The Clue is in the Pudding (3 page)

Pansy looked at her in surprise. “You’re buying him a Christmas present?”

Pleased that she’d taken her friend’s mind off the actor’s death, Gertie nodded. “Yeah, well, he always makes such lovely things for my twins at Christmastime.”

“That’s because he likes making things with his hands. He’s good at it.”

“Yeah, he is. But it’s more than that.” Gertie paused, her gaze on the tables but her mind seeing Clive’s big grin as he swept James or Lillian up into his brawny arms. “He’s been like a father to the twins. They miss not having a father around, and Clive’s sort of stepped in the gap.”

“He’s another one that makes me wonder why he never got married and had children of his own.”

Gertie had often wondered the same thing, but that wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with anyone but Clive himself. “Anyway, I thought I should give him something this year. I just don’t know what.”

“I dunno. What would you give a caretaker?”

Gertie frowned. “He’s a man as well as a caretaker. There has to be something he’d really like.”

Pansy dropped the last set of shakers onto a table. “Maybe a new pipe?”

“I’ve never seen him smoke a pipe.”

“Just because you haven’t seen him doesn’t mean he never smokes one.”

Gertie shook her head. “Doesn’t sound like something he’d want.”

“Then what about a bottle of whiskey? That seems to be a popular Christmas present. I saw Lady Bottingham coming from the bar yesterday carrying a bottle.”

Gertie raised her eyebrows. “Maybe she was taking it to her room to drink it herself.”

“Well, it had holly and ribbon tied around the neck, like she was ready to give it to someone.”

“Yeah, but the barmen always do that to all the bottles they sell at Christmastime.”

Pansy headed for the door, pulling off her apron as she went. “Well, I’ll ask Samuel if he knows what to give Clive. He’s a man so he should know. I’m going now to tell him about Mr. Armitage.”

“Tucker the Terrible is going to want to know where you are.”

Pansy paused at the door. “Oh, bother. I forgot about her.”

Gertie grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her Lady Bottingham asked you to take up a hot water bottle.”

Pansy blew a kiss. “You’re a love, Gertie. Ta ever so!” With that she rushed through the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Shaking her head, Gertie finished laying out the silverware and serviettes. Pansy’s comment about Clive had started her wondering again. For months now, she’d been on the verge of asking Clive about his past. Despite spending quite a bit of time with him, she still knew nothing about his life before he came to the Pennyfoot.

Every time she thought about asking him, however, something always cropped up to interrupt her. Maybe if she made a determined effort to find a moment to ask him, he could finally satisfy her curiosity. After all, he knew all about her and Ian, the father of her twins. He knew that she’d married Ian and didn’t find out he was already married until it was too late.

She’d also told Clive about Ross McBride. The Scottish bagpiper had been a lot older than her, and she’d married him more for the sake of her twins than anything. Ross had been kind to her and her children, and she’d missed him when he died.

Now there was Clive. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about him. He made her laugh and made her feel good when she was with him. He was a big man, both in size and heart, and would make a wonderful father for the twins.

She had to wonder, though, why such a man wasn’t already married and surrounded by his children. Why an intelligent, wise, clever man like Clive should be working as a caretaker. She couldn’t help feeling that the reason he didn’t talk about his past was because he had something to hide. Maybe that was why she kept such a tight rein on her feelings for him.

Or maybe it was simply that she couldn’t bear to be hurt again. Ian’s betrayal had devastated her. But then she’d met Ross and was at peace for a while. Until after he died, and she’d met Dan. For the first time in her life she’d been really in love, deeply in love.

Only he hadn’t loved her back. Not enough to put her and the twins above his own wishes. He’d wanted to uproot them all, take them back to London to live. She couldn’t do that to her children. Dan, she’d realized, belonged to a different world—a sophisticated, cultured, toffee-nosed world where she didn’t belong. It hadn’t taken much soul-searching to know where that would have ended up. Oh, but how it had hurt to turn him down.

Gertie took one last look around the dining room, then with a satisfied nod, headed for the door. Maybe she was destined to spend the rest of her life without a man and a father for her twins. And that was sad.

*   *   *

Having risked the wrath of Tucker the Terrible to be alone with Samuel, Pansy was quite disappointed to see his assistant, Gilbert Tubbs, in the stables, helping him wash the motorcars. Tess lay close to Samuel’s feet, her head resting on her paws.

