Page 24 of Murder in Blackfriars

Hannah’s grin flashed. “I just want you to be happy, Katie. Like you want for Grace. I still think you’re wrong to let her go, but she’s your daughter, not mine. Besides, I was shirty about you twitting me how to raise me son, so I’ll cease.” She sobered. “If you go to Bethnal Green, do be careful, even if you’re with McAdam. That place ain’t healthy.”

“Well I know it.” My mother had always warned me about wandering farther east than the edge of the City, though the streets around Bow Lane could be plenty dangerous. “Daniel and I will go there only long enough to find out about this Mrs. Kerr and discover if she truly took in Daniel when he was a lad. It is most puzzling.”

“I don’t know much about me own parents,” Hannah said. We were rattling out of the Strand by now, turning north through Trafalgar Square. “I run off when I were thirteen, reasoning I were better off without them. I weren’t wrong. Me dad was a brute, me mum always drunk. But it weren’t easy, no. You’re right about that.” She sighed. “Hard to know what to do for them, our kids, ain’t it?”

“It is difficult,” I agreed. “It is, indeed.”

* * *

I descended from the cab in Piccadilly, Hannah continuing westward toward Kensington and Notting Hill. Alone, I wound my way to South Audley Street and around the corner to Mount Street.

The rain had ceased, mercifully, but plenty of puddles and splashing vehicles remained to soak my shoes and the hem of my new gown.

“Glad to see you home, Mrs. H.,” Tess greeted me from the warm kitchen, where supper for the upstairs was in the final stages of preparation. “It was raining cats and dogs out there earlier. I feared you and Grace would be soaked.”

“Who is Grace?” came a voice I dreaded to hear.

Mrs. Bywater skimmed into the kitchen, while I froze in the act of removing my coat. Tess’s eyes widened, and she immediately began chopping a carrot as though her life depended on it.

My thoughts roved wildly in my sudden panic. I had never revealed to the Bywaters that I had a daughter. Even if I’d been married in the proper way, Mrs. Bywater shared the view of many employers that their female servants—male ones too, for that matter—ought to be single and childless. Having a family only distracted us from our duties, they believed.

If Mrs. Bywater discovered that I had offspring, she’d have justification, in her opinion, for sacking me. She might even tell my agency that I was a liar and convince them to take me off their books.

The cooler side of my mind, the one that had helped me through all these years, whispered to me that Tess had only said the nameGrace, and not the wordsyour daughter.

“She is a dear friend,” I said to Mrs. Bywater, trying to keepmy voice steady. This was true, so I could say it with conviction. “I see her on my days out.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Bywater lost interest, as though she had no time to waste discussing a mate of mine. “I came down to tell you I’ve invited two friends for supper, so you need to make those chops stretch to four. Five if Cynthia bothers to show herself at table.”

Tess’s back stiffened, and I grew warm with vexation. Mrs. Bywater had the habit of adding guests at the last minute. Her acquaintances always accepted her spontaneous invitations, because word that my food was very good had made its way around Mayfair.

However, I did not want to argue with her, not wishing her to question me further about Grace.

“Very well,” I said calmly.

Mrs. Bywater fixed a surprised gaze on me, clearly having expected me to demur. “Very well, then. See to it.”

She glanced around the kitchen, as though searching for something to find fault with, then she nodded at me, turned abruptly, and marched out.

Tess didn’t speak until we heard her ascend the back stairs and slam the door at the top.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. H.,” she said, her knife stilling. “I didn’t mean to blurt out about Grace. I never saw her coming.”

“All is well.” I drew a breath in an attempt to soothe myself. “No harm done. She’ll likely forget all about it by the time she reaches the dining room.”

“I didn’t start enough food for five,” Tess said in exasperation. “What do we do now?”

“Never worry, Tess. I’ve learned to keep extra portions on hand, because Mrs. Bywater frequently springs guests or last-minute supper parties on us.”

It didn’t stretch the kitchen’s budget much to add a little more to the butcher’s order, and sometimes the butcher would throw in additional bits for nothing because I was such a good customer. The meat would never go to waste, because if the Bywaters didn’t consume it, the staff would eat up the excess.

So saying, I ducked to the larder and returned with another small chop.

Tess greeted the extra chop with relief and soon had it frying with the others. I added a few more potatoes to what she’d already sliced, boiling those to cook them faster than roasting.

With the chops and potatoes, plus a sauce I pulled together from degreased juices in the pan thickened with flour and seasoned with plenty of black pepper, we had a meal that would please even the fussiest tastes.

I finished the meal with a thick apple tart I’d made yesterday from the ripe apples now appearing in market stalls.