custard, and I must have the cream to put in it,
“All right, you don’t have to get all hoity-toity with me.” Mrs. Chubb shoved past him and walked back to the large wooden table in the center of the room. “Next time, load the sausages before you look for the cream. I don’t have time to do your job as well as mine.”
Michel’s face turned red, a sure sign he was about to indulge in his favorite pastime-rattling saucepans and lids just to establish his superiority to everyone within earshot. It was a completely wasted effort, since the staff was used to the noise and did their best to ignore him.
Mrs. Chubb winced as the first saucepan lid crashed to the floor. One of these days, she thought darkly, she’d bash one of Michel’s saucepans right over his head. It was bad enough putting up with his fake French accent, which disappeared whenever he’d downed enough brandy to kill a cow-but his temper tantrums gave her a headache with all that crashing and banging.
She picked up her rolling pin, prepared to do some banging of her own, but just then the door swung open. Mrs. Chubb looked up, and dropped the rolling pin when she saw Mrs. Baxter walk in. Madam never visited the kitchen during mealtimes. She knew better than to disturb the staff during their busiest part of the day.
The housekeeper stared at her manager in dismay. Something had to be up for madam to come in during breakfast. Even Michel stopped banging the saucepans about, and the maids all stopped talking and stood huddled in the corner, apprehension written all over their faces.
Mrs. Chubb wiped her hands on her apron and waited.
Madam glanced around the kitchen, and her face looked pinched and white when she said, “I don’t see Gertie. Is she upstairs?”
“Yes, m’m.” Mrs. Chubb squared her shoulders. “What’s she gone and done now, then?”
Madam blinked, as if she didn’t understand the question. “Done? Oh, she hasn’t done anything.” She paused, and an odd expression crossed her face. Her voice sounded strange when she added, “Nothing that I’m aware of, at least. I do need to talk to her, however. Right away, in my office, if you please, Mrs. Chubb.”
“Yes, m’m. Certainly, m’m.” Her chest heavy with dread, the housekeeper beckoned to one of the maids. “Go and find Gertie. Tell her madam wants to see her in her office right away. After that, stay and help Pansy and Mabel until Gertie gets back.”
Looking frightened, the maid dropped a nervous curtsey then fled out the door.
Madam passed a hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Chubb. I know this is the worst possible time to drag your chief housemaid away, but it’s imperative that I speak with her before-” She cut off her words abruptly and turned for the door. “I’ll be as quick as possible,” she called over her shoulder, then she was gone, the door silently swinging behind her.
Mrs. Chubb felt for the back of a chair and plopped down on it.
Michel whistled between his teeth. “What ze devil was all that about?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Chubb said slowly. “But I have a nasty feeling that whatever it is, Gertie is not going to like it.”
CHAPTER 2
Standing in the entrance to the doorway, Gertie McBride dug her fists into her hips and, in a hoarse whisper, told the maid cowering in front of her, “I don’t have bleeding time to go to madam’s office now! Is she off her blinking rocker? I’ve got to get breakfast on the tables.” Turning away, she grabbed a tray from the maid at the waiter.
“Madam said to tell you that it was important and to come right away.”
Gertie paused. It wasn’t like the frumpy little thing in front of her to stand her ground unless she was sure of herself. “So what does she want?”
“She didn’t say.” Looking close to tears, the maid raised her chin. “Mrs. Chubb said for me to help Pansy and Mabel until you get back.”
Gertie glanced into the dining room and caught sight of Pansy, her second-in-command. The skinny young girl was heading toward her, balancing a pile of dirty dishes on each arm.
There was no time to dither about. It had to be important for Mrs. Chubb to send this little twerp to help them. Making up her mind, Gertie thrust the pan of sausages at the maid. “Here, take these in there and put them on the sideboard next to the eggs and bacon. And don’t bleeding drop nothing neither, or you’ll have to go back to the kitchen to get more.”
“Yes, Mrs. McBride.” The maid started to curtsey, thought better of it, grabbed hold of the tray, and scuttled into the dining room.
Pansy gave her a startled look as she scurried by, then lifted an eyebrow when she reached the door. “What’s going on, then? Why is she serving?”
Gertie shrugged. “Dunno. Mrs. Chubb sent her up. I’ve got to go to madam’s office. Just try and manage with her for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Pansy’s face filled with concerned curiosity, but she nodded and carried the dishes to the dumbwaiter, where a maid took them from her.
Gertie waited just long enough to see Pansy take the last of the platters from the waiter. Satisfied, she turned and rushed down the hallway, frantically trying to recall whatever it was she’d done to earn a summons to the office.
Cecily looked up as the tap on the door disturbed her thoughts. Bracing herself for what she knew would be a difficult and emotional ordeal, she called out, “Come in!”
Gertie peered around the door, her face creased with worry. “It’s me, m’m. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, yes.” Cecily beckoned her with an impatient hand. “Come in and take a seat.”
Gertie slunk across the floor to a chair and plopped down on it. “Mrs. Chubb says it’s important.”
Cecily folded her hands on the desk and tried to collect her thoughts.
Leaning forward, Gertie blurted out, “I didn’t do nothing wrong, did I, m’m? I haven’t broken nothing, at least not in the last month or two, and I’ve tried to get the meals out on the tables on time. Course, it’s bloody hard with a new maid what don’t know her flipping right hand from her left and all, but I do try-”
“Gertie!”
Cecily had raised her voice to halt the torrent of words, and Gertie sat up as if she’d been stung. “Yes, m’m. Sorry, m’m. I’ll shut up now.”
Cecily drew a deep breath. “Gertie, I’m afraid I have some disturbing news.”
The housemaid stared at her, her dark eyes widening in alarm. “Not me twins is it, m’m? They was all right when I left them this morning. Daisy’s supposed to be taking care of them and she’s a really good nanny, but sometimes-”
“Gertie! It’s not the twins.”
Gertie’s shoulders sagged. “All right, then. You’d better tell me what it is and get it over with.” She cleared her throat. “If you please, m’m.”
“It’s about Ian Rossiter.”
The alarm leapt into Gertie’s eyes again. “Ian? What’s he been up to now? I hope he’s not hanging around my twins again. I’ll cut off his bleeding head if he…” She must have seen something in Cecily’s face as her words trailed off, and she waited in uneasy silence.
“I’m afraid he’s dead, Gertie,” Cecily said, as gently as possible.
The housemaid slumped back, and her face was a mixture of emotions-shock, relief, and something Cecily hadn’t expected to see. A distinct expression of guilt that was quickly extinguished.
“Bloody hell,” Gertie muttered. “What happened to him, then?”
“We think he had been drinking, perhaps a little too much, and fell into the duck pond. He must have hit his head and drowned.”
Gertie digested this news, then nodded. “I see. Well, like they say, everything comes to he what waits. I always knew he would come to a bad end one day. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I can’t say it’s going to ruin my
