Eight

That evening there was only quiet in the library of Winteroak House. Pleading another headache, Mrs. Cummins had retired shortly after dinner. Tal had made no excuses and shut himself in his room not much later. Nick had taken Carrie and Will to the cinema in Southampton, leaving Drew and Madeline alone together.

“You should have gone with them,” Drew said. “Take your mind off all this.”

“Not if you wouldn’t go. I didn’t care to see the picture anyway.”

“No, of course not.” He put an arm around her. “Never mind it’s got that Cary Grant fellow in it and you’ve demanded to see everything he’s been in since I’ve known you.”

“I just wasn’t in the mood to see a picture about war and death, even with Cary Grant.” She shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice to have an evening to ourselves. After all that’s happened.” She paused, looking at him, then traced her fingers along his jawline. “I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

He caught her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I don’t much feel like being alone, though I don’t much feel like being with anyone but you either. And I was wondering too—”

“About the maid.”

“Exactly that. Perhaps Alice wasn’t the only one who’d seen something she wasn’t meant to. If the murderer put something in Alice’s drink, why shouldn’t he do the same for this Josephine?”

“You don’t think it’s as serious as all that, do you? Mrs. Cummins didn’t seem worried about more than having decent service at her table.”

He relaxed, if just slightly. She was probably right and no doubt much more perceptive than he could ever hope to be. “What do you think then, darling? Perhaps some coffee and a chat about something other than this wretched case?”

“That would be wonderful,” she replied.

Drew rang the bell and requested coffee. A few minutes later, a rather rotund little woman, red-faced and with her hair done up under a cap, waddled into the room and thumped down two cups, sloshing coffee on the end table.

“Beg pardon, sir. Madam.” She wiped up the spill with her apron, her expression taut. “Can I get you anything else?”

“You must be Mrs. Ruggles,” Drew said. “I’ve been meaning to send you my compliments this whole week. Your apple cake ought to be classified as a national treasure.”

The hostility in the woman’s expression softened into a mixture of embarrassment and grudging pleasure. “You’re very kind, sir, I’m sure.”

“We didn’t expect you to have to bring the coffee yourself.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, sir. It’s just . . . well, I’ve been cook here nigh on to thirty years. I think I know my job, if you’ll pardon me.”

“I’m certain you do,” he said. “The meals this week have been perfection.”

“I can’t say that much of my own cooking, sir, though I thank you. But food poisoning? In my kitchen? No, sir. That I will not have.”

“I can hardly blame you. Who would make such an infamous accusation?”

“Dr. Fletcher. He says there’s no doubt of it. Oh, pardon me, it’s Josephine, our maid. She’s took to her bed. That’s why I had to bring your coffee.” The cook ducked her head. “Not that it ain’t a pleasure, sir, I’m sure, but I’m that mortified for anyone to hear something bad came from my kitchen. A baby could eat off that floor and no worry, and that’s the floor, mind. There’s not a bit of the whole kitchen not kept scrubbed and shined day in and day out, and all the food bought fresh, too. Nothing in tins. Where’s the food poisoning in that?”

“I certainly can’t see where you’d be to blame,” he said, taking an appreciative sip of the coffee.

“But how we’re to keep things in good order with so many people staying, I don’t know, sir, and that’s the good Lord’s truth. It’s not so much the guests, mind you, but there’s hardly one of them doesn’t bring his own people along, and I’m the one as has to keep them out of mischief.”

Madeline’s eyebrows went up. “I hope our—”

“Oh, no, madam. Not to worry on that account. Beryl’s a love and always willing to help. And your Mr. Plumfield, sir, well he’s rather quiet, but never a bit of trouble. Not like some as I could mention.”

Drew nodded encouragingly. “I can see that you’d have a lot to manage.”

Mrs. Ruggles frowned. “You take that Mr. Adkins, who sees to Mr. Laurent when they’re in town. Why, I wouldn’t trust him with the jam spoon, telling you the truth. He’s got a look about him I just don’t like. Do you know, sir, that I found him in my pantry yesterday?”

