Page 13 of Mrs. Holloway's Christmas Pudding

“Coachman says he’s a good doctor too,” James continued. “Wants to heal his patients, not just collect his fee. He’s been tending the Whitaker family for ages. He’s worried about Mr. Whitaker’s health, thinking the man’s about to die.”

“Oh, dear. I am sorry to hear it.”

I truly was. It was Christmas, and Mrs. Whitaker didn’t need a tragedy just now. Losing a loved one was bad at any time, but in this season, it was doubly hard.

“The doctor’s starting to believe Mrs. Whitaker’s theory of poison,” James went on. “And trying to decide how to cure him.”

“Does he suspect what substance it is?” I asked with hope. If that was found, perhaps it could be counteracted.

“Coachman don’t know. He’s only repeating what he’s heard the doc mention in passing.”

“Of course.” I hid my disappointment.

It would be useful if I could sit Dr. Burnley down and ask him pointed questions, but I would have to invent some excuse to do so. He was not the Bywaters’ doctor and so would not call at the Mount Street house.

Not that a doctor visited often. When one of the staff fell sick, Mrs. Bywater dosed them with such foul-tasting remedies they recovered swiftly in order to get away from them. She didn’t believe in paying a doctor to attend servants, in any case.

“Coachman did hear the doctor quarreling with Mr. Whitaker lately,” James added. “A few weeks ago, that is. At the moment, the poor man can barely speak.”

“Oh? Does the coachman know what about?”

“No. Only heard him through the open door. Doc said something like, ‘you must put it right,’ or ‘you must do right by it.’ He’s not certain. It was only the one time, though. After that, they seemed to be friends again.”

It could mean nothing, or be the key to everything. So frustrating not to know.

“Tell your father what you’ve learned,” I said to James. “It might be important.” I hesitated. “Perhaps you don’t have to mention that I asked you to talk to the coachman instead of following me about.”

James’s smile grew broader. “I can turn Dad up sweet, don’t you worry.”

“You don’t need to turn him up sweet, James, dear. You ought to obey him when he gives you orders. He has your best interests at heart. Mine too, I suppose.”

His brown eyes sparkled with good humor. “Right you are, Mrs. H.”

I knew I was inconsistent with my advice to him, but Daniel always left me flummoxed.

“Run home and keep warm,” I bade him. “I will have plenty of leftover Christmas pudding in a few days. I’ll save some for you to feast on.”

James burst out laughing, a joyous sound. The beggars who’d remained to consume the food I’d given them brightened.

“I look forward to that, Mrs. H. A happy Christmas to you.”

“Happy Christmas, James.” I warmed as he bounded away, waving as he went. Daniel was blessed to have such a son, and I was blessed by him too.

“Mrs. Whitaker would like it if you called on her, Mrs. H.,” Cynthia startled me the next morning by saying.

She’d breezed downstairs after breakfast, dressed in a frock with easy lines, the sort she’d begun wearing in the last year or so. She was off to the Polytechnic to help Mr. Thanos and had stopped off in the kitchen on her way out.

“If I called on her?” I asked, mystified. “Why?”

“To help heal her husband,” Cynthia said, as though this were a perfectly reasonable explanation. “I said that you’d be able to.”

Chapter 5

“You told her I would cure her husband?” I burst out. “Have you run mad?” I checked my amazement as I remembered to whom I spoke. “I beg your pardon, Lady Cynthia, but you have confounded me.”

Cynthia waved my apology aside. “I am telling it wrong. Judith says I always speak before I have my thoughts in order. I let on to my friend—the one whose mum also has Dr. Burnley for her physician—that you created dishes that made those feeling poorly ever so much better. She told Mrs. Whitaker, who said she’d welcome you to come and give her cook a few of your recipes. Mrs. Whitaker is desperate for her husband to get well.”

Her explanation made more sense, but it was still alarming. “You ought to have promised no such thing.”

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