wore a peacock blue wool cape and a matching hat draped with what looked like yards of veiling. A sable-fur muff was tucked under her arm.
A tall, white-haired man dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat and carrying a black top hat trailed behind her. “Good morning, everyone.” He put his hat on the chair and moved to help Luty with her cape.
Luty and Hatchet had become involved with the household during one of the inspector’s earliest cases. They’d lived in the same neighborhood as the murder victim and Luty had noticed the various members of the inspector’s household asking questions and snooping about. After that case had been solved, Luty had come to them with a mystery of her own, and ever since, she and Hatchet had insisted on being part of all their cases. She was rich, eccentric, and a friend to politicians, financiers, and aristocrats. She used her connections to find out information. Hatchet, who had more than a hint of mystery about his own past, had his own sources.
Wiggins came in last, followed by a bouncing Fred who kept dancing around the footman in a bid for more attention. “We ready, then?” he asked as he stroked the animal’s back before sitting down. “I made it to Luty’s and back in record time.” He was determined to do everything right and proper on this case. He’d not be shirking his duty for a pretty face.
“We were already dressed to go out.” Hatchet sniffed disapprovingly. “Madam had a meeting with her solicitors, but she sent her regrets.”
“Git off your high horse, Hatchet.” Luty snorted and sat down in the chair her butler had pulled out for her. “You know as well as I do you’d rather be here than listening to a bunch of lawyers bore us both to tears.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Jeffries slipped into her spot at the head of the table. “I do hope we didn’t interrupt some important business.”
Luty laughed. “Don’t be silly, Hepzibah. Nothing is more important than catching a killer.”
Luty’s lightly spoken words rang true. No matter how they’d ended up working for Gerald Witherspoon, all of them had been greatly changed by their experiences. What had started out as an alternative to the daily boredom of their ordinary chores and obligations had become a higher calling for each and every one of them. They weren’t just alleviating the dullness of making beds, cooking meals, driving carriages, polishing brass, or meeting with solicitors—they had been called to work for justice.
“Well spoken, Luty,” Mrs. Goodge said softly. Of all of them, she’d been the most changed. When she’d first arrived she’d been quite bitter; no family, no friends, and sacked from her previous position because of her age. Yet even with all that had befallen her, she’d never once questioned the fairness of a social system that could turf out an old woman without so much as a by-your-leave. She’d been a hidebound old snob, secure in the knowledge that people should stay in their place and sure that everyone in Her Majesty’s prisons was guilty as sin. Then they’d started solving murders and that had shifted her world completely. In the twilight of her life, she’d learned that change was a good thing, everyone deserved justice, and a system that rewarded people solely on the basis of birth was ridiculous. She wasn’t out to join any of those silly radical societies that were always having marches and demonstrations—she was too old for that—but she did send a bit of money from her quarterly wages to the London Society for Women’s Suffrage. “Now let’s get this meetin’ started, I’ve a lot a baking to do today to feed my sources.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “To begin with, I’ll tell what I found out from the inspector last night and from Constable Barnes this morning.”
“What about me,” Wiggins protested. “I never got to finish tellin’ what I found out from that gardener, Johnny Cooper.”
“I haven’t
A tall, white-haired man dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat and carrying a black top hat trailed behind her. “Good morning, everyone.” He put his hat on the chair and moved to help Luty with her cape.
Luty and Hatchet had become involved with the household during one of the inspector’s earliest cases. They’d lived in the same neighborhood as the murder victim and Luty had noticed the various members of the inspector’s household asking questions and snooping about. After that case had been solved, Luty had come to them with a mystery of her own, and ever since, she and Hatchet had insisted on being part of all their cases. She was rich, eccentric, and a friend to politicians, financiers, and aristocrats. She used her connections to find out information. Hatchet, who had more than a hint of mystery about his own past, had his own sources.
Wiggins came in last, followed by a bouncing Fred who kept dancing around the footman in a bid for more attention. “We ready, then?” he asked as he stroked the animal’s back before sitting down. “I made it to Luty’s and back in record time.” He was determined to do everything right and proper on this case. He’d not be shirking his duty for a pretty face.
“We were already dressed to go out.” Hatchet sniffed disapprovingly. “Madam had a meeting with her solicitors, but she sent her regrets.”
“Git off your high horse, Hatchet.” Luty snorted and sat down in the chair her butler had pulled out for her. “You know as well as I do you’d rather be here than listening to a bunch of lawyers bore us both to tears.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Jeffries slipped into her spot at the head of the table. “I do hope we didn’t interrupt some important business.”
Luty laughed. “Don’t be silly, Hepzibah. Nothing is more important than catching a killer.”
Luty’s lightly spoken words rang true. No matter how they’d ended up working for Gerald Witherspoon, all of them had been greatly changed by their experiences. What had started out as an alternative to the daily boredom of their ordinary chores and obligations had become a higher calling for each and every one of them. They weren’t just alleviating the dullness of making beds, cooking meals, driving carriages, polishing brass, or meeting with solicitors—they had been called to work for justice.
“Well spoken, Luty,” Mrs. Goodge said softly. Of all of them, she’d been the most changed. When she’d first arrived she’d been quite bitter; no family, no friends, and sacked from her previous position because of her age. Yet even with all that had befallen her, she’d never once questioned the fairness of a social system that could turf out an old woman without so much as a by-your-leave. She’d been a hidebound old snob, secure in the knowledge that people should stay in their place and sure that everyone in Her Majesty’s prisons was guilty as sin. Then they’d started solving murders and that had shifted her world completely. In the twilight of her life, she’d learned that change was a good thing, everyone deserved justice, and a system that rewarded people solely on the basis of birth was ridiculous. She wasn’t out to join any of those silly radical societies that were always having marches and demonstrations—she was too old for that—but she did send a bit of money from her quarterly wages to the London Society for Women’s Suffrage. “Now let’s get this meetin’ started, I’ve a lot a baking to do today to feed my sources.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “To begin with, I’ll tell what I found out from the inspector last night and from Constable Barnes this morning.”
“What about me,” Wiggins protested. “I never got to finish tellin’ what I found out from that gardener, Johnny Cooper.”
“I haven’t
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