“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was looking for the larder.”
“The larder?” she was eyeing me suspiciously. “Was the icebox over at the guest cottage not well stocked then? I thought I made sure you’d have all you needed.” She was still gasping as if she had run a race.
“Yes, thank you. The food is wonderful,” I said. “It’s just that my husband has come down with a bad chill and I thought some kind of broth might be just what he needed. So I came over to see if you had a chicken maybe or some stewing beef or even some bones.”
“Bones?” She was staring at me impassively.
“To make a broth. I believe we already have onions and carrots at the cottage.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you,” she said coldly.
“Do you do the cooking when the family is here?” I asked, trying to melt the icy freeze that seemed to have developed between us. “There are some wonderful smells coming from that oven.”
“I’m cooking the meal tonight but I expect the alderman will be bringing his own cook from the city. He has a French chef, from Paris, you know. Very particular about his food, he is.” She walked ahead of me back into the kitchen and then opened another door behind a curtain. This one led to a scullery containing an enormous icebox. “I’ve chickens here but they are for tomorrow night’s dinner,” she said. “I suppose I might spare you one.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could. I’ll go into town and buy one tomorrow to replace it,” I said.
“Well, all right. They are only little poussins and I expect I have enough here for one each for the meal, if more family members don’t turn up out of the blue.” She reached in and lifted out a pathetic-looking little body. It hung limply in her hand, the head still attached and drooping to one side. Then she opened a drawer with the other hand and brought out a piece of greaseproof paper.
“I hope your husband feels better,” she said, wrapping it deftly and then tying it with a piece of string.
“I won’t trouble you any longer. I can see you’re busy.” I started toward the back door again.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” she called after me.
I turned back.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked. “Did somebody send you?”
“What are you talking about? I told you that the alderman made the invitation to my husband.”
“I see,” she said. “It’s just that, well, yesterday I caught you snooping around the house on your own and now again today. And I certainly don’t expect to find guests of the master poking around in the servants’ quarters.”
“We have no servant to send over for me. I came to the back door because I didn’t want to encounter family members before we were formally introduced,” I replied. “I called from the doorway, but nobody came. So I thought I’d try to locate the larder.”
“And help yourself to our food? What if you had taken a chicken and I was then one short?”
“I would never have taken anything without permission, and I don’t take kindly to your insinuations,” I said hotly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my husband. I’m concerned about him and about the fever he caught because there was nobody around to let us in when we arrived, even though we were expected.”
With that I stalked out, in high dudgeon. The woman had practically accused me of coming here to steal things, hadn’t she? I was almost tempted to throw her chicken back at her and tell her we’d do without, but my concern for Daniel outweighed my pride.
I was just turning onto the path to the guest cottage when I heard a voice calling, “Hey miss. Over here.” I could make out the figure of a man peering in through the bars of the gate.
I went up to him. “Oh, dear, have they locked the gates again? We were shut out the other day. Let me see if I can find the way to let you in.”
“I don’t want to come in,” he said. “Not right now in any case. I just wanted to make sure—this is the house of Brian Hannan, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“And Mr. Hannan is in residence?”
“I gather he hasn’t arrived yet,” I said.
“That’s funny. Are you sure?”
“I don’t know, actually. We’re not staying at the big house.”
“I’d swear I saw him at the station in New York. Very well, then. I’ll be back. Thank you.” He let go of the bars of the gate he had been holding.
“You’re not another family member, are you? Because a lot of them have already arrived.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Far from it.” He was starting to move away. “I’d better go then.”
“Would you like me to tell the family that you called, Mr.—?” I shouted after him.
“No, thank you. Let’s keep it a surprise, shall we?”
With that he melted away into the darkness, leaving me to pick my way home to the cottage.