Page 44 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
FRIDAY
TWENTY-SEVEN: VERITY
“Brooms,buckets, cleaning supplies unloaded in the lobby,” Henri reported, taking off his ragged cap and swiping his handsome brow. “Misty day for this.”
As if they had a choice in weather. Verity feared her lovely new bonnet would become soggy and bedraggled before day’s end. She hadn’t worn a light color in so long, she felt conspicuous, especially since she was still wearing a black gown and ugly black boots. Until Lavender completed refurbishing her new dresses, she had little choice, though. At least the black trim sort of matched.
After this last day of preparation, she was starting to recognize the manor inhabitants. Henri Lavigne might physically resemble his cousin, Captain Huntley, but he was far more outgoing and cheerful. He had spent the better part of yesterday in the city accumulating supplies, then helped them move Miss Edgerton’s library to safety with his covered cart.
Through the open door, Verity watched men gathering in the inn yard. The thatchers were already setting up ladders, and apple pickers worked on a press under the directions of the farm steward. The manor’s unusual cook, Lady Elsa, excitedly tastedapples, directed kettles, and sorted ingredients she meant to test, impervious to the damp.
Loving every terrifying minute of this new experience, Verity even managed to occasionally forget thereasonthey gathered.
Had the killer left town? Or would they try searching the cottage again?
“Will mist hurt the thatching crew?” she asked, avoiding grim thoughts.
“Mist will keep the crew cool.” Henri shrugged and ran off to empty more tools from his cart, stopping to hug and kiss Patience while she fretted over placement of the apple baskets her workers carried down.
Mr. Upton, the nice auburn-haired curate, strode into the yard from the parsonage next door and joined Verity in the lobby. “Minerva has the women gathering in the chapel for instructions. Do we have any order for rooms to be done first?”
She checked the notes Rafe had made. “He thinks the children can start on the lobby and pub. Those rooms have mostly been cleaned of debris and just need scrubbing. We’ll need stronger workers for the kitchen—will the chimney sweep be here?”
“Hunt says the sweep should arrive by noon. It might be good if the inn can put him up tonight. He can start cleaning the manor’s chimneys tomorrow.” The curate eyed the inn’s worm-eaten interior with the critical eye of a carpenter.
“Then we should probably clean and arrange the servants’ quarters before the upstairs. Can’t have guests without staff.” Verity could almost hear her mother’s voice falling from her lips. She desperately missed her wisdom, but she was relieved to discover it was still there when needed.
Rafe and his friend, Fletcher, wandered in next, carrying odd tools she hoped went to the roof because she didn’t know their purpose and hated to reveal her immense ignorance.
“Ladders are up,” Rafe declared. “We’ll have men on the roof shortly, more experienced than we are, we hope.”
“I’ve worked with thatching crews,” the curate said. “Let me take this list back to Minerva and I’ll keep an eye on them.”
Rafe nodded. “Thank you. We’ll go up to look at the attic timbers.”
As the curate left with his list, Verity had the inexplicable desire for Rafe to kiss her as Henri had kissed Patience. Appalling notion! She needed to impress him with her efficiency so she could earn a position here, not terrify him. “Lady Elsa and her kitchen staff are showing the manor ladies how to cut vegetables for your stew. She asked if you had a recipe you follow.”
Rafe set down his tools. “I’ll take a look at what she’s brought down from their garden. I don’t want any more poison ending up in the pot.”
Verity puckered her nose. “I had not thought of that. Surely no one would wish to kill an entire village? Let me go with you so I can see what you recommend and make sure nothing else is added. Lady Elsa has ideas for improving the apple cider. I don’t know if she can watch both juice and stew.”
Poison! One more of ten dozen things that might go wrong. She must have been mad to suggest this. Not leaning on her cane as much as before, she followed him out to the tables. “Do you have your cottage sentries stationed? There are so very many people coming and going...”
“Watching the brook path and the street. We don’t have enough people for more,” Rafe said, stopping at the cooking table. “Lady Elsa, have you met Mrs. Porter? I’m teaching her herbs.” He gestured at the table of weeds women had already started chopping.
Lady Elsa was blond, like all the Reid family, and pleasantly rounded as a good cook should be. She waved at Verity from the other side of the table.
“Knowledge is power,” she said cheerfully. “Rafe, do I have what you need or do you add secret ingredients?”
He sorted through the bundles. “These are fine. The carrots,onions, and turnips add most of the flavor. I always salted the broth because we never had enough vegetables to taste.”
“Beans, you need,” a short, rotund lady asserted, tucking her hat under her arm. “More savory and marjoram.”
“You know herbs?” Verity asked, mostly out of curiosity, but also because she suspected anyone who might know poisons.
The woman glanced at her, frowned with what looked like surprise, shrugged and disappeared into the approaching mob of housekeepers.
“Do you know that woman?” Verity asked.
