Page 59 of A Silence in Belgrave Square
“Let me help you, love,” I said quickly. I bent to retrieve her things as she sniffled, noting that she was quite odiferous.
“You dropped another,” Hannah’s voice came from behind me. I looked up to see her, dressed as herself, holding out an apple to the elderly woman.
“You’ve ruined all me things,” the beggar snarled at me. “Watch what you’re about.”
“Nonsense,” I said, trying to recover my surprise. “Most of these are fine, and I’ll buy you a few new cucumbers.”
She sniffled again. “All right.”
I ducked into the grocers to procure the fresh vegetables while Hannah remained to put the woman to rights. I handed the beggar the replacements when I came out, and she shuffled off without much gratitude.
“That’s an old trick,” Hannah said as we watched the woman hobble along the street. “She’ll do it again at the next shop—crash into someone and spill her wares so they’ll buy her better ones. You’re too good to the likes of her.”
“I thought she was you,” I said. “And yes, I do feel sorry for her, ruse or no.”
Hannah laughed at me. “Like I say, you’re a bright-winged angel. I didn’t have time to do much more than change medress and squash on a hat.” The hat was large, covering all of Hannah’s hair, and her gown was the one I’d seen her wearing at her Portobello Road stall. “Her ladyship and the housekeeper think I’m at the shops. Marjory the maid went into Fortnum’s on an errand, and is still there waiting for an order to be bundled up, for all anyone knows.”
Meaning she’d walked into Fortnum’s dressed as an upstairs maid, changed her appearance somewhere in its recesses, and walked out the back door as herself. She’d reverse the procedure when she went back. Hannah’s ruses could be simple, but effective.
“Let us step somewhere we can speak, then,” I suggested.
“Don’t you need to buy your veg?” she reminded me. “So those in the kitchen think you’re shopping like I’m meant to be?”
“I will purchase the things when we are finished. Everything needs to be fresh as can be, and they won’t improve being tucked into my basket for an additional half hour.”
Hannah shook her head good-naturedly. “You really enjoy being a cook, don’t you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a cook,” I said, a bit stiffly. “Preparing good food is a skill I’m not ashamed to have cultivated. There’s a tea shop a few doors along. Let us pause for a cup.”
Hannah remained amused but followed as I went into the shop in which I sometimes took refreshment. I chose a table in the far corner, away from the few ladies who’d also decided to spend a moment off their feet.
The waitress brought us a pot with cups and two dispirited biscuits, announced she had nothing else to give us this early in the day, and left us alone.
“Howdo you propose to let me enter the house?” I asked asI poured out the steeped tea. “I’ve been itching with curiosity. Is the cook leaving now that the master is gone?”
“Not a bit of it.” Hannah accepted the cup I handed her. “Lady Fontaine wants the household to stay together as long as she can. The next viscount is a distant cousin, and she can’t be certain he won’t sling her out when he finally reaches London. Lady Fontaine’s trying to decide what to do. Poor lamb. I feel sorry for her, even if she’s a right old bitch. But her surliness comes from never knowing where she’ll be welcome.”
“If not as cook, then what?” I asked. “A relation of Marjory? Come to make sure her sister’s all right?”
Hannah shook her head and took a noisy slurp of tea. “I have to say, this shop does a much better tea than that awful pub in Leicester Square.”
I agreed. “They buy it from Twinings, even if it is the lowest quality they sell. Now please cease teasing me and tell me what you have in mind.”
Hannah’s grin showed me she was enjoying herself. “Lady Fontaine is agog to know what happened to her brother. She at first insisted the secretary—your man—did it, but the police told her this morning that he has an unbreakable alibi for the time in question.” She paused to sip more tea. “Isn’t this exciting? Like a detective story in the magazines.”
“Not really,” I said severely. “Daniel barely avoided being blamed. Who does Lady Fontaine think did it now?”
“She don’t know, but she wants to find out. Seems she loved the old geezer. He was one of the few who didn’t run her off after a few weeks.”
“If you think to bring me in as a detective, I will refuse,” I said. “The police truly are investigating, even if they seem slow about it.”
“Nah, her ladyship don’t have any faith in policemen ordetectives. She wants to consult the spirits.” Hannah’s dimples showed. “She does this for many a problem.”
“The spirits.” I regarded her with misgivings. “How will she do that?”
“A séance, of course. Spirituality is all the rage among the quality, if you didn’t know. I can’t tell you how many crystal balls and fake Romani table draperies I sell from my stall. People will believe anything.”
My alarm grew. “What has this to do with me?”
