For once in my existence, I was totally speechless, stunned by Lady Blitherington’s accusation.
Then all hell broke loose around me. Giles had come out of my office at the sound of his mother’s voice. Upon seeing Giles, Lady Prunella began screeching even louder, waving her arms around madly, like a helicopter out of control. Giles, obviously furious, was trying to drown out his mother. Detective Inspector Chase was doing his best to quiet them both but was having not one whit of success.
Suddenly, I found my voice. “Quiet!” I thundered. I have a very powerful voice when I exert myself, and the windows in the cottage rattled. Startled, Lady Prunella and Giles fell silent, while poor Detective Inspector Chase took a step backward.
“Lady Blitherington, what is this ridiculous charge you’re making against me?” I fixed her with the proverbial basilisk gaze, and she wilted a bit, even as overwrought as she still was.
“You’ve corrupted my son!” she said. “You wicked, wicked man! Arrest him, I tell you!” She motioned once again at Detective Inspector Chase, trying vainly to stir him to action.
“My dear Lady Blitherington,” Detective Inspector Chase said with weary patience, “I have been trying to explain to you that offering your son a job as a secretary does not constitute corruption.” Then he lost his temper at the absurdity of it all. “And for heaven’s sake, ma’am, your son is an adult, after all!”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. Partly in relief, I must admit. Upon hearing Lady Prunella’s accusation, I had had visions of Giles confessing some sort of torrid seduction scene to his mother in which I figured largely as the evil, dissipated roue and Giles as the innocent dupe. It sounded suspiciously like the plot of one of my novels, now that I thought about it.
Giles laughed along with me. If anything, Lady Prunella looked more affronted than before.
“I’m delighted,” she said icily, “that you find the situation fraught with amusement It is obvious to me that my misguided son has fallen completely under the spell of this, this American!” She invested that last word with so much loathing that I knew I’d not be invited to tea at Blitherington Hall anytime soon.
“Mummy, I told you before,” Giles began with admirable patience, “that I wanted to get a job. I want to be a writer, and working with Simon will be valuable experience for me. He’s very successful, and he knows many influential people in the publishing world. Surely you can understand that?” Giles cast an apologetic glance in my direction, and I shrugged.
“But Giles, a secretary?” Lady Blitherington wailed. “What will people say when they hear that Sir Giles Blitherington is a secretary, of all things?”
“Perhaps, Lady Blitherington,” said Detective Inspector Chase mildly, “they might admire him for working to find his own way into his chosen profession.”
Lady Blitherington greeted this attempt at helpfulness with a skeptical sniff. “Why couldn’t you have told me about this yourself, Giles? I had to hear it from your sister!”
Giles’s quick grimace promised retribution to his sister. “Precisely because of this, Mummy! I knew you’d make a scene. At least I can be thankful you did it here, inside Simon’s house and somewhat in private, rather than in front of everyone in the village!” He threw up his hands. “Now, just go home, Mummy, and stop worrying about what people will think. Most of them couldn’t care less, I assure you. The whole village doesn’t spend every walking moment wondering what you and I are doing every blasted minute of the day!”
“Well!” Lady Blitherington drew herself up, the very picture of outraged virtue. “I can see that I shall get precious little sympathy here. And, you, some public servant you are!” she said venomously to Detective Inspector Chase. He shrugged, and she wheeled around and marched out the door. Moments later, my gate rattled loudly in its frame.
“Simon, I must apologize for this,” Giles said. “I would understand, believe me, if you decide that you want nothing further to do with me.” He looked desolate at the possibility I might accept his offer.
I laughed, and his handsome face cleared of worry. “Giles, I haven’t the slightest fear of your mother, I assure you. I understand her, believe it or not. So you’re welcome to keep your job if you like.”
“Thank you, Simon,” Giles said, relieved, then he turned and went back into my office and to work.
Detective Inspector Chase cleared his throat. “I, too, must apologize, Dr. Kirby-Jones. I had no idea that Lady Blitherington meant to accuse you in such a dramatic way. She accosted me in the village and insisted that I accompany her. I wasn’t quite clear on exactly what she wanted, but I kept trying to tell her that employing her son as a secretary was not an actionable offense.”
I laughed again. His expression of dismayed contrition was so adorable. “There’s no need to apologize, Detective Inspector. I know Lady Blitherington well enough by now to understand the situation. You have nothing for which to blame yourself.”
"Thank you, Dr. Kirby-Jones,” he said, proffering his hand. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have further real business in the village.”
I shook his hand and saw him out the front door, and off he went, down the lane to the village, whistling merrily. I stood in the doorway, enjoying the view, until he was out of sight. Giles startled me, clearing his throat behind me, as I was about to shut the door.
“Simon,” he said when I turned to face him, “I’m going home to have some lunch and to have a talk with my mother. I can assure you that there will be no further such outbursts on her part.”
“Thank you, Giles. I’d appreciate that very much,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Would you like me to come back this afternoon?” Giles asked. “I’ve made a lot of headway with getting your files in order, but there is still more than enough to keep me busy for several hours this afternoon.”
“If you’re that eager to work,” I responded, smiling at him, “far be it from me to keep you away. Take as long as you like for lunch, then report back for duty. I have an engagement for teatime, but other than that, I’ll probably be here working.”
