subject up, she’d say he wouldn’t have a job without her brother and that she’d brought plenty of money to their marriage and all he’d come with was a half-rotted cottage in some ugly village in Essex. Those were her exact words. He’d get furious and stomp out of the house. I think she taunted him on purpose so he’d leave.”
“So he got through all the money in her marriage settlement,” Phyllis mused.
Jean knocked back the last of the gin and slapped the glass down on the tabletop.
“Would you like another?” Phyllis asked.
“That’s very generous of you.” Jean picked up her glass and waved at the barman. “Thanks ever so much.”
“Everyone was quite surprised when she took care of him herself,” Edwina Hawkins said to Ruth. “But to her credit, she did. She wouldn’t have a nurse in the house.”
They stood in the cloakroom of the meeting hall where the March meeting of the London Society for Women’s Suffrage had concluded fifteen minutes earlier. Ruth had spoken to several women about the murder, and she’d heard an interesting story about Ronald Dearman. Edwina Hawkins had overheard the exchange, and being the gossip that she was, she’d followed her into the cloakroom. Edwina Hawkins lived next door to Antonia Meadows, Lucretia Dearman’s friend.
Ruth was in a hurry to get back to Upper EdmontonGardens, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded encouragingly as Edwina rambled on.
“It was sad,” Edwina continued. “Thaddeus Meadows wasn’t a very nice man, he was barely civil if you happened to see him outside, and he certainly didn’t let her spend any money. The poor woman had to account for every penny she spent on the household. They couldn’t keep help, you know. Not that she had much, but he did allow her to have a housemaid and a cook. Now that he’s gone, she lets both of them stop work at five every day even though they live in. There’s been grumbling in the neighborhood about that—some of my neighbors are afraid that their own servants will be agitating to get off early. But I don’t think that’s going to be the case. Mrs. Meadows still doesn’t pay very well, and that’s the reason she’s so lenient with their work hours.”
“How did he die?” Ruth turned and pulled her cloak off the peg behind her.
“He had pneumonia,” Edwina said eagerly. “The doctor had been there and it appeared that he was getting better, but then he took a turn for the worse and died. I felt sorry for Mrs. Meadows, but you know, even now that he’s gone, she’s still quite thrifty. Her umbrella broke last week and instead of buying a new one, she gave it to one of those door-to-door tinkers to mend. But then again, once you learn economical habits, they die hard, don’t they? The tinker brought it back while she was out, so he banged on my door and I took it for her.”
“She is lucky to have a kind neighbor like you,” Ruth murmured. She was very disappointed.
“Thank you, Lady Cannonberry, but that’s not whatI mean. She was lucky because if the tinker had been a minute later, I’d not have been home. It was our executive committee meeting at Mrs. Parsons’ and you know what a stickler for punctuality she can be, and as it happened, none of my servants were home that afternoon, either. I’d given them the afternoon off because the painters had done the downstairs hall.”
CHAPTER 4
“It’s called the Nazareth Sugar Cookie,” Mrs. Goodge said as she set a plate of fragrant, golden-baked disks next to the teapot. “The recipe is from Pennsylvania.” She smiled at Luty as she spoke. “I thought it might be nice for us to try them out.”
Wiggins, his expression skeptical, reached for one. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “Cor blimey, these are good. You can make them for me anytime you want,” he said. “Are you goin’ to feed them to your sources?”
“I’m not sure. I made these because I had a bit of vanilla I wanted to
“So he got through all the money in her marriage settlement,” Phyllis mused.
Jean knocked back the last of the gin and slapped the glass down on the tabletop.
“Would you like another?” Phyllis asked.
“That’s very generous of you.” Jean picked up her glass and waved at the barman. “Thanks ever so much.”
“Everyone was quite surprised when she took care of him herself,” Edwina Hawkins said to Ruth. “But to her credit, she did. She wouldn’t have a nurse in the house.”
They stood in the cloakroom of the meeting hall where the March meeting of the London Society for Women’s Suffrage had concluded fifteen minutes earlier. Ruth had spoken to several women about the murder, and she’d heard an interesting story about Ronald Dearman. Edwina Hawkins had overheard the exchange, and being the gossip that she was, she’d followed her into the cloakroom. Edwina Hawkins lived next door to Antonia Meadows, Lucretia Dearman’s friend.
Ruth was in a hurry to get back to Upper EdmontonGardens, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded encouragingly as Edwina rambled on.
“It was sad,” Edwina continued. “Thaddeus Meadows wasn’t a very nice man, he was barely civil if you happened to see him outside, and he certainly didn’t let her spend any money. The poor woman had to account for every penny she spent on the household. They couldn’t keep help, you know. Not that she had much, but he did allow her to have a housemaid and a cook. Now that he’s gone, she lets both of them stop work at five every day even though they live in. There’s been grumbling in the neighborhood about that—some of my neighbors are afraid that their own servants will be agitating to get off early. But I don’t think that’s going to be the case. Mrs. Meadows still doesn’t pay very well, and that’s the reason she’s so lenient with their work hours.”
“How did he die?” Ruth turned and pulled her cloak off the peg behind her.
“He had pneumonia,” Edwina said eagerly. “The doctor had been there and it appeared that he was getting better, but then he took a turn for the worse and died. I felt sorry for Mrs. Meadows, but you know, even now that he’s gone, she’s still quite thrifty. Her umbrella broke last week and instead of buying a new one, she gave it to one of those door-to-door tinkers to mend. But then again, once you learn economical habits, they die hard, don’t they? The tinker brought it back while she was out, so he banged on my door and I took it for her.”
“She is lucky to have a kind neighbor like you,” Ruth murmured. She was very disappointed.
“Thank you, Lady Cannonberry, but that’s not whatI mean. She was lucky because if the tinker had been a minute later, I’d not have been home. It was our executive committee meeting at Mrs. Parsons’ and you know what a stickler for punctuality she can be, and as it happened, none of my servants were home that afternoon, either. I’d given them the afternoon off because the painters had done the downstairs hall.”
CHAPTER 4
“It’s called the Nazareth Sugar Cookie,” Mrs. Goodge said as she set a plate of fragrant, golden-baked disks next to the teapot. “The recipe is from Pennsylvania.” She smiled at Luty as she spoke. “I thought it might be nice for us to try them out.”
Wiggins, his expression skeptical, reached for one. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “Cor blimey, these are good. You can make them for me anytime you want,” he said. “Are you goin’ to feed them to your sources?”
“I’m not sure. I made these because I had a bit of vanilla I wanted to
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