Mistletoe and Mayhem (8 page)

Catching sight of a black smear on his coat, she frowned. “You must ask Mrs. Chubb to remove that stain, Samuel. It looks most unsightly.”

Samuel rubbed a hand across his chest, smearing the smudge even more. “Sorry, m’m. I didn’t notice it until I was sitting waiting for you in the carriage. Didn’t have time to change it, did I. I’d been cleaning out one of the motorcars. It was covered in dirt and I must have rubbed my hand across me like this.”

He dragged his fingers across his chest again and Cecily uttered a cry of protest. “You’re just making things worse, Samuel. Do try not to touch it again until you can give it to Mrs. Chubb to clean.”

“Yes, m’m. Sorry, m’m.” Looking contrite, Samuel helped her to the ground. “If you’ve got a minute, m’m, I’d like to ask you something.”

Impatient to talk to Ellie’s mother, Cecily gave him a quick nod. “Very well, but do hurry. I’m catching cold standing out here.”

“Yes, m’m.” Samuel pulled off his cap and started rolling it up in his hands. “Well, it’s like this. I found this stray dog. It’s been lurking around the stables, looking for food, I reckon.”

“Oh, Samuel.” Cecily shook her head. “I do hope you didn’t feed it. We’ll never be rid of it if you did.”

Samuel looked down at his feet. “Well, yes, m’m, I did.” He looked up again, his eyes wide and pleading. “She’s a really good dog, m’m. Doesn’t cause no trouble, comes when I call, and she’s caught three rats since she’s been around. I thought, since we’ve had trouble with rats in the past, that I might keep her around, m’m, just to help out, like. If that’s all right with you?”

Cecily puffed out her breath. In her opinion, horses and motorcars didn’t mix well with dogs, and she would never allow one inside the Pennyfoot. Samuel, however, was not only a trusted employee, he was just as much a part of her family as the rest of her staff. Those beseeching eyes were simply too hard to ignore.

“Very well.” She held up her hand as Samuel gushed his thanks. “Just remember, you are responsible for the animal. One hint of trouble with her and out she goes.”

“Yes, m’m. There won’t be no trouble, I swear. I’ll take really good care of her. Just wait until you meet her, m’m. She’s really lovable and cuddly. You’ll love her to death, I know.”

Cecily hid a smile. It was unusual for Samuel to be so forthcoming. He was a somewhat serious young man, always sticking strictly to protocol. Whenever she wanted to know what he was thinking it took considerable effort on her part to drag it out of him.

To see him so enthused and excited gladdened her heart, and she looked forward to meeting the creature that had inspired her stable manager to such eager anticipation. “Well now,” she said briskly, “I must talk to Mrs. Tidwell. You are welcome to come inside with me, if you like.”

He donned his cap and touched his forehead. “Thank you, m’m, but I’d prefer to wait out here if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course. Whatever you wish.” She left him then, and walked up the narrow gravel path to the porch. Empty plant pots sat on either side, waiting for the spring so they could be filled again with gorgeous blossoms. Cecily looked forward to that time. How she disliked the winter, with its dreary skies and chilly winds.

She disliked even more having to face the mother of a missing child. She could only hope that Mrs. Tidwell would be able to tell her something that would help find Ellie. Lifting her hand, she rapped on the door.

The door opened moments later, emitting the heavenly fragrance of freshly baked bread. Having eaten hours earlier, Cecily hungered for a thick slice of buttered toast.

The woman who stood framed in the doorway wore an anxious frown. A white cap was perched on her graying curls, and wrapped around her waist was a threadbare apron covered in flour. Her fingers were covered in the white stuff as she lifted a hand to her face, leaving a powdery streak across her cheek.

“Mrs. Baxter! How good of you to call! Is it Ellie? Have you found my daughter?”

Cecily thrust out her hand to lay it on the woman’s slender arm. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tidwell. Actually, I was hoping you’d have word of her for me.”

The woman’s face crumpled. “I wish I did, m’m. I can’t think where she’d be.” As if remembering her manners, she drew back. “Please, do come in.”

“Well, just for a moment.” Cecily stepped inside the cozy cottage, where the aroma of the baking bread was even more enticing.

