This is a crossover between Elinor Brent-Dyer's Chalet School series (for more information see chaletian dot co dot uk) and the Georgette Heyer murder mystery, Death in the Stocks. The Chalet School and their characters belong to EBD's estate. The others belong to GH's.
Bride Bettany climbed out of Simon's car, feeling rather nervous. She had met Simon Carrington, a twenty-eight year old barrister, while visiting an old schoolfriend in London, and the two of them had 'clicked'. They had been out together a number of times, culminating in a dance held by Simon's chambers, where he had proposed to her. Although Simon had met her parents – he had spent the weekend at the Quadrant when, unbeknownst to Bride, he had asked Dick Bettany for his permission to marry her. But know, almost a month after their engagement, Bride was finally getting to meet Simon's family.
Simon glanced across at her as he slammed the car door closed, and grinned.
"Buck up, Bride!" he said cheerfully. "They're quite mad but they're not going to eat you."
"Idiot!" retorted Bride affectionately. "I don't expect them too. But – well, it's not exactly a bundle of laughs, you know, meeting your future in-laws."
"I managed it all right," said Simon, pulling her towards the main doors of the large stone house that had been the Carringtons' home for generations. As they approached the door, it swung open, and a woman with iron-grey hair and a stern expression, with a large floral apron wrapped round the whole, stood in the entrance, arms akimbo.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Simon blankly. "Murgatroyd! What on earth are you doing- Oh, don't tell me Uncle Kenneth's here!" Murgatroyd sniffed.
"Indeed he is, Master Simon, and I'm sure I don't know what cause you have to speak of your uncle in that tone! When you were a child…"
"Yes, yes, all right," said Simon hurriedly, with what looked suspiciously like a blush creeping over his cheeks. "Where are the masses gathered, then? – sitting room, I suppose." Murgatroyd made an assenting noise, and disappeared into the back of the house. Simon grimaced at Bride, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Uncle Kenneth?"
"Ye-es. My mother's brother. Mad as a march hare, I'm afraid – and Mother's much worse when they're together. Don't worry if they're horrifically rude to you. They're like that with everyone." And with that he pulled Bride into the sitting room.
She came to an abrupt stop just inside the door, conscious of three pairs of eyes gazing at her with interest; six pairs, if you counted the dogs. A casually dressed gentleman with grey hair rose to his feet, and held out a hand.
"You must be Bride. I'm Giles Carrington, this young reprobate's father. It's lovely to meet you finally." Bride replied in kind, and shook his hand, feeling that Simon had perhaps over-emphasised the madness of his family. "This is my wife, Antonia," continued Giles, guiding Bride to where a slight lady sat, with red hair showing only a few grey hairs. The two women exchanged considering glances, then Antonia Carrington also rose to shake hands.
"Nice to meet you," she said briefly. "Simon's been talking about you long enough." Bride gaped at this slightly, but came back resolutely.
"He's talked about you as well, Mrs Carrington," she said calmly.
"Oh Lord, don't say that!" that lady exclaimed. "Call me Antonia – or Tony – everyone else does. Just so you know, I bar all that rot about names, so you can just give up any idea of calling me Mother Carrington or anything else so nauseating."
"Does it make you want to be sick, darling?" came another voice, and Bride turned to see someone wearing a tie of such appalling colours that it could only be mad Uncle Kenneth.
"Completely," replied Antonia, moving over to the sideboard. "It's vile. I say, Giles, where did the brandy go?"
"I've got it," said Kenneth, waving a cut-glass decanter in the air. "I must say, Giles, you keep a jolly good cellar."
"Thank you," replied Giles, wryly. "Would you like anything to drink, Bride?" Bride shook her head.
"No, thanks. Simon stopped at a pub not far from here, and we're practically swimming in tea." Antonia shuddered.
"Ghastly stuff, tea. What do you do, Bride?"
"I'm training to be an accountant," Bride replied simply. At this innocuous statement, Kenneth gave a yell of laughter.
"An accountant! Tony, what is this irresistible attraction accountants hold for this family? I hope you're not intent on a career in embezzlement?" This polite enquiry left Bride gasping, and she stared at him, astonished.
"I say, Uncle Kenneth!" started Simon angrily, only to be interrupted as his father pushed him into a chair.
"Really, Kenneth," he said mildly. "That was rather rude."
"Yes, I think it was rather," said Kenneth's sister, consideringly. "You're a beast, Kenneth, you really are. Don't pay him any attention, Bride, he's got a thing about accountants ever since I was engaged to one who turned out to be embezzling from our half-brother."
