The Pigeon Pie Mystery (46 page)

There was silence as the ladies stared at him. Taking her hand away from her mouth, the Countess asked, “What did they disclose? A cache of buried gold, perhaps? Or the existence of a will?”

“Was it a vile deed?” gasped Lady Beatrice, clutching the side of her seat.

Lady Montfort Bebb held up a hand. “Don’t hold back, Mr. Pilgrim,” she ordered. “We are braver than we look.”

Cornelius B. Pilgrim paused. “It was Pike and Gibbs, the delivery boys, wearing old sheets and wondering who to haunt next.”

The women looked at each other.

“I shall never tip that pair again,” said Lady Montfort Bebb, gripping the top of her cane.

“And I shall never start to,” said the Countess.

Mink leant forwards. “Congratulations, Mr. Pilgrim. We must inform the newspapers. It will do wonders for your career.”

Lady Beatrice offered him the plate of macaroons. “How terribly clever of you, Mr. Pilgrim,” she said. “I’m sure that will resolve my problem of finding a new parlour maid. And not before time, I can tell you. I found my cook asleep under the kitchen table this morning. Let me say how pleased we all were to hear that you weren’t responsible for the General’s death. We had complete faith in you. Have you met my daughter?”

The American smiled weakly, then glanced at the Countess from under his lashes.

“I expect you’ll be leaving us shortly, Mr. Pilgrim,” said Lady
Montfort Bebb, stroking Wellington’s head. “You must come back soon and pay us all a visit. We English are nothing if not forgiving.”

AS SHE RANG DR. HENDERSON’S
bell, Mink suddenly worried that she was overdressed. For some reason she failed to understand, it had taken her longer than usual to get ready, and she had tried on several hats before leaving the house, all just to thank him for hiding Pooki. How ridiculous she had been, she thought, as she waited several minutes for the door to open. Assuming no one was in, she was just about to turn away when Mrs. Nettleship appeared, her red hair dusted in flour. Looking the Princess up and down, she informed her that the doctor had been called to see a patient at the palace. “It’s not hanother baby that needs being born, his hit?” she asked.

The Princess said it wasn’t.

“That’s a relief. They can’t make up their minds whether they’re coming or going ’alf the time. Some wants to stay where they are, while others wants to come out early, like that one Halice Cockle just delivered. Fit has a fiddle, despite what hit put the doctor through. A pretty little thing too, happarently, despite being so hearly. Usually they’re has bald has Mr. Nettleship. Lady Bessington his much taken by hit, and even paid the bill. Poor Dr. ’enderson nearly ’ad a ’eart hattack.”

Mrs. Nettleship then took a step towards her and lowered her voice. “I ’ope Dr. ’enderson hapologised for ’is hantics at the ball,” she added. “I told ’im ’e should ’ave used my hoily rags to stuff ’is codpiece. But ’e took it hupon ’imself to use a stocking that ’ad shrunk when I boiled hit after ’e fell in the Thames. Happarently that was ’alf the problem. ’E was worried hit was going to drop hout, and ’e ’ad to keep moving. That and ’aving no knowledge hof the steps, hof course. E’ll be most grateful that I hexplained hit to you. Shall I tell ’im you called?”

ARRIVING HOME, MINK FOUND ALBERT
sitting on the front doorstep, dressed in his red velvet trousers. He stared back, blinked, and promptly dropped the penny bun he was eating. She immediately picked him up and, after she had finished stroking him, looked to see whether he was harmed. Anxious to get him inside, she rang the bell, but there was no reply, so she let herself in, wondering where her maid was. Slowly she headed down to the kitchen, the monkey still clutching onto her. She found Pooki walking towards Victoria with the concentrated look of a Bank of England counterman as she carried a saucer of milk laced with Madeira to keep out the damp. Still in the monkey’s embrace, the Princess took a seat at the table and waited for an explanation. Eventually the tale emerged of how the servant had never surrendered the creature to the owner of the travelling zoo. “The Maharaja would not have approved of the state of that man’s beard, ma’am.” Instead she had hidden Albert amongst the luggage taken by the removal men, and made him a home in the attics. Unfortunately he escaped on several occasions when his curiosity got the better of him, as it had during his journey from India, when the captain offered him a mango and he fell into the ocean with excitement. He had taken a particular shine not only to the palace’s chimneypots but also to its housekeeper, for which she could offer no explanation.

The Princess sat for a moment in silence, watching the maid as she attempted to make fowl in aspic jelly. Suddenly she remembered where she had last seen those enormous feet.

“Were you the lobster at the ball?” she asked.

