A Merry Murder Read online

  Cecily reached out and patted her arm. “You’re quite right, Phoebe, and I deeply apologize. Now, to what did you require my approval?”

  “As I was saying, your new maintenance man is an absolute wizard. He has almost completed the set, and it is truly magnificent.” She waved a gloved hand in the air to emphasize her point, narrowly missing the tiered pastry stand with its bounty of delicious treats. “I do declare, Cecily, this will be quite the most spectacular performance I have ever presented. Your guests will never forget it.”

  “That last part is most likely true,” Madeline murmured, earning a suspicious glare from Phoebe.

  Cecily could only pray that, this year, Phoebe would manage to provide an evening’s entertainment without the usual chaos.

  For once she was quite thankful when Madeline announced she had to return home. “My nanny has asked for the evening off,” she explained, “and I need to make sure everything is in order before she leaves.”

  “Do give Angelina a hug from me.” Cecily prepared to rise, testing her knee before she put weight on it. Although she had enjoyed the rendezvous, as always, the effort had tired her—a warning that she had not fully recovered from her fall.

  As she led the way from the tea shop, it took all her fortitude to refrain from limping. She knew that if Madeline detected the slightest sign of discomfort, she would relay as much to her husband, who, in turn, would inform Baxter, and that would mean another round of protests.

  Once outside on the busy street, she took a long, deep breath of the frigid air. The clouds had disappeared, and the setting sun cast shadows on the snow-covered pavements. The evening was drawing near and the darkness of night would be upon them before too long.

  She drew her cloak closer about her and smiled at her friends. Both of them would be walking home, as neither lived too far from the town. Henry had returned as ordered, and her carriage awaited her, the horse impatiently snorting and stamping in the cold.

  “Can I give either of you a lift?” she asked, knowing they would both refuse the offer, as they always did.

  “No, thank you,” Madeline said as she swept a thick wave of hair from her face. “I need the exercise to remove the pounds that I put on my hips this afternoon.”

  “Frederick is meeting me at the end of the street,” Phoebe announced. “He’s probably waiting there already, poor dear.”

  “Very well, if you’re sure.” Bidding them good-bye, she climbed up onto her seat and sank back against the soft leather with a sigh. Pain kept shooting through her knee and shinbone, and she wriggled her foot in an attempt to relieve it.

  As the horse pulled the carriage away from the curb, she looked out the window. Harried-looking housewives hurried past the shops, their shopping baskets loaded to overflowing with vegetables, meats, and sundries.

  Across from her a shop window glowed in the last rays of the sun, lighting up the display of evening gowns with their sparkling sequins and gold trimmings. As she watched, the door opened and a woman swept out onto the pavement. She stood on the curb, looking left and right, no doubt watching for a Hansom cab.

  As the coach passed her, Cecily stared at the woman in startled surprise. She recognized that face beneath the sweeping gray hat. The woman was Lady Farthingale.

  She was apparently enjoying a shopping spree, and now Cecily wanted very much to know the reason for the widow’s return to Badgers End. As well as when, exactly, she had arrived.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Gertie was already tired by the time she and Charlotte caught up with the parade, so she wasn’t too chuffed about having to march along behind a bunch of shouting, chanting suffragettes waving their signs at a none-too-friendly crowd.

  Not that she didn’t sympathize with their cause. It wasn’t that long ago when she’d done some protesting, too. She’d actually been chucked out of the Fox and Hounds for disrupting the public bar with her presence.

  She had to smile when she thought about the faces of the enraged blokes trying to compete in a dart match while she and her mates stomped around the room chanting “Votes for women!”

  They’d had beer and nuts thrown at them and had come out of there smelling like a dark alley on New Year’s Eve, and once she’d been chased down the road by P.C. Northcott, who even back then had been too old and too fat to catch up with her.

  Luckily, he hadn’t recognized her, or she’d have ended up in the clink. It was that night that she’d decided she’d find some other way to support the cause. Which was why she was wondering right now why the heck she’d agreed to march in this stupid parade, in the bitter cold, with one eye out for the bobbies and the other watching in case someone in the crowd got fed up with them and threw something at them.

  She cast a glance at Charlotte, who was marching along with her chin in the air like she was going to bloody war, shouting, “Deeds, not words!”

  At that moment Charlotte turned her head to look at her. She said something that Gertie couldn’t hear above the brass band farther down the road, the yelling of the suffragettes, and the cheers and howls from the onlookers.

  Gertie shook her head and pointed to her ears.

  Charlotte edged closer. “I can’t hear you yelling!” she shouted.

  “That’s because I’m not!” Gertie bellowed back at her.

  “Why not?”

  Gertie was about to answer when she felt something smack hard into the middle of her back. Turning her head, she saw a bruised apple rolling away from her. She spun around, just in time to see a red-cheeked youth aiming another apple at her.

  Without stopping to think, she stooped down, snatched up the apple, and threw it as hard as she could back at him.

  It hit him square in the face, and he let out a howl of pain. A roar went up from the crowd and a couple of young men surged forward.

  “Cripes,” Charlotte yelped. “You’ve gone and done it now.”

