Page 70 of Murder in Matrimony
“I lived much of my young life on a ship with men of debatable morals.” He crossed his arms. “You cannot believe I am ignorant of how to pick a lock.”
She felt her eyebrows raise.
He held out a hand. “The hairpins, if you please.”
She handed them over, and he went to work on the lock. It seemed impossible that his hands could be large yet deft, and she was mesmerized by the action. The lock sprung open, and she blinked. “I stand corrected, my lord. You are a regular cracksman.”
He took a bow, and she put the pins back in her pocket.
The book was old and its pages worn. Amelia carefully turned to the back of the book, where she wasn’t disappointed. On the last page was a newly written recipe. She scanned the ingredients.
“What do you think?” prodded Simon. “Is this the one?”
“I believe so.” She opened the drawer and drew out a pen and paper. “We must copy the ingredients to be certain.”
“You will take them to Mrs. Rothschild, then.”
“Yes. Right away.” She paused as she was writing down the ingredients. Something about the recipe seemed familiar, but she couldn’t say what.Odd.No one knew of the recipe except Mr. Baker and the Rothschild family. She shook off the thought, continuing to write as quickly as she could, stuffing the notepaper into her trouser pocket. Simon locked the book and returned it to the drawer. Then they crawled back down the ladder to find Oliver and Kitty.
They located them in the bake room. Oliver was studying the large oven, perhaps fascinated by the mechanics, and Kitty was bent over what appeared to be a ledger. When Amelia inquired, she explained, “It’s a schedule. Miss Rothschild was working with a woman named Lydia Hinkel the day she died. They both worked the bake room.”
“She might be able to tell us what happened,” Amelia said.
“It’s a person to ask at the very least.” Kitty flipped to the front of the book. “Her address is listed here with the rest of the bake room employees. I suppose if one is ill, another can be called upon to fill in.”
Amelia looked over her shoulder. There were about a dozen names on the list. “Good work.” She glanced at Oliver. “Did you find anything of interest?”
Oliver glanced at them. “This oven is quite interesting. I imagine it puts out a hundred biscuits or more at a time. Can you imagine? Hundreds of biscuits a day! The room must get very hot with the ovens running from sunup until sundown.”
Amelia was not surprised by the observation. He indeed was a scholar and almost everything interested him. Perhaps his next tome would be on biscuit making. The idea brought a smile to her lips.
Kitty asked Amelia if she and Simon had any success, and Amelia gave the Hamsteds the new information. Kitty wanted to inspect the recipe, but Simon cautioned them against staying too long. Now that the recipe was copied, they could view it any time.
“Our candles are burning low,” he said. “We should go.”
Amelia agreed.
“We can leave out this window,” observed Kitty, motioning to the window in the room. “As Oliver said, the room must become stifling, so no one will be surprised to find it unfastened.”
They agreed, then blew out their candles and slipped out the window into the dark night air.
TWENTY-NINE
Dear Lady Agony,
My response did not appear last week, nor the week before. I assumed you respond to all letters. Do you?
Devotedly,
Nowhere to be Found
Dear Nowhere to be Found,
It’s my dearest wish to respond to each letter, but as much as the paper has enlarged my space, I cannot answer every correspondent. If you respond with Second Request, I will be sure to answer you in the very next column.
Yours in Secret,
Lady Agony