The maid looked up. “Ma’am. It was my dying wish to go to a ball. I had never been to one before.”

Mink frowned. “I thought your dying wish was to go to the Royal Aquarium,” she said.

“That too,” Pooki replied, lining the copper mould with jelly.

“How on earth did you get a ticket?”

“One of Lady Montfort Bebb’s servants pinched a batch and was selling them. Alice bought me one, as I had mentioned that it was my dying wish to go,” said the maid, not looking up.

“And I suppose Cupid was the watercress seller?” she demanded.

“Alice bought a ticket for him too. I did not know he was going.”

Mink let out a short, sharp sigh. “So,” she said. “In a matter of weeks you’ve disobeyed my instruction to sell Albert, broken my long-standing rule about having followers in the house, made me take you to the Royal Aquarium, of all places, attended a society ball dressed as a lobster, and been a murder suspect.”

The maid looked at the ceiling as she considered each offence. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, nodding. “I have done all of those things. But I did not kill the General.”

“At least I would have got a new maid,” muttered the Princess.

“Ma’am, you would not want another maid. She would not tell you the butterman’s jokes,” said Pooki, pointing at her with a spoonful of jelly. “Nor would she be able to save that very expensive sealskin jacket of yours from the jaws of moths.”

MINK SAT READING THE NEWSPAPER
in the drawing room, while Albert watched her from the mantelpiece, his late master’s pipe in his mouth. After a while the door opened and Pooki came in with her sewing.

“Ma’am, I had a lot of time to think when I was in the maze,” she said, sitting down on the sofa opposite her.

“That sounds ominous,” said Mink, lowering her paper.

The maid threaded her needle. “I was thinking how impolite you have been to Dr. Henderson, which your father would not have approved of. But it made me very happy because it means that you are in love with him, even though he cannot dance and
has no money, both of which are very bad things. But we have to overlook them. No man is perfect. It is a delusion ladies suffer while they are engaged, from which they recover immediately upon marriage. It is a trick nature plays to keep the species alive, because by the time their senses are restored they are in the family way.”

The Princess raised her paper. “I’m not in the least in love with Dr. Henderson. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous,” she replied curtly. “By the way, I’m thinking of getting a bicycle.”

“You are changing the subject, ma’am, which is what you always do when you know I am right. And anyway, you cannot afford one.”

Mink raised her eyebrows. “They’re not at all expensive. Everyone’s got one.”

“Even so, ma’am. The butcher has asked again for his bill to be settled, and another letter has arrived from Marshall & Snelgrove.”

“I might be able to afford one shortly.”

“I will have to seek another position if you take to wearing knickerbockers on a machine, ma’am,” said the maid, picking up her needle. “I have my reputation to think of.”

Mink leafed through the paper, searching for the advertisement she had placed in the hope of solving her financial troubles. “H.H. Princess Alexandrina, Private Detective. All enquiries to Hampton Court Palace,” it read. She glanced at her Dr. Watson, a bay leaf sticking out of her boot to ward off lightning, and for a moment she doubted her resolve. Her eyes then fell to her silver cigarette case next to her, engraved with a woman hunting tigers on top of an elephant, and instantly she knew that anything was possible.

WEARING HER EMERALD EARRINGS, MINK
headed out to enjoy the grounds that had been walked by countless monarchs.
She soon found herself in the Privy Garden, and turned in to Queen Mary’s bower, a low avenue of elms leading down to the Thames that had grown together to form a canopy. Lost in thought, she looked up to see Dr. Henderson coming towards her. He raised his hat, which bore the telltale bulge of a stethoscope.

“I wanted to thank you for hiding my maid,” she said when they met. “Most people wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with her, given the circumstances.”

“I could tell you’re very fond of her. We all have our soft spots.”

The Princess lowered her eyes. “The problem with loving someone is that they always leave you, one way or another.”

He paused. “If I were to win my love I would never let her go.” Searching her face for a sign, he added, “Though I’m not certain she would ever find me suitable.”

They both glanced away.

“I must apologise for my behaviour at the ball,” he said with a cough. “You made such a charming Juliet. I rather ruined your evening. My instructor said it was almost impossible for a woman to forgive a man who had made her look ridiculous on the dance floor. I fear he was right.”

The Princess looked at him, her chin raised. “To quote Capulet, doctor, I think you’re past your dancing days.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, his eyes tumbling to the ground. Stepping back, he wished her a pleasant afternoon, and continued towards the palace, his head bowed. As Mink watched him walk away, she suddenly realised he was carrying her heart.

“Dr. Henderson!” she cried, striding towards him.

He stopped and turned round.