Mrs. Jeffries & the Silent Knight Emily Brightwell (easy books to read in english .txt) đ
- Author: Emily Brightwell
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This was simply a much quieter neighborhood than the
ones in London. Sheâd have to be a bit more careful here.
Betsy studied the area, trying to determine where she
ought to go first. There was a greengrocerâs, a butcherâs, a
chemistâs and a bakerâs. Sheâd developed a kind of âfeelâ for
which shop to go into and which shop to avoid. She watched
as two well-dressed matrons carrying shopping baskets
went into the grocerâs. That wasnât the place to go, not yet.
Next, she saw an elderly woman wearing a heavy green wool
cloak shuffle into the chemistâs, and a moment later, she saw
a young maid dressed in a short, brown plaid jacket hurry
into the bakerâs shop. Betsy headed for the bakerâs.
As she stepped through the door, she was enveloped by
the scent of yeast and cinnamon. On the wall behind the
counter, row upon row of breads, cakes, pies, and buns filled
the shelves. The maid was at the counter, pointing at a loaf
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
53
of bread. âCook needs another loaf, and she wants it put on
account, please.â
âCertainly, thatâs one loaf for the Hadley account.â The
plump, middle-aged woman behind the counter pulled the
bread off the shelf and wrapped it in a sheet of brown paper.
âAnything else? Weâve some nice mince pies today, theyâre
always nice this time of year. You might tell Mrs. Hadley
weâre running a special between now and Christmas.â
âIâll tell her. Thank you, Mrs. Bartlett, that will be all for
now. But knowing Mrs. Hadley, sheâll have forgotten something, so youâll probably see me later this afternoon as well,â the girl grinned. âMaybe sheâll even order us a mince
pie. That would be nice.â
âThere was a lot of police down your way this morning,
Abigail,â Mrs. Bartlett continued as she handed the maid
the loaf. âI heard there was some trouble.â
âIt was ever so exciting,â Abigail replied eagerly. âSir
George Braxtonâs got murdered. We werenât supposed to
notice, Mrs. Hadley kept chasing us away from windows
sayinâ it wasnât proper to see such things and murder wasnât
supposed to happen in our neighborhood. But Lizzie and I
managed a few peeks, and we saw what was what. There
were police all over the place, and they were searchinâ everywhere.â She broke off and giggled. âMind you, Mrs. Hadley doesnât know it, but Lizzie and I saw her taking more than
one peek out the upstairs windows.â
âThatâs terrible.â Mrs. Bartlett flicked a quick glance at
Betsy, assessed her dress in a split second and then went on
talking to Abigail. âDo they have any idea who did it?â
Betsy wasnât offended. Sheâd worn her old gray jacket
and her plain black wool hat for just such a situation as this.
Sheâd found in the past that the lower down you looked to
be on the social ladder, the more people were apt to speak
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Emily Brightwell
freely in front of you. In their past investigations, sheâd always learned more when she wore her broadcloth working dresses than when she slipped on one of her âgoodâ outfits.
Abigail shrugged. âThe police are still up there, itâll be
ages before they find out anything. Mrs. Hadley says she
thinks it must be that âRipperâ feller. But I think thatâs silly.
The Ripper only murdered women. Well, Iâd best be off.
Mrs. Hadley needs this loaf for luncheon.â
Betsy was torn between following the maid and staying
where she was. Mrs. Bartlett obviously loved to gossip, but
the girl was obviously from a house close to the Braxton
home.
âMay I help you, miss,â said Mrs. Bartlett. âIâm sorry, I
didnât mean to ignore you. But weâve had a spot of trouble
in the neighborhood, and I find itâs always best to be well
informed about oneâs community. What can I get for you?â
Betsy made up her mind to stay. She could always try and
find Abigail later. âThose buns look wonderful.â She
pointed at a tray of buns on the shelf under the loaves. âIâd
like two, please. I couldnât help overhearing, did you say
there had been a murder in the neighborhood? Iâm not asking out of idle curiosity.â
Mrs. Bartlett pulled two buns off the shelf. âThereâs
nothing wrong with curiosity, idle or not. Thatâs what
makes life interesting, thatâs what I always say. Sir George
Braxton was murdered, and Iâm not in the least surprised. I
donât care if he is a baronet, heâs a strange one. Cheap as the
day is long, he is, and his household isnât much better. You
know, they only buy day-old bread. Can you imagine such a
thing? Heâs as rich as sin, but heâs too tightfisted to spend a
bit of coin for fresh bread.â
âMy goodness, thatâs terrible.â She wasnât sure if she was
agreeing that the murder was terrible or whether it was ter
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
55
rible that the household only bought day-old bread. But it
apparently didnât matter, Mrs. Bartlett didnât stop talking.
âAnd his three daughters arenât any better. Mind you, I
wouldnât be surprised if one of them did the old blighter
in.â She leaned across the counter. âThereâs no love lost between any of them. Theyâre all money mad, and that cousin of theirs, Clarence Clark, thereâs some that say he isnât really
a cousin, if you know what I mean.â
âReally?â Betsy had no idea what the woman meant, but
she was fairly certain she could find out. She prayed no one
else would come into the shop. She knew sheâd struck gold.
Smythe and Wiggins stood in front of the Kings Road Pub
on the Upper Richmond Road. âGood, theyâre open already,â
the coachman said, âso Iâll nip in and see what I can find out.â
Wiggins rubbed his hands together for warmth. âIâll go
over to the common and see if anyoneâs about. Is it a nice
common?â he asked. âYou know what I mean, the sort of
place where people would walk and such?â
âItâs cold, lad, so theyâll not be many people out and
about. But I canât think of anyplace else for you to go, not
while the inspectorâs still at the Braxton house. Itâs too dangerous for you to go too close to the house.â
He didnât think Wiggins would have much
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