Read Online Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat by Emily Brightwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Brightwell
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investigations, so Mrs. Jeffries could hardly take offense.
Smythe rose to his feet. “Which carriage should we take? Ours or Luty’s?”
“Take mine,” Luty said quickly. “I can always get a hansom home. That’ll save you havin’ to go over to Howards and gettin’ your own livery out.”
“Can I go too?” Wiggins asked again as he got up. “I really think I ought to; I am one of the men.” Fred, seeing his beloved Wiggins move, uncurled himself from his comfortable spot on the rug and trotted over to the footman.
“How are they going to find out anything?” Betsy asked. “By the time they get down there, it’ll be late at night.”
“Don’t worry about that, Miss Betsy,” Hatchet said cheerfully. “It’ll not take all that long to reach our destination. There’s a train at six for Southampton and once we’re there, I’ve an idea finding out which pub the ships crew hangs about is going to be easy.”
“But I thought we was goin’ to take the carriage,” Wiggins said.
Hatchet shook his head. “We’ll take the carriage to the station. The train’s much faster than even the madam’s fine team of horses.”
“What if the ship has already sailed?” Luty asked. “What then?”
“She won’t have sailed,” Smythe said confidently. “I’ve taken ships between here and Australia. They always need at least two days portside to take on provisions and make repairs. It’s a hard trip.”
Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly how many times have you done it, then?” He’d only mentioned one trip to Australia.
“Three, maybe four times,” he answered honestly, thinking she was doubting his knowledge of the ships’ port time. It was only when he saw her jaw drop that he realized what he’d just let slip. “I’ve told you about my trips to Australia,” he said. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“You most certainly have not,” she shot back, “and considerin’ how much we talk, I’m surprised all your world traveling hasn’t come up in the conversation.”
Smythe could have kicked himself for being so stupid. He’d not mentioned the last couple of trips to Australia because he’d not wanted to tell her the reason he’d made them. Mainly, to check on his rather substantial holdings in that country.
“They really ought to get going right away,” Mrs. Jeffries interjected. She could tell by the expression on Betsy’s face that a real storm was in the making. But the lass would justhave to hold her peace until she and the coachman could be alone together. Besides, Mrs. Jeffries rather suspected she knew the reason Smythe hadn’t mentioned his other trips to Australia.
“Do I get to go?” Wiggins asked for the third time. “And Fred too?”
“You can come, but not the dog,” Smythe said as he edged toward the back door. “The inspector will want to know where he is when he comes home. You know he likes to take him for a walk before he goes to bed.” He was watching Betsy as he made his way across the room. Cor blimey, the lass was boiling. Maybe when he had a moment or two, he’d tell her the truth. But just as quickly, he decided maybe he wouldn’t. He loved Betsy too much to risk losing her over the lie he was living.
“You will be careful going home, madam,” Hatchet said as he trotted after Smythe. Wiggins was right on his heels.
“You worry about yerself, Hatchet,” she snapped. “I may be old, but I can still take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment, madam.”
“Stay, Fred,” Wiggins told the dog. “Smythe’s right, the inspector will want to take you walkies when he gets home.”
“I’m not sure what time we’ll be back,” Smythe said. “But don’t wait up for us.” With that, they disappeared down the hall.
“We won’t,” Betsy yelled. She turned to the housekeeper. “Who does he think he is? Even if they take the ruddy train, they’ll not be back until tomorrow. What are we going to tell the
Smythe rose to his feet. “Which carriage should we take? Ours or Luty’s?”
“Take mine,” Luty said quickly. “I can always get a hansom home. That’ll save you havin’ to go over to Howards and gettin’ your own livery out.”
“Can I go too?” Wiggins asked again as he got up. “I really think I ought to; I am one of the men.” Fred, seeing his beloved Wiggins move, uncurled himself from his comfortable spot on the rug and trotted over to the footman.
“How are they going to find out anything?” Betsy asked. “By the time they get down there, it’ll be late at night.”
“Don’t worry about that, Miss Betsy,” Hatchet said cheerfully. “It’ll not take all that long to reach our destination. There’s a train at six for Southampton and once we’re there, I’ve an idea finding out which pub the ships crew hangs about is going to be easy.”
“But I thought we was goin’ to take the carriage,” Wiggins said.
Hatchet shook his head. “We’ll take the carriage to the station. The train’s much faster than even the madam’s fine team of horses.”
“What if the ship has already sailed?” Luty asked. “What then?”
“She won’t have sailed,” Smythe said confidently. “I’ve taken ships between here and Australia. They always need at least two days portside to take on provisions and make repairs. It’s a hard trip.”
Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly how many times have you done it, then?” He’d only mentioned one trip to Australia.
“Three, maybe four times,” he answered honestly, thinking she was doubting his knowledge of the ships’ port time. It was only when he saw her jaw drop that he realized what he’d just let slip. “I’ve told you about my trips to Australia,” he said. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“You most certainly have not,” she shot back, “and considerin’ how much we talk, I’m surprised all your world traveling hasn’t come up in the conversation.”
Smythe could have kicked himself for being so stupid. He’d not mentioned the last couple of trips to Australia because he’d not wanted to tell her the reason he’d made them. Mainly, to check on his rather substantial holdings in that country.
“They really ought to get going right away,” Mrs. Jeffries interjected. She could tell by the expression on Betsy’s face that a real storm was in the making. But the lass would justhave to hold her peace until she and the coachman could be alone together. Besides, Mrs. Jeffries rather suspected she knew the reason Smythe hadn’t mentioned his other trips to Australia.
“Do I get to go?” Wiggins asked for the third time. “And Fred too?”
“You can come, but not the dog,” Smythe said as he edged toward the back door. “The inspector will want to know where he is when he comes home. You know he likes to take him for a walk before he goes to bed.” He was watching Betsy as he made his way across the room. Cor blimey, the lass was boiling. Maybe when he had a moment or two, he’d tell her the truth. But just as quickly, he decided maybe he wouldn’t. He loved Betsy too much to risk losing her over the lie he was living.
“You will be careful going home, madam,” Hatchet said as he trotted after Smythe. Wiggins was right on his heels.
“You worry about yerself, Hatchet,” she snapped. “I may be old, but I can still take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment, madam.”
“Stay, Fred,” Wiggins told the dog. “Smythe’s right, the inspector will want to take you walkies when he gets home.”
“I’m not sure what time we’ll be back,” Smythe said. “But don’t wait up for us.” With that, they disappeared down the hall.
“We won’t,” Betsy yelled. She turned to the housekeeper. “Who does he think he is? Even if they take the ruddy train, they’ll not be back until tomorrow. What are we going to tell the
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