Decked with Folly (3 page)

“Yes, Mrs. McBride.” The maid started to curtsey, thought better of it, grabbed hold of the tray, and scuttled into the dining room.

Pansy gave her a startled look as she scurried by, then lifted an eyebrow when she reached the door. “What’s going on, then? Why is she serving?”

Gertie shrugged. “Dunno. Mrs. Chubb sent her up. I’ve got to go to madam’s office. Just try and manage with her for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Pansy’s face filled with concerned curiosity, but she nodded and carried the dishes to the dumbwaiter, where a maid took them from her.

Gertie waited just long enough to see Pansy take the last of the platters from the waiter. Satisfied, she turned and rushed down the hallway, frantically trying to recall whatever it was she’d done to earn a summons to the office.

Cecily looked up as the tap on the door disturbed her thoughts. Bracing herself for what she knew would be a difficult and emotional ordeal, she called out, “Come in!”

Gertie peered around the door, her face creased with worry. “It’s me, m’m. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, yes.” Cecily beckoned her with an impatient hand. “Come in and take a seat.”

Gertie slunk across the floor to a chair and plopped down on it. “Mrs. Chubb says it’s important.”

Cecily folded her hands on the desk and tried to collect her thoughts.

Leaning forward, Gertie blurted out, “I didn’t do nothing wrong, did I, m’m? I haven’t broken nothing, at least not in the last month or two, and I’ve tried to get the meals out on the tables on time. Course, it’s bloody hard with a new maid what don’t know her flipping right hand from her left and all, but I do try—”

“Gertie!”

Cecily had raised her voice to halt the torrent of words, and Gertie sat up as if she’d been stung. “Yes, m’m. Sorry, m’m. I’ll shut up now.”

Cecily drew a deep breath. “Gertie, I’m afraid I have some disturbing news.”

The housemaid stared at her, her dark eyes widening in alarm. “Not me twins is it, m’m? They was all right when I left them this morning. Daisy’s supposed to be taking care of them and she’s a really good nanny, but sometimes—”

“Gertie! It’s not the twins.”

Gertie’s shoulders sagged. “All right, then. You’d better tell me what it is and get it over with.” She cleared her throat. “If you please, m’m.”

“It’s about Ian Rossiter.”

The alarm leapt into Gertie’s eyes again. “Ian? What’s he been up to now? I hope he’s not hanging around my twins again. I’ll cut off his bleeding head if he . . .” She must have seen something in Cecily’s face as her words trailed off, and she waited in uneasy silence.

“I’m afraid he’s dead, Gertie,” Cecily said, as gently as possible.

The housemaid slumped back, and her face was a mixture of emotions—shock, relief, and something Cecily hadn’t expected to see. A distinct expression of guilt that was quickly extinguished.

“Bloody hell,” Gertie muttered. “What happened to him, then?”

“We think he had been drinking, perhaps a little too much, and fell into the duck pond. He must have hit his head and drowned.”

Gertie digested this news, then nodded. “I see. Well, like they say, everything comes to he what waits. I always knew he would come to a bad end one day. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I can’t say it’s going to ruin my Christmas. Not after he tried to take away my babies.” She flicked a wary glance at Cecily. “Does that make me a wicked woman, m’m?”

Cecily let out her breath on a sigh. “Of course not, Gertie. I know you’ve been living with the fear of losing your twins ever since Ian tried to kidnap little Lillian. I can understand how you feel, now that their father is no longer a threat.”

Gertie sighed. “He should never have married me, knowing he was still married to his real wife. He should have been honest from the start.”

“I think he felt obligated once he found out you were having his baby. He wanted to do the right thing.”

“The right thing? By me or by his real wife?” Gertie rose, her face hard with bitterness. “He did neither one of us a favor. It was stupid of me to get in the family way before I was married, I admit that. But that didn’t give him the right to pretend he was free to marry me when he had a wife sitting at home, did it. We went through that whole wedding in the church and everything. He was a cheat and a liar, and bloody dangerous at that. I’m not really sorry he’s dead. I don’t care if that does make me a wicked woman. I’m bleeding glad to be rid of him.”

She rushed to the door, paused, and with a sob in her voice, muttered, “Excuse me, m’m. I must get back to the dining room.” Without waiting for permission she dropped a stiff curtsey and flew outside.

The door closed sharply behind her and Cecily winced. She hadn’t handled that well at all, but something about Gertie’s attitude worried her.

It was no secret to anyone that the volatile housemaid had threatened to kill Ian on more than one occasion. Not that she didn’t have good cause to hate the man. Some people, however, might get the notion that Gertie had something to do with Ian’s untimely death.

Cecily shook her head, impatient with herself. It was an accident, nothing more. She was worrying about nothing. She had sent for Kevin Prestwick and he would be there soon. He would make it official, setting her fears to rest. She would just have to wait until then.

 

 

 

Gertie’s headlong rush down the corridor almost ended in disaster as she rounded the corner. Since breakfast was still being served she hadn’t expected to encounter anyone on her mad dash back to the dining room, but just as she reached the corner a man stepped out in front of her, then leapt back as she charged right into him.

“Strewth!” The man mopped his forehead, thrusting a thick lock of red hair out of his eyes. “I thought you were going to bowl me right over.”

Having barely bumped him, Gertie tossed her head. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you coming.”

“Oh, that’s all right, me ol’ darlin’.” The man winked at her. “I don’t mind being bumped into by a beauty such as yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Gertie made to pass him by, but he laid a hand on her arm.

“Hold on a minute, what’s yer blinking hurry? We were just getting acquainted. Let me introduce myself. I’m Sid Barrett—a gentleman and a scholar.” He grinned. “I think my Christmas just took a turn for the better.”