  “Come on!” Gertie grabbed Charlotte’s hand and darted forward, plunging into the midst of the suffragettes.

  There was a lot of jostling, pushing, and shoving, then a shout went up from somewhere in the group. “Bobbies! Run!”

  The women scattered, and for a moment Gertie froze, trying to recognize where the biggest danger was coming from, while Charlotte stood like a statue, her eyes staring from her ashen face.

  At that moment one of the young protestors grabbed hold of Gertie while her companion tugged Charlotte’s arm and the two of them were dragged away from the belligerent crowd of spectators and down an alley.

  Struggling to keep up with her savior, Gertie had no breath to ask where they were going. She was greatly relieved when their rescuers pulled them through a gate and down a long path that led to the doors of a church.

  Once inside, Gertie could finally breathe again. After the turmoil of the streets, the heavenly silence was a welcome contrast. Sinking onto the nearest bench, she looked around her. The empty pews were decorated with wreaths of holly and bright red bows, and huge silver stars dangled from the rafters. Light streamed from the tall stained-glass windows, highlighting the altar with its red cloth and the beautiful display of holly, ivy, mistletoe, and fir.

  She was still admiring the sight when one of the protestors sat down next to her. “You’re new, aren’t you.”

  “Yeah.” Gertie nodded at Charlotte, who was deep in conversation with the other woman. “I came with her.”

  The young lady nodded. “So, what’s your name?”

  “I’m Gertie and that’s Charlotte. She’s the suffragette. I just came along to keep her company.”

  “Well, one thing you should always remember when you’re protesting, Gertie. Never retaliate. It can get you and everyone else into a whole lot of trouble.”

  “I know.” Gertie looked down at her hands. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I wen
t on protests.”

  “It’s all right. It happens now and then. I’m Rachel, by the way.”

  “Well, thank you, Rachel, for rescuing us. I can’t believe I did such a stupid thing.”

  “It’s hard not to hit back when you’re taken by surprise.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Gertie eased her shoulders. “My back still hurts. I didn’t mean to hit him, though. That was just bad luck. I only wanted to let him know what it felt like to have stuff thrown at you.”

  The woman grinned. “I think he got the message.”

  “Yeah.” Gertie sighed. “Was that you calling out that the bobbies were coming?”

  She nodded. “It’s the fastest way to warn everybody that trouble’s brewing.”

  “I’ll have to remember that. Not that I plan on doing any more protesting.”

  Rachel’s face fell in dismay. “Really? Why not? We need all the help we can get.”

  “I know, and I do agree with everything you are all trying to do. But I have twins to take care of, and a job that I love.”

  Sympathy crept across the woman’s face. “Your children have no father?”

  “Nope. I found out after we were married that he was already married to somebody else. By then the twins were on the way.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”

  “Yeah, it was. Luckily, I had my job at the Pennyfoot, and they looked after me and the babies, until I could afford to hire a nanny.”

  “The Pennyfoot?” Rachel looked surprised. “You mean the Pennyfoot Hotel in Badgers End?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. You know it?”

  “Not personally, but a friend of mine is staying there. Harriet is a lady’s maid to one of your guests, Lady Oakes.”

  “Oh, yeah, I know her.” Gertie wrinkled her nose. “Stuck-up snob, she is. I accidentally bumped into her on the stairs, and she acted as if she’d been attacked by a guttersnipe.”

  Her new friend snorted. “Well, she’s got nothing to be snotty about, from what I heard.”

  Gertie ears pricked up. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” Rachel leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I heard that her husband met her on the streets. You know, one of them.”

  Gertie stared at her. “One of what?”

  Rachel sighed. “You know, a streetwalker. Someone that does it for money.”

  Understanding dawned, leaving Gertie speechless.

  After a moment, Rachel said anxiously, “You can’t tell anybody that I told you. I’d get my mate into trouble. The Oakeses have gone to a lot trouble and even paid to keep it a secret. Harriet could lose her job if Lady Hoity-Toity found out her maid had been tattling. She only found out by accident when she heard Lady Oakes in a spat with her husband.”

  Gertie finally found her voice. “He knew she was one of them and he still married her?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I don’t think he knew at first. He thought she was just poor and alone. I suppose by the time he found out the truth, he was already in love with her.” Rachel clasped her hands to her bosom and sighed. “It’s so romantic when you think about it.”

  “Romantic” wasn’t exactly the word Gertie would have used. It was hard to envision the elegant, disdainful woman as anything other than a woman of high breeding, and even harder to imagine the pompous Sir Clarence marrying someone so far beneath him.

  She wasn’t sure she entirely believed the story, but it was none of her business and she wasn’t going to spread the gossip. Still, it was an awfully good story—too good to keep it all to herself. Maybe she’d share the news with Mrs. Chubb. Chubby knew how to keep her mouth shut.

  Charlotte’s sharp voice brought Gertie out of her reverie. “We need to get moving. Charlie will be waiting for us by now, and we still have to get through town.”

  “Be careful out there.” Rachel stood up and brushed at her skirt with her hand. “Those hooligans might still be looking for you. Take the backstreets. That way you’ll be harder to spot.”

