Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2 by Celina Grace Page A
Authors: Celina Grace
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was well-lit, and I could see the reassuring shape of a policeman up ahead on the corner, his cape swinging behind him as he patrolled the street. He gave me a nod as I went by and I smiled back politely.
I let myself into the basement by the kitchen door, expecting it to be in darkness. I knew Mrs Watling would have gone to her room as early as she could once everything had been left ready for tomorrow. I was surprised to see a light on in the scullery and even more surprised, once I got to the doorway, to see Verity bent over the stone sink in the corner of the room, the one we used for washing out the more heavily soiled saucepans and pots.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed. I had thought she would be out until late, waiting for Dorothy in the cloakroom as her mistress dined out at the Silk Club.
Verity looked up. I saw she was rinsing out one of her black dresses. She looked grim. “We had to come back early. Dorothy was sick on me.”
I thought for a second I’d misheard her. “ Sick on you? What? Is she ill?”
Verity half laughed. “Yes, she’s suffering from a bad case of too many cocktails.”
“Oh, Lord.” I went over to see if I could help. “Seriously? She was sick on you? Where?”
Verity looked even grimmer. “In the back of the car. Andrew and I had to virtually pour her in. I suppose at least nobody saw, apart from us two.”
I grimaced. “How horrible for you. What happened? Why did she get so – so inebriated?”
Verity gave her dress a last twist, releasing as much water as possible and then shook it out. It flapped damply. “I don’t know. She’s been drinking a lot more lately. It’s been worrying me, to tell you the truth.”
I remembered then, the smell of brandy I’d noticed when Dorothy and I had met to discuss the menu for Inspector Marks’ visit. “I know she’s not happy,” I volunteered tentatively.
Verity sighed. She rolled her dress up and put it over on the counter. “I know. And I can’t blame her exactly. It’s just – I don’t know what to do.”
It occurred to me that our employers got a damn good deal out of us servants. Not only did we work like slaves for our money, we also became emotionally entangled with the job. I could see Verity was truly worried about her mistress.
I put an arm around her shoulders. “Try not to worry, V. It’s not our place to judge, or – or have to worry about what to do. It’s not up to us.”
Verity sighed again. “Yes, I know. It’s just – I hate seeing her do this to herself.” She stopped talking for a moment and then said, with difficulty, “I don’t know how much longer I can go on shielding her. Sooner or later someone’s going to notice and then there’s going to be a big scandal.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. She was right. If Dorothy had been a man, she might have got away with it – for a while, at least. But while women of the upper classes were expected to drink, they were most definitely expected to be able to behave themselves while doing so.
“Perhaps we could ask someone for help?” I suggested, knowing even as I spoke the words that there wasn’t anyone. The thought of going to Mr Fenwick or Mrs Anstells and asking them for advice about what to do for our drunken mistress made me feel quite weak.
Verity pulled the plug from the sink and put it up on the side. The water ran down the pipes with a gurgle. “Come on, I’m just about all in. Let’s go up.”
We were walking towards the stairs when she remembered to ask me about my afternoon off. “How was it, Joanie? What did you do?”
I felt a leap of gladness that I now had someone to talk to. Perhaps it would take Verity’s mind off things as well. “Well, it was very interesting, actually. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it before we get to bed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dorothy’s breakfast tray came down the next morning almost untouched. From what Verity had told me about the night before, I wasn’t
I let myself into the basement by the kitchen door, expecting it to be in darkness. I knew Mrs Watling would have gone to her room as early as she could once everything had been left ready for tomorrow. I was surprised to see a light on in the scullery and even more surprised, once I got to the doorway, to see Verity bent over the stone sink in the corner of the room, the one we used for washing out the more heavily soiled saucepans and pots.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed. I had thought she would be out until late, waiting for Dorothy in the cloakroom as her mistress dined out at the Silk Club.
Verity looked up. I saw she was rinsing out one of her black dresses. She looked grim. “We had to come back early. Dorothy was sick on me.”
I thought for a second I’d misheard her. “ Sick on you? What? Is she ill?”
Verity half laughed. “Yes, she’s suffering from a bad case of too many cocktails.”
“Oh, Lord.” I went over to see if I could help. “Seriously? She was sick on you? Where?”
Verity looked even grimmer. “In the back of the car. Andrew and I had to virtually pour her in. I suppose at least nobody saw, apart from us two.”
I grimaced. “How horrible for you. What happened? Why did she get so – so inebriated?”
Verity gave her dress a last twist, releasing as much water as possible and then shook it out. It flapped damply. “I don’t know. She’s been drinking a lot more lately. It’s been worrying me, to tell you the truth.”
I remembered then, the smell of brandy I’d noticed when Dorothy and I had met to discuss the menu for Inspector Marks’ visit. “I know she’s not happy,” I volunteered tentatively.
Verity sighed. She rolled her dress up and put it over on the counter. “I know. And I can’t blame her exactly. It’s just – I don’t know what to do.”
It occurred to me that our employers got a damn good deal out of us servants. Not only did we work like slaves for our money, we also became emotionally entangled with the job. I could see Verity was truly worried about her mistress.
I put an arm around her shoulders. “Try not to worry, V. It’s not our place to judge, or – or have to worry about what to do. It’s not up to us.”
Verity sighed again. “Yes, I know. It’s just – I hate seeing her do this to herself.” She stopped talking for a moment and then said, with difficulty, “I don’t know how much longer I can go on shielding her. Sooner or later someone’s going to notice and then there’s going to be a big scandal.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. She was right. If Dorothy had been a man, she might have got away with it – for a while, at least. But while women of the upper classes were expected to drink, they were most definitely expected to be able to behave themselves while doing so.
“Perhaps we could ask someone for help?” I suggested, knowing even as I spoke the words that there wasn’t anyone. The thought of going to Mr Fenwick or Mrs Anstells and asking them for advice about what to do for our drunken mistress made me feel quite weak.
Verity pulled the plug from the sink and put it up on the side. The water ran down the pipes with a gurgle. “Come on, I’m just about all in. Let’s go up.”
We were walking towards the stairs when she remembered to ask me about my afternoon off. “How was it, Joanie? What did you do?”
I felt a leap of gladness that I now had someone to talk to. Perhaps it would take Verity’s mind off things as well. “Well, it was very interesting, actually. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it before we get to bed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dorothy’s breakfast tray came down the next morning almost untouched. From what Verity had told me about the night before, I wasn’t
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