Samuel gave her his usual greeting—a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “’Allo, luv,” he said, leaving one arm around her. “Whatcha doing here? It’s almost dinnertime, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Pansy snuggled up to him. “I’m supposed to be in the kitchen now, helping dish up the soup and vegetables. Mrs. Tucker would box my ears if she knew where I was right now.”

Samuel looked worried. “Then you’d better be off with you. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Gilbert straightened up, a polishing cloth in his hand. He was a good-looking man, with dark hair and bright blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing. He was taller than Samuel, and bigger built. When he smiled, like he was doing right now, two dimples dug deep into his cheeks. “Well, look who’s here! If it isn’t the most beautiful girl in Badgers End come to visit us.” He winked at Pansy, making her blush.

“Take no notice of him,” Samuel said gruffly. “He talks to all the girls that way.”

Pansy tossed her head. “I know that. He doesn’t fool me for one second.” Secretly she liked the things Gilbert said to her. It made her feel pretty, though she’d never admit as much to Samuel. “I didn’t come here to talk to him, anyway. I came to tell you something.” She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat when he smiled down at her.

“All right then, luv. What did you want to tell me?”

She hesitated, not sure now how to break the news. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea just to blurt it out. Maybe she should have waited and let Samuel find out from madam or someone.

Both men were looking at her now, waiting for her to speak. Taking a deep breath she said a little unsteadily, “You remember the gentleman that rescued Tess?”

Gilbert’s grin faded, while Samuel looked puzzled. “Of course I do. How could I forget? He saved my Tess’s life.”

At the mention of her name, the shaggy dog lifted her head.

“Yes, I know.” Pansy’s voice wobbled, and she gulped. “Well, he was a famous actor called Archibald Armitage.”

Samuel looked down at Tess. “You were rescued by a famous actor, Tess. Maybe he’ll put you in one of his plays.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be doing that.” Pansy bit her lip. “He’s . . . he’s . . .”

Samuel hugged her tighter. “What’s the matter, pet? What’s wrong?”

Pansy let a tear slide down her cheek. “He’s dead, Samuel. Gertie found him dead in his bed.”

The shocked silence that followed was eventually broken by her sob.

Samuel looked stunned, while Gilbert raised his face to the ceiling.

“Dead?” Samuel dropped his arm and half turned away from her. “What happened? How did he die?”

Worried about Samuel’s reaction, Pansy shook her head. “I don’t know. Madam has sent for Dr. Prestwick so we’ll probably know soon. I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else.”

Samuel shook his head. “I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. I was going to do that in the morning.”

“I know.” Pansy hugged his arm. “I’m so sorry, Samuel. He was a good, kind man and didn’t deserve to die all alone in a hotel room.”

Gilbert snorted, making them both stare at him in surprise. “Good man, my arse.”

“Here!” Samuel glared at him. “Watch your language around a lady.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. After listening to Gertie mouthing off, I thought Pansy was used to it.”

Samuel took a step toward him. “Not while I’m around and not from you.”

Gilbert held up his hands in submission. “All right, all right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Pansy, however, wasn’t about to let it drop. “What did you mean, about Mr. Armitage? He was a very nice man, and you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Gilbert crouched down by the motorcar and started polishing it again. “Maybe not, but Armitage was not a good man by any means. He was a thief and a liar.”

Pansy took a step forward. “I don’t believe you. How would you know, anyhow?”

Gilbert shrugged and dropped the polishing cloth into a bucket at his side. “Never you mind.” He looked up and grinned at her. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart.”

Samuel scowled. “It’s time you were off,” he said, nodding at the doors. “You’re finished for the day.”

Gilbert stood and touched his forehead with his fingers. “Yes, sir. See you tomorrow.” With another wink at Pansy, he strolled through the doors and out into the dark night.

Samuel grunted. “Cheeky blighter. If we weren’t so busy I’d tell him to bugger off and not come back.”

Feeling cold all of a sudden, Pansy hugged herself. “I can’t believe what he said about Mr. Armitage. He waded into that icy pond to save Tess and might well have caught cold and died from it. How could a man like that be a thief and a liar? I think it’s Gilbert what’s lying, that I do.”

Samuel shrugged. “I suppose we’ll never know. I’m sorry the bloke is dead, though. I did want to thank him for saving Tess’s life.”

Tess raised her head again and whined. Pansy dropped to her knees beside the dog and hugged her. “No matter what they say,” she said softly in the dog’s ear, “
we
know that Mr. Armitage was a good man, don’t we.”

