by Barbara Goss
Chapter 4
Jeremy turned to Horace Monroe after Miss Hammond had left the office. “I don’t know, Horace, she’s very young.”
“I’d advise you to reject her if we had another applicant,” Horace said. “Maybe she’ll surprise you.”
“It also bothers me that she’s Griff Hammond’s sister,” Jeremy said. “Of all people…I just can’t see that woman cooking and running a household,” Jeremy said. “She looks like she should be sitting in the schoolroom yet. How old did she say she was?”
“Twenty,” Horace said. “She’s only eight years younger than you.”
“That’s another problem.” Jeremy sighed. “I need to stay well away from her and make sure we’re never alone in the same room—if that’s at all possible.”
“Why?” Horace asked with a chuckle. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of being attracted to her. She’s a beautiful woman—I just have the strangest feeling she isn’t really interested in housekeeping, but in spying on me for her brother.” Jeremy sighed. “I felt more comfortable with Bessie.”
“Have you gotten anymore threatening letters from Ephraim Finch?” Horace asked.
“No. His wife's dying, so he’s mostly concerned with her. I think he’s the one who put the bug in Griff’s ear. I’m sure he wrote to him and told him I killed his daughter.”
“What would you think in his place?” Horace asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Kate arrived at the Walker place with ten minutes to spare. She pointed her buggy toward the stables, and a man scurried out of the building and toward her buggy.
“Howdy!” he said. “Are you the new housekeeper?”
Kate gave him a warm smile. “Yes, I’m Kate Hammond.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Hammond. My name’s Jeb Donohue. I’ll take care of your horse and buggy,” he said.
He helped her alight from her buggy. She thanked him and walked toward the front door.
“No, Miss Hammond!” Jeb yelled. “Servants use the back door.”
How could she have forgotten that rule? “Of course,” she said and turned toward the back of the home.
Jeb looked to be in his early thirties. He was slender and seemed very friendly. She made a mental note to make friends with him, too. Sometimes, the people in the background had the most information.
No one answered her knock on the back door, so she opened it and walked in. She could see why no one had answered, as the door opened into a long hall leading that to the kitchen, which looked empty. She supposed the area would be her workspace most of the time.
A full-bodied woman of about forty came running into the kitchen. “Oh, Miss Hammond, you’re here. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. I was in the front of the house dusting.”
Kate smiled at her. “That’s quite all right, I understand.”
“I’m Geraldine, but you can call me Geri. I’m the downstairs maid. I’m ever so glad you’re here. Mr. Walker makes such funny faces when he eats my cooking, and it’s so hard to do both the cleaning and the cooking,” Geraldine said all in one breath.
This will be easy, Kate thought. This one loves to talk.
“Let me take you on a tour of the house,” Geraldine said. “This is the kitchen. As you can see, it’s very modern—brand new, in fact. Bessie didn’t like the stove and that’s one of the reasons she quit.”
“What was the other reason?” Kate said nonchalantly as she gazed about the room.
“The tension in the house,” Geraldine said. “Now, come this way.”
Geraldine led her through a long hall and into a formal dining room. “If you noticed, Miss Hammond, there’s a table and chairs on the far side of the kitchen and that’s where we eat.”
“Oh, please, call me Kate,” Kate said.
“So, does Mr. Walker eat in here all alone?” Kate asked.
“Very seldom. He doesn’t like eating in there much and often takes a tray into his office or comes out and eats at the large table in the kitchen,” Geraldine said as she led Kate on to the next room. “Bessie, Ethel, and I always ate at the small wooden table at the back of the kitchen.
“This is the sitting room, an informal place for Mr. Walker to sit and relax,” Geraldine said. “He doesn’t use it much, though. He prefers his office.”
Kate loved the color scheme of burgundy and light gray. The drapes were a burgundy and gray pattern, and the walls were painted an even lighter side of gray, emphasizing the burgundy sofa and chairs.
