“Don’t worry, they are used to my dropping in on them at strange hours,” I said. “I am their next door neighbor back in New York and we often take breakfast together. If you could just let them know I am here and it’s rather urgent.”
“If you say so, ma’am. Whom should I say is calling?” She said displaying considerable reluctance.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my card with me.” I said it half joking, but she nodded as if she was accepting my apology just this once. “But it’s Mrs. Daniel Sullivan.”
“If you’ll please come in and take a seat,” she said, ushering me into a circular marble hallway with statues in niches and a curved marble stair ascending to a marble balcony above. She indicated an uncomfortable-looking marble bench. I sat.
It was cold and drafty in that marble hall and I found myself wondering about the rich and why they would want homes that were neither comfortable nor friendly. The sound of the housekeeper’s feet on the marble steps made me look up. Her demeanor had changed.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” she said. “Miss Augusta and Miss Elena would be delighted to join you in the breakfast room as soon as they have completed their toilettes. Please follow me.” And she led me to a delightful room with large arched windows giving incredible views onto the ocean. Sun streamed in and there was the smell of coffee and bacon. A row of silver tureens sat on a white-clothed sideboard along one wall—an awful lot of tureens for two people, I thought.
“Do help yourself,” she said. “I’m afraid the choice is a little sparse today, but I wasn’t given much warning of Miss Augusta’s arrival, and frankly one doesn’t expect family visits at this time of year.”
I took a plate and opened the first tureen to reveal scrambled eggs, then bacon, sausages, smoked haddock … I felt the housekeeper’s presence looming behind me and couldn’t decide whether she was making sure I had everything I needed or she was worried that I’d walk off with the silver.
I turned to her. “Have you been with the family long, Mrs.—?”
“Sweeney, ma’am. Mrs. Sweeney. And yes, I’ve been housekeeper here since the family first built the home in ’88.”
“I’m staying with the family next door,” I said. “The Hannans.”
She pursed her lips. “Are you, ma’am? They’ve been saying Mr. Hannan was killed, is that right?”
“That’s correct. He fell from the cliff. Very tragic.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. My condolences if you were a friend of his.”
I smiled. “I take it the family here is not great friends with their neighbors?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you can’t just make a lot of money and then expect to fit in with families who have been brought up to wealth. That’s not just how it works. Mr. Hannan might have been rich, but he’d never have belonged here in Newport. He was never invited to the parties, you know. Mrs. Astor wouldn’t even acknowledge him in the street.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I should never have spoken my mind, you being a friend and all.”
“Actually I never met Mr. Hannan. My husband has had business connections, that’s all.”
“Ah, well in that case, you’ll understand why I feel the way I do. God rest the poor gentleman’s soul. It must be a shock for the rest of the family, although what they are doing here in October is past me. Whoever heard of one of the cottages being occupied after Labor Day? See what I was saying about good manners and fitting in? You can’t buy breeding.”
I took my plate to a place at the table and poured myself coffee. Mrs. Sweeney didn’t offer to pour for me and I tried to remember if it was usual for the rich to serve themselves at breakfast. Footsteps on the marble floor outside announced the arrival of Sid and Gus. Gus came toward me, arms open.
“Molly, dear. How nice of you to come and share breakfast with us. How is dear Daniel?”
“I left him sleeping peacefully,” I said. “And I didn’t just come to visit to be social. There is something urgent I wish to discuss with you.”
“Let us just help ourselves to coffee and then fire away,” Sid said. I noticed she poured her own coffee, then lifted one tureen after another, closing each with a shudder.
“Just toast, I think,” she said. “You don’t perhaps have any croissants, do you, Mrs. Sweeney?”
“We do not, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Sweeney’s expression made it quite clear that she hadn’t a clue what croissants were and that she would never serve them if she did know.
Sid took a slice of toast and sat down beside me.
“What did you want to discuss, Molly? You’re looking worried.”
“Let’s wait for Gus,” I said. I turned to Mrs. Sweeney. “Tell me, Mrs. Sweeney, I presume you heard about Mr. Hannan’s grandchild who fell from the cliff about eight years ago?”
“We did hear something about it,” she said. “Such a shame. Sweet little thing, I remember.”
“Did you ever meet her sister?”
“Sister? There was more than one child?”