Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) (19 page)

Pansy brushed away a tear with the back of her hand. “He did?”

“’Course he bleeding did.” She dropped her arm. “He’s probably worrying himself sick that
you
might not be there.”

Pansy felt a smile tugging at her lips. “He needn’t worry about that.”

“Well, then, everything’s going to be all right, ain’t it. Your gown is hanging in your wardrobe, your shoes are underneath it, and your veil is in your dresser drawer. Mrs. Prestwick is going to bring your bouquet over, and we’ll be setting up for the wedding feast before we leave. It’s all going to be bleeding lovely, so stop bloody worrying about it and finish peeling those potatoes.”

“I can’t wait,” Lilly said, dropping the fork onto the loaded tray in front of her. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding and a lovely reception. You’re so lucky to have it here at the Pennyfoot. I had mine in me mum’s house and we had nowhere for the guests to sit down. We had to move all the chairs outside so’s we could get the food set up on tables, and everyone had to eat standing up.”

Gertie stared at her. “I didn’t know you was married.”

Watching Lilly, Pansy was shocked to see the look on the other girl’s face. Lilly looked as if she’d just stepped on a rat. Her hands shook, rattling the tray, and she put it down again. “I didn’t mean mine,” she mumbled. “I meant my sister’s wedding.” She picked up the tray again. “I’ve got to get these upstairs.” With that, she turned and fled out the door.

Gertie shook her head. “She’s a bloomin’ strange one, that one. I never know what to make of her.”

Pansy sighed. “Well, I just wish the wedding was all over and done with, and I didn’t have to worry about it again.”

“Don’t say that.” Gertie patted her shoulder. “It’s one of the biggest days in your life. Make up your mind you’re going to bloody enjoy it. Remember every moment of it. When things get you down in the future, you can look back on your wedding day and smile.”

Pansy looked at her in surprise. “Is that what you do? Remember both your wedding days?”

Gertie laughed. “Nah, I only remember the second one. Even though it wasn’t near as grand as the first. The first one is gorn out of my mind. It’s dead and buried, where it belongs.”

Pansy shuddered. “I just wish we didn’t have Jacob’s murder hanging over our heads. I don’t think I could ever go down that wine cellar again.”

“Well,” Gertie said cheerfully, “you won’t never have to now, will you. After today you won’t be working here no more.” Her face changed, and she grabbed hold of Pansy, her arms squeezing so hard Pansy could hardly breathe. “I’m going to miss you, luv.”

Once more tears spilled down Pansy’s cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, too, and Mrs. Chubb, and Michel, and everybody else.”

“Here, here! What is all this crying about, then?”

Michel’s voice made them both jump. Gertie cleared her throat and stepped away from the sink. “Mind your own bloody business,” she growled.

Michel stalked across the kitchen to the stove. “It eez my business when my potatoes are not ready to boil,
non
?”

Pansy gulped. “Sorry, Michel. I’ll have them ready in a minute.” She began frantically chipping at the potato with the peeler.

“Oh, lay off her, Michel.” Gertie gathered up a stack of dishes that were waiting to be shelved. “You’ll miss her when she’s gorn.”

“I shall indeed.”

Pansy stole an astonished peek at the chef. He was actually smiling at her.

“You will make a beautiful bride,
ma petite.
Your Samuel, he is the lucky man,
non
?”

“Thank you, Michel.” Pansy smiled back, while for once, Gertie had nothing to say.

• • •

Cecily opened the door of her suite to find Baxter on his knees, polishing his shoes. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded, shocked to see him engaged in such a mundane task. “Why didn’t you give them to a maid to shine?”

Baxter went on rubbing at the toe of his shoe with a bright yellow cloth. “I’m going to a wedding,” he announced. “This calls for special attention to detail. I’m not confident the maids will do the job.”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “Obviously you don’t have enough to occupy your mind. Perhaps I should set you to work on the year-end accounts.”

He looked up at her. “I wouldn’t dare meddle with your meticulous accounts, my dear. If you need my help, however, I’m always ready to oblige.” He climbed to his feet. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything from our resident detective?”

She frowned. “No, I haven’t. In fact, I haven’t set eyes on Mr. Clements since I last spoke to him yesterday. I’m beginning to get concerned about him.” She walked over to the fireplace and held out her hands to the dancing flames. “I’m worried something bad may have happened to him.”

Baxter muttered something under his breath. “Perhaps it’s time we notified the constabulary.”

“Mr. Clements made me promise not to call in the police. He said he was hired to do a job, and he wanted to finish it, in order to get paid. He insisted that he could take care of himself.”

“Well, it seems that he was overconfident in that respect.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I will take several footmen down with me to the wine cellar and try to find out what’s going on.”

“I can’t let you do that. What if the thieves are lying in wait? Besides, the tunnel isn’t safe. You said that yourself.”

