Page 2 of A Measure of Menace

The staff were happy to tuck into the remainder of the dish, rounded out with the salt pork and more buns. I ate with them, though I usually took my meals alone or with Mrs. Redfern. Someone needed to keep an eye on the under servants—the footmen in particular were wont to be too boisterous. Mr. Davis and Mrs. Redfern were upstairs waiting on Lord Clifford, so it fell to me to be their minder.

Mr. Davis returned before I’d finished my repast.

“Lord Clifford requests to see you, Mrs. Holloway,” he announced in his haughty butler’s tones. “Right away, if you please.”

I dabbed my mouth with my napkin then stood and carried my plate to the kitchen. I set it on the table and laid my napkin over it, indicating I’d return. I was still hungry and did not want the others to pinch my food.

“He gobbled up his meal fast enough,” Mr. Davis said to me once we were in the passageway. “Never seen a man eat so intensely. Didn’t make much conversation, only demanded more wine once he’d slurped down the first glass.”

“And wishes to see me?” I asked with misgivings. I gestured toward the back stairs. “Shall we?”

Mr. Davis shook his head. “He stressed that you should come alone. Which suits me. I’d like some of that supper myself.”

“I have a plate warming for you on the stove,” I told him.

Mr. Davis sent me a grateful nod and made his way into the kitchen, finished with Lord Clifford. I dropped my grease-stained apron into the laundry room as I passed it, smoothed my hair, and climbed the stairs to the main house.

It was very quiet with the family gone. I missed Lady Cynthia, who liked to bound down to the kitchen and chatter away, regaling me with tales of her unconventional friends. Her conversation these days was full of Mr. Thanos, a clever but shy young man who lectured at the Polytechnic in Cavendish Square. I was pleased with her interest.

I entered the large dining room to find Lord Clifford by himself—Mrs. Redfern must still be busy opening up rooms for him. He was seated at the head of the table, in Mr. Bywater’s place. The table, even without its extra leaves, held eight, and Lord Clifford looked small and alone in the vast space.

Lord Clifford’s hair was a light shade of brown touched with gray that receded from a high forehead. He’d let his moustache and sideburns grow thicker since I’d last seen him, possibly to compensate for losing more hair on the top of his head.

He shoveled in a last mouthful of the meal I’d prepared for him, wiped his lips on the linen napkin, and beamed at me, though his smile held some sadness.

“An excellent repast, Mrs. Holloway. I should have expected no less. What did you call this dish?” Lord Clifford tapped his empty but sauce-streaked plate with his fork.

“Bubble and squeak,” I answered. “I am afraid there was little else to feed you.”

“Bubble and what?” The earl chuckled. “Excellent. I must have our own cook learn to prepare it.”

“I’m certain she already knows, your lordship. It is a common dish below stairs, made with leftover cabbage, potatoes, and sausage or bacon. Except I bought most everything fresh tonight and added some carrots for body.”

“Well, it was excellent, whatever you call it.” Lord Clifford pushed the plate away. “Do sit down, Mrs. Holloway. I need to speak to you.”

I curtsied stiffly. “That would be quite inappropriate, your lordship.”

“Pish-tosh. There is no one here. It’s why I sent old Davis and Mrs. Redfern away. I have something I wish to tell you, most urgently, and no one else can overhear.”

With one hand, he shoved out the chair next to him. I contemplated it, then moved down the table to the chair above the one he wished me to take and conceded to sit in that. It did feel good to let my legs bend, but I held my hands in my lap and kept my back straight.

“Very well.” Lord Clifford breathed the words in exasperation. “I came to you because I heard my nuisance in-laws were out of the house. I’m in a bit of a bind, Mrs. Holloway, about a very delicate matter.”

I kept my face impassive, not wishing to betray the alarm that filled me at his every word. “What is this delicate matter?” I made myself ask.

Lord Clifford traced designs on the tablecloth with the handle of his fork. A few drops of dark sauce fell on the linen, but I said nothing about it.

“You see, I owed a chap a powerfully large sum of money,” he said after a few moments of silence.

Oh, dear. Lord Clifford could be a bit of a confidence trickster, but he also, according to Cynthia, sometimes wagered heavily or became enmeshed in dealings he could not afford to be, and so had to borrow money to get out of them.

“A moment, your lordship,” I said, as his precise wording struck me. “You said owed. Do you not owe this man any longer?”

“No.” Lord Clifford drew a sharp breath. “Because he’s dead. Bashed on the head, or knifed, or something, a few days ago.” He dropped the fork to the plate with a clatter and fixed me with a desperate gaze. “Some think I did it. I did not. I need you, Mrs. Holloway, and that clever fellow, McAdam, to prove I am innocent.”

Chapter 2

I sat still while dismay bordering on panic washed through me. Lord Clifford had the habit of getting himself into scrapes, sometimes dangerous ones, and I did not doubt that what he told me was true.

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