Ginger Gold Mystery Box Set 2 Page 26

  “I’m sure I can be of some help.”

  “I thought so. I find it disheartening that young women have to bear this kind of burden, and so often alone. The best they can hope for is a room in a home for ‘fallen women.’ It really isn’t fair, is it? Women most certainly don’t conceive on their own, and yet the gentlemen in question are rarely made to give account.”

  Oliver agreed. “There are many injustices in the world.”

  “Indeed.”

  It occurred to Ginger that Oliver might eat alone more often than not, and there would be more than enough food at Ambrosia’s event that evening. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” she asked. “My grandmother is hosting a small soirée, and I’d love for you to join us.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Shall we have a sherry?” Ambrosia asked.

  The Gold ladies and Haley had gathered in the sitting room before dinner while preparations were being made in the kitchen and dining room. Ambrosia’s gaze landed on Haley. Ginger wondered if Ambrosia would ever stop considering Haley as “beneath” them. Haley’s status as an American and a medical student was all that allowed Ambrosia to bend her social class rules.

  Pippins was there to attend to them. “Sherry for everyone?” he said.

  Ginger nodded. “Thank you, Pips.”

  Felicia rose. “I can assist.”

  Lizzie had started the fire earlier, and the warmth and glow of the flames cheered the room. Beside the hearth, Boss was curled up on a doggy bed. Felicia brought Ambrosia her glass then settled into a seat to nurse her own. Haley retrieved two from Pippins and delivered one to Ginger.

  “There you be, my lady,” she said with mirth.

  “Thank you, dear commoner,” Ginger returned with a twinkle in her eye.

  Ginger had been debating on how to broach the subject of Felicia’s new companions and had decided a roundabout approach would be best. “Felicia, love,” she said after a sip of her sherry. “How are you? Have you found any new amusements?”

  Felicia crossed one leg over the other. The short hem of her gold chiffon Egyptian-styled frock revealed a shapely calf. She adjusted the bejewelled matching turban that sat daintily on her brunette bob. “Do you mean, what am I doing with myself now that I’m not acting on the stage?”

  “Well, yes,” Ginger said. “What are you doing with your time these days?”

  “Does it matter?” Felicia answered moodily. “So long as I don’t leave the house or associate with the lower class, Grandmama is happy.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ambrosia blustered. “You act as if your state of unhappiness is all my fault.”

  Felicia tilted her head. “If I were happy, you’d have nothing to do.”

  Ambrosia narrowed her bulbous eyes, her wrinkled lips working. “Such insolence—your poor parents would be turning in their graves if they heard you now.”

  Felicia had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry, Grandmama.”

  Ginger locked eyes with her sister-in-law. “I saw you earlier in the presence of Mrs. Reed and Dr. Stopes. How is it that you’ve become social acquaintances?”

  “You’re aligning yourself with Dr. Marie Stopes?” Ambrosia said looking horrified. “The one who sat with us at the gala? She’s so brash and forthright, meddling in things that should be left up to God.”

  Felicia swirled what remained of her sherry in the bottom of her glass. “Her ideas aren’t bad. In fact, I believe they will liberate women from the patriarchal tyranny the female race has been under since the beginning of time.”

  Ambrosia looked as if her face was about to explode. “Such things are the concern of women of ill-repute. Not for our kind.”

  Ginger shared Felicia’s feelings. Dr. Stopes was a pioneer in women’s health and the first to open a clinic just for the needs of married women in England. She was to be admired for her work in that regard.

  “Our kind has had access to female health options, Grandmama,” Felicia retorted. “It’s the working class who have not. They’re in the most need of gaining access to information about our health choices.”

  Ambrosia let out a defeated huff.

  Haley’s dark brows jumped as she glanced at Ginger.

  “As for Mrs. Reed,” Felicia said haughtily, “she’s a lovely lady, and we’ve become such good friends over a short period of time. She understands the needs of the modern woman and isn’t afraid to go after what she wants.”

  Ginger bristled at Felicia’s praise and obvious infatuation with Emelia Reed. She cleared her throat, ready to change the subject.

