"I rather suspect she means to apply that term of abuse to me, Letty," Tess said dryly. She sighed and rubbed her shoulders, which had begun to ache. "I was hoping this confrontation could be avoided, but the old vulture is evidently intent on her kill." Tess's eyes hardened. "She'll not find it here, however. Where have you put them?" she demanded, brushing back her shining curls and twitching her skirts flat.
"In the storage alcove off the lobby," Letty said, with a grim smile.
"You didn't! There's barely room for two in that airless cubicle. Why, Letty, what a spiteful creature you are!" Tess gurgled.
"Aren't I just! And I hope their fat legs turn up all knotted and sore when they try to stand! 'Twould serve them right, the foul-minded creatures! Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her face fiercely protective.
Tess sighed. "No, just give me several minutes and then bring them along to my accounts room. But ask Hobhouse to come back and fetch me in ten minutes, saying some urgent matter requires my attention in the kitchen." Tess's expressive mouth curved in a lopsided smile. "I only hope it may not be true, for I live in constant dread of the oven's exploding."
"Hobhouse said as how he's nearly repaired the damper, Miss Tess, so never you worry about that."
"A marvel, that man." Abruptly Tess caught Letty's arm in one slim wrist. "Has — is Lord Ravenhurst about?"
"I believe he went out some while ago. Shall I send him up when he arrives?"
"Most certainly not!" Tess snapped, her eyes glittering. "Indeed, if he asks to see me, tell him that I'm occupied with my account books and can under no circumstances be disturbed."
"Very good, Miss," Letty said, her dark eyes narrowing speculatively. "I'll leave word with Hobhouse as well."
"Have I told you that you're a dear, Letty?"
Letty flashed a cheeky smile. "Not near often enough."
"Be off with you, hussy." Tess answered with a devilish grin of her own. "It won't do to keep Mrs. Tredwell waiting any longer."
"As far as I'm concerned, the old buzzard can wait forever," Letty muttered, stalking off in search of Hobhouse.
* * * * *
Exactly five minutes later Letty ushered three grim-faced matrons into Tess's sunny accounts room. Their leader, the redoubtable Mrs. Tredwell, was a stout woman of nearly three-score years, dressed in brown bombazine. On her head was perched an ugly little hat with three brown feathers that curled limply around her florid face. Every few seconds she scowled and brushed the feathers out of her eyes.
It was instantly clear that the hatchet-faced Mrs. Tredwell was out for blood.
Tess's blood, to be exact.
"Well, Miss Leighton, I'm delighted that you've finally returned from your urgent business," the matron sneered.
"I'm sorry my absence caused you inconvenience. Had you sent around a note of your intention to pay a call, I would have arranged to be present," Tess answered coolly, waving the women to be seated.
Miss Alicia Crabtree, a thin, rather plain-faced spinster of fifty, gratefully began to lower her bony frame into a wing chair by the window, but a curt command from Mrs. Tredwell stopped her midway.
"We will not stay to be seated, Miss Leighton," the woman in brown announced imperiously. With each word the long plumes over her forehead vibrated, adding emphasis to her speech. "We have been delayed quite long enough already, so I mean to come directly to the point."
"Something told me you would," Tess said dryly.
"Humph! That's precisely the sort of pert comment I should have expected from you, miss," the matron snapped. "You've run tame in this town for far too long, let me tell you. You flaunt your presence here at the Angel, mingling with the lowest sort of humanity and giving decent women a bad name. Even worse, you exert a pernicious influence upon our delicately nurtured daughters. Which is why we have come today."
Mrs. Tredwell's voice rose, assuming the stentorian tones of a footman announcing the arrival of a member of the royal family. "On behalf of the Lady's Rectitude Society, we insist that you remove yourself from the Angel at once and give up this unseemly position of managing an inn."
Tess's face was unreadable as she seated herself at a graceful walnut escritoire, leaving her guests to stand stiffly by the door. "And if I do not choose to comply with this — request?" she asked, her tone deceptively soft.
"Then our members are prepared to take appropriate action."
"Do you mean to pelt my lobby with rotten fruit? Or is it to be pistols at thirty paces?"
