Death in Kew Gardens

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Oh,” I said in disappointment. “Then why did Mr. Chancellor so covertly take his cutting? He must have been convinced it was the tea.”

  Mr. Li pushed the leaves toward me. “He was mistaken. But that means, we may thank the gods, that he has not yet found it.”

  * * *

  • • •

  I thought Mr. Li would depart after that, dejected, but neither man seemed in a hurry to rush off, which was to my liking. We shared more of the tea, and Mr. Li told us a little about his life at the emperor’s court, which included much formality and etiquette. He told us how he greatly enjoyed visiting his home when he could and spending simple days with his father. From the way he spoke, I gathered that he hadn’t seen his family in some time.

  At last he and Daniel took their leave, and I went to bed, displeased I hadn’t handed Mr. Li an immediate solution. I rose at my usual hour in the morning, washed my hands and face, and went downstairs to begin cooking for the day.

  Mrs. Daley entered the kitchen once we had eggs boiling on the stove, while Tess chopped potatoes for bangers and mash for the staff.

  “Why don’t you step into the larder, Tess?” Mrs. Daley said. “I need to speak to Mrs. Holloway.”

  Tess utterly ignored her. She continued dicing potatoes, dropping the cut pieces into a large pot of salted water.

  “We are very busy just now,” I said to Mrs. Daley. “I will speak to you after service.”

  Mrs. Daley sniffed. “Very well, I will say my piece in front of witnesses, and you may take the consequences. I saw you in Lady Cynthia’s bedchamber last night. You rifled her jewel box, and you left the room with something in your hand. What was it you stole?”

  Tess looked up in astonishment. Elsie’s dish clattering broke off in the scullery, and she craned to look through the doorway, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t you be accusing Mrs. Holloway like that,” Tess began. “You didn’t see nuffink, you old—”

  “Hush, Tess,” I broke in. I looked Mrs. Daley in the eye. “I was in the chamber, yes, but I was fetching something Lady Cynthia asked me to give to Mr. McAdam.”

  Not exactly the truth, but I knew Lady Cynthia wouldn’t have minded me showing the cuttings to Daniel and Mr. Li. In fact, if I’d decided to wait and ask her for them, she’d likely demand to know why I hadn’t simply gone into her room and retrieved the blasted things.

  Daniel had taken one of the cuttings away with him, and I’d tucked the other into my drawer upstairs, not wanting to enter Lady Cynthia’s chamber again last night.

  “Mr. McAdam?” Mrs. Daley asked in puzzlement. “You mean that scruffy-looking villain who brings in sacks of potatoes? What on earth could Lady Cynthia want to give him? But yes, I know he was here last night, and I know he brought a dirty Chinaman with him, and you let them both right into the kitchen. You served them a cup of tea, of all things. What had the likes of them to do in the mistress’s house? And in the middle of the night?”

  A woman like Mrs. Daley labeling Mr. Li a “dirty Chinaman” made my blood boil. The man was worth a hundred of her, and I’d gladly spend weeks listening to his stories than one more day with Mrs. Daley.

  I drew myself up, my voice going cold. “Whomever I let into my kitchen is my business. And if you’d gone to Lady Cynthia about the matter instead of confronting me with insinuations, she would no doubt agree that she had left something for me to give Daniel—I mean, Mr. McAdam. And if I share a cup of tea with gentlemen who work very hard, that is also my business. It was my tea—nothing purchased for the house. My personal box.” Which was again safely upstairs, hidden with the tea leaves from Sir Jacob’s garden.

  “But it is not your kitchen, is it?” Mrs. Daley said. “Mrs. Bywater is mistress of this house, not you. Even Lady Cynthia is a poor relation at best. And where was she all night, I ask? Not in her bed, that is for certain. But you knew this, which is why you knew you were safe to rummage about in her chamber.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Mrs. Daley—” I snapped.

  “And it ain’t your place to go hosting tea parties at midnight. You are to cook the meals and retire for the night, and that is all. I know your sort, Mrs. Holloway. You think because you have a little skill at cookery, you can put your feet up like a queen and have the lords and ladies bow down to you. And entertain your beaus in the night like a hussy. It’s my place as housekeeper to see that you don’t.”