  “I’ve invited a young lady in need to come to Hartigan House.”

  Ambrosia’s soft jaw went slack. “To live?”

  “Yes. For a while.”

  “How long?” Felicia asked.

  “Not that it matters,” Ginger said. “Probably six months or so.”

  Felicia stared over her sherry glass. “Six months? That’s half a year. What exactly is her need?”

  Ginger took another sip of sherry before dropping the bomb. “She’s in the family way.”

  “See!” Felicia spouted. “If she’d had access to information regarding women’s health, she’d not be in that predicament.”

  “Unmarried women shouldn’t have such predicaments,” Ambrosia said. “Not if they’re well-bred.”

  Haley choked on her sherry. “Pardon me.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Ambrosia said with weighted melancholy. “Why do you want to bring a fallen woman to Hartigan House?”

  Ginger stiffened. “She has nowhere else to go.”

  “There must be other places,” Ambrosia cried. “Where do other women go when they’ve been ruined?”

  “She’s hardly ruined,” Ginger said with thinning patience. This was why she wanted to help Miss Hanson, so she wouldn’t be labelled as such.

  “She wants to become a doctor,” Haley said.

  Ambrosia scowled at Haley’s interference.

  “For once, I agree with Grandmama,” Felicia said. “There must be somewhere else she can go.”

  “There you see,” Ambrosia said. “Even a modern thinker like Felicia agrees. A girl like that, living here—it would tarnish our family name.”

  “Grandmother,” Ginger said. “Where is your compassion?”

  “I have compassion—for my own granddaughter. Think of her reputation. Her future.”

  “Felicia’s future will be unmarred by Miss Matilda Hanson’s arrival, I assure you.” Ginger faced Felicia. “If your reputation is to be ruined, I’m afraid it will be by your own hand.”

  “Ginger! You think so little of me.”

  “On the contrary. I think highly of you. Which is why I expect you to welcome Miss Hanson and to assist her in any way you can as she progresses through this difficult time.” She added pointedly, “Certainly, your new friends would approve.”

  Ambrosia was about to protest, but Ginger put up her palm. “I’ve made my decision, Grandmother, and I expect you to support me.”

  A tap on the door was followed by the entrance of Pippins, who at some point in their heated discussion had discreetly exited the room. “A Sir Bernard Hughes has arrived.”

  “Please show him in, Pips,” Ginger said. She stood, straightened her silk skirt, and tried to rein in the negative emotion she was feeling. This discussion with Felicia and Ambrosia had not gone the way she had hoped.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sir Bernard was a hefty man with a pink freckled face, and Ambrosia had arranged for Felicia to be seated beside him. The rectangular room housed a long polished table and chairs with ornately carved legs and backs. A white tablecloth was decorated with candles, and each place setting had china framed with polished cutlery. Ginger’s sister-in-law’s frosty countenance radiated across the table, and Ginger couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for their guest. Mrs. Beasley had outdone herself once again with leek soup, mutton in cream sauce, rosemary-seasoned baked potatoes, and green beans smothered in but
ter. Grace and Lizzie bustled about placing hot dishes in the centre of the table and filling glasses with water.

  “Smells delectable,” Sir Bernard said. He faced Ambrosia. “Thank you once again, Lady Gold, for your kind invitation.”

  “I feel it’s my duty to entertain, Sir Bernard,” Ambrosia replied. “You, of course, were high on my list.”

  Felicia twisted her neck in the opposite direction with a coinciding eye roll that was not missed by Ginger. Haley held in a smirk.

  Pippins entered, announcing the arrival of Reverend Oliver Hill. Ginger flushed. With the stressful way the conversation had gone with Felicia and Ambrosia, she had completely forgotten she’d invited the vicar.

  Ginger stood and plastered on a smile like she’d been awaiting his arrival all along. “Hello, Oliver. I wondered if you would make it.”

  “My apologies for being tardy,” he said. “My motorcar inconveniently ran out of petrol on my way here.”