Mrs. Tidwell motioned her to a seat on the chintz-covered sofa. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Cecily was about to politely refuse when the other woman added, “Perhaps a slice of bread and jam? I’ve just baked a loaf of bread. I always bake when I’m worried. Gives me something else to think about, it does.”

Cecily almost smacked her lips. “Well, if you insist. That sounds wonderful.” She took a moment to look around as Ellie’s mother hurried off to the kitchen.

It was a pleasant room, small but comfortable, with bright flowered curtains at the windows and a soft green carpet under her feet. An oil lamp had been lit to ward off the early winter dusk, and hot coals glowed a dark red in the fireplace.

In one corner shelves had been crammed with books, and unable to resist, Cecily got up to scan the titles. She was still studying them when Mrs. Tidwell returned with a loaded tray.

“I see you enjoy reading,” Cecily commented, as she returned to her seat. “I notice you have the latest book by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Yes,
The Return of Sherlock Holmes
. I do so love his books.” She put the tray down on a table beside Cecily and began pouring the tea. “My favorite, of course, is
The Hound of the Baskervilles
. I read every episode in the
Strand
.”

“As did I.” Cecily took the cup and saucer from her. “I’ve read everything that man has written. He is my favorite author. Such a talent.”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Tidwell offered her a plate with two slices of buttered bread smothered in thick strawberry jam.

Cecily hastily put down her tea and took the plate. “This looks delicious. Thank you.”

Nodding, Ellie’s mother sank on a chair across the room. “Mrs. Baxter, do you have any idea at all as to what might have happened to my daughter?”

Cecily paused, the delectable treat halfway to her mouth. “I wish I did. I’m afraid no one has seen Ellie since she left the Pennyfoot last night.” She took a dainty bite, feeling guilty for enjoying the morsel. “Does she perhaps have friends she might be visiting?”

“None that I know of.” Mrs. Tidwell rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “Ellie has changed, though, since she went to work in London. I never thought she’d go. She wasn’t the sort of girl who would act on impulse, but after the problem she had with Mr. Docker, she seemed almost desperate to leave Badgers End.”

Cecily swallowed her mouthful of bread a little too fast. Coughing, she sought her handkerchief tucked in her sleeve and drew it out to blow her nose. “Please excuse me,” she muttered, a little hoarsely, “but you did say Mr. Docker, didn’t you? Is that, by any chance, Mick Docker, the roofer?”

Mrs. Tidwell nodded. “The big Irishman. He was sweet on my Ellie. She met him two years ago, and he kept pestering her to go out with him, but she kept putting him off. He’d been married before, you see. Lost his wife when she caught a cold and it went into pneumonia. Ellie said as how she didn’t wanted secondhand goods. Besides, he was much too old for her.”

Still trying to clear her throat, Cecily nodded.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Tidwell continued, “she finally got up the courage to tell him how she felt. Well, he must have flown into a rage or something. She wouldn’t talk about it but I could tell she was worried about it. Right after that she told me she’d got a job as scullery maid at Rosewood Manor in London.”

“I see.” Cecily put down her plate. “Has she had any dealings with Mr. Docker since she’s been back?”

“I really couldn’t say. Our Ellie doesn’t tell me much these days. I do know she wasn’t happy in the city. She was only there a few months before she came back. I think that serial killer really frightened her. It was in the same district where she lived that they found the bodies of those poor young girls.” Mrs. Tidwell shook her head. “I know she was troubled about something, but she won’t talk to me about it. Got really secretive, she has.”

“I understand your son is searching for her.”

“Yes, he is. He’s got some of his friends helping him and all, so I’m hoping they find her soon. It’s not like her to stay out all night without telling me where she is.”

She paused, as if remembering something. “Though, I have to say, she did it once before. Last summer, it was. Worried me sick. I thought something terrible had happened to her, but she turned up the next morning right as rain. She said she spent the night on the beach. Told me she didn’t feel like coming home. I could tell something had upset her then, but she wouldn’t say what it was.”

Cecily finished the last piece of her bread and jam, then reached for her tea. “It’s a little cold to be staying out on the beach this time of year.”

