T Kinsey - Death Around the Bend (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 3)

She laughed. ‘Not at all, my dear. We’d all take the chance if it was offered, wouldn’t we? So long as you’re comfy, we don’t mind at all. ’S not like you won’t be pullin’ your weight while you’re here, is it? Might be a nice little holiday for your mistress, but your work won’t stop, will it, eh?’

‘You’re very kind. And speaking of my work, I don’t suppose there’s any water on the boil for a pot of tea? I’d like to take a tray up to Lady Hardcastle, if I can.’

‘Of course, my dear,’ she said, bustling back to work. ‘I’ll get the girl to put it all together for you. Would your mistress like some toast? I bet she’d like a round of toast. I’ll get Patience to put a round of buttered toast on the tray for you. And how about you? You must be ready for somethin’. Just you help yourself at the table in the hall, and Patience will bring the tray out when she’s done.’

I sat at the table in the hall and helped myself, as instructed, to eggs, bacon, and toast. I was going to ask about the delicious tomato sauce I’d just tried when a woman of about forty, dressed in black, swept into the room. The housemaid I’d been going to interrogate suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere and all but evaporated from the table. The woman sat down.

‘Good morning,’ she said, in an incongruously plummy voice. ‘You must be Miss Armstrong. I’m Muriel McLelland, Lord Riddlethorpe’s housekeeper.’

‘How do you do?’ I said. ‘Florence Armstrong. People call me Flo.’

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ she said, and sat at the table next to me.

By any objective standard, she was extremely attractive, with a fine-featured face topped with honey-blonde hair and set with eyes of such a dark shade of blue that they might have appeared black in some lights. It was obvious, too, that in a more flattering dress than that typically worn by a housekeeper, she would have a striking figure to match the beauty of her face. Her only adornment was a delicate brooch set with tiny pearls.

‘It seems you have a hectic few days ahead,’ I said. ‘What with hosting a party this evening as well as houseguests for the week.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing we can’t deal with,’ she replied, helping herself to eggs and bacon from the recently replenished platter. ‘I’d much sooner be busy than idle. Don’t you agree?’

‘Actually, I do. And speaking of which, there’s Patience with Lady Hardcastle’s tray. I’d best be off, if you’ll excuse me.’

‘Of course,’ she said as I stood. ‘If you fancy some company later, I take my break at around eleven. We could have a cup of coffee, perhaps?’

‘If I can get away, I should like that very much. I can’t promise, though – Lady Hardcastle might have other ideas.’

‘I quite understand. I take coffee in my room – just ask one of the juniors, they’ll point you in the right direction.’

I smiled my thanks, and took the tray from an already weary-looking Patience.

‘Good morning, my lady,’ I said as I set down the tray on the writing desk and drew the curtains.

A croaky mumble issued forth from beneath the covers.

‘I brought you some tea and toast,’ I said breezily. ‘They were just starting to take the breakfast things up to the dining room when I left the kitchen.’

There was another forlorn, slightly self-pitying groan, muffled by layers of sheet and blanket.

‘Did we overdo it a little at dinner, my lady?’ I said with a grin.

As she struggled out from her linen cave and sat up, I saw that she had, indeed, overdone things a little.

‘It’s my stupid brother’s fault,’ she croaked.

‘Of course it is, my lady,’ I said as I poured a cup of tea. ‘A big boy did it and ran away. That’s always the excuse I used.’

She harrumphed, but smiled gratefully as she clutched the saucer and lifted the cup for her first reviving sip. ‘You’ve had dinner with Harry,’ she insisted. ‘You know what he’s like. “Have another glass,” he says. “Come on, sis, don’t let a chap drink alone.” And then, “I say, Fishy, this port’s excellent. Isn’t it excellent, Em? Here, let me pour you another.” And then, “If there’s one thing I’ve always loved about staying with you, Fishy, it’s your excellent cognac. Where do you get it? Em loves a drop of brandy, don’t you. Shall I top you up?” By the time I stumbled up here, the three of us had demolished half poor Fishy’s cellar.’

‘Politely declining never crossed your mind?’

‘I should bally well say not,’ she said, slowly recovering herself. ‘If there’s one thing Fishy’s famous for, it’s his cellar. It would be an absolute crime to pass up the chance to sample it.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m pleased you enjoyed yourself, my lady.’

‘I really rather did,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to see Harry again, and Fishy turns out to be really rather splendid company.’

‘Good-o,’ I said. ‘So the party this evening should be fun.’

She took a tentative bite of the toast. ‘I think it might be,’ she said. At least, I think she did. She said it with a mouthful of buttered toast, so she might have said ‘I stink of night fleas’, for all I know, but my interpretation made slightly more sense. She swallowed her mouthful. ‘You were quite the topic of conversation, you know.’

‘Me, my lady?’ I said with some consternation. ‘Why?’

‘Talk mainly revolved around two subjects: motor cars and the competitive racing thereof, and the heroic exploits of one Florence Armstrong.’

I goggled.

‘No, really,’ she said. ‘I’d have thought Harry would be a bit blasé about it all by now – he’s known about mine and Roddy’s exploits for donkey’s years – you know how Foreign Office types like to gossip – but apparently, they are as nothing compared with a few punch-ups and some knife-throwing antics from a diminutive Welsh maid. His tales of your derring-do made quite an impression on Fishy, and he’s determined to make your acquaintance.’

Lady Hardcastle’s husband, Sir Roderick, had been in the diplomatic corps in the eighties and nineties, which meant that his wife was in a perfect position to indulge in a little discreet espionage on behalf of Her Britannic Majesty’s government. She had been recruited before she had left Girton College, and her reputation in the upper echelons of the Foreign Office was well established by the time she employed me as her maid and eventually drew me into her world of snooping and skulduggery. In her position, I’d be a bit miffed at having my own contribution to national security downplayed in favour of a Johnny Newcome like me.

‘I’ve not said anything to him, I promise,’ I said. ‘I really am most dreadfully sorry.’

To my immense relief, she laughed. ‘You goose,’ she said. ‘I told him. I’m just delighted that someone else realizes what a tiny marvel you are.’

‘Phew,’ I said.

‘You really are a ninny sometimes.’

‘I just don’t like people thinking I’m getting above myself, that’s all,’ I said defensively.

‘No one thinks that,’ she said. ‘But expect to be cornered by his lordship at some point, and grilled at length.’

‘I shan’t crack, my lady. You can rely on me.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘But why not bask in the attention and glory for a while? You deserve a bit of recognition before you return to your life of drudgery.’

‘And hardship, my lady.’

‘Quite so. Just let Fishy chat to his new heroine and you can return to feeling like you’re a member of the downtrodden masses.’