Mrs. Jeffries Speaks Her Mind Read Free Page A

couldn’t save her. Before she died, Euphemia made Smythe swear he’d stay on in the household for a few weeks to see her only relative, her nephew, Inspector Gerald Witherspoon, safely settled in the house. The inspector had been raised in very modest circumstances, and now that she was leaving him a huge house as well as a fortune, she didn’t want anyone taking advantage of him as they’d taken advantage of her. Smythe had agreed.
    That was when his life had really gotten complicated. Inspector Witherspoon had moved into the house, Mrs. Jeffries had come along to be the housekeeper, she’d hired Mrs. Goodge as the cook, and then his beloved Betsy had collapsed on their doorstep. They had nursed her back to health and she stayed on as the maid. Just when he’d decided the new staff wasn’t the sort to take advantage of anyone, Mrs. Jeffries had encouraged the inspector to try his hand at solving those horrible Kensington High Street murders and sent the rest of them out to snoop about for clues. Not that they had any idea what they were doing, at least not at first, but they’d soon figured it out and each and every one of them had found investigating murder to their liking. So, without telling any of them how rich he was, Smythe had stayed on for a bit more, just to see how the case turned out. But then Inspector Witherspoon had “solved” the case, gotten transferred from the Records Room at Scotland Yard to the Ladbroke Road Police Station, and, almost immediately, had another case to work on.
    By then it was too late. Smythe was involved, half in love with Betsy, and despite the fifteen-year age difference between them she’d let him know she had feelings for him. So he’d stayed and now he thanked his lucky stars he’d made the right choice. He and Betsy were happily married, the household had helped solved dozens of murders, and they’d become a “family.” Naturally, he’d told Betsy about his wealth before they wed. He didn’t believe in keeping secrets from his wife. Mrs. Jeffries had sussed out that he had plenty as well, but he felt a bit guilty that he’d never found the best moment to tell Mrs. Goodge and Wiggins. The time never seemed right and now it was a bit awkward.
    “She once sent me over to St. John’s with some money for the poor box,” Wiggins added. “But she didn’t say I had to stay for the service, so I didn’t.”
    Phyllis got to her feet and gave them all a sunny smile. “Church or not, this is the best place I’ve ever worked. When I worked for the Lowery household we only got a half day off once a week and then only after we’d cleared up the lunch table and done the washing up. Here, I’ve got the whole day to myself. I suppose I’d best go; I only stopped by to get my umbrella and I’ve spent an hour with you having tea.” She giggled. “I’d never have done that at my old place. But you’re all so nice.”
    Mrs. Jeffries stifled a surge of guilt. Phyllis hadn’t been with them very long. She’d been hired a few weeks before Christmas and didn’t take part in their investigations. But the position was only supposed to be temporary, the housekeeper told herself, and they had kept Phyllis on well past Betsy and Smythe’s wedding. She’d not had the heart to let the girl go, she’d needed the position so badly. “You work very hard and you deserve your day out.”
    Phyllis’ smile faltered. “But, please excuse me, I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but the rest of you don’t seem to have as much time off as I do. I love working here—I don’t want to lose my position because you think I’m lazy . . .”
    “We have plenty of time off,” Mrs. Goodge said quickly. “You just don’t notice because . . . because . . .”
    “Because you’re always so busy,” Mrs. Jeffries finished. “Now, don’t worry yourself about your position. Go along now or you’ll miss your train. I’m sure your family can’t wait to see you. We’ll see you tomorrow