Mrs. Tredwell's face turned a very ugly shade of crimson. "Laugh, hussy. Laugh while you may. But soon you'll feel the full force of the censure that your disgraceful conduct deserves. You will not be so cool then, I assure you!"
"And what precisely is this disgraceful behavior I'm to be punished for, madam? Rolling up my sleeves and doing laundry with the maidservants? Or is it my unseemliness in fighting tooth and nail for something I hold dear, keeping this inn from wrack and ruin?"
"You know the answer as well as I, Miss Leighton." The limp feathers now hung straight down before the matron's face, tickling her nose. Snorting in irritation, she swatted them away. "And do not bother trying to put us off with your cleverness. We do not deign to soil our lips by reciting further examples of your shameless conduct!"
"Indeed?" Tess said silkily, a dangerous light in her gray-green eyes. "If I am not to be held guilty for my unseemly exertions on behalf of this inn, it must be for something else. Perhaps because I ordered your husband turned out into the street last week when he tried to bring a cyprian to his room."
The Crabtree sisters gasped, their hands fluttering to their throats.
"How — how dare you!" Mrs. Tredwell sputtered.
"Or is it because I ordered the same treatment for your son?" Tess continued coolly. "He grows amorous in his cups, did you know? At which time he tried to assault me in my wine cellar. It is my considered opinion, in fact, that yours is the family of profligates, madam. Perhaps I should convene a meeting to deal with all of you!"
"I won't stand for this, do you hear? It is nothing short of infamous!"
"I quite agree, madam. You should exert a better moral influence over the men in your family."
" 'Tis you I'm speaking of. And well you know it, you shameless hussy!"
"While you, Mrs. Tredwell," Tess said sweetly, "are a hatchet-faced hypocrite who terrorizes her husband and beats her scullery maids. I know this because I've had to tend the poor girls' wounds more than once. Yes, you are a fine pillar of society, indeed. You go to church on Sunday and cheat your tradesmen all the rest of the week. Fie, madam! Who are you to be giving me instructions on behavior?"
"Why you brazen little ..." The furious matron brought one fat hand to her heaving chest. Her voice, when she was once again able to speak, was shrill with anger. "I'll not stay here and be insulted by the likes of you, Jezebel!"
"In that case, the door is directly behind you."
"You're a disgrace to this town, that's what you are! A disgrace to womankind, I say. A disgrace to your dear, departed mama! If dear, sweet Victoria could only see what you've become!"
Tess's face paled, colored only by two spots of crimson high on her cheeks. "Quiet, madam," she ordered, her voice dangerously low. "Do not say her name in my presence again. You are unfit to breathe the same air that she did, and I won't have her name sullied on your lips. Now get out, all of you," she said icily, rising to her feet. "Before I change my mind and have Hobhouse dump you in the street as you deserve!"
"Very well, Miss Leighton. Since you show yourself determined upon this wicked behavior, we shall leave and with pleasure. But the matter is far from finished, I warn you. And the consequences for you will be anything but pleasant."
Just then there was a slight rustling in the hallway. A moment later Maximilian sailed through the doorway, his long green wings pumping. He circled the room twice, then abruptly caught sight of the limp feathers dangling before Mrs. Tredwell's mottled face.
"Help! I'm being attacked!" the angry matron screamed.
"Nonsense, he's merely attracted by your feathers. Maximilian, come here this instant!"
But the lure of the strange brown plumage was too great. The macaw plummeted, settling on Mrs. Tredwell's bonnet. From this perch, he twisted his head back and forth, scrutinizing the ugly plumage he had decided was an avian rival intruding on his territory.
"What the devil! What the devil!" His sharp beak opened and snapped tentatively at the offending feathers.
"G-get this c-creature off of me!" Mrs. Tredwell ordered through clenched teeth.
"Maximilian! Come away immediately!" Tess was hard pressed to hold back her laughter at the sight of the matron's face, where fear warred with fury.
With a loud snap of his powerful jaws, the gaily colored macaw snapped off the end of one brown feather. Uttering a shrill cry of triumph, he flew off, trailing the limp plume from his beak. "Run out the guns!" he screeched, settling upon Tess's desk. "Rocky shoals ahead, men!"