  I faced her, nose to nose. “It is your place to keep the rest of the house running smoothly, while I tend the kitchen. Your place is not to be underfoot while I’m cooking, nor to gather odds and ends the maids didn’t put away and shut them in your parlor. Nor to steal the master’s brandy. How much did you drink before Mr. Davis noticed it had gone missing?”

  Mrs. Daley went brick red. “How dare you?”

  “How dare you accuse me of stealing from Lady Cynthia? What were you doing snooping around the house in the night, in any case? Were you looking for more things to pilfer?”

  “I told you why those things were in my room.”

  “And I told you why I was in Lady Cynthia’s chamber.”

  Mrs. Daley backed a step, but she hadn’t finished. “I am certain the mistress would be interested to know that you let a Chinese person into her house, especially after one of those vermin killed the master next door. Was it the same man? Are you hiding him? Perhaps you had a hand in it?”

  “Now you are being amazingly ridiculous.”

  “You are up to something, Mrs. Holloway,” Mrs. Daley said with conviction. “You mind your manners with me, or I go to the mistress with it.”

  “Do you mean to blackmail me into being courteous to you?” I demanded. “If you did your job instead of haranguing me, absconding with the brandy, and reading magazines all day, we might get along nicely.”

  “If I harangue you, it’s for your own good,” Mrs. Daley said. “You are wasteful, extravagant, and arrogant—I understood that from the moment I clapped eyes on you. You’re far too young and impertinent to be in service. When I was a cook, I got the meals on the table without putting on airs, and those upstairs was grateful to get them.”

  “Which makes me wonder why you are not a cook any longer,” I returned. “Mine is not a shameful profession. Perhaps those upstairs couldn’t stomach what you made and so you had to change to housekeeping. Which, I must tell you, involves a great deal more than simply bullying the maids and harassing the cook. How did you come by this post, anyway? Are you a special friend of Mrs. Bywater’s?”

  Her deepening flush told me I’d hit close to the mark. “Mrs. Bywater was happy to have me. I come highly recommended.”

  “As do I, Mrs. Daley. I have references from some of the best families in England, because I cook very well, never mind how young I am. So I must beg you to leave me to it.”

  “That does not make you any less arrogant, my girl.” Mrs. Daley stepped close to me once again. “I warn you, do not cross me any more than you already have, or you will be out on your ear. Won’t be a thing Lady Cynthia can do about it—her lord and lady dad and mum won’t be happy when I tell them she’s chummy with a cook and gadding about in the small hours with another lady in trousers. Lady Cynthia abets you in lording over the rest of the house, and Mrs. Bywater and I intend to see that it stops.”

  Rage seared through me, but what I would have said next I do not know, because at that moment, Tess hefted the tub of water and potatoes.

  “You shut your gob, you old bitch!” she shouted, and she hurled the contents of the tub at Mrs. Daley.

  I screeched and shoved Mrs. Daley out of the way. Mr. Davis came charging in, just as the water, which Tess couldn’t stop, poured over me in a great salty, potatoey wave, drenching me from head to foot.

  Mr. Davis halted, his patent-leather shoes just shy of the spreading water. Tess dropped the tub and gaped at me, eyes wide in horror. For
a moment, all was silent but for the water dripping to the slate floor.

  Mrs. Daley grabbed Tess by the ear. “You bloody little hellion, you get out of this house and back to the street where you belong.”

  Tess kicked out, twisting in the woman’s grasp, her language raw.

  “Tess!” I shouted. “Stop! Mrs. Daley, release her at once.”

  “She’s not fit to work in a lady’s house,” Mrs. Daley said, dragging Tess toward the scullery. Elsie dropped her rag into the dirty dishwater and cringed against the wall.

  Mr. Davis skirted the puddle and shoved himself between Mrs. Daley and the scullery door. “Mrs. Daley!” he roared in his most stentorian tones.

