t difficult with such beauty at my disposal, to begin with.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Not at all, M’Lady.”
