Chapter Eight
"You know," Desiree said, "You were right Gayle. It is a nice place."
"Ours was nicer," Josephe pointed out.
Joe looked around. He must have imagined the voices. Or it was his pain in the ass neighbors.
Desiree took a seat on the edge of the desk and considered the room carefully. "You may be right, cherie. I personally would never have chosen those drapes with that wallpaper. And the paneling is in sad need of some attention."
"He's not much of a housekeeper," Gayle said.
Joe stood up, whirling around. "Who is it?"
Josephe laughed. "He wants to know who it is. He steals our things and digs up our grave and he wants to know who it is."
"Not to mention killing this poor child," Desiree said.
Joe began ripping the room apart looking for some sort of speakers, sure his room was bugged, which meant.. which meant the reason she didn't meet him was.. "Merde," Joe breathed, ripping out drawers, checking the lights and the phone and tossing stuff he checked aside in a heap into the center of the room.
"He seems to have lost something," Desiree said. "Should we help him look, do you think mon ami? I do not wish to be rude, n'est ce pas and we are guests in his home."
"He gets upset when people help him and he hasn't asked for any. He's very controlling in some ways," Gayle explained.
Desiree nodded. "It is a thing many men are prone to, especially those who are, how shall I say it...a bit uncertain about themselves."
Joe stopped what he was doing, breathing hard from the effort. He listened, cocking his head, turning to look where he'd heard them. "Who's there!"
Josephe laughed and allowed himself to materialize. "I suppose a formal introduction is called for. I am Josephe Menard, at your service," he said with an elegant bow. "My companions...well one you know well but the other is Desiree Beniot. You have something that belongs to us."
"Yes cherie," Desiree said, materializing herself. "We have come to tell you it would be best for all concerned if you put it back. Poor Gayle. To have killed her over it."
"Yes, I really don't understand why you had to lie to me and pretend and then kill me," Gayle said taking a seat next to Josephe on the couch. "You really are a slime ball."
Joe went dead white. He reached behind him for a chair or something else for support. Not finding it he fell backwards onto his butt on the floor. After a moment, he swore and said, "This is bullshit! You're trying to set me up, dammit. Saunders, is that you? Jealous of Billie, that's what it is!"
"He is upset," Josephe said.
"The truth hurts," Gayle told him. "Such a small man really and to think I fell for it."
"Yes, but this is getting us no where." Desiree drifted over to where Joe was still sitting and tapped him on his shoulder. "The box cherie. It is mine and I really must ask that you return it. You do not know what you are playing with. There are things that shouldn't be meddled with by outsiders."
"What box? I have no idea what you're talking about," Joe replied, trying his best to sound unaffected, calm, cool. "Go away!"
"Don't play games with them, Joe," Gayle advised. "You're out of your league. All you have to do is put the box back and they might even help you."
Joe got to his feet and ran out of the apartment, looking somewhat wildly around as if he expected them to follow him. He went down the outside stairs to his car, unlocked it with the keys he'd had in his pocket and sat in it, slamming and locking the car doors. He was breathing heavily, and whispering,. "It's my imagination. They aren't real, they aren't real."
"Joe, we are real," Gayle said from the passenger seat. "Tell me, did you clean the car after you dumped me in the bayou. Leroy is working on a search warrant and an order for your DNA. He's got the sheets from my apartment."
Joe slowly turned his head toward the passenger seat. "You can't be... You're dead..."
"Using Billie was a big mistake, Joe. A big mistake. Leroy's like a terrier after a rat now. Shall I show him where you dumped my body?"
"You don't know where I took it. I'm not sure even I could find it!" Joe shouted, suddenly shivering. "Stop it, stop it..."
"Yes I do. It's my body isn't it? Of course I know where it is."
"Give us back the box, cherie. Put it back where you found it. We aren't going to go away if you don't," Desiree said from the back seat. "Mr. Saunders, he is a very smart man. We are your only hope."
Joe put his hand over his hears and rested his head on the steering wheel. He closed his eyes and willed them away. He jerked awake, after what felt like only a few moments, but must have been hours given that the sun was peeking out from behind a building and hitting him in the eyes. He'd .. It had to be a dream.
He sat back and rubbed his eyes. He felt as if a migraine were coming. His mouth was dry and he'd apparently slept all night in his car.
The dream... He could see them there, dragging the bayou, looking for Gayle's body. And somehow she was there with them, telling them right where to look. Boats and divers and men with guns for the gators. No, there was no way she could know where it was. He'd killed her before he'd taken her there, after all. But... But...
