Mrs. Jeffries Wins the Prize by Emily Brightwell Page A

“I’ve already told you, my plants are rare and delicate. Most of them are valuable. I’ll not have policeman stomping about in there and making a mess of things.”
    â€œMadam, I assure you we’ll be very careful.”
    â€œHow do I know you or that Constable Barnes won’t try to steal a cutting for yourself?”
    His jaw dropped. “Really, ma’am, I assure you, neither myself nor my men would ever do that.”
    Thea Stanway chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Helena, your plants are no more valuable or rare than the ones Isabelle and I have. Don’t make such a fuss and let the inspector do his job.”
    â€œI’m not being silly,” she cried. “And I’ve a perfect right to make a fuss. You’d feel the same way if we were at your house and it was your conservatory that was being invaded by all and sundry.”
    â€œThe inspector is hardly invading.” Thea smiled sympathetically. “He’s just trying to do his job.”
    â€œShe’s right, Helena,” Isabelle added. “You’ll feel better if you let them get on with it and then leave you in peace.”
    â€œI most certainly will not feel better.” Helena glared first at Isabelle and then at Thea. “And despite your ridiculous assertion, Thea, my collection is far better than yours”—she looked at Isabelle again—“or yours. I’m notgoing to allow Mr. Filmore’s unfortunate death to mar my perfect record. Come the first week in July, my orchids are still going to beat out both of you and I’ll bring home the first prize.”
    *   *   *
    Half a mile away, Chloe Attwater entered the drawing room of her enormous five-story home in Mayfair and grinned at her housekeeper. “As expected, I had a wonderful time. I can’t say the same for my hostess or her companions, though Thea Stanway did seem to be enjoying herself some of the time.”
    Kareema Dhariwal gave her mistress a disapproving frown. She wore a coral-colored sari over her small, slim frame and held a vase of yellow tea roses in her hands. She had a very prominent nose, a lovely olive complexion, and black hair, which she wore pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. “What do you think to achieve, mistress?”
    â€œAchieve.” Chloe chuckled. “Why, everything, of course. But for the moment, I’ll be content with making them as uncomfortable as possible. After I’ve watched all three of them squirm for a while, I’ll decide what to do next.”
    Kareema put the vase on an end table and then looked at her employer and friend, her expression somber. “Why do you do this, mistress?”
    Chloe’s smile disappeared. “You know why.”
    â€œI know why you think you should do it, but the reasons are long ago and in the past. You found another life, a good life. We both did. Can’t you forgive and forget?”
    Chloe stared at her. “Have you forgotten? Have you forgiven?”
    â€œNo, but taking vengeance has a cost.”
    â€œI’m prepared to pay it.”
    â€œI don’t think it is wise.”
    â€œIt may not be wise, but it is most certainly a lot of fun.” She flopped onto the sofa, kicked off her elegant black court shoes, and took a deep breath. “Don’t fret so, Kareema, I know what I’m doing and I’m doing it for both of us.”
    â€œPeople always think that way, but it is rarely true. Every action has unforeseen consequences. You should know that better than anyone.” Her housekeeper stared at her with a disapproving, tight-lipped expression on her face. “This is a dangerous game you play, mistress. I do not want to see harm come to you.”
    â€œNo harm will come to either of us,” Chloe declared. “I’ll see to that. I’m not the powerless little nobody I was twenty years ago, Kareema. They’re going to pay, Kareema,