Page 12 of A Measure of Menace

Chapter 6

Tess watched me with rounded eyes that were red from the onions, Cynthia in worried impatience. I set my empty basket on the dresser and contemplated how best to answer Lady Cynthia’s question.

“Perhaps we should go into the housekeeper’s parlor,” I suggested to Cynthia.

Her annoyed concern turned to alarm. “Please tell me now, Mrs. Holloway. What has happened? Is my father dead?”

“What?” I started. “No, indeed, he was alive and well when last I saw him.”

Cynthia exhaled in relief, but her urgency didn’t ebb. “Tell me, Mrs. H. I don’t mind if Tess hears. She already knows much about my benighted family.”

I glanced to see who else was nearby. The footmen not upstairs under Mr. Davis’s thumb were being loud and merry in the servants’ hall. Elsie washed up in the scullery, singing at the top of her voice. The boot boy, Charlie, should be upstairs in his bunk, taking a nap or studying his reading. I gave him very light duties when the family was not in residence.

When I was satisfied I wouldn’t be overheard, I leaned to Cynthia. “Lord Clifford has been arrested. I am so sorry. I could not stop it.”

Cynthia groaned and dramatically slapped her forehead. “What has he done this time? Break it to me gently. Who has he bamboozled? The Prime Minister? A royal prince?”

“I am afraid the police believe he committed murder.”

Cynthia’s hand came down, and she stared at me in amazement. Her eyes were very light blue, a different color from but the same shape as her father’s.

“Murder? Papa? Absolute rot. The man can’t bear to squash a bug.” Cynthia gazed at me as though willing me to tell her it had all been a mistake. I was certain it had been, but I had no answers. “Where is he? Bow Street?”

“I believe he was taken straight to the Yard,” I said. “I am trying to find out what will happen to him.”

Cynthia grew suddenly solicitous. “My dear, Mrs. H., I have no doubt you did everything you could. My father in trouble is a common thing, I’m sorry to say, though it’s not usually this bad. I’ll go to Scotland Yard at once and speak to that inspector fellow—McGregor. He doesn’t like me, but he’s a reasonable chap.”

“It might not be that simple. It is not his case.” I explained about Sergeant Scott and how he’d indicated he’d have Lord Clifford speak to his inspector, though not that inspector’s name. “McGregor might be able to do nothing.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try. I’m off then. Come with me, Mrs. H.?”

I hesitated. “I have Mr. Thanos looking for Daniel, and I will bid James to as well if I can find him. Daniel will be able to secure Lord Clifford’s release, I’m certain of it.”

“McAdam can work wonders,” Cynthia agreed. “But I’m not the sort who’s willing to sit and wait.”

Neither was I, but I was much more restricted than Cynthia, a fact she did not always remember.

“Go on, Mrs. H.,” Tess urged. “It’s only the staff to get meals for, and I can do that. They know I won’t take none of their lip if they don’t like what I cook.”

I preferred them to enjoy their meals, but I was grateful for Tess’s help. “Mr. Davis will be most annoyed,” I said, prevaricating.

“We’ll make it up to him,” Tess assured me. “You need to go spring his lordship.”

“Thank you, Tess. I’ll make it up to you as well.” I observed Cynthia’s attire. “Perhaps you should change into something more conventional,” I said as tactfully as I could.

Cynthia gazed down at herself. “You mean they might arrest me if I go barging into Scotland Yard in my frock coat and trousers? Ah, well, you are likely right. I’ll rush upstairs and change into a frock so I can bat my eyelashes and all that rot. Pretend to be a shrinking female distraught about her papa.” She hesitated, worry entering her voice again. “They can’t truly believe my father had anything to do with a murder, can they?”

I nodded with reluctance. “Lord Clifford was heard arguing with the man, and he’s being very vague on what exactly happened.”

Cynthia heaved a long sigh. “Dear Papa is not the wisest of persons when it comes to the law. He learned in his early days that the less one says to the police, the better. Be back in a tick.”

She rushed out with her usual verve, and soon we heard her ascending the stairs.

“How awful,” Tess said as she resumed her onion chopping. “Want me to ask Caleb to have a listen and find out what’s happening?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I do not want to land the lad in more trouble.”

“He’s learned to be marvelously discreet. Besides, last time his prying did help Inspector McGregor catch a killer.”

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