her head out, and then stepped into the hall. He followed
her out.
“Thanks for keeping your promise,” she said as he
stepped out into the garden. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Don’t be angry at the others,” he replied. “They just
didn’t want to do anything that would hurt your health,
that’s why the didn’t tell ya.”
“Humph,” she sniffed disapprovingly and then flashed
him a quick grin. “Don’t fret, lad. I know that. Here,” she
pulled a large brass key out of her pocket and handed it to
him. “Unlock the gate at the corner. It’ll save you having to
climb over it.”
Everyone arrived at Upper Edmonton Gardens in time for
their afternoon meeting. Mrs. Goodge put a plate of brown
bread next to the butter pot on the table as Mrs. Jeffries
poured out the tea.
“Who would like to go first?” the housekeeper asked as
she began handing round the mugs.
“I hope the rest of you have done better than me,” Betsy
said glumly. “I’ve talked to every shopkeeper in Richmond,
and the only thing I heard was the butcher complaining
that Braxton accused him of shorting him on their meat order last week. Honestly, the way the man went on about a few missing chicken livers, you’d have thought he’d been
accused of high treason.”
“Anyone can make a mistake, maybe the butcher forgot
to include them in the order. That happened to us just last
week, they left out a rasher of bacon,” Mrs. Goodge said.
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
117
“Mind you, they sent it round straight away when they realized it’d not been sent.”
Betsy shook her head. “He claims it’s just the household
trying to avoid paying the full amount. He says it’s happened before.”
“That sounds about right,” Smythe said. “I didn’t ‘ear
much, but I did ‘ear more than one tradesman say that getting money out of that lot was like pullin’ wax out of a pig’s ear.”
“The family does seem rather miserly,” Mrs. Jeffries
murmured.
“But you’ll have to admit, they’ve managed to hang onto
their money,” Mrs. Goodge added.
“I think they’re mean,” Wiggins said. “Wait till I tell
you what I found out.”
“Why don’t we let Betsy finish first?” Mrs. Jeffries suggested.
Betsy gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I really didn’t hear
much of anything else. The best part of my day was listening to the butcher complain. No one else seemed to know anything except what we already know, that all the Braxtons
are miserly, mean-spirited and not well liked. But not to
worry, I’ll be out and about again tomorrow.”
“Can I go now?” Wiggins asked. Mrs. Jeffries nodded, so
he plunged straight ahead. “Well, like I was sayin’, aristocrats or not, they are a mean bunch. They’re not even feedin’
Sir George’s cat.” He told them about his meeting with Alicia. He took care not to leave out any details, including her bandaged hand and the information she’d shared with him
about the Braxton gardener.
“Are you certain of this?” Hatchet asked softly.
“She’s got no reason to lie,” he replied. “Mind you, she
118
Emily Brightwell
was just repeatin’ gossip, but from what we’ve ‘eard of Sir
George Braxton, it don’t seem wrong.”
“Did she have any idea what Grantham had done to Sir
George?” Mrs. Jeffries pressed.
“Alicia didn’t know for certain,” Wiggins said eagerly.
“But she thinks he must have been caught thievin’ by the
old gent. Only instead of calling the police, Sir George
made him work for nothin’ and live out in the garden shed.”
“Why does she think it was thieving?” Betsy took a sip
of her tea.
“I asked her that, and she said she didn’t rightly know
why she had that idea, it’s just that she had it. Maybe she
‘eard somethin’ and she don’t remember exactly what she
‘eard, but it was enough to leave an idea in her mind, if you
know what I mean.”
Mrs. Jeffries nodded knowingly. “That seems very likely.
We often find we know things without recalling precisely
how or when we obtained the information.”
“Did Alicia know anything else?” Hatchet asked.
“Only the usual bits and pieces we’ve already ‘eard,” he
replied. “You know, just what Betsy said she’d ‘eard, them
bein’ a miserly, mean-spirited lot. But I’m sure there’s more
to find out, and tomorrow I’ll see if I can find out for sure
what it was that Grantham did.”
“Yes, that seems very appropriate,” Mrs. Jeffries muttered.
“So that means at least one of the servants ‘ad a good reason to want Sir George dead,” Smythe mused.
“Maybe more than one,” Mrs. Goodge said. “Not that
I’ve heard anything specific, but my source told me that the
housekeeper had a long history with the family, and that
there’d been some gossip a number of years back about her
relationship with Sir George.” She was annoyed with Hilda,
who’d dropped that tidbit just as she was getting into a
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
119
hansom cab this afternoon. Naturally, there hadn’t been
time to get any decent details out of the woman. But now
that Mrs. Goodge had the scent, so to speak, she’d be able to
follow the trail.
“What kind of relationship?” Wiggins asked curiously.
“I’m not sure,” the cook replied. “But I suspect it’s of a
nature that isn’t fit for some ears, if you get my meaning.”
“You mean the old blighter had his way with the poor
woman,” Betsy muttered. “That’s a sad but common enough
old story.”
“I’ll find out more details about it later,” Mrs. Goodge
promised. “I’ve a couple of good sources I can tap. But this
isn’t all I found out today.” She told them the remainder of
the gossip she’s gotten from Hilda that afternoon. “I wasn’t
able to find out anything about Fiona Burleigh or Raleigh
Brent, my friend hadn’t heard of either of them, but I’ll
keep at it, I’ve a number of people coming in tomorrow.
Someone’s bound to know something about them.”
“You’ve all found out rather more than I have.” Hatchet
sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, most of my sources were unavailable in the short time I had to be out today. But never fear, I’ve a number of people to see tomorrow.”
“Does Luty ‘ave any idea of what you’re up to?” Wiggins
asked. He crossed his fingers under the table, asking the
question almost seemed like lying.
“I don’t think so,” Hatchet replied slowly. “She was taking a nap when I left today. But I’ve got
