Thank goodness they’d just had the coal shed filled up. They would need lots of it to keep all those fires going. Thinking about the coal shed reminded Cecily of her meeting with Stan Whittle, the coal man. He’d been in a dreadful hurry, and had become quite impatient with her while she was preparing his payment envelope. She never had liked the man, but his rudeness yesterday had been inexcusable.
The attitude of workmen lately was quite deplorable. It upset her no end to have to accommodate them. In the old days, when she owned the Pennyfoot, Baxter served as the manager and dealt with all the tradespeople that came to the hotel. Now she was forced into that unenviable position and it didn’t sit well with her at all.
The carriage jerked, sending her forward and jolting her out of her thoughts. She heard Samuel shout out something as the carriage lurched to a halt, then the horse’s hooves clicked on the pavement again and once more they sailed smoothly on their way.
Another of those dratted motorcars, Cecily thought, as she caught sight of the gleaming white machine trundling past her window. All that banging and smoking, and they were constantly breaking down. They caused more problems on the road than any skittish horse might. That was the price they paid for progress.
Ellie’s house lay just on the edge of town, for which Cecily was most thankful. Badgers End was little more than a village, but at this time of year the High Street resembled one of the busy shopping streets in nearby Wellercombe. It would take forever to get the carriage through a crowd of determined pedestrians, intent on getting their Christmas shopping done before the shops closed.
Cecily peered out the window as the carriage jerked to a stop. They had pulled up outside a small white gate and fenced front garden with neatly trimmed hedges and wellpruned fruit trees. The carriage door opened and Samuel offered her a hand as she prepared to climb down.
Catching sight of a black smear on his coat, she frowned. “You must ask Mrs. Chubb to remove that stain, Samuel. It looks most unsightly.”
Samuel rubbed a hand across his chest, smearing the smudge even more. “Sorry, m’m. I didn’t notice it until I was sitting waiting for you in the carriage. Didn’t have time to change it, did I. I’d been cleaning out one of the motorcars. It was covered in dirt and I must have rubbed my hand across me like this.”
He dragged his fingers across his chest again and Cecily uttered a cry of protest. “You’re just making things worse, Samuel. Do try not to touch it again until you can give it to Mrs. Chubb to clean.”
“Yes, m’m. Sorry, m’m.” Looking contrite, Samuel helped her to the ground. “If you’ve got a minute, m’m, I’d like to ask you something.”
Impatient to talk to Ellie’s mother, Cecily gave him a quick nod. “Very well, but do hurry. I’m catching cold standing out here.”
“Yes, m’m.” Samuel pulled off his cap and started rolling it up in his hands. “Well, it’s like this. I found this stray dog. It’s been lurking around the stables, looking for food, I reckon.”
“Oh, Samuel.” Cecily shook her head. “I do hope you didn’t feed it. We’ll never be rid of it if you did.”
Samuel looked down at his feet. “Well, yes, m’m, I did.” He looked up again, his eyes wide and pleading. “She’s a really good dog, m’m. Doesn’t cause no trouble, comes when I call, and she’s caught three rats since she’s been around. I thought, since we’ve had trouble with rats in the past, that I might keep her around, m’m, just to help out, like. If that’s all right with you?”
Cecily puffed out her breath. In her opinion, horses and motorcars didn’t mix well with dogs, and she would never allow one inside the Pennyfoot. Samuel, however, was not only a trusted employee, he was just as much a part of her family as the rest of her staff. Those beseeching eyes were simply too hard to ignore.
“Very well.” She held up her hand as Samuel gushed his thanks. “Just remember, you are responsible for the animal. One hint of trouble with her and out she goes.”
“Yes, m’m. There won’t be no trouble, I swear. I’ll take really good care of her. Just wait until you meet her, m’m. She’s really lovable and cuddly. You’ll love her to death, I know.”
Cecily hid a smile. It was unusual for Samuel to be so forthcoming. He was a somewhat serious young man, always sticking strictly to protocol. Whenever she wanted to know what he was thinking it took considerable effort on her part to drag it out of him.
To see him so enthused and excited gladdened her heart, and she looked forward to meeting the creature that had inspired her stable manager to such eager anticipation. “Well now,” she said briskly, “I must talk to Mrs. Tidwell. You are welcome to come inside with me, if you like.”
He donned his cap and touched his forehead. “Thank you, m’m, but I’d prefer to wait out here if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course. Whatever you wish.” She left him then, and walked up the narrow gravel path to the porch. Empty plant pots sat on either side, waiting for the spring so they could be filled again with gorgeous blossoms. Cecily looked forward to that time. How she disliked the winter, with its dreary skies and chilly winds.
She disliked even more having to face the mother of a missing child. She could only hope that Mrs. Tidwell would be able to tell her something that would help find Ellie. Lifting her hand, she rapped on the door.
CHAPTER 6
The door opened moments later, emitting the heavenly fragrance of freshly baked bread. Having eaten hours earlier, Cecily hungered for a thick slice of buttered toast.
The woman who stood framed in the doorway wore an anxious frown. A white cap was perched on her graying curls, and wrapped around her waist was a threadbare apron covered in flour. Her fingers were covered in the white stuff as she lifted a hand to her face, leaving a powdery streak across her cheek.
“Mrs. Baxter! How good of you to call! Is it Ellie? Have you found my daughter?”
Cecily thrust out her hand to lay it on the woman’s slender arm. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tidwell. Actually, I was hoping you’d have word of her for me.”
The woman’s face crumpled. “I wish I did, m’m. I can’t think where she’d be.” As if remembering her manners, she drew back. “Please, do come in.”
“Well, just for a moment.” Cecily stepped inside the cozy cottage, where the aroma of the baking bread was even more enticing.
Mrs. Tidwell motioned her to a seat on the chintz-covered sofa. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
Cecily was about to politely refuse when the other woman added, “Perhaps a slice of bread and jam? I’ve just baked a loaf of bread. I always bake when I’m worried. Gives me something else to think about, it does.”
Cecily almost smacked her lips. “Well, if you insist. That sounds wonderful.” She took a moment to look around as Ellie’s mother hurried off to the kitchen.
It was a pleasant room, small but comfortable, with bright flowered curtains at the windows and a soft green carpet under her feet. An oil lamp had been lit to ward off the early winter dusk, and hot coals glowed a dark red in the fireplace.
In one corner shelves had been crammed with books, and unable to resist, Cecily got up to scan the titles. She was still studying them when Mrs. Tidwell returned with a loaded tray.
“I see you enjoy reading,” Cecily commented, as she returned to her seat. “I notice you have the latest book by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”
“Yes, The Return of Sherlock Holmes. I do so love his books.” She put the tray down on a table beside Cecily and began pouring the tea. “My favorite, of course, is The Hound of the Baskervilles. I read every episode in the Strand.”