Mrs. Jeffries & the Silent Knight by Emily Brightwell (black female authors .TXT) 📕

her head out, and then stepped into the hall. He followed

her out.

“Thanks for keeping your promise,” she said as he

stepped out into the garden. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Don’t be angry at the others,” he replied. “They just

didn’t want to do anything that would hurt your health,

that’s why the didn’t tell ya.”

“Humph,” she sniffed disapprovingly and then flashed

him a quick grin. “Don’t fret, lad. I know that. Here,” she

pulled a large brass key out of her pocket and handed it to

him. “Unlock the gate at the corner. It’ll save you having to

climb over it.”

Everyone arrived at Upper Edmonton Gardens in time for

their afternoon meeting. Mrs. Goodge put a plate of brown

bread next to the butter pot on the table as Mrs. Jeffries

poured out the tea.

“Who would like to go first?” the housekeeper asked as

she began handing round the mugs.

“I hope the rest of you have done better than me,” Betsy

said glumly. “I’ve talked to every shopkeeper in Richmond,

and the only thing I heard was the butcher complaining

that Braxton accused him of shorting him on their meat order last week. Honestly, the way the man went on about a few missing chicken livers, you’d have thought he’d been

accused of high treason.”

“Anyone can make a mistake, maybe the butcher forgot

to include them in the order. That happened to us just last

week, they left out a rasher of bacon,” Mrs. Goodge said.

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“Mind you, they sent it round straight away when they realized it’d not been sent.”

Betsy shook her head. “He claims it’s just the household

trying to avoid paying the full amount. He says it’s happened before.”

“That sounds about right,” Smythe said. “I didn’t ‘ear

much, but I did ‘ear more than one tradesman say that getting money out of that lot was like pullin’ wax out of a pig’s ear.”

“The family does seem rather miserly,” Mrs. Jeffries

murmured.

“But you’ll have to admit, they’ve managed to hang onto

their money,” Mrs. Goodge added.

“I think they’re mean,” Wiggins said. “Wait till I tell

you what I found out.”

“Why don’t we let Betsy finish first?” Mrs. Jeffries suggested.

Betsy gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I really didn’t hear

much of anything else. The best part of my day was listening to the butcher complain. No one else seemed to know anything except what we already know, that all the Braxtons

are miserly, mean-spirited and not well liked. But not to

worry, I’ll be out and about again tomorrow.”

“Can I go now?” Wiggins asked. Mrs. Jeffries nodded, so

he plunged straight ahead. “Well, like I was sayin’, aristocrats or not, they are a mean bunch. They’re not even feedin’

Sir George’s cat.” He told them about his meeting with Alicia. He took care not to leave out any details, including her bandaged hand and the information she’d shared with him

about the Braxton gardener.

“Are you certain of this?” Hatchet asked softly.

“She’s got no reason to lie,” he replied. “Mind you, she

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was just repeatin’ gossip, but from what we’ve ‘eard of Sir

George Braxton, it don’t seem wrong.”

“Did she have any idea what Grantham had done to Sir

George?” Mrs. Jeffries pressed.

“Alicia didn’t know for certain,” Wiggins said eagerly.

“But she thinks he must have been caught thievin’ by the

old gent. Only instead of calling the police, Sir George

made him work for nothin’ and live out in the garden shed.”

“Why does she think it was thieving?” Betsy took a sip

of her tea.

“I asked her that, and she said she didn’t rightly know

why she had that idea, it’s just that she had it. Maybe she

‘eard somethin’ and she don’t remember exactly what she

‘eard, but it was enough to leave an idea in her mind, if you

know what I mean.”

Mrs. Jeffries nodded knowingly. “That seems very likely.

We often find we know things without recalling precisely

how or when we obtained the information.”

“Did Alicia know anything else?” Hatchet asked.

“Only the usual bits and pieces we’ve already ‘eard,” he

replied. “You know, just what Betsy said she’d ‘eard, them

bein’ a miserly, mean-spirited lot. But I’m sure there’s more

to find out, and tomorrow I’ll see if I can find out for sure

what it was that Grantham did.”

“Yes, that seems very appropriate,” Mrs. Jeffries muttered.

“So that means at least one of the servants ‘ad a good reason to want Sir George dead,” Smythe mused.

“Maybe more than one,” Mrs. Goodge said. “Not that

I’ve heard anything specific, but my source told me that the

housekeeper had a long history with the family, and that

there’d been some gossip a number of years back about her

relationship with Sir George.” She was annoyed with Hilda,

who’d dropped that tidbit just as she was getting into a

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119

hansom cab this afternoon. Naturally, there hadn’t been

time to get any decent details out of the woman. But now

that Mrs. Goodge had the scent, so to speak, she’d be able to

follow the trail.

“What kind of relationship?” Wiggins asked curiously.

“I’m not sure,” the cook replied. “But I suspect it’s of a

nature that isn’t fit for some ears, if you get my meaning.”

“You mean the old blighter had his way with the poor

woman,” Betsy muttered. “That’s a sad but common enough

old story.”

“I’ll find out more details about it later,” Mrs. Goodge

promised. “I’ve a couple of good sources I can tap. But this

isn’t all I found out today.” She told them the remainder of

the gossip she’s gotten from Hilda that afternoon. “I wasn’t

able to find out anything about Fiona Burleigh or Raleigh

Brent, my friend hadn’t heard of either of them, but I’ll

keep at it, I’ve a number of people coming in tomorrow.

Someone’s bound to know something about them.”

“You’ve all found out rather more than I have.” Hatchet

sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, most of my sources were unavailable in the short time I had to be out today. But never fear, I’ve a number of people to see tomorrow.”

“Does Luty ‘ave any idea of what you’re up to?” Wiggins

asked. He crossed his fingers under the table, asking the

question almost seemed like lying.

“I don’t think so,” Hatchet replied slowly. “She was taking a nap when I left today. But I’ve got