“If you’ll excuse me, sir . . .” Gertie dragged her arm free of his grasp. “I’m needed in the dining room.”

“Oh, right ho. Maybe later then.” He tilted his head to one side. “P’raps you and me could have a pint or two down the old George and Dragon, eh?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the servants are not allowed to mix with the guests.”

Without waiting for his answer, she took off once more, shaking her head as Sid Barrett called out after her, “I’ll try and catch you later, luv!”

“Not if I see you coming first,” she muttered under her breath. Saucy blighter. Here she was, the mother of twins and all.

The realization hit her under the ribs, making her gasp for breath. Not that Ian had been any kind of father to the twins. They hadn’t known he existed until a year ago . . . and even now they had no idea he was their father. He hadn’t set eyes on his kids until last Christmas, when he’d suddenly decided he wanted to take one of them back to London with him. Gertie still couldn’t understand why he’d waited all these years, and why now. Not that it mattered. Ian was dead. She knew she should be sad about that, and in a way she was sorry he’d passed on at such an early age. But now she was free, and her kids were safe forever. That’s all that mattered. And she was not going to let Ian Rossiter spoil another Christmas for her. Never again.

Reaching the door of the dining room, Gertie paused, her smile spreading over her face. She had Dan to keep her company now. In the short time she’d known him, he’d become more of a father figure to her little ones than Ian had ever been. Dan Perkins, who used to own Abbitson’s butcher’s shop, and who’d swept her off her feet with his ability to make her laugh out loud and his kindness to her children.

Her, Dan, Lillian, and James. They were like a family now, and even though Dan had never mentioned marriage to her, she nursed a strong hope that someday soon he’d ask her to be his wife. And that, she decided, would be worth all the bother she’d put up with from the late Mr. Ian Rossiter.

What’s more, she had nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing at all.

Cecily looked up as the door swung open, half expecting to see Gertie standing there again. The tall, silver-haired man who entered, however, looked every bit as upset as her housemaid, if not more so.

“What the blazes is going on? I just saw Samuel and Clive in the stables and neither one of them will tell me what they’re up to. They told me to ask you.”

Cecily lifted a grave face to her husband. “I was just coming to tell you, dear. I’m afraid I have some rather bad news.”

Baxter stared at her, his irritation turning to alarm. “Don’t tell me . . . oh good Lord.” He flipped his tails and sat down on the chair Gertie had vacated. “Who is it this time? One of the guests?”

“No, dear. It’s not one of the guests. I’m afraid it’s Ian Rossiter.”

Baxter’s eyes widened. “That scoundrel? What on earth was he doing here? What happened to him?”

“Apparently he fell into the duck pond and drowned.”

Baxter pinched his lips. “Are you pulling my leg, because if so—”

“No, dear. I wouldn’t joke about a dreadful tragedy such as this.”

“The duck pond is less than two feet deep.”

“Yes, dear, I am aware of that. Clive says the dead man smelled of spirits. He must have been drinking and fainted or something. It appears that he hit his head when he fell into the pond.”

“Good Lord. Poor blighter. What in heaven’s name was he doing out by the duck pond?” Baxter shook his head. “For that matter, what was he doing here at the Pennyfoot? Did you know he was down here? I thought he was in London.”

“Precisely the impression I had, as well.”

“Have you sent for Prestwick and that fool policeman? I suppose we shall have to put up with his inept bungling as usual.”

“Yes, I’ve sent for both Dr. Prestwick and P.C. Northcott.” Cecily got up from her chair and rounded the desk to her husband’s side. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned over to murmur in his ear. “Do try to be civil to them both, Bax, dear. It is the season of good cheer, after all.”

Baxter grunted. “Prestwick I can take, in small doses. That idiot constable, however, is another matter. I can’t imagine how he keeps his job. Surely Inspector Cranshaw can see Northcott for the worthless twit he is?”

Cecily shuddered, as she always did at the mention of the inspector’s name. The detestable man had sworn to close down the Pennyfoot years ago, when he suspected her of illegally running card rooms.

He had never been able to prove their existence, thanks to the well-hidden area beneath the floorboards of the wine cellar, and now that the Pennyfoot was a country club, her license allowed her to run the card games within the law.

Cranshaw, however, still bore a grudge, and was always on the lookout for any infraction that might lead to the closure of the club, and the banishment of what he considered a thorn in his side, namely Cecily Sinclair Baxter.

“Well,” she said, dismissing the despised man from her mind, “since this is obviously an accident, Sam Northcott will have little to do but write a simple report. As for Kevin, he will remove the body and write his own report, and then we shall be done with the whole sad business.”

She returned to her desk and sat down. “I just hope they get here soon so we get it over with.”

“Amen.” Baxter rose. “Shouldn’t say this, but I can’t say I’m sorry to see the back of that man. Nothing but trouble, that’s all he was.”

With her finger Cecily traced the Pennyfoot’s name on the cover of the ledger in front of her. “I agree Ian caused poor Gertie a lot of heartache, but I can’t forget what he was like when he worked here all those years ago. He was amusing, hardworking, and loyal. That’s the Ian I like to remember and for that reason, I feel very sad that he’s gone.”

Baxter moved over to the desk and leaned his hands on the polished surface. “That young man departed a long time ago. He’s not the same man who tried to kidnap our goddaughter and threatened Gertie on more than one occasion.”

“No, indeed. I wonder what could have happened to him to change him so?” She looked up into her husband’s face. “I wonder if there’s someone we should notify of his death? He must have family somewhere.”

Baxter shook his head. “Let Prestwick take care of all that. Try to put this out of your head, my precious. You have enough to worry about making sure your guests enjoy their Christmas. I don’t want this to spoil your favorite time of year.”