  “Please, have a seat,” Ginger said, gesturing to the empty chair. She turned her back to Oliver and gave Grace a look. The maid understood and quickly provided a place setting.

  Oliver was too keen not to notice, and Ginger leaned over and whispered. “It’s been a little hectic around here today, and I forgot to mention to my staff that you were joining us. Please do forgive me.”

  Oliver smiled warmly. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  Ginger sat back relieved until she saw the look of displeasure Ambrosia fired her way. Was the matron still worried that Oliver would charm his way into Ginger’s heart? Or worse, Felicia’s?

  Before Ginger could contemplate further, a loud crash at the door leading to the kitchen caused her and everyone in the room to jump. A dish of steamed carrots had been dropped on the floor, splattering across the tiles.

  “Good heavens,” Ambrosia sputtered. “What on earth is going on?” To Sir Bernard, she exclaimed, “We’re not usually so disorganised and clumsy, I assure you.”

  Ginger stepped around the mess and squatted where Grace rushed to clean it up. “What happened?” Ginger asked.

  “It’s Lizzie. She’s upset.” Grace lowered her voice further. “She didn’t know about the vicar being on the guest list. She’s quite taken with him.”

  Oh, mercy.

  First Dorothy, Ginger’s floor clerk at Feathers & Flair, and now her maid, Lizzie. Who knew how many other single female parishioners were harbouring hopes of love and marriage with Oliver Hill, especially now that word had most probably got out that he was in search of a wife. Ginger understood why the pressure for the vicar to marry was on.

  Ginger smiled encouragingly at the table. “Please do begin. I’ll return shortly.”

  She found Lizzie crying in the kitchen with Mrs. Beasley shaking a stubby finger at Lizzie’s face and taking a strip off her.

  “Mrs. Beasley,” Ginger said, interrupting. “Would you mind if I had a word with Lizzie.”

  Mrs. Beasley, her round face registering the shock of seeing her mistress in the kitchen and witnessing the scolding, bobbed in deference. “Of course, madam.”

  Lizzie looked like a frightened mouse. “Lady Gold, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drop the carrots. I’m not going to be sacked, am I?”

  “I’m not going to dismiss you, Lizzie. Boss wouldn’t forgive me if I did.” That garnered a hopeful look from her maid. Ginger offered a small smile. “You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

  “Well, I was just surprised, madam.”

  Ginger ducked her head. “By the presence of one of our guests?”

  Lizzie brought her hanky back to her face as the tears once again began to flow. “Oh, you know. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Ginger said. “Reverend Hill is a very eligible bachelor.”

  “Isn’t he though?” Lizzie’s tears abated as her eyes glistened with affection. “Even though it’s not my parish, I’ve been attending St. George’s Church every Sunday just to see him. He is so wise and kind and intelligent.”

  “I’m sure he thinks very highly of you, Lizzie.”

  “Oh, he does. Well, he did. Until now. Oh, Lady Gold, I told a lie! I told him I worked as a telephone operator. I was afraid he wouldn’t see me as more than a maid if I admitted to it. And now he’s seen me!”

  Lizzie’s fears had merit. A vicar’s social standing was miles above that of a housemaid.

  “I’m sure everything will be all right,” Ginger said, hoping it was true.

  “Still, it’s humiliating.” Lizzie twisted her white apron into a knot. “I can’t bear to go out there again, not without having a chance to explain, which I wouldn’t with all the others there. Oh, Lady Gold, would it be so awful if I stayed in the kitchen? I promise I’ll do all the cleaning up once he’s gone.”

  Ginger’s heart went out to the girl. Crushes, unrequited love, the social rules that bound English society—it was exhausting.

  “That would be fine, Lizzie. I’ll tell Mrs. Beasley.”

  The maid’s eyes brightened with both relief and worry. “But, not why, madam?”

  “No. Not why.”

  “Thank you so much, madam.” Lizzie bobbed and then repeated herself. “Thank you!”

  Ginger returned to the table and instigated small talk with Sir Bernard since Felicia was still refusing to converse.

