Minnie Maude gulped. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“After tea I shall introduce you to Jemima and Daniel. They are normally well behaved, and the fact that you are a friend of Gracie’s will endear you to them from the beginning. Jemima knows where most things are. If you ask her, she will be happy to help you. In fact she will probably take a pride in it, but do not allow her to be cheeky. And that goes for Daniel as well. He will probably try your patience, simply to test you. Please do not let him get away with too much.”
The kettle was boiling and she made the tea, bringing it over to the table to brew. While they were waiting she explained some of the other household arrangements, and where different things were kept.
“I shall leave you a list of the tradesmen we use, and what they should charge you, although I daresay you are familiar with prices. But they might take advantage, if they think you don’t know.” She went on to tell her of the dishes Daniel and Jemima liked best, and the vegetables they were likely to refuse if they thought they could get away with it. “And rice pudding,” she finished. “That is a treat, not more than twice a week.”
“Wi’ nutmeg on the top?” Minnie Maude asked.
Charlotte glanced at Gracie, then smiled, the ease running through her like a warmth inside. “Exactly. I think this is going to work very well.”
GRACIE AND MINNIE MAUDE returned early in the evening, accompanied by Tellman, who carried Minnie Maude’s luggage. He took it up to the room that not long ago had been Gracie’s, then excused himself to take Gracie home. Minnie Maude began to unpack her belongings and settle in, helped by Jemima, and watched from a respectful distance by Daniel. Clothes were women’s business.
Once she had made certain that all was well, Charlotte telephoned her great-aunt Vespasia. Immensely relieved to find her at home, she asked if she might visit.
“You sound very serious,” said Vespasia across the rather crackly wire.
Charlotte gripped the instrument more tightly in her hand. “I am. I have a great deal to tell you, and some advice to seek. But I would much prefer to tell you in person rather than this way. In fact some of it is most confidential.”
“Then you had better come to see me,” Vespasia replied. “I shall send my carriage for you. Are you ready now? We shall have supper. I was going to have Welsh rarebit on toast, with a little very good Hock I have, and then apple flan and cream. Apples at this time of year are not fit for anything except cooking.”
“I would love it,” Charlotte accepted. “I shall just make certain that my new maid is thoroughly settled and aware of what to cook for Daniel and Jemima, then I shall be ready.”
“I thought you had had her since Gracie’s wedding,” Vespasia exclaimed. “Is she still not able to decide what to prepare?”
“Mrs. Waterman gave notice last night and left this morning,” Charlotte explained. “Gracie found me someone she has known for years, but the poor girl has only just arrived. In fact she is still unpacking.”
“Charlotte?” Now Vespasia sounded worried. “Has something happened that is serious?”
“Yes. Oh … we are all alive and well, but yes, it is serious, and I am in some concern as to whether the course of action I plan is wise or not.”
“And you are going to ask my advice? It must be serious indeed if you are willing to listen to someone else.” Vespasia was vaguely mocking, though anxiety clearly all but overwhelmed her.
“I’m not,” Charlotte told her. “I have already given my word.”
“I shall dispatch my coachman immediately,” Vespasia responded. “If Gracie recommends this new person then she will be good. You had better wear a cape. The evening has turned somewhat cooler.”
“Yes, yes I will,” Charlotte agreed, then she said good-bye and replaced the receiver on its hook.
Half an hour later Vespasia’s coachman knocked on the door. Minnie Maude seemed confident enough for Charlotte to leave her, and Daniel and Jemima were not in the least concerned. Indeed, they seemed to be enjoying showing her the cupboards and drawers, and telling her exactly what was kept in each.
Charlotte answered the door, told the coachman that she would be ready in a moment, then went to the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to stare at Jemima’s earnest face explaining to Minnie Maude which jugs were used to keep the day’s milk and where the milkman was to be found in the morning. Daniel was moving from foot to foot in his urgency to put in his advice as well, and Minnie Maude was smiling at first one, then the other.
“I may be late back,” Charlotte interrupted. “Please don’t wait up for me.”
“No, ma’am,” Minnie Maude said quickly. “But I’ll be happy to, if you wish?”
“Thank you, but please make yourself comfortable,” Charlotte told her. “Good night.”
She went straight out to the carriage, and for the next half hour rode through the streets to Vespasia’s house in Gladstone Park—which was really not so much a park as a small square with flowering trees. She sat and tried to compose in her mind exactly how she would tell Vespasia what she meant to do.
At last Charlotte sat in Vespasia’s quiet sitting room. The colors were warm, muted to a familiar gentleness. The curtains were drawn across the window onto the garden, and the fire burned in the hearth with a soft whickering of flames. She looked into Vespasia’s face, and it was not so easy to explain to her the wild decision to which Charlotte had already committed herself.
Vespasia had been considered by many to be the most beautiful woman of her generation, as well as the most outrageous in her wit and her political opinions—or maybe passions would be a more fitting word. Time had marked her features lightly and, if anything, liberated her temperament even more. She was secure enough in her financial means and her social preeminence not to have to care what other people thought of her, as long as she was certain in her own mind that a course of action was for the best. Criticism might hurt, but it was a long time since it had deterred her.
Now she sat stiff-backed—she had never lounged in her life—her silver hair coiffed to perfection. A high lace collar covered her throat, and the lamplight gleamed on the three rows of pearls.
“You had better begin at the beginning,” she told Charlotte. “Supper will be another hour.”
At least Charlotte knew what the beginning was. “Several evenings ago Mr. Narraway came to see me at home, to tell me that Thomas had been in pursuit of a man who had committed a murder, almost in front of him. He and his junior had been obliged to follow this person and had not had the opportunity to inform anyone of what they were doing. Mr. Narraway knew that they were in France. They sent a telegram. He told me of it so that I would not worry when Thomas did not come home or call me.”
Vespasia nodded. “It was courteous of him to come himself,” she observed a trifle drily.
Charlotte caught the tone in her voice, and her eyes widened.
“He is fond of you, my dear,” Vespasia responded. Her amusement was so slight it could barely be seen, and was gone again the second after. “What has this to do with the maid?”
Charlotte looked at the drawn curtains, the pale design of flowers on the carpet. “He came again last evening,” she said quietly. “And stayed for much longer.”
Vespasia’s voice changed almost imperceptibly. “Indeed?”
Charlotte raised her eyes to meet Vespasia’s. “There appears to have been a conspiracy within Special Branch to make it look as if he embezzled a good deal of money.” She saw Vespasia’s look of disbelief. “They have dismissed him, right there on the spot.”
“Oh dear,” Vespasia said. “I see why you are distressed. This is very serious indeed. Victor may have his faults, but financial dishonesty is not one of them. Money does not interest him. He would not even be tempted to do such a thing.”