Page 27 of A Moveable Feast
“The sergeant were ever so polite,” Jane told me, sounding reluctant to admit it. “It was like you said, Mrs. H. He only wanted to know where I was at half past one, when we was sending the meal upstairs. He didn’t want me to tell him anything else.”
I did not know Sergeant Scott well, but he seemed to me a practical man. He wouldn’t be interested in Jane’s past if it wasn’t relevant. The sergeant could be as intimidating as the growling and grumbling Inspector McGregor, though in a cool way I found a bit more frightening than the inspector’s bluster. However, Sergeant Scott had proved his pragmatism in my last encounter with him.
As we continued the work, I heard a familiar click of heels in the passageway, heralding the arrival of Mrs. Bywater. She gazed about the room when she arrived, focusing on the foodstuffs still waiting to be put into their crates.
“Leave nothing behind,” she admonished me. “All these vegetables, all these potatoes. They should already have been packed.”
“Not those.” I shielded a basket of leftover produce. “I purchased them for this house.”
“Did you?” Mrs. Bywater widened her eyes. “Then they come with us. Lord Rankin will reimburse you through your wages.”
“I put them on the marquess’s account, ma’am.” I bobbed a shallow curtsey as though I was in awe of saying the word marquess.
“Oh, well, in that case.” Mrs. Bywater backed away from the argument. “Be sure to pack what is ours, including what you’ve already cooked. We can dine on that for a few days. And all of the wine. Close up those crates, Tess, before someone takes anything.”
Mrs. Bywater shot a quick glance at Mary and Jane, as though certain they’d pinch the leftovers and rush out into the street with them. Mary regarded her fearfully, Jane with a scowl.
“All our things will go back to Mount Street, I assure you,” I said in soothing tones.
“See that they do. I’ll visit the larder this evening and check, so no giving things away or eating them yourselves.”
“Of course, ma’am.” I gave her another curtsey.
Mrs. Bywater’s eyes narrowed at my sudden docility, but she changed the subject.
“Leave out a loaf of bread and some butter,” she instructed me. “So that Lady Babcock and her husband will have something to eat. I adore Lady Babcock—so generous to our little charitable society—but she is apt to forget simple things like nourishing herself.”
I had the feeling that if the family wished to eat at all, they’d need more sustenance than bread and butter.
“Is his lordship all right?” I asked Mrs. Bywater. “Considering.”
“Lord Babcock is made of stern stuff,” Mrs. Bywater said decidedly. “He still has an heir, so all is not lost.”
Jane blinked at this callous statement, but she quickly dropped her gaze and helped Tess nail the crates shut.
Mrs. Bywater winced as Tess gave her crate a hard blow with a hammer. Mrs. Bywater sniffed, looked over the kitchen once more, and thankfully took herself away.
“I was right,” Jane said once we heard Mrs. Bywater retreat and the backstairs door slam. “She is a cow.”
“Enough,” I told her, but gently. “I will run out and see if we have a cart to tote this home in.”
I headed up the stairs, not bothering with a coat. The spring day had become even warmer, and I perspired as I hurried to the road where I’d last seen Daniel. I hoped he’d lend his delivery wagon, as no other was in sight. Apparently, Mrs. Bywater hadn’t thought through how we’d lug all these things back.
Daniel was no longer at the railings where I’d left him. As I paused, contemplating where he might have gone, James spoke behind me.
“He’s gone.”
I spun around, my hand to my heart. “Good heavens, James. You do like to spring from nowhere.”
“Sorry, Mrs. H.,” James shot me a lopsided grin that was so like his father’s. “Dad went off to assist Inspector McGregor. The inspector’s decided to arrest the murdered man’s cousin for doing the deed, and the cousin is cutting up rough.”
“Third Cousin Desmond?” I asked in astonishment. “No, that is all wrong.”
I hadn’t heard any shouting or seen Inspector McGregor bundling Cousin Desmond out into the street, but we’d been hastening to pack under Mrs. Bywater’s admonishments, Tess enjoying making a racket with the hammer.
James shrugged. “Right or wrong, they’re hauling him to the magistrate. Dad had to help the constables hold on to him. They’re trundling him off, even as we speak.”
Chapter 10