“Very pretty,” Kate said, then followed Geraldine into another, more formal room at the very front of the house.
“This is the parlor. It’s only used for special guests—and wakes, when we have them. The last one was old Mr. Walker, just a few months ago,” the maid explained.
Kate didn’t care for the décor in the parlor—too much wood and shades of brown. She supposed it might have to do with the wakes being held there.
Geraldine led her back to the sitting room, where there was a large mahogany staircase leading upstairs. “Come on up. I’ll introduce you to Ethel, the upstairs maid.”
“You’re certainly doing your job well. Everything looks spotless,” Kate said. It would help to butter up the maids and befriend them if she wanted them to talk more.
“Oh, thank you. I love cleaning, but I hate cooking—I’m so glad you’ve arrived!” As soon as they reached the top floor, another maid came forward.
“This is Miss Kate Hammond. Kate, this is Ethel, the upstairs maid.”
Ethel and Kate greeted each other, and Geraldine excused herself. “Ethel, can give you the upstairs tour? I’ll run down and grab your valise and bring it up.”
Ethel showed her all the bedrooms from the hall—Kate counted six of them—then she showed her the master suite. “This is Mr. Walker’s room.”
Kate gazed around the room—there wasn't a single feminine item or anything to indicate a woman’s touch to be found there. “Mrs. Walker couldn’t have been pleased with this masculine room,” she said.
“Oh, Mrs. Walker slept down at the very end of the hall, in the green room.”
Kate stepped into the doorway of the green room. It had a dresser, a bed, a closet, and a nightstand. At least it had bright curtains to liven it up a bit.
“Very nice,” Kate said, trying not to act surprised that the married couple had slept apart; she‘d already learned more than a few facts.
“Which room is to be mine?” she asked as Geraldine joined them, carrying Kate's valise.
“Upstairs,” Ethel said. “These rooms are for the guests that never arrive.”
“We don’t get many guests,” Geraldine added.
“What a waste of such beautiful rooms,” Kate said.
“Not a waste,” Ethel said. “If we had them full of guests, I’d be worn to a frazzle changing the sheets.”
Geraldine laughed. “I guess we’re a bit spoiled. Mr. Walker never entertains.”
“I’ll show you to your room,” Ethel said, and the three women climbed a stairway hidden in an alcove.
The curved stairs were worn and shabby and led to a wooden floor as scuffed and dull as the stairway. She saw several bedrooms, but they were small, since the eaves took up much of the space in the rooms.
Ethel led her to the first room on the right, a drab room with wooden walls to match the rafters, but it appeared to be clean and neat. The room contained a single bed, a scratched dresser, and a nightstand. A small window overlooked the garden behind the house.
“Doesn’t it get warm up here in the summer?” Kate asked.
“Yes, it does, especially late in the day when the sun fully hits the house, but you’ll get used to it,” Geraldine said.
Geraldine seemed the most talkative and congenial of the two. She set the valise down. “You have a few minutes to unpack before I show you around the kitchen and root cellar. Mr. Walker will be wanting dinner served around six.”
After checking the root cellar and the pantry, Kate decided she’d make her brother’s favorite meal for supper: a meat pie. Geraldine showed her that the leftover chicken from dinner the night before had stayed fresh, having been kept cold in the root cellar. Kate added carrots, celery, onion, peas, and some of the leftover gravy. She mixed it all up, heated it, and put it into a pie crust. Kate’s grandmother had come to America from England and taught her to make the meat pies, and many other dishes. She’d serve it with a side of mashed potatoes.
“He’s home,” Geraldine whispered. “He’ll go out back and wash, then he’ll sit down in the kitchen. You’ll place his meal on the table, and if he prefers to eat it in his office, he’ll carry it there. Bessie, Ethel, and I always take our meals in the back while he eats, unless, of course, he asks us to join him, which he occasionally does. You can still see him from where we sit in the back, and when he sets his fork down, you bring him his dessert.”
“Dessert?” Kate gasped. “Oh, no! I didn’t make one.”
