Rarer Than Gold (A Chance Inquiry Book 2) by Holly Newman

Author:Holly Newman [Newman, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2021-09-27T23:00:00+00:00

12

“Outta my way! Outta my way! I’s gots to see Sar James!” a frantic George Romley bellowed, as he pushed past the footman who’d opened the door to his thundering knock.

James was just descending the stairs the next morning, his thoughts on the coming investigation.

“Romley! What are you doing here? You are supposed to be keeping watch at Bartlett Hall.”

“Aye, sar,” Romley gasped, his sides heaving as he strived to catch his breath. He bent forward, bracing his hands on his bent knees. “I were, but then she done drugged me and the gentry mort piked off!”

“Drugged you? Who drugged you?”

Romley slowly straightened, still struggling with his breath. “That foreign woman, the one from India, they tol’ me. She brung me a pint. The ale tasted a mite odd, but I didn’t wanna be disrespectful, so I drank it and next I knowed, I couldna keep me peepers open.”

James frowned, then took in a deep breath. He hadn’t expected this. What the bloody hell was going on?

“Come into the breakfast parlor. You could use some coffee.”

“Aye, sar, that I could, thank ye,” Romley said.

“Darrel,” James said to the dumbfounded footman who lingered in the hall. “Ask Lady Branstoke to join us as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” the young footman said. He scrambled to run up the stairs.

James watched him and shook his head. “He’ll never make butler without a little more decorum,” he said ruefully. “But come, Romley. I promised you some coffee and you could also use some food to clear the last of the drug from your system.”

“Thank ye, sar,” Romley said as he followed James. Belatedly, he realized he still had his cap on his head. He quickly pulled it off and stuffed it in his waistband.

James poured himself some coffee, then held out the pot to pour some for Romley. His man looked at him with shock, but quickly held out a cup, which James filled before setting the pot down.

“Thank ye, sar,” Romley said again, with something akin to awe in his voice. “Might there be any sugar, sar?” he asked tentatively.

“In that bowl, there,” James said, indicating an ornate silver sugar bowl with a spoon.

Romley scooped three large teaspoons of sugar into his cup. James surmised he rarely got a chance to have sugar. Perhaps not any sweets at all. For the servants’ hall, he would ensure the cook knew to prepare desserts, and the butler would offer sugar and cream for coffee and tea.

“Sit down, Romley.”

“Here, sar?” Romley asked, pointing to the seat next to James.

“Yes, here. When Lady Branstoke gets here, you will tell us the entire story. Afterward, you can check on what horses we have for another trip. You may need to fetch fresh horses from the inn in the village.”

“Aye, sar.”

“James, Darrel said you wished to see me immediately. –Oh! hello, Mr. Romley,” Cecilia said. “I thought you were at Bartlett Hall.” She looked quizzically at her husband.

“Best get your tea, my dear,” James said. “We have a problem.”

Cecilia quickly poured herself a cup of tea and sat down.

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