Drew made his expression appropriately horrified. “No.”

“Yes. Bold as brass he was. I’d been out to the garden to get some of the mint Mrs. Cummins grows. I came back in, and there he was poking about with who knows what. I should have made him turn out his pockets then and there, but I thought the master might not care for it, seeing as he and the French gentleman are such good friends.”

“And what do you suppose he wanted in the pantry? Mr. Adkins, I mean.”

The cook snorted. “He says he was looking for headache powders. Headache powders? In with the flour and sugar? Doesn’t seem quite right, does it?”

“Doesn’t seem right at all,” Drew said.

“Did he take anything?” Madeline asked.

“I didn’t give him a chance,” said Mrs. Ruggles, pursing her lips. “I caught him before he could take anything more than a look round. Don’t think I didn’t send him off quicker than he came and count the teaspoons afterwards!”

“I trust they were all safe,” Drew said.

“They were, sir, and they are, but I’ll keep my eyes open all the same. And now there’s this business of food poisoning, which is utter nonsense. I think I know my own cooking, thank you very much.”

“Could it have been something bad from the butcher?” Madeline suggested.

“No, madam,” she said, her china-blue eyes snapping. “I’ve bought from Mr. Gibbons nearly as long as I’ve been in this house. He knows better than to give me anything that’s turned, and I know good meat from spoilt. Besides, if that were the case, wouldn’t we all of us got sick?”

“Very true,” said Drew.

“That Dr. Fletcher, I say he don’t know food poison from a case of the mumps, that’s what I say.”

“And I hope Josephine will recover soon,” Madeline said.

The cook beamed at her. “Oh, yes, madam. The poor dear weren’t but half dead. I expect she’ll be back at work sooner than later. Anyway, sir, if I can get you anything else, you just send word. I don’t mind.”

“That’s very good of you, Mrs. Ruggles.” Drew took another sip of his coffee. “And if anyone brings up the subject of food poisoning in my hearing, I’ll be certain to set him straight.”

She ducked her head. “I’m obliged, to be sure, sir.”

Drew glanced at Madeline and then turned again to the cook. “I say, Mrs. Ruggles, do you buy all the food for the house?”

She stuck out her lower lip. “I tell you there weren’t anything gone bad in my kitchen. I know absolutely there couldn’t—”

“No, no, I’m sure you’re right. No doubt of it.” He took the scrap of label out of his waistcoat pocket. “I was just wondering if you recognized this.”

She wiped both hands on her apron and took it from him, studying it for a moment. “Can’t say as I do, sir. D. Hmmm. There’s Dovecote Wholemill Flour and Dunning Flavoured Coffee Beans we buy regular, but neither of them has a label like this.”

“Could it possibly be soap or some kind of cleaner?” Madeline asked.

“Not as I’ve seen, madam. I could ask Mrs. Brogan, who sees to that sort of thing. Is it something you’d like us to get for you?”

“No,” Drew assured her, reclaiming the tattered label. “Just wondering where this might have come from. But if you’d check with Mrs. Brogan for us, it would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll do that, sir. Leave it to me. Will there be anything else?”

“Not tonight, thank you. You’ve been more than helpful.”

“Only too happy, sir. Madam.”

She waddled out of the room, head held higher than when she had waddled into it.

Madeline took the scrap from him. “Could it be from a medicine of some sort?”

“Or tooth powder or motor oil or furniture polish.” He shook his head. “Any number of things. Maybe a bit of a circus poster or an advert for a new automobile.”

“Well, I won’t try to tell Mrs. Ruggles her own business.”

“Not more than once, I suspect,” Drew said.

Madeline grinned. “I think I’ll have a look in the pantry myself after breakfast tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see something she’s forgotten.”

“Fair enough, darling. And I’ll see what I can find out at the grocer’s.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Best let me see to this on my own. People seem to be a bit less on their guard with one person rather than two.”

She gave him a knowing nod. “Especially the women.”

“Now, now, darling, don’t make assumptions. The only one behind the grocer’s counter may very well be old Mr. Worrywart with a bushy beard down to his belly, jelly-jar spectacles, and an ear trumpet. He’s not likely to be won over by my boyish charms.”