Samuel laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for coming to tell me. You’d better get back to the kitchen, before that old crow comes looking for you.”

Pansy snorted. “I’m not afraid of
her.
”

Samuel pulled her to her feet and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Maybe you’re not, but I am. I don’t want her complaining to madam that I’m keeping the maids entertained in the stables.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows. “Maids?”

Samuel grinned. “Well, one. The best, most beautiful one.”

Pansy gave him a shove. “Go on with you.” She was smiling as she left him, and in spite of her sorrow over a kind man’s death, her smile lasted all the way back to the kitchen.

CHAPTER

3

Seated by the fire in her suite, Cecily waited anxiously for Kevin Prestwick to finish his examination of Archibald Armitage. Kevin had been her doctor for many years, and at one time had been a strong suitor for her hand before Baxter had captured her heart. Although Kevin was now happily married to Madeline, Baxter was never fully comfortable when the doctor was in their company. The relationship between the two men was fragile, though they had often worked together when necessary in the pursuit of a villain.

Right now Baxter was pacing back and forth in front of the fire, hands behind his back. A sure sign he was deeply troubled.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “I don’t like this at all.”

“No one likes a death in the house,” Cecily murmured. She sat close to the flames, embracing the warmth on her knees through the thick wool of her black skirt. “It is unfortunate, to say the least. I hope it won’t dampen the Christmas spirit for everyone.”

Baxter paused and looked her in the eye. “I just hope it isn’t the dratted curse popping up again.”

Cecily felt a twinge of anxiety and laced her fingers in her lap. “I’m sure whatever happened to Mr. Armitage was caused by some illness. I just hope it isn’t contagious.”

Baxter’s eyebrows shot up. “Good Lord! I hadn’t thought of that. That would be worse than if he’d been murdered.”

Cecily fanned her face with her hand. “Please, Hugh, don’t even mention that word. I refuse to think that we have another killer on our hands.”

A tap at the door snatched her attention away from her husband. “Come in!”

Kevin appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his pleasant features. “I’m finished with my examination.”

“Do please come in, Kevin.” Cecily got up from the chair and hurried over to him. “Tell us, please, what was the cause of Mr. Armitage’s death?”

Kevin walked into the room and gave Baxter a wary nod. “Well, I can’t be certain until I’ve done a further study in my surgery, but all symptoms appear to point toward a case of severe poisoning.”

Cecily gasped, one hand over her mouth. “Food poisoning?”

Kevin shrugged. “It’s hard to say at this point. I may know more later. If I have something more definite, I’ll give you a ring.”

“Dear God.” Baxter strode over to his wife and put a hand on her shoulder. “Please inform us of the results as soon as possible. If it is food poisoning we will need to take steps right away.”

Cecily raised her hand to cover her husband’s. “Mr. Armitage has taken all his meals in the dining room. If it is food poisoning, then the rest of my guests will be affected.”

Kevin frowned. “Has anyone else complained of feeling ill?”

“Not as far as I know.”

The doctor glanced at Baxter. “You have both taken the same meals as your guests?”

Baxter nodded. “I feel quite well.” He squeezed Cecily’s shoulder. “How about you, my dear?”

“Perfectly well, thank you.” Cecily felt a glimmer of hope.

“That’s a good sign.” Kevin turned toward the door. “I’ve asked two of your footmen to assist me in removing the body. I’ll ring you the minute I know more.”

“Thank you, Kevin.” Cecily accompanied him to the door. “We will see you in any case at the carol-singing ceremony, I believe?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Our nanny will be taking care of Angelina while we attend the evening. Madeline and I are looking forward to it. Where is she, by the way?”

“I believe Madeline is in the library. She wanted to add a few things to the Christmas tree.”

“Then I shall look for her there.” Cecily smiled as he gave her a quick salute, then closed the door behind him.

Baxter stood with his back to the fire again, watching her with a frown on his face. “What if it is food poisoning?”

“Then we have a lot more to worry about than Mr. Armitage’s death.”

Baxter let out a mournful sigh. “Just when I was beginning to hope we had escaped the curse this year.”

Cecily joined him at the fire. “Cheer up, my love. At least we don’t have to hunt for a murderer, and so far no one else appears to be ill, so let’s hope that Kevin finds the answer and that it has nothing to do with food poisoning.”

