The Thief Taker by Janet Gleeson Read Free Book Online Page B

letter Nancy found?” Patsy had said.
    Lydia had nodded uncomfortably. “Were there other occasions?” she’d sharply inquired.
    Patsy’s eyes had narrowed. “I believe so. Mr. Matthews caught her on the stairs leading to the best bedrooms only yesterday. And she caused a dispute with Nancy. The pair of them went for each other like dogs—John had to pull them apart.”
    â€œDear God!” Lydia had said, eyes clouded with concern and concentration. “What was the reason for the altercation? Why ever did Mrs. Tooley not tell me?”
    â€œIt only took place in the afternoon, ma’am. No doubt she will tell you more when you see her this morning. Among the obscenities it was not easy to make out what they said. I believe it may have had something to do with the letter. Certainly the word ‘thief’ was used.”
    Lydia had shuddered. The dispute and the girl being upstairs when she had no business to be had an ominous ring. Nancy, she knew, already shared Nicholas’s bed. Was Rose another of his amours? On more than one occasion his affairs had upset the smooth running of the house; several girls had fallen with child and had to be dismissed. Perhaps Rose—being a pretty bold girl, the kind that Nicholas preferred—found herself with child and had run off in distress. Or perhaps the argument had been some form of jealous spat and Nancy had bullied her into leaving. What else, wondered Lydia, might have caused Rose’s forays upstairs, her argument with Nancy, and her sudden departure?
    Lydia had intended to raise the subject of Rose with her father-in-law, but now, seeing his black look, she resolved to bide her time.
    Nicholas broke the seal on his first letter and scanned it, while John poured him a cup of chocolate. “Damnation!” he declared, more to himself than Lydia. “The devil it was!” He tossed the letter in Lydia’s direction. “Put this in Theodore’s place, would you? It concerns a customer’s grievance. There were never half so many complaints when I had charge of the business.”
    Lydia glanced at the letter. Finding it described nothing more dreadful than a broken handle, she nodded dismissively and murmured half to herself, “A trifling matter—one that will be easily remedied.”
    Nicholas affected not to hear. He took a sip of his chocolate and instantly spat it out. “God damn it, this is stone cold! Take it away, call for some hot milk—and let it be properly heated this time.”
    Helping himself to a couple of rolls from the basket, he was further distressed to find that the butter had not been impressed with the family crest, but lay on a serving dish entirely undecorated. “Dear God! Has Mrs. Meadowes taken leave of her senses? Lydia, you are too lax with her. I always said she was inadequate to the task. I never understood what possessed you to take her on as cook rather than engage a decent French chef.”
    â€œThe fault doesn’t lie with Mrs. Meadowes.”
    â€œThen where?”
    Lydia gave him a sweet smile. There was no avoiding the subject now. “Perhaps you are unaware that Rose Francis, the kitchen maid, has run off. There was only Doris, the scullery maid, to assist Mrs. Meadowes at breakfast. No doubt that is why the butter was not molded as usual, and the milk is a little cooler than it ought to be.”
    â€œThe maid has run off? Are you certain?”
    â€œPatsy told me this morning,” said Lydia. Nicholas frowned, seeming surprised and puzzled, but no more. If there had been something between him and Rose, he masked it admirably. “Have you knowledge of this, John?” Nicholas said, turning to the footman, who was hovering by the side table.
    John exchanged a brief glance with Philip, who was disappearing with the milk jug. He was unaccustomed to being engaged in conversation while the family were at the table. “’Tis