Treason at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [33]
Gracie pulled the kettle over onto the hob and set out a teapot and cups, then opened the pantry cupboard to get milk.
“I got cake, if yer like?” she offered. “But mebbe yer’d sooner ’ave toast an’ jam?”
“Actually, I’d rather like cake, if you can spare it,” Charlotte replied. “I haven’t had good cake for a while. Mrs. Waterman didn’t approve of it, and the disfavor came through her hands. Heavy as lead.”
Gracie turned around from the cupboard where she had been getting the cake. Plates were on the dresser. Charlotte noted with a smile that it was set out exactly like the one in her own kitchen, which Gracie had kept for so long: cups hanging from the rings, small plates on the top shelf, then bowls, dinner plates lowest.
“She gorn, then?” Gracie said anxiously.
“Mrs. Waterman? Yes, I’m afraid so. She gave notice and left all at the same time, yesterday evening. Or to be exact, she gave notice late yesterday evening, and was in the hall with her case when I came down this morning.”
Gracie was astounded. She put the cake—which was rich and full of fruit—on the table, then stared at Charlotte in dismay. “Wot she done? Yer din’t never throw ’er out fer nothin’!”
“I didn’t throw her out at all,” Charlotte answered. “She really gave notice, just like that—”
“Yer can’t do that!” Gracie waved her hands to dismiss the idea. “Yer won’t never get another place, not a decent one.”
“A lot has happened,” Charlotte said quietly.
Gracie sat down sharply in the chair opposite and leaned a little across the small wooden table, her face pale. “It in’t Mr. Pitt …”
“No,” Charlotte assured her hastily. “But he is in France on business and cannot come home until it is complete, and Mr. Narraway has been thrown out of his job.” There was no use, and no honor, in concealing the truth from Gracie. After all, it was Victor Narraway who had placed her as a maid in Buckingham Palace when Pitt so desperately needed help in that case. The triumph had been almost as much Gracie’s as his. Narraway himself had praised her.
Gracie was appalled. “That’s wicked!”
“He thinks it is an old enemy, perhaps hand in glove with a new one, possibly someone after his job,” Charlotte told her. “Mr. Pitt doesn’t know, and is trusting Mr. Narraway to support him in his pursuit now and do what he can to help from here. He doesn’t know he will be relying on someone else, who may not believe in him as Mr. Narraway does.”
“Wot are we goin’ ter do?” Gracie said instantly.
Charlotte was so overwhelmed with gratitude, and with emotion at Gracie’s passionate and unquestioning loyalty, that she felt the warmth rise up in her and the tears prickle her eyes.
“Mr. Narraway believes that the cause of the problem lies in an old case that happened twenty years ago in Ireland. He is going back there to find his enemy and try to prove his own innocence.”
“But Mr. Pitt won’t be there to ’elp ’im,” Gracie pointed out. “ ’Ow can ’e do that by ’isself? Don’t this enemy know ’im, never mind that ’e’ll expect ’im ter do it?” She looked suddenly quite pale, all the happy flush gone from her face. “That’s just daft. Yer gotter tell ’im ter think afore ’e leaps in, yer really ’ave!”
“I must help him, Gracie. Mr. Narraway’s enemies in Special Branch are Mr. Pitt’s as well. For all our sakes, we must win.”
“Yer goin’ ter Ireland? Yer goin’ ter ’elp ’im …” She reached out her hand, almost as if to touch Charlotte’s where it lay on the table, then snatched it back self-consciously. She was no longer an employee, but it was a liberty too far, for all the years they had known each other. She took a deep breath. “Yer ’ave gotta!”
“I know. I mean to,” Charlotte assured her. “But since Mrs. Waterman has walked out—in disgust and outraged morality, because Mr. Narraway was alone in the parlor with