The Scent of Murder Read Free Page A

was saved only for Pike.
    Dody marked her place in the book and closed it. ‘Annie, what on earth is the matter? You sound as if you are laying out a suit of armour.’ Though perhaps armour would be the appropriate attire for the dinner ahead, she thought gloomily.
    ‘Nothing, I’m sure, Miss Dody,’ the maid replied.
    Surely Annie was not still annoyed about the portmanteau? Dody paused to examine the young woman, hair awry, lace cap askew. ‘You’re not enjoying it much here, are you?’
    Annie sniffed. ‘To be honest, Miss Dody, I’d rather be back in London.’
    ‘Are the staff not treating you kindly?’
    ‘They’re not treating me at all. I may as well not exist. I’m not a proper lady’s maid, see; if you and Miss Florence were proper ladies, you’d have a maid each — that’s what’s being whispered in the servants’ hall.’
    ‘If we had taken to heart everything that has been said about us, Annie, we’d have been driven mad years ago. Frankly, I am relieved not to be considered a proper lady.’
    ‘And I have to share a room in the attic — a bed, what’s more — with a scullery maid in training from the workhouse.’ Annie scratched her head, knocking her lace cap to the floor.
    Dody understood how offensive such an arrangement would be to Annie. The hierarchy of the servants was as rigid, if not more so, as that of those they served. ‘I’ll speak to the housekeeper about it, if you like,’ she said.
    The maid scooped her cap up off the floor, then bobbed to view the dressing-table mirror and re-pinned it. ‘Won’t do much good, miss. I’ve already tried speaking to Mrs Hutton and she says what with the house guests and all, they’re a few servants’ beds short and I’ll just have to lump it.’
    Dody was surprised to hear that Annie had mustered the courage to approach the intimidating, black-clad housekeeper, though it pleased her that the maid was learning to stick up for her rights. Still, when in Rome …
    ‘You should have left it to me, Annie,’ she said.
    ‘Yes, miss. I suppose I’ll get the bed to myself when Edith goes back to the workhouse. Normally she’s only here a few days a week.’ Annie scratched her head again.
    Dody frowned. ‘Itchy head?’ she asked as she reached into her Gladstone bag for her magnifying glass. ‘Here, let me look.’ She took hold of the girl’s hand and pulled her towards the electric lamp on the dressing table.
    Annie attempted to struggle free. ‘No, miss, it’s all right, really!’
    ‘No, it’s not all right, and I think you know that as well as I do.’
    The maid’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I looked myself. I’m clean. I wouldn’t come near you and Miss Florence if—’
    ‘This is something you cannot help. We understand that. Now, please stay still and let me examine your hair.’
    Dody insisted they exchange places: Annie perched on the dressing-table stool, Dody standing over her and peering through the magnifying glass at her hair. Dody found several clusters of pediculosis eggs, like grains of sand, clinging to the shafts of hair around the girl’s temporal region. ‘As I thought,’ Dody said, putting down the magnifying glass. ‘This needs immediate treatment.’
    ‘But what will the other servants say?’ Annie said desperately. ‘What do I tell Mrs Hutton? I’ll be a laughing stock.’
    Dody fully understood Annie’s shame, illogical though it was. Now she would be regarded as even more inferior by the Hall staff, many of whom, like Annie, would have come from impoverished backgrounds and also experienced the shame of head lice. By entering domestic service, they would have hoped to leave all that behind them. ‘You would have caught them from the workhouse girl. I’ll have to speak to Mrs Hutton about it.’
    ‘Oh, no, miss. Edith’s a sweet little thing, really. She might lose her job because of it.’
    ‘Well, let’s worry about you first. I’ll ask Mrs Hutton to tell the other servants that