The Poisonous Seed by Linda Stratmann

got the right address it’ll be too late. I’ll get into such trouble!’ Sighing, she sat down, and then suddenly jumped up with a little scream. ‘Oh no! The cake!’
    Ettie came up to peer at the damage. Frances had sat squarely on top of the cake, which for all its wrappings was not looking as deep as it had once been. ‘Oh dear!’ said Ettie. Frances held her hands to her face and uttered a wail of misery. She was a little shocked to find that her main difficulty was preventing herself from laughing.
    ‘Oh, there, there, maybe it isn’t as bad as all that,’ said Ettie quickly. ‘Here, let me open it up and have a look.’
    Ettie lifted the substantial parcel onto the kitchen table, untied the string and pulled aside the wrappings. It was pound cake, glistening with butter, scented with cloves, nutmeg and cinnamon, speckled with caraway, and frosted with powdered sugar. Sarah’s burly arm could mix a cake which, however rich its ingredients, always turned out pleasingly light and digestible. Its very lightness had, however, been its downfall, and it was quite obvious that it had met with some accident.
    ‘I can’t take it back like that!’ exclaimed Frances. ‘Master will stop it out of my wages, and Mistress will beat me!’ She sank into the now empty chair, shoulders shaking.
    Ettie looked around at Mrs Grinham. ‘What do you think we should do?’ she said.
    ‘It ain’t nothing to do with us,’ said the cook, with a derisive laugh. ‘ We don’t have to do anything. Let her take it back and catch the consequences.’
    ‘Oh, but look at the poor creature!’ exclaimed Ettie. ‘I can’t help but feel sorry for her.’
    Frances sniffled into a handkerchief. ‘What if I was to say it was stolen in the street? Do you think they would believe me?’
    ‘They might,’ said Ettie gently, although she hardly sounded convinced.
    ‘If they asked, you could say I came in here all upset,’ said Frances, dabbing her eyes.
    ‘Well, that would sort of be the truth, wouldn’t it?’ agreed Ettie.
    Frances blew her nose. ‘I can’t take the cake back like that. I’m sure it would taste very good, even if it is all squashed. You’re welcome to have it. I never want to see it again!’
    Mrs Grinham looked at the cake, critically. She seemed like a lady who would enjoy cake, but only if she made it herself. ‘I’m sure it isn’t half as good as one you would make,’ said Frances.
    Mrs Grinham looked up at Frances then back to the cake again, then she wiped the flour from her arms. ‘Put the kettle on, Ettie, the pastry needs time to rest before I roll it out.’
    ‘Will you stay and have tea?’ asked Ettie. Frances quickly assented. A knife and plates were brought, and the kettle was soon boiling and a pot of tea made. Mrs Grinham ate a slice of the cake, and said it tasted better than it looked, but it ought to have been baked a little less, then she ate another slice just to make sure.
    ‘I expect your Master and Mistress are great admirers of your baking,’ said Frances.
    ‘They are,’ said the cook proudly, ‘especially Mistress.’
    ‘It is a great comfort to her, poor lady,’ said Ettie, with a mouthful of cake.
    ‘Now then, no gossip!’ said Mrs Grinham, sharply.
    ‘Oh but I love a bit of gossip!’ said Frances, gulping her tea. ‘Is it ever so shocking? Come now, I promise I won’t tell!’
    ‘Oh it’s no great secret that Master and Mistress are very unhappy in each other’s company,’ said Ettie. ‘He spends almost all his time away from home, and when he is here they have terrible quarrels.’
    ‘I was once in a place where Master and Mistress quarrelled,’ said Frances. ‘He was a very jealous man, and thought that she was – well, I can’t say the word, it wouldn’t be polite.’
    Mrs Grinham laughed scornfully. ‘If you were to see Mistress you wouldn’t think her a lady with many admirers.’
    ‘Except one,’ said Ettie, unable to resist a sly smirk.
    ‘Oh,