Page 42 of Murder in Blackfriars

I was jerked from my ruminations by Mrs. Bywater’s stentorian tones.

I glanced up from where I kneaded dough for the midday meal’s rolls and found her standing in the center of the kitchen. From her expression, she’d been there, unnoticed, for some time.

I reached for a towel to wipe flour from my hands. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I did not hear you enter.”

“That is apparent.” Mrs. Bywater held up a paper in a stiff hand. “What is the meaning ofthis?”

As I could not see what the page was, I had no idea. “Meaning of what, ma’am?”

“Do not be impertinent with me, Mrs. Holloway. Of this note I had from the greengrocers. It says he did get in the damsons, and did my cook want them sent to this house or to the other?” Mrs. Bywater’s eyes narrowed. “What other house, Mrs. Holloway? Why are you sending food there, and what are you getting up to in it? Answer me at once.”

13

The world seemed to spin faster as Mrs. Bywater glared at me. I struggled for breath, my usual composure deserting me.

I reminded myself that what I got up to on my days out was my own business, but I was certain Mrs. Bywater would object to me cooking anything but for this house.

I cleared my throat. “It is for a friend—”

“This Grace person?” Mrs. Bywater shook the note, as though this was what she’d like to do to Grace.

Her question snapped me out of my confusion. “No,” I said vehemently. I needed to steer her far clear of Grace, even though the woman she supposed Grace was did not exist. “I purchased those things with my own funds and sent them to a friend for—”

“She purchased them for me, madam.”

Mr. Davis had glided into the kitchen with his usual quiettread. He halted several deferential paces behind Mrs. Bywater, who turned to him in astonishment.

“You, Mr. Davis?”

Mr. Davis made her a bow, while I stared at him, my heart banging.

“I desired to bake something special for my cousin. It is his birthday. Mrs. Holloway agreed to help and purchase the necessary supplies herself. She will bake the treats on her day out, with the assistance of a friend. She was very kind to do so.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Bywater’s righteous indignation rapidly deflated until she stared at Mr. Davis, as though uncertain how to proceed.

Mrs. Bywater had no trouble upbraiding me whenever she pleased, but she’d never learned quite what to make of Mr. Davis. His bearing when near her was one of careful politeness, but he always retained a slight air of condescension. Mrs. Bywater always trod warily around Mr. Davis.

“I see,” Mrs. Bywater said at last. “Well, if that is the case—”

“It is, madam,” Mr. Davis assured her.

Mrs. Bywater swung back to me. I shrugged, trying to look perfectly innocent.

Mrs. Bywater was rigid as could be as she looked me up and down. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Holloway. Carry on with your duties, please.” She turned to go. “Mr. Davis.”

She sent him an uncomfortable nod and walked out of the kitchen, giving Mr. Davis a wide berth as she went.

She’d taken the dratted message from the greengrocer with her, I realized when we heard the upstairs door slam.

Mr. Davis and I were now alone, awkwardly so. Elsie was in the laundry, as she helped out with that when there were no immediate dishes to wash. The footmen, maids, and Mrs.Redfern were upstairs cleaning and polishing, despite it being Sunday. Mrs. Bywater’s declaration that Grosvenor Chapel was so convenient for us had evidently been forgotten.

“You did not have to do that, Mr. Davis,” I began.

“I feel that I did.” Mr. Davis regarded me steadily. “I am fond of you, Mrs. Holloway, despite our occasional disagreements. One reason I am not happy that you decided to marry is that I will miss you. McAdam explained that it will be many months before you leave, but if Mrs. Bywater had slung you out this afternoon, I would not have had time to prepare myself to say good-bye. I prefer you to stay a little longer, before I have to face the task of training a new cook.”

I didn’t recall Mr. Davis “training” me at all, but I understood that he was trying to express his regret that I’d be gone.

“Still, it was a kindness,” I said. “Thank you.”