Baxter looked hopeful. “I suppose he could have eaten something else that didn’t come from the kitchen.”

Cecily sat down and reached for her needlework bag beside her chair. “I can’t imagine what it would be. I don’t think Mr. Armitage left the premises at all since he arrived late yesterday. I saw him in the building several times myself.”

“Ah well, we shall know as soon as Prestwick rings. Then perhaps we can stop worrying about it.”

Until then
, Cecily thought, as she deftly threaded an embroidery needle,
she was going to worry a great deal
.

*   *   *

“Food poisoning?” Gertie almost dropped the tray of soup dishes she was holding. She put it down on the nearest table and glanced around the dining room to make sure they were alone. “Are you telling me that man died because of something he ate?”

Pansy nodded, her face white with fear. “I was passing by madam’s suite on my way to take Lady Bottingham a hot water bottle, and the door was open. I heard madam say something about food poisoning.”

“Blimey.” Gertie shook her head. “What do we do now? We’re supposed to be serving dinner any minute now.”

“I know. Mrs. Tucker just sent me up to ring the dinner bell.”

“Does she know about the food poisoning?”

Pansy shivered, clutching her shoulders as if she were freezing. “I told her and Michel. I thought Michel was going to have a fit. He was shouting swear words in French and crashing his saucepans around, and Mrs. Tucker was yelling at him and at me. It was awful.”

Seeing Pansy’s eyes fill with tears, Gertie silently cursed the temporary housekeeper. “Well, never you mind, luv. It wasn’t your fault the man died. That old bat had no right to yell at you. Go and ring the dinner bell, and we’ll get everything served up, then we’ll worry about what to do after that.”

Pansy went on shivering. “What if the dinner’s poisoned? It will be our fault if everyone drops dead. How are we going to know what’s safe to eat?” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I’m never going to eat another thing in this place. It’s all
her
fault.” She jerked her head at the dining room door. “I wish Mrs. Chubb hadn’t gone away. She would never have let anyone be poisoned.”

“Shshh!” Gertie put a finger to her lips. “We don’t want everyone to know, do we. They’ll be panicking and leave. Then we’d have no Christmas.”

Pansy’s voice rose to a wail. “How can we have a Christmas with everyone dying of food poisoning?”

Deciding that a firm tone was needed, Gertie sharpened her voice. “Pansy, shut your gob. We don’t know that it was something from our kitchen what poisoned him. If it was then everyone would be dying by now, including you and me. I don’t know about you, but I’m not dead yet, and you look lively enough.”

Pansy hiccupped. “Yeah, I suppose. I’d better go and ring the dinner bell.” She headed for the door, flinging words over her shoulder. “I’m still not eating nothing until I know for sure.”

Gertie watched her go, her uneasiness growing. If it was something from the kitchen, how were they going to tell what it was? As far as she knew, all the guests had eaten the same food ever since they got to the club.

The sound of the dinner bell echoed down the hallway, and she took a quick look around to make sure all the tables were in order. Just then two maids hurried in, both carrying matches. One rushed around the tables lighting candles, while the other lit the oil burners underneath the warming dishes on the sideboard.

Pansy tore in a moment later, still looking as if she was ready to cry. “They’re coming,” she called out as she flew over to her station by the window.

Moments later the first guests walked through the door. Sir Reginald Minster and his wife were followed shortly after by Lady Winifred Bottingham. She wore a swirling pink feather in her hair, and her pink silk gown glittered with tiny sequins as she passed by the gaslights.

She was a striking-looking woman, with her red hair and slender figure. Staring at her, Gertie had to wonder again why the woman had never married. Lady Bottingham was a lot prettier than most of the women in the room. Certainly better looking than Lady Henrietta Minster, who was short and dumpy and clung to her husband’s arm as if afraid to let go.

Pansy soon had everyone seated, and after that Gertie had no time to think about anything. Her head was too busy trying to keep up with removing empty dishes and replacing them with filled ones, seeing that everyone who wanted them had seconds, and making sure that no one waited too long for the next course.

When she finally had time to breathe, she took another good long look around the room. After a quick count she assured herself that everyone, with the exception of Mr. Armitage, was present and appeared to be quite healthy. So, it would seem that whatever had poisoned the actor, it probably hadn’t come from the kitchen.

She was halfway across the room when she remembered something. Something so shocking, she stopped short with a sharp cry.

