Page 4 of Mrs. Holloway's Christmas Pudding

Chapter 2

My pencil cut a jagged swath across the page as Cynthia unceremoniously announced Daniel’s arrival.

I had not seen much of Daniel since his return from Ireland. He’d delivered a bag of salt to my kitchen a few weeks ago, which had been his way of telling me he was back in London. After that, his visits had been fleeting and never when he could speak to me alone.

Here he was now, handsome in his patched coat, neckcloth carelessly knotted about his throat. He’d removed his cap from his thick dark hair, letting the hat hang negligently from his fingers.

I watched him note the position of everyone in the room—Tess peeling potatoes, Elsie washing up from the luncheon, Cynthia tilted back in her chair, and the footmen scrubbing silver across the passageway in the servants’ hall. He didn’t blatantly glance about, but he quietly made certain he knew who could hear anything said in the kitchen.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Holloway.” Daniel gave me brief nod and Cynthia a deeper, more deferential one. “Your ladyship.”

He also had greetings for Tess and Elsie, and he waved at the footmen, who happily looked up from their tasks to grin back. Daniel had time for everyone.

“To what do I owe this honor, Mr. McAdam?” I asked primly as I set aside my notebook and began to slice the parsnips. One would never guess he’d kissed me good-bye, most passionately, before his departure for Ireland.

“Happened to be passing.” Daniel gave me an affable shrug. “Wondered if you had any orders for me. Something you need to stock? I can find you all the best foodstuffs, you know.”

He winked as he played the part of a deliveryman who was trying to drum up business—he did a little selling of goods on the side.

“Nothing today, I am afraid.” I answered in the tone of cook who didn’t like to be coaxed into purchasing more than I needed. “Another time, Mr. McAdam.”

I knew full well Daniel’s question was to convey that James had told him I was asking for his help. My answer meant I couldn’t speak to him about it now and that we should meet later.

“Did you hear how one of the master’s guests was poisoned?” Tess blurted out. “He’s ever so ill, and the mistress is blaming Mrs. Holloway.”

Daniel’s gaze shot to me, concern filling his eyes. He’d understand how distressing this would be for me, though I hoped this time I’d not land in Newgate.

“I told Auntie it was all rot,” Cynthia said. “We’re trying to work out who gave him the poison, if anyone did at all.”

“I wager it were his wife,” Tess said. “Angry about his ladybird.”

“That is enough gossip from you,” I told her severely, but I was pleased she’d broached the subject. I might have had to wait for days before Daniel could visit me in private.

“We are back to why Mrs. Whitaker would announce he’d been poisoned if she’d done it herself,” Cynthia said. “She’d be safer to say that it was another manifestation of his ongoing illness.”

“Unless she wanted to shift the blame to someone else,” Tess suggested, ignoring my command. “Probably the ladylove. Two birds with one stone. That’s what I would do.”

“Would you?” Daniel asked Tess teasingly. “I ought to warn your Constable Greene then.”

Tess flushed. “Caleb’s all right. He’d never dream of having a ladybird.”

I knew a bit more than Tess about the male sex, and yes, it was perfectly possible for any of them to stray. Men had so little control of their yearnings in that direction. The more virtuous a man proclaimed himself, the more adept he was at hiding his sins.

I admitted that Caleb Greene, the constable who walked our street, was a good lad, earnest and kind. I prayed he remained so, for Tess’s sake.

“I would like to hear what the doctor has to say.” I set the slices of parsnip on a plate. “I doubt he’d speak to a cook about his patient, but it would be helpful to know what poison he might suspect. Something easily obtainable?”

“Or something more obscure, like a rare snake venom?” Cynthia asked in excitement. “Thanos might be able to help there, Mrs. H. He can talk about compounds and concoctions no one else but another scientific mind would understand.”

Mr. Elgin Thanos lectured at the Polytechnic in Cavendish Square. He was foremost a mathematician, but he knew much about chemistry and electromagnetism and many other obscure subjects that were beyond my grasp. Cynthia assisted him most days, helping him prepare for his talks, writing things on the blackboard for him, and making certain he could find his books, pens, and bits of paper, and wore matching boots.

Mr. Thanos was also a kind young gentleman and a great friend of Daniel’s, who had assisted us on many cases.

“I doubt it will be a rare snake venom,” I said. “That only happens in stories and on the stage, does it not, Daniel? I mean, Mr. McAdam?”

Daniel shrugged. “Anyone can bring back strange substances from the far corners of the British Empire. But I agree, Mrs. Holloway. An untraceable poison isn’t as likely as what can be found around a house. Arsenic and such.”

“One must be very careful what one buys at the market,” I said. “All sorts of powders might be used to fill in an order of flour. That is why I test all my food before it’s served,” I finished with indignation.

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