Mrs. Jeffries and the Merry Gentlemen by Emily Brightwell Read Free Book Online

locked.”
    â€œDoes Mrs. Clarridge keep the key?”
    â€œShe doesn’t, sir. It’s one of them big, old-fashioned locks, so the key hangs on a nail by the door.” She grinned. “I don’t think she wants to come dashin’ down all the stairs in this house every time we get a delivery. She’s got bad knees.”
    â€œAnd was it locked today?”
    â€œIt was, sir. I locked it myself after the laundry was delivered early this morning and that was the only time the door was opened.”
    â€œTo your knowledge has Mr. Edison been worried about anyone lately? Has anyone threatened him or upset him?”
    She drew back, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’m only a maid, sir. I’d not know anything like that.”
    â€œI didn’t mean anything untoward,” he assured her quickly, realizing she made an assumption he’d not meant. “Of course he’d not say anything to his servants about such a matter, but you seem like an intelligent and observant young woman. I was hoping you might have noticed something or perhaps overheard something that might prove useful.”
    Pleased by his words, she smiled. “Well, I wasn’t eavesdroppin’ or anything, but two days ago when I was dusting the drawing room, I overhead him arguing with Mr. Downing. Mr. Charles Downing. He’s one of Mr. Edison’s business associates.”
    Barnes wrote down the name, then looked up and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Do you know what the argument was about?”
    She glanced over her shoulder at the closed dining room door. “I didn’t hear much of it. Mrs. Clarridge come in and sent me upstairs to get her more brass polish and by the time I got down, the study door was open and both Mr. Edison and Mr. Downing were gone. But before that, Mr. Downing was shouting that Mr. Edison had better be careful, that people wouldn’t take kindly to losing their money. Mr. Edison yelled right back at him that any kind of investin’ was risky and that just because things went bad, it wasn’t his fault. Mr. Downing screamed that it was his fault. That’s when Mrs. Clarridge come in and sent me upstairs. I don’t think she really needed the brass polish, she only wanted to stop me from overhearin’ the argument.” She glanced at the closed door again. “I think she just wanted me out of the way so she could have a good listen, if you know what I mean.”
    * * *
    A quarter of a mile away, Mrs. Jeffries yawned as she and Fred stepped into the back hall. She reached down and unhooked his lead, and together they trudged up the corridor to the kitchen. Ruth had wanted to stay and wait for Wiggins, but Mrs. Jeffries had pointed out that even if the footman had learned something of significance, there was nothing that could be done until morning. So with Fred acting as their guard, she’d seen Ruth safely home.
    Mrs. Goodge was still sitting at the table when they came into the kitchen. The dog immediately flopped onto his rug and curled into a sleepy ball.
    â€œIs Phyllis back yet?” Mrs. Jeffries hung her cloak on the coat tree.
    â€œNot yet, but she said she might be late. Her friend is a bit of a nervous Nelly and Phyllis was going to have the cab drop her off first.”
    â€œYou’re going to wait up,” Mrs. Jeffries said as she slipped into her seat. It was a comment rather than a question.
    â€œOf course.” Mrs. Goodge grinned. “I dozed off earlier this evening and once I’ve had a catnap, it’s ages before I can get back to sleep. One of the few advantages of getting old is that you don’t need as much sleep as the younger ones. Besides, I want to hear what our Wiggins has found out.”
    â€œSo do I. I feel rather badly for the inspector, though—I know he was anticipating the holidays with Amanda Belle.”
    â€œLuty and I were, too. But it’s only the