She hadn’t realized anyone was behind her until the maid slammed into her back, sending her forward into the chair upon which Lady Henrietta Minster was seated.

The aristocrat was in the act of finishing her sherry. The glass never reached her lips. Instead, the dark red liquid leapt down the front of Lady Henrietta’s gown.

Hearing the shriek, Gertie thought at first that she was looking at another victim of the food poisoning. Until she saw the dismay on the woman’s face, and the stain spreading across her bosom.

The maid who had bumped into Gertie was whimpering. “I’m so sorry. So dreadfully sorry. I didn’t know Mrs. McBride was going to stop so quick and I just—”

Gertie turned to her. “It’s all right, Maisie. I’ll take care of this. It wasn’t your fault.”

Behind her, Lady Henrietta cried, “Just look at this! Whatever am I going to do?”

Turning back to the table, Gertie met the woman’s accusing stare. “I’m awfully sorry, m’m. I’ll have the laundry take care of your gown and I’ll fetch you another glass of sherry.”

“I don’t
want
another glass of sherry!” Lady Henrietta’s voice rose to a loud wail. “This is a Paris original! It’s
silk
. You can’t clean silk in a
laundry
!”

Gertie opened her mouth to offer another apology but before she could speak, Sir Reginald rose to his feet. Laying a moist palm on Gertie’s shoulder, he leaned forward until his face was just a few inches from hers. “Please don’t worry, m’dear. It was just an unfortunate accident, that’s all.” Still holding Gertie’s shoulder tight enough to make her wince, he turned to his wife. “We really don’t want to make a fuss.” He lowered his voice to a distinct warning. “Do we,
dearest.
”

His wife lowered her gaze to her lap. “No, of course not,” she whispered.

“Then I suggest we retire to our suite where you can change into another gown.”

“Yes, dear.” Avoiding everyone’s gaze, Lady Henrietta rose to her feet and scurried from the room, her husband close on her heels.

The minute the door closed behind them, the buzz of conversation resumed, and Pansy rushed over to her. “What happened? Whatever did you do to upset her like that?”

Gertie shook her head. “Never mind that now. I have to talk to madam right away. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Before Pansy could protest, Gertie sped over to the door and out into the hallway.

*   *   *

“You’re not eating your dinner,” Cecily observed, giving her husband a stern look. “Are you not well?”

Seated at the small table in front of the fire, Baxter gazed down at his plate of roast duck, roasted potatoes, and carrots with a scowl of distaste. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Cecily sighed. Normally during the Christmas season they took their meals with the guests in the dining room. After the upset of Mr. Armitage’s death, however, neither one of them had felt up to socializing, and had chosen instead to have dinner in their suite.

Still, Cecily felt guilty for abandoning her guests and was hoping to persuade Baxter to at least join them in the ballroom later. Judging from his morose expression, it seemed unlikely that he would agree.

She was about to attempt a plea when a sharp rapping on the door turned her head.

“Drat,” Baxter said, pushing his plate aside. “Now what?”

Cecily raised her voice. “Come in!”

The door opened and Gertie charged into the room, barely dropping a curtsey before saying breathlessly, “I’ve got something I have to tell you, m’m.”

Baxter grunted. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you address both of us before blurting out whatever it is you have to say?”

Gertie dipped her knees again. “Sorry, sir. Good evening, Mr. Baxter. You, too, m’m.”

Cecily rolled her eyes. It was obvious Gertie had something important to say. Niceties could wait. “What is it, Gertie? Don’t tell me someone else is ill?”

“No, m’m. Not that I know of, anyway.”

Cecily’s shoulders slumped in relief. Nothing could be worse than that. Could it? Eyeing her housemaid warily, she waited for her next words.

“It’s Beatrice Tucker, m’m.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Baxter shoved his chair back. “Can’t you settle these petty squabbles in the kitchen without barging in here and interrupting our meal? We’ve heard nothing but complaining and whining from everyone since that woman got here. It’s Christmas for heaven’s sake. Can’t you get along for a few more days?”

Gertie squared her shoulders. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Baxter, but Mrs. Tucker is an overbearing, mean-mouthed old bat who finds fault with everything we say and do. It’s bloody hard to get along with someone like that.”

“Well, it’s too late to get anyone else now, so you’ll all just have to put up with her.”

“Yes, sir. We’re trying to do just that.” Gertie turned back to Cecily. “I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner, m’m, but there’s something you should know about Mrs. Tucker.”