“And it’s as likely to be young Miss Worrywart with big brown eyes, bobbed hair, and a flask of gin tucked into her garter.”

“If it is, I promise I’ll tattle to her mother about the gin.”

She laughed and snuggled against him on the couch. “Bargain.”

Drew and Madeline went up to their room a couple of hours later. Madeline stepped into the bathroom to get ready for bed while Drew moved to the bed, where Eddie was lounging.

“Hello, love.” Drew took off his coat and put it over the back of a chair and then began scratching the cat between the ears. “I thought I left my book just where you’ve settled. What have you done with it, minx?” He raised his voice so Madeline could hear him from the bathroom. “Darling, have you seen my book? Darling?”

The water shut off, and Madeline came back into the bedroom. “What was that?”

“Have you seen my book? Or did Eddie carry it off somewhere?”

“It’s on the table by the bed.”

Drew picked up the book and put it down again. “This is Lord Edgeware. I finished it yesterday. I was looking for that new one by Allingham I started last night. Sweet Danger.”

She rolled her eyes. “You had it in the morning room and out in the garden. If it’s not in one of those places, I don’t know.”

“Right. Back in a jiff.”

Still in his shirtsleeves, he made his way down the stairs and into the morning room. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight for him to locate the book on the sofa. He snatched it up and tucked it under his arm and then turned to find someone blocking the doorway back into the corridor.

He squinted into the darkness and smiled faintly. “Hullo there. Is there something I can do for you?”

Laurent’s valet stepped into the rectangle of moonlight that fell from the morning room window and spilled onto the floor. “I’d say there’s something I can do for you, Mr. Farthering, seeing as you were good enough to understand about Mrs. Farthering’s pearls and not have me put in chokey for something I didn’t do.”

Drew raised one eyebrow. “Go on.”

“That American kid, he’d do better to keep himself to himself, if you know what I mean. I’m sure you’ve heard about curiosity and cats and all that. I told him already he ought to let things alone, but maybe he’d be more apt to listen to you than me.”

“I see. And just which things has he not been letting alone?”

Adkins lifted his pugnacious jaw. “Just never you mind what things, Mr. Farthering. I’m just saying, friendly like and for his own good, he ought to let things alone. You wouldn’t do so very badly yourself to stay out of it as well. As I said before, Mrs. Farthering’s a nice lady. I shouldn’t like to see her a widow.”

“I don’t fancy that much myself.”

Drew heard the sound of a car engine and glanced over his shoulder to see Nick had pulled into the drive in the Daimler. He and Carrie and Will would be coming into the house soon. Adkins saw them, too.

“Just a word to the wise, Mr. Farthering. Just as a favor for a favor.”

Drew narrowed his eyes. “Does your master know you’re warning me off like this?”

The valet glanced toward the door and moistened his dry lips. “Monsieur Laurent’s a busy man. I don’t like to trouble him with trifles.”

Drew heard the latchkey in the front door. Tal had given it to Nick so he and Carrie and Will could let themselves in without waking the house. Adkins looked back toward the sound, then gave a little nod.

“A favor for a favor, eh?”

He was gone before Nick and the others were inside.

Drew tucked his book under his arm and went to meet them in the hallway. “How was the cinema?”

Carrie sighed, “That Cary Grant is awful nice-looking.”

Nick made a piteous face. “How’s a chap supposed to compete with that, I’d like to know?”

Carrie took his arm, smiling up at him. “He couldn’t possibly be sweeter than you, Nicky.”

Drew chuckled. “You see, Nick old man? Miss Austen was right. ‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.’”

Will rolled his eyes. “Spare me the hearts and flowers, will you?”

“And what have you been up to, Will?” Drew asked. “I understand you had a bit of a run-in with Mr. Laurent’s valet.”

“Aww, him.” Will made a face. “He’s nobody. I’m not afraid of that stooge.”

“Billy!” Carrie scolded. “What have you been doing? How did you find out, Drew?”