"Which was years ago," interrupted Simon, still annoyed. "You needn't be so utterly vile, Uncle."
"But I like it," objected Kenneth. "Anyway, dear Rudolph was such a pip I couldn't possibly forget him. I don't see how you can complain, Tony, you were planning to marry the blighter."
"At least I wasn't engaged to a murderer!" replied Antonia fiercely. "Unlike you! I have some standards."
"Thank you, dear," murmured Giles, a smile playing on his lips.
"A murderer?" mouthed Bride to Simon, who just rolled his eyes at her.
"I still say being a murderer's more interesting than an embezzler. I mean, when it came down to it, Rudolph was a total dud. Violet at least had some spirit to her."
"Kenneth! She murdered poor Roger!"
"Nuts to that, darling! We were both fearfully pleased about it; you can't pretend we weren't." Antonia cocked her head on one side, and thought for a moment. Then she grinned.
"You're right of course, damn you! So, Bride, what do your people do?" This sudden change in topic made Bride blink, but she kept up manfully.
"Dad runs the estate; the home farm, mainly. Before that he was in the Forestry, in India."
"Oh yes, Simon said. In Cornwall, isn't it?"
"Devon," corrected Bride.
"We went to Devon once," put in Kenneth. "Leslie and I. Leslie's my wife," he added, for Bride's benefit. "She's not here today; one of the dogs is sick."
"I say, don't tell me Molly's had a relapse!" said Antonia, worried. "I gave Leslie that stuff old Harvey swears by, but I wasn't awfully convinced."
"No, Molly's all right. Cyril broke his leg though, and we had to get the vet in."
"I can't imagine why she called him Cyril," said Antonia, indignantly. "It's a rotten name for a bull terrier. She should have had a spaniel or a poodle or something equally awful if she wanted to call it Cyril. Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Guessing that the question was directed at her, Bride answered.
"Three brothers and three sisters. Peggy and Rix are older than me; the rest are younger." Antonia pulled a face.
"I'm not sure I would have coped with seven children," she said thoughtfully. "Simon was bad enough, though at least Elizabeth had the sense to marry herself off fairly young. Simon said your folk left you with family when you were growing up." Bride nodded.
"That's right. The Indian climate's no good for kids, of course, so we were shipped off to Auntie Madge. She and Uncle Jem lived out in Austria until the War. Then Dad inherited the Quadrant, and he and Mum came home."
"Your uncle is Sir James Russell, I think," said Giles. "I've met him a couple of times; one of my clients was a patient."
"That's right," said Bride. "He married Auntie Madge – Dad's sister – pretty soon after she moved out there to start the school. They've got another sister, Auntie Joey. She lives out near the school in Switzerland now."
"Er- which school?" asked Antonia, rather delicately. Bride flushed.
"Sorry! The Chalet School. Auntie Madge founded it."
"Pretty rum," said Kenneth. "Was she an absolute dragon? They always are in books."
"She's lovely!" fired up Bride.
"All right, keep your hair on," replied Kenneth equably. "Speaking of which, you're not exactly a picture, are you?" At this indifferent judgement of his fiancee, Simon leapt to his feet.
"If all you can do is insult my future wife," he stormed, "then I would ask you to leave this house." Kenneth looked at him, surprised.
"What on earth are you talking about? Don't they teach anything these days? As far as looks went, young Violet was the pick of the crop, but look how she turned out."
"How did she turn out?" ventured Bride.
"Hanged, of course. You've got rather unusual eyes, though. I paint," explained Kenneth.
"He's an artist," added Simon, rather viciously. "Kenneth Vereker. The critics are all over him – more fool them!"
"They haven't a brain between them," said Kenneth. Antonia laughed.
"Kenneth hates it that they like him," she explained. "He doesn't think they can tell good art, so it makes him mad when they talk about how good he is."
Before Kenneth could launch into a scathing denunciation of art critics as a breed, as was his wont whenever someone was foolhardy enough to mention them, the Carringtons' maid appeared to tell them that lunch was ready. Heading towards the dining room, Antonia was dismissive of her cook's abilities.
"Pretty dreadful stuff, I'm afraid," she confessed to Bride. "She's a terrible cook, but it's so hard to find anything like decent staff these days. Kenneth's all right: he's got Murgatroyd, who's really a blessing on that front, though rather wasted on Leslie, I think, because she's so awfully capable herself. Well, she'd have to be, married to Kenneth, of course. But Murgatroyd has always adored him – I've never understood why – and wouldn't dream of working for anyone else. Your mother has a cook, I imagine?" Bride thought of round little Mrs Winters, who 'obliged' for the Bettanys.
