Page 19 of From the Ashes
I grasped the tray's edge and helped her right everything on it before a disaster occurred.
She giggled. "Sorry, miss. Forgot myself there. You won't tell her ladyship, will you?"
"I won't if you won't. You're Lady Vickers' maid?"
"At your service."
"Don't curtsey!"
She giggled again. There appeared to be no malice in her, but I was still wary. We'd been duped before. The last woman we'd employed had ended up kidnapping me. While Bella seemed utterly guileless, it was best to be cautious.
"Mr. Fitzroy oversaw your employment himself, did he?" I asked.
"Seth did." She thrust out a hip and her full lips curved into a seductive smile. No need to ask how she'd got the position. It was unlikely to be for her skill at balancing a full tray, and more likely to be her skill at pleasing Seth in bed. I wondered if his mother knew. "D'you know when he'll be back?"
"Hopefully soon." I nodded at the tray. "Can you manage that up the stairs?"
"Course." She headed past me without a backward glance, which was probably just as well.
I continued to the kitchen and tucked into the biscuits Cook had made. They were still warm. Doyle poured me a cup of tea from the pot by the stove.
"You still got your pet?" Cook whispered when Doyle went to fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar.
I touched the amber orb beneath my clothing. "Still got it and I didn't have to use it once. Well, almost that one time when the Queen of Hearts' soldiers attacked."
If he'd had eyebrows they would have shot up his forehead. Doyle returned before I had a chance to explain. I wasn't yet sure what the butler knew, and since Cook didn't ask any questions about the soldiers, I assumed Doyle was still in the dark about the ministry's true purpose. I couldn't imagine his ignorance would last much longer with the oddities we frequently encountered.
"Mr. Fitzroy is limping," I said to them both. "Did something happen to him while I was away?"
"A circus strongman were murdered," Cook said with a shake of his bald head. "Death investigated, but I don't recall him getting injured." He looked to Doyle.
Doyle spent a long time reading the wine bottle label.
"Doyle?" I prompted. "What is it? What happened?"
The butler cleared his throat. "It would be ill-advised for me to mention something that Mr. Fitzroy wouldn't want you to know." He didn't look entirely convinced by his own words, however, and I didn't think it would take much to get him to tell me.
"He won't punish you." I glared at Cook when he opened his mouth to protest. "Come now, Doyle, I only have Mr. Fitzroy's interests at heart. Does he need to see a doctor?"
Doyle sighed and plopped down on a stool positioned at the table. "I don't know. He hasn't confided in me, but I suspect his feet need tending to. There was a lot of blood."
"Blood!"
"On the carpet in his sitting room. He'd tried to clean it up, but it's a devil to get blood out."
"Amen," Cook muttered.
Doyle's lips parted and a small wheeze escaped.
Cook plucked at his apron. "Not human blood." He turned to me, his back to Doyle, and winked.
"I found bloodied glass too," Doyle went on. "He'd thrown it out, but I saw it hidden amongst the other rubbish. I didn't go specifically looking, mind," he protested, despite no one accusing him of doing so.
"What sort of glass?" Cook asked.
"Again, I wasn't trying to pry into Mr. Fitzroy's business."
"But?"