As usual, whenever her husband attempted to forbid her to do something, it only made her all the more determined. She raised her chin. “There are only three members of the gang, and I shall make sure they are well outnumbered by our staff. Besides, I hardly expect the thieves to be sitting in the tunnel guarding their loot. Most likely they are enjoying a pint or two at the Fox and Hounds, waiting until tonight to move it. That’s if the paintings are there at all, which we won’t know unless we go down there to look.”

“Those men are ruthless. They have killed two men already. Maybe a third, since your private detective is missing. It only takes one man with a knife to kill another.”

“So what do you suggest? I break my promise to Mr. Clements? What if he’s simply waiting for the right time to make his move?”

“What if he’s been injured, or worse, by a gang of thieves, who are in the process of shipping some very valuable stolen paintings out of the country?”

“So you want me to send for the constable? With a wedding to be held in just a few hours? What if Mr. Evans was wrong about all this, and there are no paintings down there? All the disruption would have been for nothing. I’d at least like to make sure there are stolen goods down there before calling in the police.”

He stared at her for a long time. “Very well. But I want to go down there with you. I’ll meet you in the foyer in half an hour. That should give you enough time to round up a few footmen.”

“Thank you, darling.” She hurried from the room, afraid he might change his mind again.

Reaching the foyer, she saw Gertie at the top of the kitchen stairs and called out to her.

Gertie came at a half run, holding up one side of her skirt. “Yes, m’m?” she said, sounding anxious.

“I need you to find Charlie,” Cecily said, eyeing the grandfather clock ticking solemnly away in the corner. “Tell him to meet me right here in half an hour, and to bring five of the footmen with him.”

Gertie’s eyes widened. “Has something else bad happened?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just need them to help me look for something.” Sending up a silent prayer that Harry Clements was alive and well, Cecily headed down the hallway.

She spent the next half hour in the ballroom, supervising the preparations for the reception. When she returned to the foyer, she found the footmen standing around in a small group, muttering amongst themselves. No doubt wondering why she had gathered them together with such little notice.

Baxter hadn’t yet put in an appearance. After waiting another ten minutes, mindful of the time ticking away, Cecily reluctantly decided to go ahead without him. He must have been waylaid by something. He would no doubt follow them as soon as he was able. He would just have to forgive her for not waiting for him.

“I know you all have duties to take care of,” she said, calling the footmen to attention. “I’m hoping this won’t take long. I need you all to accompany me to the wine cellar.”

Charlie stepped forward, anxiety creasing his face. “It’s not another murder down there, is it, m’m?”

Cecily looked around, thankful to see there were no guests wandering around. “I sincerely hope not. Please keep your voice down, Charlie. We don’t want to upset the guests.”
Not until we have to, at least
,
she added inwardly.

“Sorry, m’m.” Charlie beckoned to the rest of the group. “Come on, then. Look sharp and follow Madam.”

Deciding the front door would be less conspicuous than all of them trailing across the kitchen, Cecily led the way out onto the main steps. A keen east wind whipped her skirt around her ankles, and she wished she’d stopped to pick up a warm shawl before venturing on this expedition.

Charlie must have noticed her shivering, as he swung off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thank you, Charlie. Most gallant of you.” She pulled it closed around her. “I hope we won’t be too long out here.”

“Yes, m’m.” His questioning look made her feel guilty. All the young men must be wondering why on earth she was taking them all down to the wine cellar in the middle of the day.

She was beginning to wonder herself if perhaps she was doing the wrong thing. Maybe she should have waited for Baxter after all. It was too late now to have doubts. They were at the door of the wine cellar.

She felt in her pocket for her key and fitted it in the lock. Her stomach seemed to drop like a stone when she realized the door was already unlocked. Slowly, she pushed the door open. One look at the wall confirmed her suspicions. The oil lamp was gone from its hook.

Somebody was down in the cellar.

CHAPTER
18

Trying to sound calmer than she felt, Cecily turned to Charlie. “I need you to go back to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Chubb for two oil lamps. Be as quick as you can.”

In spite of her best efforts, Charlie must have heard the tremor in her voice. His expression changed, as if he’d just woken up from a nightmare. “Right away, m’m.” He spun around and disappeared around the corner.

The rest of the footmen were staring at her, varying degrees of wariness on their faces. Deciding it would be wise to warn them, Cecily closed the door and leaned against it. “I have reason to suspect that one or maybe more intruders may be lurking about down in the wine cellar. Under the circumstances, it might be a good idea to arm yourselves. Go to the coal shed now and find something you can use as a weapon. There should be enough shovels, rakes, hammers, or whatever you can find there.”

All five lads stood staring at her, seemingly frozen to the spot.

“Be quick now,” she said, clapping her hands for emphasis. “We haven’t a moment to waste.”

