The Pigeon Pie Mystery by Julia Stuart Read Free Book Online Page B

enormous yews first planted by William and Mary loomed up in the darkness. Turning left along the outside of the palace, the woman scurried past the royal tennis court, the Princess catching the odd phrase, including “dust the Royal Pew,” “the residents will be the death of me,” “Dr. Henderson,” and “piss pot again.”
    Eventually they reached the Wilderness, an overgrown shrubbery with large elms and criss-crossing pathways. “Keep up so I don’t lose you,” warned the housekeeper as she entered. “It’s dark in here, but I know my way.” Mink and Pooki quickened their step, the servant clutching the back of her mistress’s skirt as they crept through. Eventually they reached the other side and the housekeeper stopped at a door in a wall that led to a private back garden.
    The Princess and the maid peered through the darkness at the large, flat-fronted house looming beyond it. Built around 1700, it offered not an ounce of cheer. The housekeeper followed their gaze. “This is Wilderness House. Yours on account of Mrs. Campbell having just died. Don’t ask me about the circumstances. Turns me queer. I haven’t eaten brussels sprouts since. Usually there’s squabbling amongst the residents when one of them dies. If the deceased’s apartments are better than theirs, they fire off letters to the Lord Chamberlain asking to swap long before the body’s cold. But Mrs. Campbell has been in the ground for almost three weeks and not a whisper.”
    She patted herself as she searched for the keys. “This is theback way in. The front door is on Hampton Court Road, but we can’t get to it from the palace, as all the gates are locked by now, given your late arrival.” She continued clutching at her pockets. “There’s no gas. A couple of years ago the residents petitioned for it, but it was thought too dangerous, what with the fires we’ve had. And electricity is too costly. There’s no good complaining. When Michael Faraday lived in a grace-and-favour house overlooking Hampton Court Green, a few doors up from Dr. Henderson’s practice, he didn’t have any electricity either, despite his discoveries in the field. And don’t bother looking for the bathroom. There isn’t one. Mrs. Campbell wouldn’t pay for one to be installed. She’ll have to lug the water up,” she said, nodding to Pooki, who immediately frowned. “Hard to believe that Henry VIII had hot and cold running water when he lived here.”
    “Perhaps Mrs. Campbell didn’t have the means,” suggested Mink.
    “Didn’t have the means, or didn’t want to spend the money?” the housekeeper asked. “The biggest misconception about this place is that the residents are destitute, despite William IV having called it the quality poorhouse.” Residents needed a certain amount of money to afford to live at the palace, she continued. Not only were they obliged to cover the maintenance of their homes and any alterations, but they had to pay for heating, lighting, insurance, as well as an extra supply of water at a constant high pressure in case of another fire. “Some of the ladies end up having to give up their apartments, as they can’t afford to live here anymore,” she added.
    The Princess fell silent.
    “You look a little surprised, Your Highness. All the payments and obligations are set out in the warrant that was sent to you.”
    Mink hesitated. “I’m a little behind in my letter-opening, Mrs. Boots. I did, however, receive your note about all pets being prohibited apart from lap dogs, so we’re fine on that score.”
    “Glad to hear it. If it were me, I’d ban the lap dogs too. It’s enough having to put up with that pile of manure at Trophy Gate, without having to dodge all the deposits they leave around the place.”
    Pooki pointed to the high hedging that ran alongside the house. “What is that?” she asked, speaking for the first time.
    “It’s the maze,” Mrs. Boots replied, handing Mink the keys. “The keeper’s