Mrs. Jeffries and the Mistletoe Mix-Up

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

THE INSPECTOR AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES DUSTS FOR CLUES
THE GHOST AND MRS. JEFFRIES
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES STOCK
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE BALL
MRS. JEFFRIES ON THE TRAIL
MRS. JEFFRIES PLAYS THE COOK
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISSING ALIBI
MRS. JEFFRIES STANDS CORRECTED
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE STAGE
MRS. JEFFRIES QUESTIONS THE ANSWER
MRS. JEFFRIES REVEALS HER ART
MRS. JEFFRIES TAKES THE CAKE
MRS. JEFFRIES ROCKS THE BOAT
MRS. JEFFRIES WEEDS THE PLOT
MRS. JEFFRIES PINCHES THE POST
MRS. JEFFRIES PLEADS HER CASE
MRS. JEFFRIES SWEEPS THE CHIMNEY
MRS. JEFFRIES STALKS THE HUNTER
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE SILENT KNIGHT
MRS. JEFFRIES APPEALS THE VERDICT
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE BEST LAID PLANS
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE FEAST OF ST. STEPHEN
MRS. JEFFRIES HOLDS THE TRUMP
MRS. JEFFRIES IN THE NICK OF TIME
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE YULETIDE WEDDINGS
MRS. JEFFRIES SPEAKS HER MIND
MRS. JEFFRIES FORGES AHEAD
MRS. JEFFRIES AND THE MISTLETOE MIX-UP

 

Anthology
MRS. JEFFRIES LEARNS THE TRADE

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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2011 by Cheryl Arguile.

 

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

 

Brightwell, Emily.

ISBN : 978-1-101-54545-4

1. Jeffries, Mrs. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Witherspoon, Gerald (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Women household employees—Fiction. 4. Police—Great Britain—Fiction. 5. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3552.R46443M636 2011
813’.54—dc23

2011030810

 

 

Elena McCourt crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her husband. “You can scream and shout all you like, Daniel,” she cried, “but I’m not throwing the girl out into the street, especially in weather like this.”

Daniel McCourt frowned at his wife, hoping to intimidate her into submission. He wasn’t used to her standing up to him, and he was desperate to reestablish his authority. “You’ll do as I say.” He shoved back in his chair and noted with satisfaction that she flinched. “I’m the master here, and I’ll thank you, madam, to get ready to play hostess to your guests.”

She swallowed nervously but held her ground. “They’re your guests, not mine, and if you’ll remember correctly, I’m the legal owner of this house, and it’s my money that pays for the upkeep and the servants. Annie stays.” She jerked her head toward a row of exquisite Chinese ceramic plates artistically displayed on the shelf next to the door. “I don’t really care if she cracked one of those heathen plates or not. She stays.”

He gasped, shocked to his core that she’d defy him while they had company arriving. He’d never thought her capable of making any sort of scene. But he couldn’t let her see how her behavior worried him. He couldn’t show weakness. That would be fatal, especially now. “Those heathen plates, as you call them, are from the Ming dynasty and are worth a fortune.” He pointed to an intricate green-and-gold-patterned dish at the end of the row. “And that stupid girl cracked the rim on that one. It’s worthless now.”

Elena brushed nervously at a lock of wispy blonde hair that had slipped out of her elaborate coiffure. She opened her mouth, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Daniel yelled.

Haines, the butler, stepped into the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Brunel have arrived. I escorted them into the morning room with the other guests.”

Daniel glanced at the ornate gold and white carriage clock on his desk. “They’re ten minutes late. That’s not like Leon.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Haines said. “But they were right on time.”

“Why didn’t you announce them?” he demanded.

“I would have, sir, but I was delayed by Mr. Raleigh. He needed a glass of water to take a headache powder, and as all the other staff were busy, I had to go to the kitchen to get it for him myself.”

“Oh, what difference does it make when they arrived,” Elena said soothingly. “They’re here now.”

“Humph,” Daniel grunted. He was glad to hear the mollifying tone in his wife’s voice. “Well, see that in the future, you announce the guests right away, Haines. Tell the housekeeper we’ll have tea served now.”

“Not yet.” Elena countermanded the order. “We’ll wait for ten minutes. Cook was having trouble with the oven. It’s overheating, and the kitchen is ridiculously hot.”

“For goodness’ sake, it’s the middle of winter,” Daniel snapped. “Have them open the side doors if it gets too hot. I’m hungry, and I want my tea.”

