Page 8 of Blackmailed (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #2)

“No, we shall not.” Virginia leveled a look at Edwina. “What have you heard?”

“Just that you attended a ball at the home of a Mrs. Bernard at the behest of that old beau of yours, Mr. Morehead, and became so intoxicated that your father sent one of his employees to bring you home, and he had to carry you out the door! I said that would have never happened. Virginia Wiest would never be drunk in public. Good Lord! How ridiculous!” Edwina turned to look at Virginia expectantly.

Mary gasped and Gertrude scowled, ready to begin an argument.

Virginia held up her hand. “I did attend a function at the home of Mrs. Bernard after receiving a note inviting me from Mr. Morehead. However, Geoffrey did not send the note. Someone trying to discourage me from looking for a young child who’d been kidnapped sent me the note, and I, in all my foolishness, attended and drank some lemonade that had been spiked with a drug.

My father was out of town, but the young man who was my coachman that evening asked one of the cannery’s employees to help me home.

This happened months ago. That is the truth, Edwina. ”

“How dreadful,” Mary said. “You must have been terrified.”

“I was furious with myself is what I was. I deeply regretted causing all the fuss and worry that I had.”

“You can always count on my discretion,” Edwina said with a nod, her lips pursed in a tight line.

Gertrude rolled her eyes. “I’d say the exact opposite.”

“I’m sure you were doing what you thought was best for that child who’d been separated from its mother,” Mary said. “Shall I ring for more tea? I’m working on a new embroidery piece. Would you like to see it?”

“I’ve got to run. So sorry, Mary,” Edwina said as she stood and turned to Virginia.

“The man who carried you out of Bernard’s is the fellow who escorted you to the Waters’ ball, I believe.

An employee at the cannery? My mother has always warned me to stay well clear of the working class, and here you are with no mother to advise you. Well, it’s been lovely!”

Virginia watched Edwina hurry from the room, her skirts swishing, and thinking about her trip to the bakery with Phillip the day before. “That was enlightening.”

“That was dreadful, Virginia. No need to be stoic. You are among friends. Now anyway,” Gertrude said.

“But, Virginia, if this is common knowledge, there are those who would make you uncomfortable at the McCallister ball,” Mary said.

“Very true, Mary,” Virginia said and turned to the chair where Colleen was seated. “Have you heard anything from others on the staff about this?”

Colleen took a deep breath. “One of the kitchen maids heard something like this from her sister who works across town. Cook heard her talking about it to one of the other maids and told Mr. Smith and Mrs. French.”

“I’m guessing my butler and housekeeper had a conversation with the kitchen maid but did not share any of it with my father or me.”

Colleen nodded. “I just recently heard about it myself, Miss Wiest. I was planning on telling you later today.”

Virginia wondered who would have started that story, but it really could have been anyone at the Bernard ball.

She’d privately hoped no one had recognized her that evening, but that had always been a bit of a dream.

Far too many people in that ballroom to have been anonymous.

She had no intention, however, of allowing the gossips to influence her activities. She glanced up.

“I’ll definitely be going to the McCallister ball. I cannot pass up this chance to meet Mr. Akins and see your new ball gown,” Virginia said.

“Good for you,” Gertrude said. “I’ll be right beside you, Virginia.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll see you and introduce you to Mr. Akins,” Mary said. “And I will tell anyone who asks that Virginia Wiest is my dearest friend.”

Virginia reached for each woman’s hand and squeezed. “I’m a very lucky lady to have such wonderful friends.”

Phillip sat down in the small room on the servants floor at the Everly home that he’d used before to interview employees.

The Everly butler, Jenkins, had directed him there with one pointed finger when he’d seen him in the kitchens making conversation with staff he’d already interviewed.

A short middle-aged woman knocked on the door frame and walked in.

She gave Jenkins a sour look and sat down after he’d closed the door.

“Well? What are you wanting to know?” she asked.

Mrs. Veto, the head cook, was the last person on the list of employees he’d been given that he’d not interviewed as she’d been out of town visiting a relative.

She looked capable, as if she had little time for foolishness, which suited him.

She was glaring at him and tapping a broad, clean finger on the table.

He wondered how this woman and Jenkins managed to work together and not come to blows.

“I assume you’ve heard that some items of the Everlys have gone missing.”

“’Course, I have. I’d have to be deaf and dumb if I hadn’t, which I ain’t.”

He smiled at her. “Clearly not, Mrs. Veto.”

“Jenkins is trying to pin it on those two new girls from Ireland from what I hear, and neither of them girls would know their way to the grocer, let alone a pawnshop. And anyway, Jenkins had Mrs. Brandeis search their room.”

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“’Course, he didn’t. Where else would them two hide their haul if not in their room, I ask you? He wants rid of them is all.”

“Why does he want rid of them?”

She leaned across the table. “Because he’s a cantankerous, unpleasant fellow who does his best to be as snooty as the boss.”

It was an apt description, and he decided that Mrs. Veto may have more to say if he were quiet.

“And what’s more, these things started disappearing long before Bridget and Ann started working here.”

“Do you know when the women started work?”

“I’d say sometime in October. Was cooler weather then, I remember. Yes, it was the middle of October because Mr. Everly had a fancy dinner and overnight guests, and Mrs. Brandeis hired those two as extra help. Then kept them on.”

“And there were missing things before that?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir, there were.”

The door opened, and Phillip stood. But it was Jenkins, glaring at Mrs. Veto, who stared right back. “Do you need something, Mr. Jenkins?” Phillip asked.

“I’m sure you’re finished here, Mrs. Veto. The kitchen girls don’t know what to do next,” Jenkins said.

“The kitchen girls are likely still chopping the onions and potatoes and scrubbing the pans and plates from luncheon. If they’re done, they can have their own meal,” she said to him.

“You’re needed anyway,” Jenkins said.

Phillip walked to the door. “The interview is not over. Give us a few more minutes and I’ll have Mrs. Veto back to work.”

Jenkins glared at him. “See that you do,” he said and slammed the door.

Phillip smiled at Mrs. Veto. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said. “I did indeed.”

Phillip sat back down. “I would not be surprised if you had some suspicions about the missing items and who might be responsible.”

Mrs. Veto studied her hands. “I’m not going to tell you everything. Can’t. If it ever got back that it was me, I’d lose my place, even if I am the best cook in Baltimore. What I will tell you is that Porter knows all.”

“Mrs. Everly’s maid?”

“The very one.”

“Is she the one who is taking the things?”

“No. But she knows who is.”

Phillip nodded. “I’ll make a point of speaking to her. Thank you for your time and for the information.”

Mrs. Veto stood, straightened her apron, and stepped close to him. She motioned for him to bend toward her. She wrapped a hand around his ear and whispered. “Mrs. Everly leaves every Thursday at one in the afternoon and takes a hired conveyance across town. You should see where she goes.”

She turned and quickly pulled open the door, causing Jenkins to nearly lose his footing from where he stood. “Ah, Mr. Jenkins. Just leaning on the door, were you? Let me by, will you? I’ve got to see about dinner.”

“Norris will see you out,” Jenkins said to Phillip and nodded to the young man.

“I need to speak to the last staff members remaining on my list. Porter, Mrs. Everly’s maid.”

“I know who Porter is,” Jenkins said, leaning toward him, spit flying from his mouth. “I told you there is no reason for you to speak to her, and she is out right now anyway. Now get out.”

Phillip shook his head. “I’ll be back. I hope I don’t have to speak to Mr. Everly in order to speak to Porter, but I will.”