Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat Read Free

morning?”
    He opened the pantry door and stepped inside. “After I dropped the inspector off, I took Bow and Arrow for a goodrun,” he replied. “They needed the exercise. Where do ya want this?”
    “Put it over there.” Betsy pointed to an empty shelf on the opposite wall. The tiny butler’s pantry was too small for furniture. It consisted mainly of shelves of various sizes running up and down the length of the walls. Smythe carefully eased the tray into its place and then turned and pulled her close in a bear hug. Betsy giggled.
    In the kitchen, Wiggins glanced toward the hallway. “I thought I ’eard Smythe come in.” He started to get up. “And where’s that lad got to?”
    “Sit down, Wiggins,” Mrs. Jeffries ordered. “Smythe has come in, and I think he’s probably helping Betsy put the silver away. I expect that Jeremy has helped himself to some buns and left.” Unlike the footman, she knew precisely what was going on down the hallway.
    “But I need to ’ave a word with Smythe.” Wiggins started to get up again. “’E promised to—”
    “Sit down, boy,” Mrs. Goodge said sharply. “You’ve no need to go botherin’ Smythe now. He’ll be in for his tea in a few minutes. You can talk to him then.”
    “But Betsy’s talkin’ to ’im now…” Wiggins’s voice trailed off as he realized what the two women already knew. His broad face creased in a sheepish grin. “Oh, I see what ya mean. They’re doin’ a bit of courtin’.”
    “That’s none of our business.” Mrs. Goodge placed the tray of food in the center of the table. She pushed a plate of sticky buns as far away from Wiggins as possible and shoved a plate of sliced brown bread and butter in front of the boy. He ate far too many sweets. Then she put the creamer and sugar bowl next to the stack of mugs already on the table. Lastly, she put the heavy, brown teapot in front of the housekeeper and then shoved the empty tray onto the counter behind her.
    Mrs. Jeffries smiled her thanks and began pouring out the tea. She’d done a lot of thinking about Betsy and Smythe. They were, of course, perfect for one another. She certainlyhoped that Smythe would ask the girl to marry him. She wasn’t foolish enough to think a change of that significance wouldn’t have an effect on the household. It would. A profound effect.
    To begin with, she wondered if the two of them would want to stay on in the household if they married. Normally, a maid and a coachman who wed would simply move into their own room and stay on. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Smythe would want to give his bride her own home. A home she suspected he could well afford. The housekeeper was fairly certain that one of the main reasons he’d not yet proposed was because he couldn’t think of a way to tell the lass the truth about himself. But that wasn’t what was worrying the housekeeper. Smythe could deal with that in his own good time. What concerned her was what would happen to their investigations if Smythe and Betsy married and moved out.
    She sighed inwardly. There was nothing constant but change in life, she thought. When she’d come here a few years back, she’d never thought she and the others would get so involved in investigating murders. But they had. They’d done a rather good job of it as well, she thought proudly. Not that their dear inspector suspected they were the reason behind his success as Scotland Yard’s most brilliant detective. Oh dear, no, that would never do.
    Mrs. Jeffries put the heavy pot down. They’d come together and formed a formidable team. The household, along with their friends Luty Belle Crookshank and her butler Hatchet had investigated one heinous crime after another. Those investigations had brought a group of lonely people closer to one another. In their own way, they’d become a family. Now they had to make some adjustments. Murder, as interesting as it was, couldn’t compete with true love. Especially, she told