Weighed in the balance - Anne Perry [100]
“I shall not insult her,” he promised more decidedly.
And he kept his word. He found Mrs. Bagshot, far from his conception of the average cook, standing at the large, scrubbed, wooden kitchen table with the rolling pin in her hand. She was a tall, thin woman with gray hair screwed back into a tight knot. The orderliness of her kitchen spoke much of her nature. Its warm smells were delicious.
“Well?” she demanded, looking him up and down. “So you think that foreign prince was poisoned in this house, do you?” Her voice already bristled with anger.
“Yes, Mrs. Bagshot, I think it is possible,” he replied, looking at her steadily. “I think most likely it was done by one of his own countrymen for political reasons.”
“Oh.” Already she was somewhat mollified, though still on her guard. “Do you, indeed. And how did they do that, may I ask?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, governing his voice and his expression. This was a woman more than ready to take umbrage. “My guess would be by someone adding something to his food as it was taken upstairs to his bedroom.”
“Then what are you doing here in my kitchen?” Her chin came up. She had an unarguable point, and she knew it. “It weren’t one o’ my girls. We don’t have no truck wi’ foreigners, ’ceptin’ as guests, an’ we serve all guests alike.”
Monk glanced around at the huge room with its spotlessly blacked cooking range, big enough to roast half a sheep and boil enough vegetables or bake enough pies and pastries to feed fifty people at a sitting. Beyond it were rows of copper saucepans hung in order of size, every one shining clean. Dressers held services of crockery. He knew that beyond the kitchen there were sculleries, larders … one specifically for game; small rooms for the keeping of fish, ice, coal, ashes; a bake house; a lamp room; a room for knives; the entire laundry wing; a pantry; a pastry room; a stillroom and a general storeroom. And that was without trespassing into the butler’s domain.
“A very orderly household,” he observed. “Everything in its place.”
“O’ course.” She bristled. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but in a big house like this, if you don’ keep order you’d never turn out a dinner party for people what come ’ere.”
“I can imagine—”
“No, you can’t,” she contradicted him with contempt. “No idea, you ’aven’t.” She swung around to catch sight of a maid. “ ’Ere, Nell, you get them six dozen eggs I sent for? We’ll need them fer tomorrow. An’ the salmon. Where’s that fish boy? Don’t know what day it is, ’e don’t. Fool, if ever I saw one. Brought me plaice the other day w’en I asked fer sole! Not got the wits ’e were born with.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bagshot,” Nell said dutifully. “Six dozen ’en’s eggs like you said, an’ two dozen duck eggs in the larder. An’ I got ten pounds o’ new butter an’ three o’ them cheeses.”
“All right then, off with yer about yer business. Don’t stand there gawpin’ just ’cos we got a stranger in the kitchen. It isn’t nothing to do with you!”
“Yes, Mrs. Bagshot!”
“So what is it you want from me, young man?” Mrs. Bagshot looked back at Monk. “I got dinner to get. Put the pheasant in the larder, George. Don’t hang ’em in ’ere for ’eaven’s sake!”
“Thought you might want to see them, Mrs. Bagshot,” George replied.
“What for? Think I never seen a pheasant? Out with yer, before yer get feathers everywhere! Fool,” she added under her breath. “Well, get on with it!” she said to Monk. “Don’t stand there all day with yer foot in yer mouth. We got work, even if you don’t.”
“If anyone came into your kitchen at night and used one of your saucepans, would you know about it?” Monk said instantly.
She considered the matter carefully before replying.
“Not if they cleaned it proper and put it back ’zactly where they found it,” she