Read Online 5 Check-Out Time by Kate Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
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able to determine why.
Much disturbed, she failed to enjoy the trip along the Esplanade as she usually did. Her mind dwelled elsewhere, on Madeline’s words and on Michael’s relief when he had heard that Sir Richard Malton was dead.
In spite of her efforts to prevent it, the word
witchcraft
kept creeping into her thoughts over and over again.
CHAPTER
6
Mrs. Chubb heaved a loud sigh of relief as she closed the door of Gertie’s bedroom. The poor girl had been quite hysterical after the fright she’d had, and it had taken near on an hour and two cups of warm milk heavily spiced with brandy before exhaustion had finally quietened the sobs.
Gertie now lay gently snoring, and Mrs. Chubb could turn her attention to the cause of all the uproar. Taking hold of her skirts, she marched up the stairs to the lobby.
Halfway across the foyer she saw the new doorman sitting behind the reception desk, his nose buried in
The Evening News.
Mrs. Chubb’s anger subsided. The culprit could wait.
The foyer was deserted, with most of the staff and guests occupied with the evening meal in the dining room. Unlikely to be interrupted, Mrs. Chubb could foresee a goldenopportunity. Patting her hair to make sure no stray wisps escaped from the knot on the crown of her head, the housekeeper swept across the carpet on flying feet.
Arthur Barrett looked up as she reached the counter, and her heart skipped with excitement when his twinkling eyes, the color of a morning sky, smiled upon her face.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess herself come to pay me a visit, to be sure,” he said in his marvelous rich voice. “What can I be doing for you this fine evening, me fair lady?”
His fair lady. She felt her heart fluttering like a young girl’s. Indeed, she felt exactly like a young girl facing a beau for the very first time. Reminding herself that she was a middle-aged woman well past the prime of life, she did her best to calm her silly notions.
“I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Barrett, for coming to Gertie’s rescue like that. I don’t know what the poor girl would have done had you not been there to take care of her.”
“Ah, ’twas nothing, I can assure you. I heard her screaming like a banshee on an Irish moor, and I did what any fine gentleman would do. I rushed out to see what was ailing the poor girl. A strong shoulder to cry on as I led her inside was all that was needed.”
Feeling more than a trifle envious of Gertie, Mrs. Chubb said warmly, “Well, she is most grateful, as I am sure she will tell you herself tomorrow when she is feeling a little better.” She allowed a smile to peek through. “Perhaps later on, when the night porter arrives, you would care to come down to the kitchen for a spot of tea before you leave?”
The doorman tilted his head to one side and gave her one of his devastating grins. “Well, now, I might be tempted by that gracious offer. Especially if you could see your way clear to adding just a drop of fine Irish whiskey to the brew?”
Mrs. Chubb clasped her hands together to stop them shaking as she pretended to think about it. “I might be able to manage a drop of Scotch whiskey, if that would do?”
Arthur Barrett sighed. “Ah, to be sure, beggars can’t bechoosers now, can they? That will be just fine, Mrs. Chubb. Very nice, indeed. Thank you most kindly.”
“Oh, not at all, Mr. Barrett. I shall look forward to it.” She nodded at him several times, at a loss as to what to say next, while he continued to smile at her in a such a way that she thought she would never catch her breath again.
Then he captivated her completely by saying in a soft voice, “Please, my dear, call me by my Christian name, the way everyone else does. Arthur it is, as you well know.”
“I do indeed … Arthur. Until later, then.” She spun around so fast she almost tripped over the hem of her skirt. Steadying herself, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Arthur still sat there, smiling at her with the
Much disturbed, she failed to enjoy the trip along the Esplanade as she usually did. Her mind dwelled elsewhere, on Madeline’s words and on Michael’s relief when he had heard that Sir Richard Malton was dead.
In spite of her efforts to prevent it, the word
witchcraft
kept creeping into her thoughts over and over again.
CHAPTER
6
Mrs. Chubb heaved a loud sigh of relief as she closed the door of Gertie’s bedroom. The poor girl had been quite hysterical after the fright she’d had, and it had taken near on an hour and two cups of warm milk heavily spiced with brandy before exhaustion had finally quietened the sobs.
Gertie now lay gently snoring, and Mrs. Chubb could turn her attention to the cause of all the uproar. Taking hold of her skirts, she marched up the stairs to the lobby.
Halfway across the foyer she saw the new doorman sitting behind the reception desk, his nose buried in
The Evening News.
Mrs. Chubb’s anger subsided. The culprit could wait.
The foyer was deserted, with most of the staff and guests occupied with the evening meal in the dining room. Unlikely to be interrupted, Mrs. Chubb could foresee a goldenopportunity. Patting her hair to make sure no stray wisps escaped from the knot on the crown of her head, the housekeeper swept across the carpet on flying feet.
Arthur Barrett looked up as she reached the counter, and her heart skipped with excitement when his twinkling eyes, the color of a morning sky, smiled upon her face.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess herself come to pay me a visit, to be sure,” he said in his marvelous rich voice. “What can I be doing for you this fine evening, me fair lady?”
His fair lady. She felt her heart fluttering like a young girl’s. Indeed, she felt exactly like a young girl facing a beau for the very first time. Reminding herself that she was a middle-aged woman well past the prime of life, she did her best to calm her silly notions.
“I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Barrett, for coming to Gertie’s rescue like that. I don’t know what the poor girl would have done had you not been there to take care of her.”
“Ah, ’twas nothing, I can assure you. I heard her screaming like a banshee on an Irish moor, and I did what any fine gentleman would do. I rushed out to see what was ailing the poor girl. A strong shoulder to cry on as I led her inside was all that was needed.”
Feeling more than a trifle envious of Gertie, Mrs. Chubb said warmly, “Well, she is most grateful, as I am sure she will tell you herself tomorrow when she is feeling a little better.” She allowed a smile to peek through. “Perhaps later on, when the night porter arrives, you would care to come down to the kitchen for a spot of tea before you leave?”
The doorman tilted his head to one side and gave her one of his devastating grins. “Well, now, I might be tempted by that gracious offer. Especially if you could see your way clear to adding just a drop of fine Irish whiskey to the brew?”
Mrs. Chubb clasped her hands together to stop them shaking as she pretended to think about it. “I might be able to manage a drop of Scotch whiskey, if that would do?”
Arthur Barrett sighed. “Ah, to be sure, beggars can’t bechoosers now, can they? That will be just fine, Mrs. Chubb. Very nice, indeed. Thank you most kindly.”
“Oh, not at all, Mr. Barrett. I shall look forward to it.” She nodded at him several times, at a loss as to what to say next, while he continued to smile at her in a such a way that she thought she would never catch her breath again.
Then he captivated her completely by saying in a soft voice, “Please, my dear, call me by my Christian name, the way everyone else does. Arthur it is, as you well know.”
“I do indeed … Arthur. Until later, then.” She spun around so fast she almost tripped over the hem of her skirt. Steadying herself, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Arthur still sat there, smiling at her with the
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