"Yes. When she was still at home, Peggy – that's my elder sister – did a lot of it herself, but she's married now."
"Everyone should be married," said Antonia expansively. "It's too dull not being. I was horribly bored until I got hold of Giles."
"I would have thought Rudolph the embezzling accountant would have made things rather interesting," muttered Bride, then blushed as she realised she had been overheard. Far from taking offence, however, Antonia considered her words.
"We-ell, it wasn't quite so dull when we found that out, you see, because it made it look like he might have murdered Arthur – our half-brother. To cover it all up, you see. Only it didn't seem very likely and he got rather tediously worried about the whole thing, as well as telling the most ridiculous lies which were quite unbelievable. I do think, don't you, that if you're going to tell a lie, you might as well make it completely sensible?"
"Yes," said Bride. To be quite honest, she found the conversation a little shocking; truthfulness had been a sterling quality in her upbringing, and deliberately lying – especially about something important – was a complete anathema to her. "I wonder how on earth she would have managed at school?" wondered Bride of her future mother-in-law. "She would have been one of the rummiest of the rum!"
As they partook of lunch, Bride found herself able to take stock of Simon's family a little more clearly. Giles Carrington was obviously the most normal of the bunch, and Bride imagined that Simon would turn out something like his father. There was, however, a certain look in Giles' eye that made one feel that one didn't quite know what he might say next. Kenneth Vereker was, as far as Bride could tell, just plain rude. An artist, he may be. Temperamental, he almost certainly was. But that still didn't give him the right to be so horribly rude. And as for Antonia Carrington, she seemed to be the maddest of them all, because she made everything sound quite logical. She and her brother were arguing now about a book they had both read. It was odd because they had both loathed it, and Bride watched with interest as they managed to disagree over the same opinion.
"He is the most perfect beast, as you very well know, Kenneth," Antonia was saying. "I can't imagine how you could say anything else."
"You do talk utter rubbish," replied Kenneth dispassionately. This was too much for Antonia, who took up the gauntlet energetically, and set about denouncing Kenneth's mind, morals and taste in clothing. After about ten minutes of this, Giles remarked idly that he had seen someone referred to as "Minty" in town the previous day, and the news so diverted both Antonia and Kenneth that they set about deriding the unfortunate Minty in an atmosphere of perfect amity.
"Come on, let's go for a walk," whispered Simon, taking note of his mother's occupation. "They can't stand Minty; they'll be like this for hours." Bride nodded and slipped out of her seat, and the two of them wandered out onto the terrace. They passed a pleasant hour in the garden, with Bride managing to smooth her fianc's ruffled feathers, before returning to the house. Just outside, Simon paused.
"Look here, Bride… Well, I know Uncle Kenneth can be completely loathsome and Mother might seem like she should be locked up somewhere but…" he paused, embarrassingly aware that he was probably blushing, "I do love you, you know, and they're not really that bad, and… well, don't chuck me over because of it all, will you? Because if they're really too awful, you don't have to see them much." Bride stood up on tip-toe, and kissed him quickly.
"Idiot!" she said affectionately, and walked back into the house. Somewhat to her disappointment, Kenneth and Antonia had given up on Minty, and were separately occupied: Kenneth looking through a bookshelf and uttering occasional comments on his findings, and Antonia buried in a thick tome that was, according to its front cover, a bull terrier "bible". She looked up rather vaguely at Bride's entrance, said, "Oh, there you are," and continued reading.
"Where's Dad?" asked Simon, coming in behind Bride, and putting his arm around her waist.
"In his study," replied Antonia, not looking up. "Some dreary case, I expect. Oh, he wanted your help with it, I think. You'd better go and see." Casting an apologetic look at Bride, Simon did as instructed. Left to her own devices, Bride wandered over to the bookcase, and was inspecting the contents, when Antonia put down her book and spoke.
"I daresay Simon's been apologising for us – well, Kenneth and me – all over the shop," she asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.
"Yes," agreed Bride candidly. "More for Mr Vereker, though," she added consideringly. Antonia laughed.
"Hear that, Kenneth? Your nephew thinks you're beyond the pale. Well, he's right, of course. We can be quite rude; Giles is always telling me off, which is surprising because you'd think he'd be used to it by now. Anyway, we are as we are, and you'll simply have to make the best of it."
"All right," said Bride demurely. Antonia looked at her suspiciously.
"Simon said your family were all pillars of respectability."
"Well," said Bride, a wicked glint suddenly appearing in her eye, "Simon hasn't met my Auntie Jo yet!"
THE END