“Yes, I know. I’m hoping she found somewhere warm to stay, though why she feels she can’t come home and tell me about things, I really don’t know.”

Having drained her cup, Cecily rose. “Well, these young girls are hard to understand sometimes. I do hope you find Ellie soon. Please tell her that we miss her at the Pennyfoot, and look forward to her return.”

“I will do that, Mrs. Baxter. Thank you.” Mrs. Tidwell got to her feet, her face lined with worry.

Having said her good-byes, Cecily headed down the path to where Samuel waited in the carriage. She still felt guilty for enjoying the woman’s hospitality when she was so obviously worried about her daughter.

Riding back along the Esplanade, however, Cecily managed to convince herself that the visit had relieved her mind to a degree. According to her mother, it wasn’t the first time Ellie had stayed out all night, though the news had surprised Cecily. She hadn’t thought the timid maid would have that much gumption. Apparently she had misjudged her newest employee.

Nevertheless, the news had raised her hopes that Ellie had merely been vexed over something and had sought refuge elsewhere to soothe her injured feelings. If so, she could stop worrying about the maid and concentrate on finding out who had caused Charlie’s death.

She frowned, reminded of her conversation with Mick Docker earlier. She’d had no idea he was that well acquainted with Ellie. As far as she could remember, he had said nothing to indicate he knew of her disappearance. Nor if, indeed, he’d had any contact with her. Nevertheless, perhaps she should talk to him again.

The carriage jerked to a halt in front of the Pennyfoot’s front steps, and she did her best to dismiss the problem from her mind. Ellie would be found sooner or later, no doubt unrepentant for causing so much upheaval. In fact, if the young girl did return to work, Cecily intended to make it her business to have a word with the maid, and try to impress upon her the error of her ways.

Having arrived at that conclusion, she alighted from the carriage, thanked Samuel, and hurried up the steps to the front doors.

The moment she stepped into the foyer, she remembered her last words with Baxter. She glanced at the grandfather clock. Almost half past two. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to have a small meal with him, though she had little appetite after eating that delicious bread and jam at Ellie’s house.

In her haste to reach her suite, she failed to see Sir Walter Hayesbury until, just as she reached the foot of the stairs, he called out her name.

Reluctantly she paused, and turned to face him. “Sir Walter! I trust you are having a good day?”

“As well as can be expected, madam.” The gentleman before her looked grave, his classic features drawn into harsh lines. His mouth was pinched, as if he was in pain.

He must have been remarkably handsome in his youth, Cecily thought, as he peered down at her over his white silk cravat. Too much indulgence in food and spirits had now begun to rob him of his looks and possibly his health.

If he continued on that path, it would be only a matter of time before he would acquire a heavy paunch and sagging jowls. That would, indeed, be a shame. There was something distinctly charismatic about the man.

“I understand you have suffered a tragedy this morning,” he said, his voice low and apprehensive. “One of your staff has passed away?”

Inwardly cursing the loose tongue that had betrayed her rules, Cecily did her best to look composed. “We had an unfortunate accident, yes, involving one of our footmen. I can assure you, Sir Walter, that there will be no inconvenience to our guests, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would not discuss the matter in public.”

He nodded emphatically, then winced, passing a hand across his forehead. “Of course, madam. You can rely on me not to betray your confidence.”

“Thank you, Sir Walter. We would rather not depress our guests with such tragic news. Rest assured that we shall endeavor to carry on with the festivities as usual.”

“Oh, quite, quite, madam. I quite understand.” He appeared to make an effort to dismiss his concern. Tilting his head to one side, he smoothed his mustache with the tips of his fingers. “My wife tells me there is to be a ball tonight in the ballroom. Is that so?”

Relieved at the change of subject, Cecily brightened. “Yes, indeed. I do hope you and your wife will join us?”

“Oh, most certainly, madam.” He moved closer to her, bringing with him a faint minty fragrance of snuff. “May I be permitted to take this opportunity and extract a promise for a dance or two?”

Taken aback, Cecily momentarily lost her tongue. Before she could find it again, a familiar voice spoke from behind her, with some considerable force. “Do pardon my intrusion, sir, but my wife will be fully engaged this evening, taking care of her guests.”