Ladies' Bane - Patricia Wentworth - Miss Silver 22 by Ladies Bane-3S(v1)(html)

Author:Ladies Bane-3S(v1)(html) [Bane-3S, Ladies]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 22

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Geoffrey Trent was writing letters in his study. He frowned over them and drove his pen hard. A letter to his cousin's solicitor about probate. A letter to Margot's old nurse, a silly, fond old woman to whom she was still the healthy bouncing baby of so many years ago. A letter to Iris Morley who had practically written to congratulate him. He had had a passing affair with her, and his gorge rose at it. One of those women who look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths and go about distilling poison. He would have liked to tell her what he thought of her now, but it wasn't safe to rouse that deadly tongue. As he signed his name he became aware of Flaxman at his elbow with the coffee-tray.

"And if you have a moment to spare, sir--"

When anyone said that, it generally meant something fairly unpleasant--a domestic quarrel, or an intention of giving notice. His heart misgave him. Mrs. Flaxman was a very good cook, and Flaxman a very efficient butler. Their wages were high, but everything ran on oiled wheels. He braced himself to hear that Mrs. Flaxman was feeling unsettled--"after the young lady's death, sir"--and was relieved to find the conversation opening in quite a different though equally time-honoured manner.

"I was wondering, sir, if you would consider the question of a rise for Mrs. Flaxman and myself."

He had set down the tray and come round to the far side of the table, where he stood in a respectful attitude, his slim figure very neat in the grey linen housecoat, his rather sharp features darkened and thrown into relief by the light from the window behind him.

Geoffrey said, "Well--" in a tone which he contrived to make as doubtful as possible. They had been with him for the best part of two years, and they had been more than satisfactory. He supposed he would have to give them their rise, or they would be wanting to go elsewhere, but he had no intention of making things too easy, so he put all the doubt he could into his voice,

"Well, I don't know, Flaxman--"

Flaxman went over to the fire and began to make it up.

"After two years we thought you would consider it. The young lady's death has been a good bit of a shock to Mrs. Flaxman. Not that either of us is wishful to leave, having your interests at heart the way we have."

"That is very nice of you," said Geoffrey in a half-absent tone.

"Not at all, sir. Just the motto we've always gone on--the employer's interests first."

Geoffrey came back with a start. Was there, or was there not, a meaning note in Flaxman's voice? He thought there was, and found himself saying sharply,

"What on earth do you mean, man?"

Flaxman turned round from the fire, dusting his hands. He kept his eyes down.

"The employer's interests come first," he said. "If it hadn't been for me making that my motto, there were things I could have stood up and said at the inquest.

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