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Lucille knocked loudly on the door at Meadow’s house after first going to Belle’s and finding no one at home. Betty answered, her eyes widening slightly when she saw Lucille.
“Good morning,” Betty said, looking quickly around as if checking to see whether anyone were with her. Betty had a habit of always checking her surroundings, wanting to know precisely who was near her. It was not a bad habit to have, especially given the circumstances.
“Morning,” Lucille said to her. “Is Belle here? I think the three of us need to talk.”
Betty’s eyes widened slightly again and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Mrs. Poole is here,” she said, “but she is currently being entertained by her eldest sister as well as Mrs. Harcourt.”
“Irene’s here?” said Lucille, thinking that would save her a trip later.
Irene was the next stop on her list. She didn’t particularly want to include Meadow in their discussion, however, though she’d known that coming here she would have little choice, given that it was Meadow’s house. Still, she figured she ought to be able to find a roundabout way of conveying the information she wanted to convey without Meadow catching on.
“Thanks, Betty,” Lucille said. “Show me in, will you?”
Betty hesitated then nodded and showed Lucille into the parlor. Meadow rose when she entered.
“Good morning,” said Meadow smiling and going to her. “It seems everyone wants to see me this morning. I’ve grown rather popular overnight.”
Belle was seated on the couch next to Irene, who gave Lucille an intense look that bespoke of curiosity as well as concern. “I’m surprised to see you out,” said Irene, who knew nothing of her dinner with Marshal Decker last evening. “I rather thought you meant to stay indoors the next few days as you thought you were...” she glanced at Meadow and chose her words carefully, “...catching a cold. In fact, Theodore had to go out of town on business for a few days, and I thought I might pay you a visit later today to check in on you, if you prefer to return to your house.”
Lucille smiled politely. Now that Decker had seen her and knew she was in town, there was no point staying hidden any longer. “The cold has passed,” she said and took the seat Meadow offered her as Betty busied herself with getting an extra teacup and another plate for the cookies, toast, and jam she’d laid out for them.
“I’m happy to hear it,” said Irene, looking at her with even more curiosity.
“In fact,” said Lucille, reaching for a cookie, “I was feeling so much better last night that I was able to entertain Leonard’s surprise dinner guest.”
“I hate it when Sidney brings home surprise dinner guests,” Belle said. “I never have enough time to prepare anything. Luckily for me, he doesn’t do it too often.”
“Booker’s much the same way,” said Meadow. “A surprise dinner guest now and again, but never so often as to drive me out of my head.”
Only Irene seemed to realize that there was a deeper meaning behind Lucille’s remark. “Who was the guest?” she asked.
“Marshal Decker,” Lucille said, and Betty dropped the fresh tray of cookies she’d been setting out at that moment.
“Marshal Decker?” Betty screeched, and Meadow gave her an odd look.
“Do you know him?” Meadow asked Betty, who quickly shook her head and began to pick up the fallen snacks.
“No, not at all. It’s only that I’ve... I’ve heard of him, ma’am. Like everyone else in Elmwood, I’m sure.”
Meadow frowned. “It’s true that his reputation precedes him. Do you all remember when he was here those few months ago? He actually had the nerve to question me as to my whereabouts during some of the Beauty Bandits’ crimes. I was afraid he might do the same this time, given the way that he’s been going around town talking to everyone as though they were a suspect, but so far I’ve managed to avoid the man, and I’m glad of it. He’s foul.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Lucille. “I managed to avoid him well enough until yesterday when Leonard brought him home as a sort of professional courtesy, I guess.”
Betty was standing still beside the couch, watching her intently. “What did he want?” she asked, and Meadow glanced at her again. It was not common for housemaids to take part in the parlor conversation, though Meadow generally treated Betty more like family than a servant.
Lucille chose her words carefully, wanting to convey her message to her friends without letting anything on to Meadow. “He wanted dinner, nothing more,” Lucille said. “Though he seemed to be rather preoccupied with the Beauty Bandits. I’m almost certain he believes he’s found one of them, though I think she may get out of Elmwood before he’s able to capture her. It sounded to me as if she means to flee town in the next few days. As for the rest of her gang... he hasn’t a clue as to their identities.”
“Good Lord,” said Meadow. “I thought all that sort of thing was supposed to be secret. He told you all that over dinner?”
“More or less,” said Lucille.
“You look a bit pale,” Meadow said to Betty, who bit her bottom lip and cast her eyes to the floor.
“I just... Betty mumbled and quickly looked to Irene for help.
“Betty, you aren’t catching Lucille’s cold, are you?” Irene asked, giving their friend a hand. Lucille wished they were at Belle’s house instead so the three of them could speak more freely.
“Yes, ma’am,” Betty said quickly. “That is, I think I might be. My head feels rather light.” She put her hand to her head for effect, and Meadow frowned with concern.
“Perhaps you’d better go and lie down,” Meadow said. “We can manage tea ourselves.”
Betty hesitated. “I told Francie Frawley I’d drop off some recipes to her this morning.” Francis was Georgianna Lemberton’s housemaid.
“Don’t you worry about that right now,” said Meadow. “I’m sure Francis can wait for whatever recipes you were going to give her. She has plenty of her own, I reckon.” She blinked. “In fact, I’m not sure what Francis would want any recipe for. Georgianna’s told me more than once she’s a mess in the kitchen. She never does any of the cooking for them.”
Betty looked as though she were about to faint. Irene, who understood what Betty was trying to do, came to her aide. “I needed to stop by Georgianna’s later and can give Francis any recipe you wish,” she said.
Betty nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Harcourt,” she said, then thanked Irene as well. “I’ll just write out the recipe and give it to you before I lie down.” Then she quickly disappeared into another room.
Lucille, Meadow, Belle, and Irene resumed talking, chatting idly about running a household or the weather or any million other things which had nothing to do with Lucille’s true purpose for coming, which had been to warn her friends that Decker had found her out and she was planning to leave town.
When Betty returned and handed her recipe cards to Irene, Meadow looked it over with an interested eye and the conversation paused.
“Are you sure this recipe’s quite right?” asked Meadow. “It looks as though you’ve said to use a cup of lard in this stew.”
“That’s right, ma’am,” Betty said and gave Irene a look.
Meadow made a face. Had Lucille not known that the recipe contained not a real recipe for stew, but a secret code they’d worked out long ago to warn each other that one of them was in trouble, she’d have made a similar face.
After last night, Lucille could see that she had little choice but to leave Elmwood, though she hated to do so. She did not want to leave Leonard and knew that running would only make her look that much guiltier. But she would not go to jail. If the marshal truly knew she was part of the gang, it was only a matter of time before he brought her in. She had to get out of town before then but without embarrassing Leonard.
“The recipe sounds good to me,” said Irene, tucking it into her purse. She looked at Lucille. “Do you think you’ll be making this stew yourself?” she asked, and Lucille nodded. “When?”
“Probably a few days yet,” she said. “As soon as I can get all the ingredients together.” It was her way of saying that she was not leaving tonight. She wanted to make sure she did this the right way, and that meant making sure that Leonard did not look like a fool. She would not hurt him for anything.
Irene took her leave. Lucille only hoped that Francis had not forgotten the code. If she tried to make a stew using an entire cup of lard, she would make everyone in her household ill.
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