occurrence. But there was something in Doll’s unhappiness which was more than ordinary. Gracie felt a need to understand it, not only for the sake of Doll, whom she liked, but because it might be important. Murder was not always as simple as people thought, especially if they were people who had not as much experience as Gracie had.
However, she was foiled in her intent by one of the laundry maids’ coming in to iron table linen for dinner that evening, and the conversation suddenly became about the senior groom, and what he had said to Maisie, and what Tillie had said about that, and why the bootboy had repeated it anyway.
* * *
At mid-morning Pitt changed clothes. Gracie polished his boots for him. Tellman was otherwise occupied, and anyway he did not really make a good enough job of it, the great useless article! Gracie would not have Pitt leave the hall less well-dressed than any other gentleman there. He took an overcoat and a very smart hat, borrowed from Mr. Radley, and was driven to the railway station to catch the ten forty-eight up to London. She knew it was not a journey he could possibly enjoy. He was going to see the assistant commissioner, who would likely be very upset that Mr. Greville had been murdered after all. She wished there were something comforting she could say to him, but anything she thought of only sounded empty or not her place to say.
And Miss Charlotte was not around to see him off, which she ought to have been. She was busy with that Miss Moynihan who had taken such a temper. If country house parties were usually like this, it was a wonder anybody would go to one.
She decided to throw out the old flowers in the dressing room vase. They were droopy, probably from the fire. She would fill in a little time by going to find the gardener and see if she might pick some fresh ones. Anything would do, even leaves, as long as they were green and crisp-looking.
She obtained permission to choose something, not more than a dozen, mind, from the cold greenhouse. It was just the occasion to put on the new overcoat Charlotte had bought for her. It was even the right size. She went upstairs and found it, and was making her way through the kitchen garden in the general direction indicated when she saw Finn Hennessey. She recognized him immediately, even though he had his back to her. He was watching a ginger-and-white cat walking along the top of the high garden wall towards the branches of the apple tree. From its low, silent tread, she thought it had seen a bird.
She straightened herself a little more, held her chin high, and almost unconsciously swayed her hips a trifle. She must attract his attention without seeming to wish to. She was not very good at playing games; she did not have sufficient practice. She had noticed how skilled the other ladies’ maids were. They could flirt so well it came to them like nature. But then they had nothing of real seriousness to do. They couldn’t solve a crime if the answer were under their noses. Lot of silly little creatures, sometimes, giggling at nothing.
She was level with Finn Hennessey. She would have to walk past him and say nothing. She ached inside with the frustration of it, but she would not let herself down by playing games any child could see through.
The cat leaped from the tree, an arc of some ten feet. Its claws scraped the bark, sliding another two feet, but it eventually held fast, and it scrambled onto the branch just as the bird flew away.
“Oh!” she gasped involuntarily, afraid it would fall.
Finn swung around. His face lit up with a smile.
“Hello, Gracie Phipps. Looking for herbs, are you?”
“No, Mr. Hennessey, I came for some flowers. The ones we got are lookin’ faded so I put ’em out. I don’ mind what I get, so long as it’s fresh. Sooner ’ave leaves than flowers what’s droopin’.”
“I’ll carry them for you,” he offered, moving over to walk beside her.
She laughed. “I’m only gettin’ a few. Gardener said I could ’ave a dozen out o’ the cold ’ouse. But you can carry ’em for me if you like.”
“I’d like,” he accepted, smiling back.
They walked side by side along the path, through the gate and the high box hedge, and on towards the cold greenhouses, the gray light reflecting on the glass panes irregularly as it caught them at different angles. The earth was dark and wet, well-manured and ready for planting in the spring. There were cobwebs gleaming in the clipped branches of the hedge, and a gardener’s boy was cutting the dead stalks of perennials and putting them into a barrow about twenty yards away. It was chilly, and she was glad not only of the smartness of the coat but of its warmth.
“Smells like winter coming,” Finn said with pleasure. “Wood fires, that’s something I love, bonfires with old leaves on, and blue smoke in the frosty air, crackle of twigs, breathe out and it hangs white in front of you.” He looked sideways at her, keeping step exactly. “How ’bout an early morning, when the sky’s all pale blue and the light’s as clear as the beginning o’ the world, red berries in the hedge, air so crisp it prickles in your nose, tangle of bare branches against the light, and time to walk as long as you like?”
“You ’ave some wonderful dreams,” she said hesitantly. She loved the way he spoke, not only the wild things he said but the soft lilt of his voice, foreign and full of music. But she did not begin to understand him.
“That’s the things we can have for nothing, Gracie, and if you fight hard enough, no one can take from you. But you have to fight, and you have to hand them on, to your children and your children’s children. That’s the way we survive. Never forget that. Knowing your dreams is knowing who you are.”
She said nothing, just walked beside him, happy that he was there.
They reached the greenhouse and he opened the door for her. It was surprisingly easy to behave like a lady when she was with him, to accept such courtesies.
“Thank you.” She went through and stopped in wonder at the rows of flowers all in pots on benches. The colors were vivid, like hundreds of silks. She did not know the names of them, except the chrysanthemums and the Michaelmas daisies and late asters. She let out a long sigh of pure pleasure.
“Do you want a dozen the same, or a dozen all different?” he asked, standing just behind her.
“I never seen anything like this,” she said softly. “Even flower sellers in the market in’t got this much.”
“They’ll all be over soon.”
“Yeah, but they in’t over now!”
