“There’s nothing goin’ where I’m at now, but there
might be a position soon.” She frowned slightly. “But you
must have references. Do you?”
“We’ve both got references,” he said quickly. “Please,
miss, let me buy you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all
about the place.”
She hesitated, and he quickly added. “Please, miss, this is
very important. We need jobs.”
“It’s not that,” she replied with a smile. “It’s just that it
don’t seem right for you to spend what little money you
have on buyin’ me a cup of tea. I’ve got some coins, I’ll only
go in if you let me pay for it.”
Now he really felt like a worm. But he could think of no
good reason to argue with her. If he insisted on doing the
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gentlemanly thing and not letting her pay, she might suspect he was lying. “All right, miss, but if we get a position, you must promise to let me pay you back out of my first
quarter’s wages.”
She laughed and took his arm. “You can make sure I will.
My name is Alicia, what’s yours?”
“Jon,” he lied. “My name is Jon Upton, and my sister’s
name is Betsy.” He pulled open the door and the two of
them stepped inside the small café.
“What did you do to your hand?” he asked, jerking his
chin toward the bandage.
“I got scratched by a cat. It’s a dreadful old beast of a
thing, too. But when the master died, no one thought to
feed the animal. Well, even if it’s a nasty creature, you still
don’t want to see it starve to death, do you?”
“It scratched you when you were feeding it?” he asked.
Cor blimey, he thought, she really is a nice girl.
“No, it scratched me afterward, I got too close to its food
dish,” she laughed. “As I said, the household where I work
is a bit strange.”
They went to the counter, and Alicia ordered two cups of
tea. Wiggins felt miserable when she drew a tattered blue
coin purse out of her pocket and handed the counter boy a
sixpence. He vowed he’d find a way to get the money back
to her. It was only a few pence, but to someone in her position, that was a lot. She was so poor she wasn’t even wearing gloves, yet she was willing to pay for his tea. He decided
he’d not only pay her back, but he’d secretly send her a new
coin purse. He had plenty of money himself. He didn’t understand it, but every time he went to the old Cadbury’s tin where he kept his supply of coins, there seemed to be more
than he remembered. He’d mentioned it to Mrs. Jeffries,
but she simply shrugged and said he must have forgotten
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Emily Brightwell
how much he’d put in the tin in the first place. But he
didn’t, he was sure of it. It was almost as if someone was filling the ruddy thing for him. Not that he was complaining, but it was a mystery.
The counter boy handed them their cups, and they made
their way to a table by the window. Wiggins had a good
view of the train station.
“Thanks, very much,” he said as they sat down. “What
did you mean when you said there might be some positions
soon?”
She took a quick sip and then grinned at him. “You don’t
scare easy, do you?”
“I don’t think so.” He contrived to look puzzled, though
he was fairly sure he knew what she was going to say.
“Why? Is there a ghost walkin’ the back stairs?”
She looked amused. “Not yet.”
That did surprise him. “What?”
“I mean, I don’t know if he’ll be comin’ back to haunt the
place or not. In any case, if he did, it wouldn’t be the back
stairs he’d be haunting, it’d be the little pond out in the
back garden. That’s where he was murdered.”
“Murdered!” Wiggins yelped. “You mean you’ve had a
murder where you work?”
She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, someone coshed the master
on the head and then stuck him in the fountain. That’s why
we’re goin’ to have some positions available. The upstairs
maid has already given notice, and I’m fairly sure the gardener is goin’ to leave. Mind you, they’ll probably not hire anyone for his position. The master was goin’ to sell the conservatory, so Mr. Clark will probably take on doin’ the grounds.”
Wiggins wasn’t sure which bit to inquire about first.
“Goodness, sounds like there’s dozens of things happening
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
107
all at once.” He took a drink of his tea to give himself a moment to think. He wanted to get her to slow down. She was giving him a lot of information, and he’d no idea if it was or
wasn’t important. They’d all learned that lesson in their
other investigations.
“How come the upstairs maid is leavin’?” Wiggins asked.
He decided to ask the questions in the same order as she’d
spoke. “Is she afraid?”
“Not really, it’s just that now that the master’s gone we
don’t know which of the daughters will be running the
house, and Maisie is afraid it’ll be Miss Nina. She’s even
stingier than the old master was. Besides, Maisie’s fellow is
comin’ home from Canada, and they’ll probably be getting
married soon. She’s goin’ back home to Earl Shilton to
spend time with her family before he takes her off to
Canada.”
“That’s good, I mean, it’d be strange to work someplace
where people was scared of bein’ murdered in their beds,” he
replied.
“No one’s really scared,” she added. “We’re pretty sure
whoever did it was out the get the master, not one of us.”
“Then ‘ow come the gardener’s leavin’?” he asked, delighted with the way her comments were leading right into his questions.
She shrugged. “He’s not a proper gardener at all.”
“ ‘E’s not a gardener?”
“Maisie said she overheard Mrs. Merryhill talkin’ to the
master when Grantham, that’s the gardener’s name, first
come there,” she explained. “Mrs. Merryhill told the master
that having someone like Grantham on the property was
askin’ for trouble.”
“ ‘Ow could ‘e be trouble?” Wiggins muttered. “Even if
‘e weren’t a proper gardener, maybe ‘e’s just a workin’ man.
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Emily Brightwell
That’s what I am. There’s plenty
