Page 35 of Speculations in Sin

“A daft thing to say.” Tess scowled into the passageway. “She means that if the friend has aweakconstitution, us being at their side won’t help them either.”

“Mrs. Bywater is a bit shortsighted,” I agreed. “But remember, Tess, we must never disparage our employers.”

“Not where they can hear, anyway.” Tess returned to sorting the greens, her temper not soothed.

I sensed rather than heard Mr. Davis glide in. I moved to the small mirror near the coatrack and tucked up my straggling hair.

“She came down very early,” Mr. Davis explained. “I had a job keeping her out of the kitchen, I must say.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davis.” I tied my apron’s strings as I turned to him. “I meant to return before anyone rose, but it is a long way to Cheapside, and I truly did stop to buy the produce.”

“A mercy you did.” Mr. Davis lingered a moment, as though he wished to say more, then he simply nodded and slid back into the hall, making for the butler’s pantry.

Deflecting Mrs. Bywater was his way of indicating he wantedus to continue as friends, I supposed. Well, I would not complain because he hadn’t thawed all the way yet. He hadn’t been wrong to be angry with me in the first place.

“Let us get on,” I said to Tess.

She was full of questions, I could see, but I said nothing as I tiredly helped her pile the bacon and toast on platters, as well as egg cups with the master’s favorite boiled eggs.

I wanted answers myself. Sam would be up before a magistrate this morning, in a court in the City, who would decide whether there was enough evidence to try him. I longed to be there, to shout his innocence, though I knew that would do no good.

Would Inspector McGregor respect my wish to be present when he interviewed Joanna? Or grow impatient and interrogate her and her household anyway? Inspector McGregor at least was always adamant to arrest the correct person for a crime, not the most convenient one, but what if he decided the evidence against Sam was too strong?

I could only keep my head down over my work and pray that those Sam faced would see reason. I went through my routine of preparing breakfast for both the household above stairs and the staff below, though I didn’t have much appetite for the pile of eggs and toast Tess shoved at me.

My cook’s mind hummed away beneath my troubles, surfacing now and then to remind me of my duties. I had pitchers of orange juice and cut rinds waiting for me to make them into sorbet for Mrs. Bywater’s supper tomorrow night. They would need at least a day to become solid enough to serve.

I also had the fresh produce I’d purchased this morning to wash, sort, and prepare for dishes I’d make this evening. A kitchen never ceased. No matter what disasters happened in the world, people still needed to eat.

I bade Tess fetch the oranges, juice, and rinds and made my way down the hall to the butler’s pantry.

“Mr. Davis—”

“Say nothing, Mrs. Holloway.” Mr. Davis did not look up from the silver he polished on his table. He wore gloves, and dipped a cloth in a foul-smelling muck he made himself. His silver polish, he swore, was far superior to anything sold in shops these days. “Do not ruin our truce.”

“I came to ask if you’d mind sharing the newspaper today. When the master is done with it, of course.”

Mr. Bywater read through three newspapers as he took his breakfast, then tossed them to Mr. Davis to dispose of. Mr. Davis carried them downstairs, smoothed them out, and read them cover to cover himself.

“Any particular bit of news you are looking for?”

My face went hot. “Perhaps. It is of no matter, Mr. Davis. Never mind.”

“I ask because Mr. Bywater reads two financial newspapers as well as theLondon Times. Not because it is my business what sort of news you seek. Which newspaper did you want?”

“All of them, I suppose.”

A sensational murder would more likely be reported in a newspaper covering the general news of London, but a financial paper might mention troubles at Daalman’s Bank. I needed to understand that institution and the people who worked there if I were to decide who was to blame. It was too bad Mr. Bywater did not take a paper like thePolice Gazette, which was sold to the public at newspaper stands, but he was far more interested in finance than crime.

Mr. Davis’s brows rose the slightest bit. He was curious, I could see, but was holding to his self-righteous vow to not pry into anyone’s affairs.

“Very well. I shall bring them to the kitchen when the master is finished.”

“Thank you.” I paused in the doorway. “I am truly sorry about mixing up the wines. I was in a hurry and should have been paying more attention.”

Mr. Davis lifted a cloth-laden hand. The polish on it was a strange gray-green, but the silver always shone. “Stop, Mrs. Holloway. As I said, do not spoil it.”

“No, indeed, Mr. Davis.” I resumed my usual tones and left him to it without a farewell.

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