Mrs. Jeffries and the Best Laid Plans by Emily Brightwell

Author:Emily Brightwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Would you care for another drink?” Hatchet asked his companion, Reginald Manley. They were sitting in the small lounge of the Doodlers Club on a tiny street off Sheridan Square. Manley was a member. The fact that he was drinking with a butler, even though the butler had a net worth ten times Manley’s, wouldn’t be considered remarkable in any case. The Doodlers Club membership was composed of artists, cartoonists, fine craftsmen, glassblowers, and even a street portrait painter or two. Unlike most London clubs, this one actually required its members to be skilled at something difficult. Of course, the club was housed in an ancient two-story brick building that had a sagging roof, crumbling masonry, and several cracked windows. But the lounge was nicely furnished with comfortable chairs, a decent green wool carpet, and a meeting room that was large enough to use for member exhibits and the occasional lecture. A waiter, who also served as a barman, moved slowly around the room, taking orders or bringing drinks.

“I don’t mind if I do.” Reginald Manley caught the waiter’s attention and then lifted his empty glass. He was a middle-aged man with a full head of black hair, sharp features, and deep-set gray eyes. “This is very kind of you, Hatchet. What is it you want?”

Hatchet took no offense. “You always did get right to the point, Reggie. I like that about you. You’re right, of course; I do want something. Information. If you can help me with anything useful, I’ll pay you. As I recall, you always did like money.”

Manley laughed, revealing a set of perfect white teeth with exceptionally long incisors. “I’m not the only one who gets right to the point. I could use a few quid. My last few paintings haven’t sold, and frankly, I’m getting too old to enchant the ladies much longer. I think I’m actually going to have to get married if I want to keep on eating and having a roof over my head.”

Now it was Hatchet’s turn to laugh. Manley made more money courting the ladies than he ever did selling his paintings. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Of course, and despite what you probably think of me, once we’re wed I’ll be a very good husband. I may not be able to support the lady in question, but I will most certainly stay by her side for the rest of our lives. But that’s enough about me. Do you still work for that odd American woman?”

“I do,” he replied.

Manley smiled at the waiter as another glass of whiskey was placed on the table in front of him. “Thank you, Derrick. That’ll be all. My companion is practically a teetotaler.”

“Yes, sir.” Derrick shuffled off.

“Do you know someone named Lawrence Boyd?” Hatchet asked.

“I did, but he was murdered a few days ago.” Manley took a drink from his glass. “He was a banker who liked to play at being an artist.”

“He was no good?”

Manley shrugged. “He painted things people liked to put on their walls, seascapes and pastoral scenes.

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