  Mr. Davis rarely shouted, but when he did, his voice could rattle the windows. Mrs. Daley halted in uncertainty, which gave Tess the opportunity to wrench herself away from her. Tess picked up her skirts and kicked at Mrs. Daley, but missed in her agitation, thank heavens.

  Mrs. Daley and Mr. Davis faced each other, Mr. Davis with his head up and shoulders square.

  “Keep to your place.” Mr. Davis spoke each word slowly then shut his mouth.

  While Mr. Davis could be pompous and somewhat absurd, he knew his job and did it very well. He had a natural authority, and Mrs. Daley, under his stern stare, was becoming aware of that authority.

  Mr. Davis did not have to say another word. As we watched, Mrs. Daley visibly wilted.

  “The mistress will hear of this,” she muttered before she swung around and marched from the kitchen.

  She attempted to leave with dignity, but she slipped on the wet floor, scrambled to remain upright, and stumbled from the room. We heard her footsteps on the back stairs and then the door slam at the top.

  “Run away, you nasty witch,” Tess snarled.

  “Tess,” I said sharply. “Mind your tongue. Mop up this water and throw away the potatoes, and then you scrub and peel another dozen, right quick. And shame on you for that display. You never, ever turn on those above you, and never with brutality. We are not savages on the streets.”

  Tess planted her hands on her hips. “Well, I weren’t trying to hit you. Why’d you get in the way, Mrs. H.? She deserved a drenching.”

  “I did it to save you from being dismissed, you silly girl. Who knows what she might have done had you succeeded? She might even have sent for the police. Now clean this up, and we’ll say no more about it.”

  I wrested off my apron and flung it down. I’d have to change my gown before I could continue—I was soaked through all the way to my petticoats.

  Mr. Davis started for the hall as Elsie ran in with a mop to help Tess. Elsie’s eyes were shining, and she fought to keep a grin from her face.

  I met Mr. Davis in the kitchen doorway, where we faced each other in mutual admiration.

  “Thank you, Mr. Davis,” I said. “I mean that with great sincerity.”

  Mr. Davis met my gaze. “Not at all, Mrs. Holloway. I might have just given us all the sack, but it was worth it.”

  * * *

  • • •

  We did not see Mrs. Daley the rest of the day. She remained upstairs for the entire morning, and I did not notice that she’d returned to her parlor until the servants took their tea in the afternoon. She must have slipped in while they gathered noisily in the servants’ hall, because I saw that the parlor door was shut tight again—and locked—after that.

  “Tea” was a grand name for the meal the servants had in midafternoon, before they waited at table or prepared the ladies for their evening outings. Today, I made sure there was plenty of bread and butter, along with seedcake and leftover rissoles.

  Tess and I kept ourselves in the kitchen, not speaking much to each other. She was not at all contrite that she’d thrown the water at Mrs. Daley and was only sorry that it had hit me. I could see I had a long journey ahead to polish her.

  On the other hand, I couldn’t help my glee that she’d stood right up to Mrs. Daley, especially in my defense. Tess was a brave young woman, and I was pleased to see she’d never be cowed.

  Cynthia arrived downstairs as another seedcake was coming out of the oven. She wore her man’s clothes and seemed refreshed and sprightly in spite of her night out.

  I cut off a large hunk of the warm cake for her. I did not mention the confrontation with Mrs. Daley—I did not want to trouble her with such things or confess I had temporarily lost control of Tess—but I did tell her I had entered her room and taken the tea leaves, to ask Mr. Li about them.

  “It’s quite all right,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table to partake. “I ought to have given them to you for safekeeping in the first place. What did your Chinaman make of them?”

  “He said they were tea,” I answered glumly. “Nothing more significant.” I did not add the tale of the tea stolen from Mr. Li’s family, as the kitchen full of servants was not the place to discuss it.

  Cynthia chewed through a large bite of cake. “I’d say the significant thing is that Mr. Chancellor took some cuttings.”

  “Yes, I have been wondering why he did, if it was ordinary tea—he’d know that, surely. Tomorrow is my day out. I have a mind to spend it at the gardens at Kew. Perhaps you would care to visit it again?”

  Cynthia nodded. “I would. What better place to hide an exotic plant than in a realm of exotic plants?”