  “Do you have a preferred pastime, Sir Bernard?” she asked.

  “Yes, indeed. I’m in the employ of the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street,” he replied with a chuckle. “Also known as the Bank of England. It’s our mission to promote the good of the people of the United Kingdom by maintaining monetary and financial stability. It can be a challenge at times, I admit, but it’s something to do and worthwhile.” He turned to Oliver. “And you, my good man, which parish do you belong to?”

  “St. George’s Church, City of London,” Oliver replied, his voice tinged with pride.

  “I’m sorry to say I’ve not been attending church as I should,” Sir Bernard said.

  “God can be found anywhere, Sir Bernard,” Oliver responded, “if you’re looking for him.”

  Pippins entered and whispered in Ginger’s ear. “Telephone call, madam. It’s Chief Inspector Reed.”

  Ginger patted her mouth with the linen napkin and excused herself from the table once again. He must finally have got her message. She made her way to the study where the receiver of the telephone sat on the top of the desk.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello, Ginger. This is Basil. You rang me at the Yard?”

  “Yes, I did.” Ginger, keeping her tone even and professional, relayed the lab results of the soil, and what Haley had discovered about the horse’s hair. She didn’t feel it was necessary to divulge that she and Haley had visited the docks and Saffron stables.

  “Is Miss Higgins with you?” Basil asked.

  “She is.”

  “I’m requesting that she come to the mortuary at the medical school. You might like to come too since you’re investigating for Mr. James Green. We have another body.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ginger strolled back to the dining room with purpose and announced, “I’m afraid Miss Higgins and I have to leave.”

  “Surely not!” Ambrosia said.

  “Sadly, yes,” Ginger said gravely. “It’s quite urgent.”

  Haley scooted away from the gathering without hesitation.

  Oliver Hill stared at her questioningly. “I hope nothing too serious?”

  “I’ll know more later,” Ginger responded. “I’ll ring you tomorrow with an update.”

  Ginger stopped beside Ambrosia and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Be nice to the vicar, Grandmother,” she whispered.

  “It’s not fair they get to leave,” Felicia whined into her shoulder. Ginger resisted the urge to scrub Felicia on the head like she used to when her moody sister-in-law was younger. She missed that eager-to-please, doe-eyed girl.

  “What’s up
?” Haley said as Pippins helped them into their winter coats.

  “That was Chief Inspector Reed. Another unregistered body at the mortuary.”

  Her explanation was enough to get Haley into the passenger seat of the Crossley without too much grumbling.

  “I hate driving in the dark,” Haley said.

  “With me, or just in general?”

  “Both. What else did the good inspector have to say? Who discovered it?”

  “He was called in by Dr. Gupta.”

  “Really? I suppose we can cross him off the suspect list, then.”

  “Not necessarily,” Ginger said. “He might feel like we’re closing in on the truth and has reported this body to deflect from his involvement.”

  “You’re right, of course, but I hope you’re wrong.”

  Ginger glanced at her friend. Haley was in constant denial of possessing romantic aspirations, though Ginger knew it was merely a defence mechanism. Haley had been hurt in the past. “I hope so, too,” she said.

  Basil Reed, his sergeant, and Dr. Gupta were awaiting Ginger and Haley when they arrived at the mortuary. Standing near the body, the gentlemen nodded in greeting.

  “Thanks for coming in at short notice,” Basil said. “Dr. Gupta hadn’t been expecting a cadaver shipment when it arrived.”

  “I was immediately suspicious,” Dr. Gupta said, “and immediately checked the envelope for documents. They were missing.”

  Haley went straight to the body. “Same modus operandi as before?” She pulled down the sheet and gaped. “Not exactly.”

  Ginger saw the difference right away. This body was female. Slender in an athletic way, with short dark hair brushed off a face with bloodless skin emphasising refined features. Ginger’s stomach pinched at the loss of one so recently strong and determined in nature. “We know this woman,” she said.

  Basil was quick to appear at her side. “Who is she?”

  “Miss Jane Ellery. She worked as a trainer at Saffron Stables.”