Page 41 of Murder in Blackfriars

“Mr. McAdam looked grim, didn’t he?” Tess asked worriedly. “Is he going to thrash Mr. Davis for being rude to you?”

“Of course not.” I spoke with conviction but hoped that would not be the case. “Mr. Davis is not happy with my intentions toward Daniel, or his toward me. I believe Daniel is trying to bring Mr. Davis around to our way of thinking.”

Tess gave the hallway another glance before returning to the table. “Mr. Davis knows, then? Is that why he’s in a bother?”

“He discovered our secret, yes.”

I’d broken the news to Tess a few months ago, wanting to give her time to grow used to the idea. She’d been ecstatic for me and had also burst into tears, not wanting me to leave her on her own.

Tess had kept the confidence since then, though every now and then she broke into a panic at the thought of me leaving, even if the event would be months from now.

Daniel remained in the butler’s pantry for quite some time. At one point, I thought I heard raised voices, but the footmen were still being raucous across the hall, and I couldn’t be certain.

I showed Tess how to create pastry dough that could be formed into casings, making it a little thicker and stronger, so the filling wouldn’t leak out. We rolled out and cut a dozen of these and then filled them with the hearty fig jam I’d made earlier in the week.

The jam turnovers were most of the way baked before the door to the butler’s pantry opened and Daniel emerged. He tramped down the hall alone, pausing at the kitchen doorway.

“Something smells wonderful.” Daniel closed his eyes and inhaled in delight. “Please tell me you’ll save a piece of whatever it is for me, Kat.”

“If you behave yourself, I will,” I admonished. Before I could ask what on earth he’d said to Mr. Davis, Daniel gave Tess and me a cheery wave.

“Can’t stop. Many things to do. Afternoon, Tess, Kat.” Daniel, whistling, made his way through the scullery, said a farewell to Elsie, and took himself off.

“Blast the man,” I grumbled. Not only would I not know what he and Mr. Davis discussed, but I hadn’t had the chance to fetch Mr. Banks’s medal for him.

“I didn’t see any blood on him,” Tess observed. “Perhaps they just had a friendly chat.”

I did not laugh. “I’ll wager it was more than that, but we won’t know, will we?” I thumped another hunk of dough onto the counter. “Let’s roll some more of these. And not give any to a male creature until they cease vexing us.”

* * *

Mr. Davis reappeared when supper was ready to go up. He gave me a somewhat cordial nod as he checked that all was ready in the kitchen but did not speak to me. His stance was less cold and angry, but still far from friendly.

He continued this way the rest of the evening, never mentioning Daniel’s discussion with him. I missed the Mr. Davis who would sit in the kitchen in the afternoons or after supper, reading out bits from the newspaper and gossiping with me, but at least he’d unbent slightly.

On Sunday morning, Tess took her day out. She’d spend the morning with Caleb and then walk to Joanna’s to begin preparing for my pies. I gave her a list of instructions for how to make the doughs and how to divide them, then for starting the fruit and meat sauces.

I’d finish the final preparations and the baking tomorrow and then cart the things to Portobello Road.

I planned only a small amount of goods, to see how things went. If no one bothered to purchase them, I’d bring the pies home and feed them to Joanna’s family and the staff here. The footmen and maids already liked the fig turnovers I’d made, as had the upstairs—the platter of them had come back empty on Saturday night.

While I fretted a bit because Daniel did not reappear, I was busy enough to not let it distract me too much.

Many questions floated through my mind as I worked. Did Mrs. Kerr really take in Daniel when he was a babe? How could Banks have recognized him? Mr. Fielding was correct that Daniel didn’t have any unusual marks on his body, at least none that I’d seen.

I flushed at the last thought. When I married Daniel, I certainly would see. The realization made my heart beat faster, but as I’d said to Joanna the other day, intimacy with Daniel might be no bad thing.

If Mr. Banks only purported to recognize Daniel, using that as an excuse to speak to him, why? What had he wanted to tell him? We had only Mr. Ramsay’s word that Mr. Banks possibly wanted to discuss Mrs. Kerr. Had Mr. Banks’s purpose been something else entirely?

Mr. Grimes had spoken to Mr. Banks prior to his appointment with Daniel and his death. I itched to take Mr. Grimes aside and make him repeat the conversation in exact detail.

However, I could not hunt down Mr. Grimes while cooking for the family and in a bother about my market stall.

A greater question that niggled at me was: If Mrs. Kerr had indeed taken in Daniel, how had he come to be in need of her charity? Had he been abducted from his rightful home? Left on her doorstep by his mother, knowing that Mrs. Kerr looked after little ones? Or had he somehow become lost from his family? Had they perished, with no one left to take Daniel?

These sorts of conundrums must have been on Daniel’s mind all of his life. My compassion for him deepened as I mulled.

“Mrs. Holloway.”