Page 85 of The Mad Marchams

“That brand is always very popular,” Felicity said. “The late queen loved their headscarves.”

“Hermès?” Mabel looked at the logo on the inside of the box. “Yeah, even I’ve heard of them.”

They worked together in companionable silence until they’d emptied out the first of the two towering chests of drawers. Mabel sorted things into three piles. New with tags still attached, slightly used for the charity shops, and the rest for the rag bag. There was surprisingly little that needed to be thrown away.

“Brigitte was a bit of a butterfly,” Felicity commented as they stared at the piles. “She used to obsess about things and then she’d forget about them for something new.” She paused. “She was like that with people, too.”

“I suppose that’s why she found it so easy to leave,” Mabel said. “She reminds me of my father, who never met a woman he didn’t want to have a kid with before he moved onto the next one.”

“I thought she liked me,” Felicity said in a rush. “She made me feel special for a while and then she just… lost interest.”

“That must have been awful for you.”

“And then I went back to boarding school and came home to find she was gone. It was just like Mummy all over again.”

“My dad did something similar,” Mabel said. “He’d turn up with presents and make me think he was back for good, and then there would be another row, and he’d be gone again—usually with mom’s savings or her jewelry.”

“Oh Mabel…” Felicity turned and hugged Mabel tightly. “Poor old us.” After a moment she drew back. “It was worse for the twins of course, but they were babies when she left. Still, they never got to see her again because she died just after the divorce, and before she’d taken advantage of her visiting rights.” She paused and then said in a rush. “I don’t even know if she would’ve come back, but Daddy insisted that she had the opportunity.”

“I hate people like that,” Mabel said. “People who crash into other’s lives, make a huge mess, and then walk away like nothing has ever happened.”

Felicity nodded, her attention on the pile of boxes all around them. She glanced at her watch. “I have to go and help in the stable yard. Ted is coming over to measure up the new floorboards.”

“Have fun,” Mabel said. “And give Ted a hug from me.”

Felicity went rather pink. “I’m not sure I have the nerve to hug him, even for you. He might think I was propositioning him and then where would we be?”

“In a promising relationship?” Mabel winked at her. “I’m pretty sure he’s sweet on you, Felicity.”

Felicity ran for the door, leaving Mabel alone, surrounded by hundreds of dollars of fancy knickers and scarves. She stared at the second chest of drawers and sighed. It had to be done, but she’d go down to the kitchen and make herself something to eat before she tackled it. If she was lucky, Colin would still be busy in the stables. How could she make someone accept her and her money? She didn’t know what to say to him and that wasn’t a nice feeling at all…

Mabel wasn’t sure who was avoiding whom, but she managed not to see much of Colin for the next two days. He was busy with the café, and she was knee deep in designer fashion from the eighties onwards. They both fell into bed and went instantly to sleep, him smelling of plaster, and paint, and her of Poison and Diamond perfumes.

The deadline for opening the house to the public was approaching, so finishing details on both the house and the café had taken on a new urgency. Apparently, having somewhere to get a cup of tea and a piece of cake was considered just as important as the state of the house.

The plumbing and lighting in the new café were finished, the holes filled in, and the floors leveled and swept clean. Ted moved onto the work within the house that was necessary for the public’s safety and the sound of hammers and drills echoed through the hallways. Mabel hardly noticed as she worked her way through the countess’s vast wardrobe.

On the third day of the project, she sent photos to Dale of the neon pink, and orange, party dresses she’d found, and received a text back immediately.

DO NOT THROW ANY OF THOSE AWAY!! THEY’RE DESIGNER! HIGHLY RESELLABLE! I’M GOING TO PUT YOU IN TOUCH WITH A COLLEAGUE OF MINE WHO CAN HELP.

Five minutes later, a new contact appeared on Mabel’s screen. Mabel accepted the request and was introduced to Josie, who apparently worked at Sotheby’s auction house in London.

Hi Mabel, looks like you’ve stumbled upon a treasure trove. I’d be happy to help value your items for potential resale?

Mabel considered the huge pile of floofy marshmallow-type dresses.

Thanks Josie. I’ll have to get the family’s consent to do that, but I think they’d be delighted to make a few bucks. I’ll get back to you asap.

She was just about to leave the closet when Josie texted her again.

Wait. Is that a pile of orange Hermès boxes behind the dresses in the picture?

Yes, there are about two hundred of them,

Mabel texted back.

Wow…