One thing she did know, she thought, as the footmen scooted off in the direction of the coal shed. There was only one way out of that cellar and that would be past her and her six escorts. She could only hope that they all came out of this unscathed. If not, Baxter would never forgive her.

It seemed an eternity until the footmen returned, all carrying an assortment of garden tools. One young lad brandished a hammer in one hand and waved a saw in the other. He looked a little like the drawings she’d seen of medieval warriors in battle. Any other time she would have been amused at the thought. Right now all she could think about was how effective their weapons would be against a brutal killer carrying a knife.

Minutes later Charlie returned, an oil lamp swinging in each hand.

He wore an odd expression on his face, and Cecily frowned as she took one of the lamps from him. “Is something wrong?”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. Mrs. Chubb wanted to know why I needed the oil lamps. I told her it was to go down the wine cellar with you. She said she didn’t know why everybody was so anxious to go down the wine cellar. She gave the spare key out to someone else this morning.”

Cecily stiffened her back. “Did she say who?”

Charlie shook his head. “Michel came in just then. He was shouting about something and took her attention away. I thought it best not to wait around to find out, so I just left.” He looked around at the group of young men. “Why are they carrying shovels?”

“It’s just a precaution, Charlie.”

Alarm flashed across his face. “You think Jacob’s killer is down there?”

“I don’t know what or who is down there. I just don’t want to take a chance, that’s all.”

Charlie gulped. “I don’t have a weapon.”

“You have the lamp. It should put a decent dent in someone’s head if necessary.”

Charlie looked at the lamp as if he doubted its ability to do any real damage.

Wishing fervently that Charlie had taken the time to find out who had the other key, Cecily opened the door again. There wasn’t time to go back and question Mrs. Chubb now. They would find out soon enough who was down in the cellar. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the stairs. “All right, lads. Keep close together and keep a close watch on your surroundings. We don’t want to be taken by surprise. Charlie, you bring up the rear. Hold the lamp up high. We need as much light as we can get.”

Treading carefully down the creaking steps, she peered into the leaping shadows ahead. She thought she knew what Colonel Fortescue felt like going into battle. Who knew what lay ahead, waiting for them. Were they walking into a trap? Would they be able to defend themselves if all three thieves were armed and ready to kill?

Her thoughts made her legs tremble, and she forced her mind to think positively. Her footmen were tall, lusty lads and quite capable of taking care of themselves.

She reached the bottom of the steps and halted, bringing her troops to a stop. Ahead of her the aisles stretched into darkness. Whoever had taken the lamp had either turned it out or had gone beyond the wall. She hoped it was the latter. How she wished Baxter had accompanied her. How foolish she was not to wait for him.

“What’s wrong, m’m?”

Charlie’s voice, coming at her from behind, made her jump. The lamp swung in her hand, sending the shadows swaying back and forth. “Nothing,” she called back. “I was just getting my bearings.” Banishing her treacherous fears, she started to walk down the center aisle.

The shuffling of feet behind her echoed and bounced off the rows of dusty bottles. The damp, musty smell didn’t seem quite as strong as she remembered. The reason for that was apparent as she reached the end of the aisle and stepped out into the open space beyond.

Half the wall was missing.

Although she had anticipated as much, the sight of it sent a chill down her spine. Somewhere beyond that wall lay danger. She should return to the club right now and give the constabulary a ring. It was obvious now that someone was using the tunnel for illegal purposes. She could no longer deny the evidence.

“What happened to the wall?” Charlie said in her ear, once more taking the strength out of her knees.

“Stop doing that,” she said, then wished she hadn’t spoken so sharply when she saw his crestfallen look. For another second or two she considered going back, then curiosity and a certain amount of resentment took over.

How dare those criminals use her establishment to hide their nefarious deeds! They deserved to be horsewhipped. All she hoped was that they didn’t get away with the paintings before the constables could make their arrest.

“It looks as if someone broke his way through there,” she said, in answer to Charlie’s question.

“Why would he want to do that?” Charlie asked, while the rest of the footmen stood around staring at her, waiting for her answer.

Cecily took a deep breath. “I think that we may find the answer to that in the tunnel underneath.”

The footmen muttered back and forth, and once more alarm crossed Charlie’s face. “You think Jacob’s killer is down there?”

“I sincerely hope not, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” She was proud of her calm tone, considering her heart thudded so hard against her chest she was certain everyone in that cellar could hear it.

She took a step toward the wall, but Charlie halted her with a hand on her arm. “I’ll go first. Theodore and Jeremy can follow me. The rest of you fall in behind Madam.” He looked back at her. “You’ll be safer if you’re in the middle of us.”

Right then she could have hugged him. “Thank you, Charlie. Please be careful.”

“Yes, m’m. Don’t worry. I’ll watch it.” He looked at the two young men standing beside him. “Ready, mates?”