"You saw it with your own eyes!" Mrs. Tredwell screamed, red-faced. "That savage creature tried to attack me. I'll have the magistrate down upon you for this, mark my words!"
At that moment Edouard appeared at the door, followed closely by Hobhouse and Letty. Swiftly the keen-eyed chef took in the situation. "Who makes this squealing of wild pigs? You?" His stubby finger stabbed the air in front of Mrs. Tredwell. "If you ruin my gateaux, I swear to give you something to squeal about!"
"He's mad!" Mrs. Tredwell cried. "They're all mad!"
"And you, par Dieu, are one ugly old cow! Take yourself off!" the irate chef growled.
"Come, ladies!" the matron quavered, striving to salvage her lost dignity in the face of this final assault.
Stony-faced, Hobhouse and the other staff stood back, allowing the three women passage down the corridor.
But the parting shot came from Maximilian, now perched comfortably on Tess's shoulder. "What the devil!" he chanted happily. "Ugly old cow! Ugly old cow!"
Chapter Eleven
"Now that we're rid of that vulture, tell me the sad news, Hobhouse, for I can see this wretched thing is far from fixed."
Tess's grizzled majordomo knelt before her in the kitchen, frowning at the ancient open range. "The grates are cleaned now, along with the flues. A devil of a time I had with them too. I even opened up the chimney but could find no blockage there. I'm afraid this time the blasted thing's got me stumped, Miss Tess." Hobhouse shook his head and plunged sooty fingers deep into his hair, tugging restlessly. "I'm beginning to think the infernal thing is possessed, as Edouard insists."
Tess sighed. Exactly what she needed — a haunted range. No, a ruined as well as a haunted range, she corrected herself. Damn and blast! Just when she was beginning to struggle out from under these crushing debts ...
"Get out of my way, ye fool!"
Without warning Amos Hawkins burst through the door behind Tess. "So there ye are," he snapped. "I'll be speaking with ye, Miss Leighton," he snarled. "Alone. The rest of ye — get out!"
Hobhouse stiffened, digging in his legs like a terrier and glaring at the squat inspector. "Now, just a bloody minute," he growled.
"Out!" Hawkins bellowed. "Else I close this nest of thieves down, here and now!"
Tess flinched at the malice in that voice. She didn't know if it was within Hawkins's power to do as he threatened, but she didn't mean to find out. Not with twenty kegs of uncustomed brandy upstairs, where a man with a suspicious turn of mind might discover them.
"What seems to be the problem, Inspector Hawkins?" she asked coolly.
"Get 'em out of here. Then we'll talk."
Tess smiled thinly at Hobhouse and the two wide-eyed kitchen maids cowering behind him. "You may go, all of you. We'll discuss the range later, Hobhouse."
With obvious reluctance the loyal retainer ushered the rest of the staff before him and then walked stiffly from the room, deliberately leaving the door open behind him.
"Shut the bloody door," Hawkins snarled.
When Hobhouse did not comply, the inspector stomped across the floor and jerked the door closed with a bang.
"There is no need to break my door," Tess said coldly, but her heart began to pound as she faced Hawkins. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, thinking of last night — wondering what precisely had happened.
She certainly couldn't ask Hawkins!
To cover her anxiety Tess moved toward the table. There, her face set in stern lines, she gripped the back of a chair and faced her adversary.
Something told her that offense would be her best defense.
"Well, Inspector? I trust you're pleased with yourself. Your men missed nothing. There is now not a single towel nor bed linen left whole anywhere in the Angel. But I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss your crudity."
Hawkins's beady eyes narrowed. "Ye little bitch," he snarled. "Who did it? Hobhouse? That fat little Frenchman?"
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Inspector."
"No? The lump on the back of my head is what I'm talking about! It's a hanging offense to impede a Crown officer in the performance of his duty, Miss Leighton. Would ye like to feel the rope tighten, to feel yer feet jerked out from under ye and the air torn from yer throat?"
"More threats, Inspector?"
"Not a threat, a statement of fact." His eyes darkened, calculating. "I could close the Angel down in a minute, did you know that?"
Was he bluffing? "For what possible reason?" Tess asked icily.
"On suspicion of harboring a dangerous fugitive."