Drew held up Sweet Danger. “I’d just come down for this, and Adkins told me I’d ought to have a word with young Master Holland about his ill-considered ways.”

“It was nothing, sis,” Will said, his voice overly earnest. “I was just poking around the house, and he was all high-and-mighty and told me to stay out of the way.”

Carrie shook her head in disgust.” And you couldn’t possibly have listened.”

“I didn’t hurt anything.” He grinned at Drew. “I got into that pantry and out again without the cook even noticing.”

“Billy!” Carrie turned to Nick, eyes blazing. “Did you know about this?”

“Not until now,” Nick said. “But I’d say you ought to take Mr. Adkins’s advice to heart, Will.”

Will wrinkled his nose. “You’re not my dad.” He glanced at Carrie. “Or my brother.”

Carrie shook her finger in his face. “You be nice, Billy Holland, or I swear this is the last time I take you with me anyplace. I mean it. And I don’t care what Daddy says.”

“All right, all right.” Will gave Nick a sullen apology. “I don’t know why you guys get to have all the fun.”

“You listen to your sister, Will,” Drew said. “I know this seems quite exciting at the moment, but it’s serious business and not something to trifle with.”

“I was just watching the police investigate. The fellow doing the fingerprinting was pretty nice about letting me tag along with him, but then that inspector guy told me to clear off.”

Drew chuckled. “He’s told us that a time or two, in point of fact, eh, Nick?”

“And neither of you ever listened to him, either.” Carrie shook her head, lips pursed. “Boys.”

Nick squeezed her hand. “Will you forgive us if we promise to lead blameless lives evermore?”

“I guess there’s no harm done.” Fighting a smile, Carrie stood on tiptoe to give Nick a peck on the cheek. “You two behave yourselves. Come on, Billy, it’s past your bedtime.” She took Will’s arm, tugging him toward the stairs. “You boys can play detective in the morning.”

“I’d like a private word with you, Will,” Drew said. “If you and your sister don’t mind. Nick, perhaps you could escort the ladies upstairs.”

Carrie put her arm through Madeline’s. “Come on. I’ll tell you about the picture we just saw. Oooh, that Cary Grant.”

Drew waited until they were out of hearing before he turned to Will. “I’m serious about what I told you. This isn’t a game anymore.”

Will huffed. “All right, I get it. I just don’t know why you let that Nick in on everything and not me.”

“I thought you two were getting along nicely now.”

Will was silent for a moment, and then he huffed again. “Why does he have to be after my sister all the time?”

Drew fought a smile. “She doesn’t seem to mind, does she?”

“Aw, her head’s full of rocks. She doesn’t even think about things. I mean, it’s just me and her and Dad as it is, and I’m going off to college in the fall. Then what’s Dad going to do all by himself? And what’s she going to do if she’s not home where he can look after her?”

“You had to expect she’d leave home sometime. I can’t imagine the fellows over on your side of the pond haven’t noticed her.”

“Well, sure. I don’t expect her to stay an old maid or anything. But she can’t come all the way over here and live. We’d never see her! Besides, she’s supposed to marry Kip Moran.”

Surely Nick didn’t know about this.

Drew kept his expression mild. “Who’s this Moran fellow?”

Will beamed at him. “He was the captain of the varsity football team at the college. His dad’s a state representative, and he drives one of those new MG Midgets, orange with tiger stripes and everything.”

Drew refrained from rolling his eyes. “And he and your sister are engaged?”

“Heck no. They went out some. Carrie says he’s a swell fellow and all, but I don’t think he ever proposed.” Will scowled again. “Now she’ll hardly give him the time of day.”

Drew exhaled mentally. “I see. And was this recently? This spring?”

“Nah. About a year ago, I guess. Right after she was over here the first time.”

After she’d met Nick, then. That was definitely a good sign.

“Well, Nick’s a good fellow, you know, even without a tiger-striped car. And ladies’ preferences must be taken into consideration.”

“I guess so, but would it hurt her to marry someone keen?”