They nodded, and Charlie stepped through the gap in the wall to the corridor beyond.

Shivering, Cecily followed the three of them into the dark, gloomy hallway. The musty smell was stronger now, no doubt due to the rooms being shut off from air for so long.

Dark patches on the wall suggested mold, and Cecily held one hand over her nose as she followed the three men down the hallway to the card rooms.

Memories flitted through her mind. Once these rooms had been the hub of entertainment in the days when the Pennyfoot had been a hotel. Hidden from the street and the law, aristocrats had eaten, drank, and gambled to their heart’s content.

The hallways had echoed with their laughter and the boisterous conversations. The maids had stacked dishes of refreshments on the sideboards, and the rooms had reeked of cigar smoke and brandy. Glasses had clinked while money had changed hands fast and furiously as the cards were flipped across the tables.

Now all was silent, and the empty rooms sat waiting, as if hoping that one day their earlier times of glory would return.

Cecily hadn’t seen the rooms since long before the wall had been erected. She braced herself as Charlie reached for the handle of the first one—more for the expected aura of decay than of a human opponent.

It was rather an anticlimax when Charlie pushed the door open and swung his lamp high to reveal an empty room. “There’s no one here, m’m.” He stepped inside. “So these are the famous secret card rooms. I always wondered what they looked like.”

The rest of the footmen crowded in behind him, all looking slightly bewildered, as well they might. They were looking at four walls and a wooden floor and nothing else. Faded wallpaper hung in dismal strips, a testament to the damp air that seemed to soak into Cecily’s bones.

“No one’s here,” Charlie said, swinging his lamp to cast eerie shadows of the men on the walls.

They looked like ghosts, and Cecily shuddered. For some reason, Madeline’s words crept into her mind.
I feel death in the air. Very close.
Pushing the menacing omen out of her mind, she answered him.
“Someone’s been here.” She pointed across the room. The trapdoor, which had been carefully boarded up several years earlier, now stood open. The boards that had covered it lay in a small heap in the corner of the room.

Charlie walked over to hold his lamp over the opening, his voice hushed when he said, “So this is how you get down to the tunnel.”

Cecily couldn’t answer. Knowing there were rats down there, it was the last place she wanted to go.

Charlie was looking at her, waiting for his instructions. For a long moment she considered letting them all go down without her. After considering it, though, she knew she couldn’t do that. This was her idea, however foolish it seemed right now, and she had to see it through.

Squaring her shoulders, she said quietly, “I’m looking for some stolen paintings that I believe might be stored down there. If I’m right, someone may be guarding them right now and won’t be willing to give them up. We may well have a fight on our hands. If any of you would rather not accompany me, you may return to the club right now. I must ask you, however, not to mention any of this to anyone.”

Charlie swung his lamp back and forth, then lowered a foot onto the ladder. “I’m going down, m’m.”

“So am I.” One of the footmen stepped up behind Charlie.

One by one the others followed until they were all standing in line behind her stable manager.

Cecily smiled. “I’m proud of you all and most grateful. You will all be well rewarded for this.”

Charlie answered with a grin, then clambered backward down the ladder. Just as his head reached floor level, he looked up at her. “You don’t have to come down here, m’m. Me and the lads will take care of things.”

“No, I want to come.” She glanced around at the waiting footmen. “Just wait for me at the bottom.”

Hands clenched, she waited for Charlie to reach the floor of the tunnel. Her shoulders relaxed when his voice floated up to her. “Come on, lads. Get down here.”

It seemed to take no time at all for the rest of them to get down the ladder. She gave her lamp to the last footman to go down, and then it was her turn.

Cecily hesitated at the dark square hole, then gingerly stepped onto the first rung. It seemed solid enough, and clutching the sides of the ladder, she climbed down to where the footmen were waiting. “Well,” she said, only slightly out of breath, “that wasn’t so bad after all.” The odor down there, however, made her hold her breath for a moment or two.

“Cor blimey,” one of the footmen muttered, “there must be dead rats down here.”

“Or someone’s been using it as a lavatory,” someone else suggested.

“Let’s move on,” Cecily said hurriedly, retrieving her lamp from the footman.

With Charlie leading the way, the procession moved slowly down the tunnel. It had been carved out through the cliffs, and the walls had once been chalk white.

Time and the damp, however, had darkened the smooth sides. A crude network of boards shored up the roof and sides, but large piles of crumbled chalk at the foot of the walls suggested a constant erosion of the tunnel.

It occurred to Cecily that it was probably quite dangerous to be walking through there. She had no right to be putting these young men in such danger to satisfy her whims. She faltered, holding up her lamp in an attempt to see what lay ahead.

She could see nothing but the heads of her companions and their shadows dancing on the roof. “Wait!”