"But that would be a lie, and you know it!"
"Would it? And if not for that reason, then try this one. Brandy, my dear Miss Leighton. One hundred kegs of it, to be exact, the unseized share of the Fox's last run. Aye, we captured some of the contraband, but there was a bloody sight more that we missed. And those hundred kegs are close enough right now I can smell 'em, by God!" Hawkins's fat lips twisted into a smile. "So I'm thinking to have a look around the Angel. I wouldn't half like to turn the place into a wreck, of course, but —"
"You've already done that, damn you!"
Hawkins shrugged coldly. "As for the linens — well, the King's work demands thoroughness, ye know." Hawkins's eyes were colorless, flat with triumph. "And thorough I'll be — unless ye give me a reason not to look any farther."
Flames of fury licked at Tess's blood. The arrogant swine — he was threatening to destroy the Angel unless ...
"My brandy was all put down in my grandfather's time, Inspector. We use no run goods here. And I would be more than happy to prove it to you." Her fingers tightened on the back of the chair, the skin at her joints gone white.
"Oh, it's proof I'll be having, Miss Leighton, one way or another. Ye can count on that," he snarled. "And we'll start in the cellars. Just me and yerself," he added darkly, "with orders that no one is to disturb us. And this time I'll finish what I started last night," he promised hoarsely, his eyes fixed on her lips.
Tess shivered before the cold savagery of his gaze. She had a fair idea of what the brute meant to do when he got her alone in the cellar. Ever since the first day he'd arrived in Rye, Hawkins had been dogging her steps, making crude suggestions of how she might avoid all these problems. Time and again she had evaded him, pretending to misunderstand.
When he had twice attempted to go further than mere threats, a vigilant Hobhouse had arrived to thwart his plans. And then last night ...
What had happened then?
Tess was careful to keep her concern from her face, however. "Hobhouse will take you to inspect the wine stores, Inspector. I, unfortunately, am far too busy with this broken range to join you just now."
The next instant Hawkins's muddy boots thundered across the kitchen floor. "Then ye'll be a damn sight busier before I'm done with this place," he snarled, his bristling eyebrows locked in a scowl. "Aye
, before I'm done ye'll have neither curtains nor blankets left. Nor beds nor chairs! My men'll turn every room upside down and dump the contents out into the street." His colorless eyes narrowed. "Unless ye do my bidding, that is." Abruptly his stubby fingers shot out to grip Tess's forearms as he pushed her back against a heavy oaken china cabinet. "Ice Queen, they do call ye, but I'll melt that ice, by God! I'll ram myself between yer legs and make ye pant for more," he snarled, his foul breath scorching her face.
In a black fury Tess clawed at his probing fingers. But Hawkins dug his nails into her waist and ground his thick body against hers. "Aye, bitch. I'll show ye how a dog mates in heat. On all fours, I'll take ye," he panted, stubby fingers pinching her nipples as he forced her back against the Cabinet.
"Let — let me go, you filthy bastard!" Choking with pain and anger, Tess twisted wildly, but was unable to dislodge her captor. With one trembling hand she searched the shelf at her back, desperate to find any defense against him.
And then her fingers met the thick handle of Edouard's cleaver. Black rage dulling her vision, she jerked the knife from the slab of wood where the chef had driven it. Her heart pounding crazily, she raised the razor-sharp blade in the air above Hawkins's back.
Anything to get those foul fingers off her!
"More of the King's business, Hawkins?"
The lazy, mocking words cut through the haze of Tess's fury. She froze, her fingers tightening convulsively on the cleaver's handle.
"I only wish all our excise officers were so vigilant."
Silently the heavy implement was pulled from Tess's white, trembling fingers. A second later Hawkins swung around, cursing.
"God damn ye, Ravenhurst! One day ye'll push me one godrotting inch too far!" His face mottled with rage, he glared at the mocking intruder.
Ravenhurst merely arched one thick, dark eyebrow. "At which time I shall be more than happy to meet you, Hawkins. At any time and any place of your choosing." He bent closer, his fingers tightening on the cleaver. "Until that time I advise you to step lightly, for I'd take great pleasure in gagging that foul mouth of yours permanently."
The Black Rose Page 14