Drew gave Will a searching look. “You do realize Nick’s the reason she’s come, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Will said, looking as if he’d just agreed to take a dose of castor oil. “I just don’t know why she can’t get together with Kip Moran.”

“Suppose your sister decided to choose someone for you,” Drew said, trying not to smirk. “You wouldn’t stand for it for a moment.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Well, I . . . I mean, uh, I guess people ought to pick for themselves.” He sighed, shoulders drooping. “But that MG is awful swell.”

“Buck up, Will,” Drew said, clapping him on the back. “Maybe you’ll have one of your own someday, and you won’t have to trade your sister for it.”

Will grinned. “Maybe I will. Besides, if Dad found out I wanted her to marry a guy just so I could drive his car, he’d probably take my license away.” Just then he saw Nick coming back down the stairs and went to him, hand extended. “Sorry I’ve been such a pill, Nick. You’re a good guy, and if Carrie likes you, I guess that’s okay with me.”

He shook Nick’s hand and then hurried up the stairs and out of sight.

Nick watched him, dumbfounded. “Whatever did you say to him?”

“Oh, not much. I just told him to stay out of trouble and that Carrie ought to be the one to choose between you and your rival.”

“Rival?” Nick frowned. “Who?”

“Not here. Back in America. Will tells me his sister has been pursued by a star of American university football, who just happens to drive a rather natty tiger-striped car.”

Nick huffed.

“It probably plays the school fight song when one presses the horn as well,” Drew added.

Nick glared. “Yes, that’s all very well, I’m sure. And why haven’t you told me this before now?”

“Just found it out a minute ago.”

Nick glanced up the stairs, a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “I would never have known it by the way she acts.”

Drew chuckled, and the hurt became more than just a flicker.

“No, no, Nick, old man, no need to fall on your sword quite yet. Will tells me that since she came back from her first trip over here, she won’t give the football chap the time of day.”

Nick exhaled. “And if Carrie’s made up her mind, woe betide young Will if he tries to change it.”

“Those fiery redheads.” Drew shook his head. “Are you sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for?”

“Not exactly,” Nick said with a grin, “but I’m eager to find out.”

“It’ll be good for you, I daresay. Keep you on your toes.” Drew tucked his book under his arm once more. “I’d better toddle along myself. Mrs. Farthering will think I’ve stopped to read this one rather than just coming down to fetch it.”

Nick’s expression turned serious. “I came back to ask you about Adkins. He had a little word with you, did he?”

“He didn’t say much, only that Will ought to leave things be, and my wife, being so nice a lady, shouldn’t be left a widow.”

“Something you ought to let our chief inspector know about?” Nick asked, frowning.

“I dunno, old man. Evidently Birdsong’s been told to leave Mr. Adkins to heaven, as it were. Scotland Yard would rather he be allowed to mature his felonious little plans, or rather abet Laurent’s, until they can finally decide what the two of them are actually up to.”

“He threatened you,” Nick protested.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Drew thought back on the valet’s words, wondering if he should have noticed something more about them than he had. “He did seem grateful for our not pressing charges about the necklace. Maybe, rough as it was, it was just as he said—a friendly warning for my own good.”

“Conveniently putting you out of the way while he goes about his business, as well.” Nick scoffed. “Very nice. I suppose there’s plenty of time to tell Birdsong about it after we’ve found you facedown in the Solent, eh?”

“All right. If you feel it’s that important, I’ll tell him about it when I see him next. It’s not as if he and Scotland Yard aren’t keeping an eye on the fellow as it is.”

“A rather lax eye, if you ask me.” Once more, Nick glanced toward the stairs. “I wish Carrie and Will had gone back to Farthering Place. And Madeline too, if you want the truth.”

“Don’t think I don’t agree with you. At least here we can look after them.”

“If they’ll let us,” Nick said. “I ought to go stand in front of Carrie’s door and keep watch all night.”

“I’m sure she’d admire your chivalry, but it’s probably enough for tonight for her to lock her door. That’s not a bad idea for all of us, actually. At least until we figure out what’s going on here.”

“Right. Well, come on then. If there are any more sinister valets lurking in the shadows, we can fend them off together.”