Giles raised an eyebrow interrogatively when I mentioned my engagement, but I didn’t enlighten him. He didn’t need to know everything I was doing, secretary or not I shooed him out the door, then went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. I really cannot write, or even read long enough to do any research, unless I’m wearing the right clothes. In this case, “right” means shabby, worn, and comfortable.
Back at my desk, I turned on my computer, and when it had booted up, I clicked on my word-processing program and called up the most recent bits I had written. I read back over them to get myself into the proper mood, but for some reason, it wasn’t working. The voice wasn’t coming to me as it should. Frowning, I stared at the computer screen as if willing it to start talking.
Sighing, I turned away from the monitor and propped my head in my hands, leaning my elbows on the desk. I knew what the problem was. The scent of Giles’s cologne, subtle, warm, and masculine, lingered in my office. Not to mention that the scene with Lady Blitherington was still echoing in my head.
Giles was disturbingly attractive, and in a very short time, he had taken to occupying too much time in my thoughts. I had little doubt as to my ability to withstand him physically. That organ I could easily control. It was another part of my anatomy that worried me. (And, yes, we do have them; that’s why driving stakes through them can kill us.)
More than likely, as is occasionally the case with me, I was putting the horse several leagues ahead of the cart. Giles appeared sincere in his interest in me, but he could be just another gold digger. I had met a few of those already, ever since my books had begun attracting attention—and serious money. Time wounds all heels, they say, and that might be the case with Giles. I’d just have to watch myself and take things slowly.
If I didn’t throttle his damned mother first, that is. I thought back over her reaction to the news that Giles was working for me. Ridiculous as it was, it proved one thing: If she reacted that strongly to her son’s working as a secretary to someone like me, then she might truly kill to keep even more humiliating secrets as quiet as the grave.
Upon that conclusion, I decided I was once again in the mood to write a murder mystery, and I turned back to the computer monitor and keyboard with grim determination.
When Giles returned from lunch, I was so engrossed in what I was writing that I acknowledged his quiet greeting with a grunt, and then I was lost again in the story I was creating. Giles may have made noise as he worked, but I was so involved in my work that I didn’t notice.
At some point, the haze lifted, and I came back to the present I saved my document expelled a long sigh, and turned to find Giles offering me a cold drink.
“Thank you, Giles,” I said gratefully. “This is exactly what I needed.” I glanced at my watch after I downed the drink. Oops! I had only a few minutes to get dressed, take my dose of medicine, and be at Jane Hardwick’s door to accompany her to Colonel Clitheroe’s cottage for tea.
I shouted an explanation over my shoulder as I moved quickly out from behind my desk, around Giles, out of the office, and up the stairs. I was back downstairs again in seven minutes flat neatly attired in public clothes once again, not a hair out of place.
“Amazing,” Giles commented, his eyes wide in surprise. “Are you entirely certain you’re gay, Simon?” he asked with a laugh. “I’ve never known a gay man who dresses as well as you do who could dress that quickly and still look so good.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Giles,” I said, trying to appear stern, but pleased nevertheless. I couldn’t tell him that as a vampire, I could move more quickly than a human, but not at the speed of light like a comic book superhero.
I gave him instructions on locking up, presenting him with a spare key. I forbore to admonish him about using it for nefarious purposes, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t try anything like waiting in my bed for me again.
“See you tomorrow, Simon” was all he said as I left him.
Jane Hardwick was waiting impatiently outside the gate of her cottage. She took my proffered arm and hurried me along the lane and down the High Street to Colonel Clitheroe’s cottage. As we trod the flagstones of his walk, approaching the front door, I admired his garden. It did look militarily precise, every flower, every bush, every tree exactly in place, nothing sticking out at an odd angle, all neatly arranged as if by a master clockmaker. The colors vibrated brilliantly in the hot summer air. If the colonel could help me achieve something similar, I might really have someone redesign my garden.
Colonel Clitheroe answered Jane’s knock immediately, as if he had been waiting just the other side of the door. He stepped aside and motioned us inside. The cool dimness of the interior was a welcome change from the heat of the August afternoon.
The colonel steered us through a short, narrow hallway into his sitting room and gestured us into our seats. He had seated Jane beside a tea tray, and she took on the duties of playing mother with good grace. I let my eyes rove over the room while Jane chatted at the colonel, who as yet had very little to say.
I wasn’t quite sure what I had expected. The decor was not at all reminiscent of service in India or Africa, as I had feared it might be. No elephant’s foot hat stands or grimacing native masks or life-size statues of the goddess Kali or anything at all pukka sahib. (I suppose I had read too many of a certain sort of English novel once upon a time.) Instead, the room was furnished in what I would call comfy English country. The colonel was either less of a caricature than he let on or he had had the sense to hire someone to decorate his cottage for him.
I tuned back in to Jane’s flow of conversation.
“... was such a shock to all of us who knew her, naturally. Don’t you think?” Obviously, Jane was speaking of the murder, the number-one topic in Snupperton Mumsley these days.
“Didn’t surprise me in the least,” said the colonel, taking a sip of his tea. “Only surprised it hadn’t happened years ago. Whoever did it deserves a medal, I’d say.”