  “Good idea.” Gertie got up. “Thanks again for rescuing us.”

  Rachel grinned. “My pleasure. And if you change your mind, there’s always a place for you in the WSPU.” She looked at Charlotte. “You need to come to more meetings and get acquainted with some of the women.”

  Charlotte nodded, though she looked none too enthusiastic. “Maybe I will.”

  Which told Gertie that her friend was having second thoughts about being a suffragette. Not that she could blame her. Although infinitely worthwhile, it was a perilous path to take for little reward and a lot of grief.

  She didn’t breathe easy until they were safely inside the carriage and on their way back to the Pennyfoot. No matter where she went or how much she enjoyed the outing, she was always happiest when returning home to the hotel.

  She was lucky, she told herself, to have a job she enjoyed and people she loved surrounding her. Who needed a bloody man when she had so much?

  For an instant a vision of Archie hovered in her mind. Impatient with herself, she shut down the image and turned to Charlotte. “So, what did you think about your first protest?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “It was all right, I s’pose, but I’d think twice about doing it again.”

  “If I were you,” Gertie said, snuggling more comfortably on her seat, “I’d think a blinking dozen times about doing it again.”

  She didn’t hear Charlotte’s answer. Her mind was too busy sorting out what she needed to buy for the twins’ Christmas presents. After all, that was who was important in her life. And that was all she needed. Now all she wanted was to get home to the warm kitchen and get on with her life.

  * * *

  • • •

  Using her knuckles, Cecily rapped on the carriage wall facing her. She wasn’t sure that Henry would hear her above the clip-clopping of horses’ hooves and the loud rattle and roar of the occasional motorcar. In fact, just as she rapped, one of the despised contraptions backfired, startling her horse and jerking the carriage forward.

  Cecily rapped again, her irritation giving her hand more emphasis. Baxter had talked a lot lately about acquiring one of those monsters. Not only did she thoroughly dislike the idea of rattling along the street with all the noise and fumes, but she was very much afraid that her husband would get carried away and lose control of the dratted thing and cause an accident.

  To her relief, Henry must have heard her, as a moment or two later, he pulled over to the curb and halted the carriage.

  Without waiting for his assistance, Cecily scrambled out and onto the street. Looking back from whence they had come, she spotted the gray hat with its bright red ribbons bouncing along within the crowd.

  “I shan’t be a minute,” Cecily said, turning to Henry. “I need to have a word with someone. Wait for me here.”

  “Yes, m’m.” Henry looked surprised and just a little concerned, but offered no more comment, and ignoring the pain in her knee, she sped away toward the hat. Except she could no longer see it. Lady Farthingale must have entered another shop.

  Reaching the spot where she had last seen the hat, Cecily glanced at the shop window. A male mannequin in plus fours stood brandishing a golf club amid a collection of cricket bats and tennis rackets. The cotton wool snow looked somewhat out of place considering the summer sports, and was the only nod to the season in the entire arrangement.

  Cecily closed her mind to reimagining the display and concentrated on the matter at hand. She seriously doubted the graceful dowager would be purchasing anything from a gentleman’s sports supplier, but one never knew these days.

  She tried to peer through the glass aperture in the door, but it was too dark to see inside. Picking up the hem of her skirt, she pushed the door open.

  One look inside told her that Lady Farthingale was not inside. Nor was anyone else by the look of it. A gruf
f voice from the shadowed interior growled at her, and she hastily backed out and closed the door again.

  She had no better luck at any of the shops along the street, and she finally arrived back at the carriage.

  Henry, who had apparently been watching her rather erratic progress in and out of doors, seemed even more concerned. “Were you looking for something, m’m?” he asked in his soft voice, which always triggered a question mark in Cecily’s mind.

  She smiled at him. “I thought I saw an acquaintance down the street, but I must have been mistaken. You can take me home now, Henry, though I would like to call in at the Regency Hotel on the way back.

  “Yes, m’m.”

  Henry opened the carriage door for her and she climbed up onto her seat. If Lady Farthingale had returned to Badgers End, it was quite possible that she had also returned to the Regency. All of the other hotels in the area were most likely full for the Christmas season, and the room the widow had booked was probably still available. It was certainly worth a visit to find out if she was there.

  Cecily stared out the window as the carriage jogged along the Esplanade. The dark gray sky looked ominous, but the air had warmed a little, and the wheels of the carriage made swishing noises as it plowed through the melting snow.

  She jerked forward as the carriage abruptly slowed, then pulled to a stop. They had reached the Regency Hotel.

  Once more Henry hopped down and opened her door, and she stepped outside, careful to raise her skirt above the wet slush. Limping up the steps, she kept her gaze on her boots, just in case a patch of ice still remained to trip her up.

  An eager young man greeted her at the reception desk. Apparently, he was a recent addition to the staff, as he appeared not to recognize her. He gave her a wide smile as he asked, “May I help you, madam?”

  “I am looking for an acquaintance of mine,” Cecily said, casting a glance around the lobby. It wasn’t the first time she had visited the hotel, but it was the first time she’d seen it decorated for Christmas.