Read Online Mrs. Jeffries in the Nick of Time by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Brightwell
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didn’t wish to embarrass the lady, but he really did need to know the circumstances of how she came to lose her livelihood. “Er . . . uh.”
“I was sacked, Inspector,” Imogene said bluntly.
“May I know the reason why?”
“The mistress of the house wanted to give my job to an old school friend of hers.” Imogene shrugged philosophically. “There was only one child and the family couldn’t afford two governesses. It was very sudden. One moment I had a nice, comfortable position in a lovely house in Bristol, the next, I was at a hotel at the train station. I sent Uncle Francis a telegram asking if I could come to him. He replied straightaway that I was to take the next train to London. He met me at the station and told me I was to stay as long as I liked. I was family and I’d never be turned out.”
“That must have been a great relief to you,” the inspector replied.
“It was. I was very grateful.” She paused. “But before you find it out from someone else, there’s something else you ought to know. I’d been applying for other positions. I liked teaching children.”
“You were looking for a position as a governess again?”
“I was applying for teaching posts as well,” she said proudly. “I’m very qualified.”
“Miss Ross, is there some reason you wanted me to hear this information from you?” Witherspoon had no idea why the question popped out of his mouth, but as he’d learned to trust his “inner voice,” he was sure it must be important.
“You needed to hear it from me because I know you’re going to hear all about it from someone else,” she explained, “and I wanted to make sure you understood my side of the situation. You see, Uncle Francis didn’t approve. I know he took me in and I know I should be grateful, which I was, but it was never enough for him.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” she replied. “Uncle Francis didn’t for a moment let me forget that I had a roof over my head because of his kindness and generosity.” She took a deep breath. “Yesterday morning, Uncle Francis and I had a terrible row. He told me that if I persisted in my attempts to find a position, he’d stop giving me an allowance. It was a very ugly confrontation made all the uglier by my losing my temper.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I said terrible, terrible things to him and then he died before I could apologize.”
Witherspoon hated it when women cried. He never quite knew what to do or say. “I’m sure it wasn’t that terrible. Families have little quarrels all the time.”
“It wasn’t just a quarrel.” She swiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. “I completely lost control of my tongue and said dreadful things to the poor man. After I’d come to my senses, I realized how horrid I must have sounded to him so I went to his room before tea to tell him how very sorry I was. But he was still so angry he didn’t even reply when I knocked.”
“What time was this?” the inspector asked.
“I’m not sure of the exact time, but it was a few minutes before I came down for tea and that was at four o’clock.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I should never have spoken to him the way I did. Now it’s too late. That’s why I’ve been crying, I feel so guilty. I said the most horrible things to a decent old man who’d taken me into his home when I had no place to go. I told him he was being hateful and that everyone else in the family only put up with him because he controlled the money. I said that everyone was just waiting for him to die so they could get on with their lives without his interference. Then, God forgive me, a few hours later someone killed him.”
CHAPTER 3
“I’m sure your uncle knew that you really didn’t mean what you said. All families occasionally have harsh words with one another,” Witherspoon said kindly, hoping she’d stop crying. But his comment had the opposite effect. She began to wail at the top of her lungs. Then
“I was sacked, Inspector,” Imogene said bluntly.
“May I know the reason why?”
“The mistress of the house wanted to give my job to an old school friend of hers.” Imogene shrugged philosophically. “There was only one child and the family couldn’t afford two governesses. It was very sudden. One moment I had a nice, comfortable position in a lovely house in Bristol, the next, I was at a hotel at the train station. I sent Uncle Francis a telegram asking if I could come to him. He replied straightaway that I was to take the next train to London. He met me at the station and told me I was to stay as long as I liked. I was family and I’d never be turned out.”
“That must have been a great relief to you,” the inspector replied.
“It was. I was very grateful.” She paused. “But before you find it out from someone else, there’s something else you ought to know. I’d been applying for other positions. I liked teaching children.”
“You were looking for a position as a governess again?”
“I was applying for teaching posts as well,” she said proudly. “I’m very qualified.”
“Miss Ross, is there some reason you wanted me to hear this information from you?” Witherspoon had no idea why the question popped out of his mouth, but as he’d learned to trust his “inner voice,” he was sure it must be important.
“You needed to hear it from me because I know you’re going to hear all about it from someone else,” she explained, “and I wanted to make sure you understood my side of the situation. You see, Uncle Francis didn’t approve. I know he took me in and I know I should be grateful, which I was, but it was never enough for him.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t,” she replied. “Uncle Francis didn’t for a moment let me forget that I had a roof over my head because of his kindness and generosity.” She took a deep breath. “Yesterday morning, Uncle Francis and I had a terrible row. He told me that if I persisted in my attempts to find a position, he’d stop giving me an allowance. It was a very ugly confrontation made all the uglier by my losing my temper.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I said terrible, terrible things to him and then he died before I could apologize.”
Witherspoon hated it when women cried. He never quite knew what to do or say. “I’m sure it wasn’t that terrible. Families have little quarrels all the time.”
“It wasn’t just a quarrel.” She swiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. “I completely lost control of my tongue and said dreadful things to the poor man. After I’d come to my senses, I realized how horrid I must have sounded to him so I went to his room before tea to tell him how very sorry I was. But he was still so angry he didn’t even reply when I knocked.”
“What time was this?” the inspector asked.
“I’m not sure of the exact time, but it was a few minutes before I came down for tea and that was at four o’clock.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I should never have spoken to him the way I did. Now it’s too late. That’s why I’ve been crying, I feel so guilty. I said the most horrible things to a decent old man who’d taken me into his home when I had no place to go. I told him he was being hateful and that everyone else in the family only put up with him because he controlled the money. I said that everyone was just waiting for him to die so they could get on with their lives without his interference. Then, God forgive me, a few hours later someone killed him.”
CHAPTER 3
“I’m sure your uncle knew that you really didn’t mean what you said. All families occasionally have harsh words with one another,” Witherspoon said kindly, hoping she’d stop crying. But his comment had the opposite effect. She began to wail at the top of her lungs. Then
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