“You didn’t?” Geraldine scratched her head. “Mr. Walker always wants dessert.”
“Where’s that stale bread you were going to throw out?”
“It’s right here, but it’s hard as a rock,” Geraldine said, hitting the counter with a piece.
“I can make some quick bread pudding, another trick Grandmother taught me,” Kate said as she rummaged through the cupboards looking for enticing things to put into the pudding. She found dried plums, syrup, and cream.
Jeremy worried about his first meal prepared by the new housekeeper. How could one so young have learned to cook well enough to please him? He’d give her a fair chance, though, since she seemed so ambitious.
After washing and changing his clothes, he walked into the kitchen to find the table set for one, but Geraldine and Miss Hammond were nowhere to be seen. He sat down and waited. After a few minutes, Miss Hammond scurried into the room.
“Oh, you’re home,” she said. “I just ran to put something into the root cellar.”
“That’s fine,” Jeremy said. “I’m not going anywhere. I am hungry, though.” He gave her a half-smile.
She set a pie down on the table. Did she think he wanted dessert first?
“Is that dessert?” he asked.
“No, this is your supper. It’s a meat pie. Chicken, to be exact.”
She cut him a generous slice, placed it on his plate, and then gave him a scoop of mashed potatoes. She wiped her hands on her apron, checked everything, said, “I hope you enjoy your dinner, sir,” and walked to the back of the kitchen to join Ethel and Geraldine.
Jeremy was leery of the pie. He’d never seen a meat pie before. He took a small taste, then another, and another. He loved it. The chicken that had been somewhat tough the night before when Geraldine had served it, but now it tasted tender, succulent, and almost melted in his mouth. He helped himself to two more servings, hardly bothering with the potatoes. No sooner had he set his fork down than she appeared with a warm bowl.
“Your dessert, Mr. Walker.”
“What is it?” he asked with a grimace. It looked horrible, almost like scrambled eggs with fruit in it, but it smelled heavenly.
“It’s bread pudding. Surely, you’ve had that before,” she said.
“Yes! My mother used to make it, but it looked different,” he said.
“Since there are different ways of making it, each one will look different.”
She scooped a portion out into a bowl and poured warm cream over it. “Enjoy,” she said.
Memories of his mother floated into his mind from the aroma of the pudding. His mother’s had been much darker, but then again, she'd baked it with brown bread. The dessert tasted as delicious as his dinner had, and he couldn’t have been more pleased.
When he’d finished, he walked back to the sink where Miss Hammond was washing the dishes.
“I would like to compliment you on a most delicious dinner. Only one thing worries me about your cooking,” he said, purposely giving her a concerned look.
“What?” she asked with worried brows.
“That I’ll gain so much weight I won’t be able to get on my horse.” Jeremy grinned. “An excellent dinner. Thank you, Miss Hammond.”
“You may call me Kate,” she said.
“I don’t think that would be proper,” he said.
“Why not? You call Geraldine and Ethel by their given names.”
He hesitated, trying to think of why it might be all right to call the older maids by their first names but not her. “You have a point. Thank you for the delicious meal, Kate,” Jeremy said before turning and leaving the kitchen.
As Jeremy settled himself behind his desk in the room at the rear of the house he used as a library and office, he felt a bit uncomfortable. It didn’t feel right to have such a young and attractive women as his housekeeper or to call her by her first name. It seemed somehow different with the older women. He shrugged, knowing he’d have to get used to it.
He tried to concentrate on his inventory sheets, but he couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t right. Why would a beautiful woman like Kate Hammond want to be his housekeeper? The more he saw of her, the more he liked her, and that could prove dangerous. He’d have to try to steer clear of her as much as he could.
Chapter 5
After dinner, Kate had come to her own conclusions regarding Jeremy Walker. He couldn’t act or look less like a murderer, being so thoughtful and sweet. How could one possessing eyes and manners such as his possibly hurt anyone? It wasn’t just his handsome looks—he was kind, and she could see sensitivity and generosity in his eyes. One way or another, she’d discover what had happened to Helen Walker.
