Gertie frowned, wondering if he was being fresh, or simply meant that he wanted a warming pan.
Archie looked worried. “Mrs. B. said it would be all right. Perhaps you could bring it up after the pantomime? I can’t go to sleep when my bed is so cold.”
Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, Gertie nodded. “I’ll see to it, Mr. Parker. I won’t be bringing it up myself as I’ll have other duties to attend to, but I’ll make sure that one of the footmen warms your bed for you tonight.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you.” Archie beamed at her. “I shall look forward to a good night’s sleep, then.”
“Very well, sir.” Gertie was about to pass, when he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss.”
She paused, with a heavy thud of her heart. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your loss. I know you weren’t married to the deceased, but he was the father of your children, am I right?”
Lost for words, she could only stare at him.
“Must have been a dreadful shock. I don’t suppose you know who did it?”
Gertie finally found her voice. “No, sir. I don’t. Even if I did, I really don’t see as how it’s any of your business.” She twisted away from his grasp and marched off, with his wheedling voice following her.
“I didn’t mean any offense! Please forgive me if I upset you!”
Stomping down the stairs she muttered to herself under her breath. Nosy bleeding busybody. How the heck was she supposed to put everything out of her mind if everyone in the world knew about the murder and kept trying to talk to her about it?
Doing her best to curb her temper, she marched down the hallway to her room. This time, all was quiet as she reached it. Daisy must have found something to keep the twins occupied.
Opening the door, the first thing she saw was her nanny lying on the bed with her book propped up in front of her. The second thing she saw was Lillian and James on the floor. A pile of building blocks lay between them, and resplendent, in the middle of them, stood a tall, ornate candlestick.
CHAPTER 14
“I’m going out for a little while,” Cecily announced, as Baxter unfolded the daily newspaper. “I thought I’d do a spot of shopping.”
“Oh, right.” He started to fold up the newspaper again. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, dear.” She smiled to take away the sting of her words. “Actually I was hoping to find a very special Christmas present for you.”
“Oh.” His expression said that she’d left it a little late, which wasn’t like her at all.
“I already have your presents,” she hurried to explain. “This one will be a little extra.”
Curiosity crept across his face. “Well, now you’ll have to give me a hint.”
“Certainly not!” She finished tying her scarf over her hat and picked up her muff. “It’s supposed to be a surprise and I’m not going to spoil it, so you’ll just have to wait until Christmas morning.”
“Oh, very well.” He opened the newspaper again. “Samuel taking you, then?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You won’t be late for supper, I hope. You haven’t forgotten the pantomime is tonight?”
“Of course not, dear. How could I?”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to be there without you.”
“There’s no fear of that.” She bent over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
He grunted an answer and she hurried to the door, thankful he hadn’t asked too many questions. She really hated to lie. As it was, as long as she actually bought something for him, she could convince herself she’d told him the truth.
For, one thing she was sure of, if she told him where she was really going, he’d have made no bones about his disapproval, and she was in no mood for an argument.
Samuel was waiting for Cecily in the foyer when she arrived there, and she wasted no time in hurrying outside. She had only an hour or so to achieve her purpose, and return in time for supper.
The wind had died down, and rain spattered on the roof and windows of the carriage as they sped down the Esplanade toward the town. Wreaths of fir and holly hung from every gas lamp along the seafront. Light from the windows of the little shops spilled across the wet pavements, and people stood huddled in front of the bay windows or hurried in and out the doors.
Horses, carriages, bicycles, and motorcars crammed the High Street, and it took Samuel more than twenty minutes to get from one end to the other. It was precious time wasted, and Cecily fretted as they continued on, once more leaving the hustle and bustle of the town behind.
Rattling down the country road, Cecily peered out at the dripping trees and soaked hedges. A late afternoon mist was rolling in from the ocean, shrouding from view everything beyond a few feet. As they turned the bend, however, she caught sight of a faint light gleaming through the fog. They were almost there.
The carriage slowed, rumbling into the courtyard of the George and Dragon and coming to a halt in front of the rear door. It was not yet opening time and Cecily hoped to catch Bernard McPherson, the owner of the public house, before he went into the bar to prepare for the evening.
Samuel opened the door of the carriage and peeked in. “Would you want me to knock and announce that you have come to visit, m’m?”
“Thank you, Samuel, but I’ll do my own announcing.” She held out her hand and Samuel assisted her to the ground. “Come with me,” she ordered, “I would like you to accompany me while I talk to Mr. McPherson.” Raising her skirts, she crossed over the puddles to the door.
It opened almost immediately, and the surprised face of Bernard McPherson appeared in the doorway. “ ’Pon my soul, it’s Mrs. Baxter!” A grin spread over his gaunt face. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I was hoping to have a word with you.” She smiled up at him. Most of the publicans she had met were robust, stout fellows with enormous girth and sagging jowls. Bernard on the other hand was quite scrawny, though nonetheless a jolly gentleman with always a kind word or a joke for his customers.
“Of course. Come in!” He opened the door wide and stood back to let them pass. “The missus is down the village visiting our daughter, but she should be back soon.”
He led the way into the parlor and beckoned them to sit. “Can I get you a wee drop of brandy, Mrs. Baxter? It’s a mite chilly out there.”
She shook her head. “Not for me, thank you.”
“The young man, then?”
Samuel glanced at her for permission, which she gave with a nod of her head.
“Good.” Bernard crossed to the door. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
No sooner had the door closed behind him, than Samuel leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Begging your pardon, m’m, but does Mr. Baxter know we are here?”
Cecily looked at him. “I really don’t see why that should concern you, Samuel.”
“No, m’m.” He was quiet for a moment, then added a little desperately, “It’s just that if he doesn’t know, and if he should happen to find out somehow, he’s going to get really cross with me for bringing you down here.”
Cecily raised her eyebrows. “You were simply following orders.”
“Yes, m’m.” Again a pause. “I take it he doesn’t know then.”
Cecily sighed. “Really, Samuel, you do like to borrow trouble, don’t you. I’m here to ask a few questions, that is all. It’s not as if I were in the public bar, knocking back a pint or two, now is it.”
Her stable manager’s face registered shock. “I should hope not, m’m.”
“Well, then, I fail to see why you think Mr. Baxter would not approve.”
“Yes, m’m.” Yet another pause. “Perhaps it would have been better to tell him in that case.”