  I busied myself neatly stacking more slices of bread. “Perhaps Mr. Thanos would join us.” I spoke lightly, as though I didn’t care one way or the other.

  “Perhaps.” Cynthia’s tone was so nonchalant that I risked a look at her. She was frowning at the seedcake. “But you’ll have to keep it a deep, dark secret. That goes for you too, Tess.”

  I blinked, my butter knife poised over a slice of bread. Tess made the motion of locking her lips and tossing away the key. Cynthia, finished with her cake, pushed back her chair and left the kitchen, boots ringing on the slates.

  “That’s interestin’,” Tess said, sotto voce. “Wonder if the master barred the door to Mr. Thanos? Be a pity if he did—Mr. Thanos is a kind man, even if he is a bit odd. Ooh, I’m gossiping about my betters again, ain’t I?” She sent me a grin, in no way worried. “’Course, I’ll have to gossip about my betters to tell you the goings-on next door, won’t I?”

  “Don’t be impertinent,” I said, but gently. “And yes, I suppose you are right. What have you found out?”

  She looked mysterious. “I’m still gathering information. You have your day out, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She serenely continued to sort greens for this evening’s meal, and I didn’t press her.

  The next morning, I rose early to ready myself for my day out. I would fetch Grace and then we’d spend the entire day at Kew. I was in a way relieved Cynthia had discovered Grace’s existence, because I could search for Mr. Li’s tea with her without having to sacrifice my day with my daughter.

  Mrs. Daley hadn’t appeared by the time we finished breakfast, and I hurried a bit with my preparations for the rest of the day so I could leave before I encountered her.

  Tess filled a large pot with water and placed it on the table then began to peel potatoes. I eyed the pot as I untied my apron.

  “You are not to throw that water at Mrs. Daley,” I said sternly.

  “I won’t.” Tess kept her gaze on her peeling, but her smile was sly. “But I’ll keep it here as a warning.”

  As I drew breath to admonish her, Mr. Davis, in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, strode in waving a newspaper.

  “He’s been murdered!” he declared.

  Tess jumped, a potato slipping from her hands. My apron strings suddenly knotted and my fingers fumbled.

  “Who has?” I asked. “You shouldn’t shout such things, Mr. Davis.”

  “Your Chinese man, Mrs. Holloway.” Mr. Davis threw the newspaper to the table without apolog
y. “He was found in Kew Gardens, in what they call the Temperate House, strangled in the shrubbery. What a turnup, eh?”

  14

  Blackness spun before my eyes like sudden night. I staggered and the edge of the table dug into my hip, the only thing holding me upright.

  I pictured the serious face of Mr. Li as he described the mountains of his childhood, the precious tea growing there, the theft that had brought him thousands of miles from his home. He was a harmless old man, trying to right a wrong. He didn’t deserve to die, nor did his family deserve to be stolen from. Sir Jacob, the Old China Hand, had used his expertise about the country to locate the most precious bits of it, tear them out, and cart them home.

  Mr. Li had searched for what had been taken, and now he’d been killed as well. Had Mr. Chancellor done this? Or had one of the others connected to Sir Jacob’s household—Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Pasfield, Sheppard—followed Mr. Li, worried, since he’d been near that night, he’d have seen who murdered Sir Jacob? I wished the bloody lot of them at the bottom of the sea.

  Mr. Li was supposed to have been confined to his lodgings, with Daniel watching over him. Had he slipped out and gone to Kew Gardens, because he reasoned the tea might be there?

  Which led me to the question, where the devil was Daniel?

  Tess’s touch brought me out of my stupor, her brown eyes filled with worry. “You all right, Mrs. H.?”

  I finished tugging my apron strings apart and flung the apron over a kitchen chair. “Yes,” I said, breathless. “I’m off.”

  I snatched my coat from a peg near the door and shrugged it on, only just remembering to snatch off my cook’s cap before jamming on my hat. Not until I was out the back door and halfway up the stairs to the street did I realize I hadn’t changed out of my gray work dress, but it couldn’t be helped. I did not want to take the time to go back now.