Maybe his wife wasn’t dead but had simply run away. Since Geraldine had said there had been tension in the house, it was very possible.
Kate wondered about herself—had she done the unthinkable and fallen for Jeremy Walker’s charm? He possessed plenty of it—enough to convince her of his innocence—or was he just good at fooling people? She decided she'd search his wife’s room later that night, when everyone was asleep.
Kate settled herself into the small sitting room at the end of the hall in the attic and read the book she’d brought with her until she felt sure everyone had gone to bed. She picked up the lamp she’d been using to read, turned it off, crept silently along the hall and down the stairs, and then felt her way to Helen Walker’s bedroom, the last one on the left side of the hall. She closed the door, placed a throw rug against the bottom of the door to block the light in case someone came down the hall, and turned on the lamp. First, she pulled out each dresser drawer, amazed at the clothing the woman had left behind. If she’d run away, surely she’d have needed her clothes. She opened the closet and saw at least five pairs of shoes. Dresses, skirts, and blouses hung neatly on hangers. Kate even looked under the bed pillows but didn’t find any hints to help her solve the mystery.
Defeated, Kate sighed, picked up the lantern, turned it off, and replaced the throw rug.
She felt her way in the dark to the attic stairway, by feeling the walls and counting the doors in silence. As she neared the stairway alcove, she collided with someone, someone huge, and she let out a small squeak in lieu of a scream. The figure in the dark grabbed her by the shoulders as the collision had nearly knocked her over. When his hand reached up to touch her hair and face, Kate became alarmed. Who could this giant, hard-bodied, person she’d bumped into be?
“Is that you, Miss—Kate?” a familiar voice asked.
Her body immediately relaxed. “Mr. Walker?”
“Yes. What are you doing down here so late?”
Kate hesitated, what could she possibly say? “I…I couldn’t sleep. It was hot upstairs, so I thought I’d come down and get some air.”
He let go of her shoulders. “Didn’t anyone give you a lamp? I’m sorry the attic is so warm.
“I think a housekeeper is a step above a maid, so I don’t see any reason
why you couldn’t use one of these second floor bedrooms. They’re just going to waste, anyway,” he said.
“I must have forgotten to fill the lamp; it’s empty,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel right getting a better room than Ethel or Geraldine. They both work very hard and have been so helpful to me,” she said. “I’ll be fine upstairs, Mr. Walker. Thank you for the offer, though.” She moved around him and headed for the attic stairway.
Once she was back in her room, Kate sighed. That had been close. Being so near to him had given her a strange feeling, once she'd discovered it had been Jeremy. She’d never stood that close to him—or any other man—before, other than her brother. His voice had sounded so gentle and he'd seemed so compassionate—could he have been putting on an act?
Someone shaking her shoulder dragged Kate from a deep, peaceful, sleep.
“What?” she muttered, putting the quilt over her head.
“Didn’t you hear the roosters? It’s time to get up and start up the stove,” Geraldine whispered. “You’re supposed to be the first one up in the morning.”
“Oh, dear. How late am I?” Kate asked as she scrambled out of bed and headed for the dress she’d hung over a chair.
“Just about fifteen minutes,” Geraldine said. “I’ll go down and bring in the wood.”
“Thank you, Geraldine.”
“Geri,” she called over her shoulder. “Now, hurry.”
Kate didn’t have time to put her hair in a bun, so she picked up two combs from her dresser, pushed her hair back, and placed the combs so they'd keep her hair behind her ears.
She slipped on her shoes, then her apron, and practically flew down the two flights of stairs.
Geraldine stuffed the wood into the stove, and Kate lit it.
“Mr. Walker likes his coffee first, then one egg on toast, and a slab of ham,” Geraldine said. “Shall I run down to the cellar and get you some ham?”
“Yes—oh, Geri, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Kate said.
