A Christmas Guest by Anne Perry Page B

was now convinced was a murderer. Added to that she had not even fresh underclothes or a nightgown to sleep in. They had offered to lend her something, but all the women in the family were at least three or four inches taller than she was, and thinner as well, by more inches than that! She must have taken leave of her wits. Certainly she could never admit any of this to Caroline! Or anybody else. They’d have her locked up.
    There was a knock on the door and she started so violently she gulped and gave herself hiccups.
    â€œCome in!” she said, hiccuping again.
    It was the housekeeper, to judge from her black dress, lace cap, and the cluster of keys hanging from her waist. She was short and rather stout, exactly Grandmama’s own build.
    â€œGood evening, ma’am,” she said very agreeably. “I’m Mrs. Ward, the housekeeper. It was very good of you to come personally with the sad news. It must have inconvenienced you very much.”
    â€œHer death grieved me,” Grandmama answered frankly, relieved that it was a servant, not one of the family. “To come and tell you personally seemed no more than the obvious thing to do. She died among strangers, even if they were people who liked her immediately, and very much.”
    Mrs. Ward’s face colored as if with considerable emotion she felt obliged to hide. “I’m very glad you did,” she said with a tremble in her voice. She blinked rapidly.
    â€œYou knew her,” Grandmama deduced. She made herself smile. “You must be grieving as well.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. I was a maid here when I was a girl. Miss Maude would have been sixteen then.”
    â€œAnd Mrs. Harcourt?” Grandmama asked shamelessly. She must detect! Time would not wait upon niceties.
    â€œOh, eighteen she was. And such a beauty as you’ve never seen.”
    Grandmama looked at the housekeeper’s face. There was no light in it. She might respect Bedelia Harcourt, even be loyal to her, but she did not like her as she had Maude. That was something to remember. Servants said little, good ones seldom said anything at all, but they saw just about everything.
    â€œAnd Mrs. Sullivan?”
    â€œOh, she was only thirteen, just a schoolgirl, all ink and books and clumsiness, but full of enthusiasm, poor girl. The governess was always trying to get her to walk with the dictionary on her head, but she kept losing it.”
    â€œDictionary?”
    â€œOnly for the weight of it! Miss Agnes was perfectly accurate with her spelling. But that’s all in the past. Long ago.” She blinked rapidly again. “I just came to say that if there is anything I can get for you, I should be happy to.” She had an air of sincerity as if her words were far more than mere politeness, or even obedience to Bedelia’s request.
    â€œThank you,” Grandmama replied. “I … I’m afraid I have none of the usual necessities with me.” Dare she ask for a clean petticoat or chemise?
    Mrs. Ward looked embarrassed. “There is no difficulty in the least finding you toiletries, Mrs. Ellison. I was thinking of … of more personal things. If you’ll forgive my saying so, it seems to me that you and I are much the same height. If you would not be offended, ma’am, you might borrow one or two of my … my clothes. It would give us the chance to … care for yours and return them to you?” She was very pink; as if afraid already that she had presumed.
    Grandmama was suddenly touched by the woman’s kindness. It seemed perfectly genuine, and perhaps added to because she had cared for Maude. “That is extremely generous of you to offer,” she said warmly. “I would be most grateful. I have nothing but what I stand up in. It was the last thing on my mind as I left this morning.”
    Mrs. Ward colored even more, but most obviously with relief. “Then I shall see that