Mulled Murder (Pennyfoot Holiday Mysteries) by Kate Kingsbury Page A

pain?”
    The girl moved her free hand to her head.
    “You have a headache?”
    Miss Memory nodded again.
    “Can you speak?”
    The young woman lowered her chin and stared at the floor. “Yes, m’m.”
    “You have no idea where you live? Where your parents are?”
    Another sad shake of the head.
    Cecily stared thoughtfully at the ledger in front of her. Two lost souls in two days. At least this one was alive. Barely, by the look of it. Making up her mind, she said briskly, “Well, the first thing we must do is get some food inside of you.”
    “I had tea and brandy,” Miss Memory said.
    “Well, that’s a start, but good food will make you feel much better. I can’t have you wandering around the streets, not knowing who you are or where you’re going, so you may stay here for the time being. There’s a spare bed in Pansy and Lilly’s room. You can sleep there. In the meantime I’ll have Dr. Prestwick take a look at you and see if he can help you.”
    At the sound of the doctor’s name, the girl shrank back in her chair, violently shaking her head. “No, no, no.”
    Cecily frowned. “It’s all right, child. He’s a doctor and a good man. He won’t hurt you.”
    Miss Memory started up from her chair, still shaking her head. “No, no. No doctor. I just need to get some sleep and I’ll be quite all right. Please, no doctor.”
    Seeing that the young woman was quite distressed, Cecily softened her tone. “Very well. I’ll ring for a maid and she can take you back to the kitchen. After you’ve eaten something you can get some sleep in Pansy’s room. Then we’ll talk again, all right?”
    Miss Memory just looked back at her, eyes wide with fear.
    Sighing, Cecily tugged on the bell rope. Minutes passed, during which the girl sat in tense silence, and then Pansy arrived at the door.
    Cecily got up from her desk and walked over to the girl’s chair. “Take Miss . . . er . . . Memory down to the kitchen and see that she eats a hearty breakfast, Pansy. I’ve told her she can sleep in your room with you and Lilly until we decide what to do about her.”
    Pansy’s eyes brightened at the news. “That will be lovely. Maybe we can help her get back her memory.”
    “Yes, well, don’t dwell on that too much. I’m sure all this is terribly confusing for the poor child.”
    “Yes, m’m.” Pansy curtsied, then took the girl’s arm. “Come along, Miss Memory. Wait until you taste Michel’s cooking. I bet you never had such scrumptious food.”
    Miss Memory allowed Pansy to lead her out the door, and Cecily breathed a sigh of relief. That was one crisis resolved. At least for now. She could only hope that the death of Gerald Evans would be as easily settled.
    With any luck at all, P.C. Northcott would find out that whoever had killed him had nothing to do with the Pennyfoot and, for once, they could escape the Christmas curse. She tried to hang on to that as she settled down once more with the ledger. Yet Madeline’s words still persisted in the back of her mind, and something told her that her involvement in Mr. Evans’s death was far from over.
    • • •
    “Maybe she can have a job here,” Gertie suggested, upon hearing that Miss Memory was to stay for the time being. She carefully lowered a meat platter into the hot water in the sink. “We could use the extra help.”
    “We don’t have time to train anyone else.” Mrs. Chubb dusted her floury hands on her apron. “I’ve already had to turn down two applications for a maid’s job. It’s hard enough to train Lilly while we’re trying to get everything done in time for Christmas. I just can’t take on another new maid.”
    “Maybe she already knows enough so we wouldn’t have to train her.”
    Mrs. Chubb snorted. “Have you taken a good look at her? She’s no maid. She comes from money. That frock must have cost a month’s wages.”
    “Yeah, I noticed.” Gertie swished the platter around in the soapy suds. “Her flipping