Haines looked with an uncertain expression from his master to his mistress. All the servants knew that it was Mrs. McCourt who owned the house, but until recently, Haines had never heard her contradict one of her husband’s orders.

“Oh, alright,” Daniel muttered churlishly. “Serve tea in ten minutes.” Like any good general, he’d decided to pick his battles carefully. Besides, as much as he hated her current behavior, right now he needed to stay in her good graces.

Elena McCourt smiled wanly at the butler and nodded her agreement. “Open the connecting door, Haines, and then bring the guests into the drawing room before you go downstairs.”

“Very well, madam.” Haines cut across to the double doors on the far side of Mr. McCourt’s desk. He opened them wide, revealing the main drawing room.

A cheerful fire blazed in the hearth. Garlands of greenery had been strung across the mantelpiece and an evergreen tree, its branches festooned with unlighted candles, ceramic ornaments, and chains of boldly colored paper stood in the corner. “When should we light the candles, madam?” he asked.

“It’s not quite dark as yet, so we’ll wait until after tea is finished,” she declared. “There’s no point in Duncan having to stand there with a bucket of wet sand while we eat.”

“He’ll stand there as long as we want,” Daniel said crossly, annoyed that she’d taken over the decision making from him. “That’s what footmen are paid to do.”

Haines nodded to her and hurried out. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to explain that the footman wasn’t back yet.

Elena walked to the door leading to the hall, and her hand had just reached for the knob when her husband’s voice stopped her.

“As soon as the guests have gone, you and I are going to have a nice sit-down and discuss a few matters,” he said in a low voice.

“Actually, I was going to suggest that myself,” she replied without turning to look at him. “I’ve a number of matters to discuss with you.” She heard his quickly indrawn breath of surprise, and she smiled as she continued on into the hall, closing the door quietly behind her. She started in surprise. “I thought Haines took you and Mrs. Brunel into the morning room.”

Leon Brunel, a tall man with wispy light brown hair, thin lips, and deep-set blue eyes, stood in the foyer, his attention focused on a tall blue and white ceramic vase that sat in the middle of the ornate claw-footed entry table. Brunel gave her an embarrassed smile. “Do forgive me, Elena, but when I saw this beauty here”—he pointed to the vase—“I had to have a closer look. When did Daniel acquire this? And from whom?”

“It’s not new,” she replied. “I’m sure it was sitting there when you and Glenda came to dinner last month. But he acquired it from the Saxon collection.” She wondered whether he’d overheard any of their argument. It would be very much like Leon to eavesdrop. “As a matter of fact, Nicholas Saxon is here now. Daniel invited him to tea. Perhaps you can talk him into selling to you, instead of Daniel, the next time.”

 

Less than a mile away, at the home of Inspector Gerald Witherspoon, the servants were just finishing their afternoon tea.

“What time is dinner tonight?” Phyllis asked. The housemaid was a plump, round-faced girl with dark blonde hair tucked up in a tight bun under her maid’s cap.

“It’s going to be late,” Mrs. Jeffries, the auburn-haired, older middle-aged housekeeper, replied. “The inspector said he was going to stop and do a bit of shopping on Oxford Street before coming home tonight. I think he’s buying a doll for his new godchild.”

“That baby is goin’ to be spoiled,” Mrs. Goodge, the cook, warned. She was a portly, white-haired woman with wire-framed spectacles.

Mrs. Jeffries glanced at Wiggins, the brown-haired, apple-cheeked footman, who had ducked his head to hide a smile. He was too polite to say what they were both thinking.

But Phyllis, having joined the household more recently than the others, blurted it out: “But you spoil her worse than anyone.” She giggled. “She can’t so much as whimper before you’re swoopin’ in to pick her up and rock her. She’d barely been born when you gave her that silver spoon with her initials engraved on it.”

“And fine initials they are, too,” the cook replied.

The baby in question was the infant daughter of Smythe, the household coachman, and Betsy, the maid. Smythe had joined them for tea and had left only moments earlier, but Betsy was at their flat with their two-month-old daughter.

“Of course they are. They’re yours and Luty Belle’s,” Mrs. Jeffries declared. The household of Upper Edmonton Gardens had been delighted when Betsy announced she was naming her baby daughter after Mrs. Goodge and the household’s dear friend, Luty Belle Crookshank. The two women, along with Inspector Witherspoon, were the baby’s godparents.