Did he dare go there, to see? Well, if they were dredging the bayou they'd find what was left of her. But if they hadn't found it.. They might follow him... He groaned... At least the ghosts had gone. Well, they'd never been here. It was his conscience doing it, all his guilt welling up inside.
Still... If they found the body he should maybe.. He had to know. He turned on the ignition and and pulled out of his driveway heading out into the countryside. There were a few other vehicles on the roads. He didn't pay them much mind. He drove steadily, stopping only long enough to get himself a cup of coffee. The thought of food made his stomach churn.
An hour later he was pulling into a dirt road that went down to a bayou. There were fishing camps all along the road, owned by families from all over Louisiana. He drove on until he found the right one, and pulled in. He left his car and made his way over to the dock that jutted out into the bayou. There were no police cars, no sign of anyone dredging the bayou. He let out a ragged sigh of relief. He hurried back to his car and drove away.
Some way up the dirt road, a car was sitting off to the side. Once Joe Klein was well away, Leroy reached for his cell phone to call the NOPD officer who was heading up the search for Gayle Cune's body. "I think I know where her body might be, Larry." Leroy told him where he was, what the cut off was and the name of the fishcamp. He picked up his now cold coffee and drove after Joe.
Joe wasn't sure where he was going. He considered just heading out of town. Could he just put a bullet in his brain? How the hell did he get here? He hadn't meant to hurt Gayle, after all. He'd just... panicked. Panicked, like he was doing now. He groaned and turned to head back toward New Orleans.
"So that's where you dumped me," Gayle said, back in the passenger's seat.
Joe didn't look over at her just kept driving.
Desiree sighed from the back seat. "And I enjoyed the drive. It has been too long since I spent anytime on the bayou. But cherie, it is time to put the box back now. Otherwise we will tell the authorities where the body is."
"You're just my conscience," Joe retorted. "You lied to me."
Gayle laughed. "Oh that's rich, that your conscience would lie to you."
Josephe agreed. "Did you enjoy your dreams last night?"
"Not to worry. Tonight I'll just take drugs."
"It will not help, I assure you," Desiree said. "And tonight they will be worse."
"I don't believe you. You can't do a damn thing to me. Who can you tell? No one else can see you but me."
"You are such a fool," Gayle said.
"I will prove to you that this is not your conscience or a hallucination or anything else," Desiree said. "If you dare take the chance."
"Oh, will you," Joe hissed. "Do your best."
"If you drive back to Tante Angelique's," Desiree said, and you look where I tell you, you will find the knife Alec used when he helped me kill Josephe."
"And why would I care about that?" Joe asked, interested despite himself.
Desiree sighed. "For a man of your education you are remarkably unimaginative. You do not know where it is cherie, so it could not be your conscience or a dream or a hallucination if it is actually there, is this not so? So when you find it, you will know that we are real."
"Bah, go away."
"He is a coward, Desiree. He will not do this because he knows he is wrong. So, mignonne, we will have to find another way of convincing him, one less comfortable," Josephe said.
"I'm no coward," Joe hissed. "Shut up and go away. There is nothing you can do to me. No one you can tell. I'm the only one who hears you, sees you, knows you, so go away."
Gayle shrugged and settled in for the ride. "It's your choice Joe."
Joe, determined, drove to the office, obvious of the fact he was still wearing the clothes he'd worn the day before. Oblivious of the fact he hadn't eaten, nor had anything to drink for some time. Hadn't showered, hadn't shaved. He just headed toward the office.
Josephe waited until he'd parked and turned the engine off. The he said as Joe was preparing to get out of the car, "You should change your mind, mon fils. Possession is not a pleasant experience when it isn't chosen."
"Yeah, right." Joe got out of the car without looking back.
Josephe sighed, and followed Joe. He wreathed him in the damp, clinging vapor and mist that was his ghostly self. Once covering him entirely Josephe whispered in his ear, "It was your choice." Then the vapor, cold and gray, began insinuating itself in Joe, through every opening there was, his pores, his nostrils, his ears, his tear ducts, his mouth, his rectum and his urethra. It took less than a minute for all of Josephe to find an entry point and use it.
Joe sensed it happening but couldn't fight it. Leroy drove up about then to park then thought better of it seeing that Joe was in some sort of difficulties. Instead of parking where he wouldn't be observed he drove up to stop beside Joe who seemed sort of frozen with a look of horror on his face. "What's up?" Leroy asked.
"He does not want to believe we are real so Josephe has taken possession of his body," Desiree said. "Josephe controls it and is in Joe's mind with him."
Leroy winced. "That's gotta hurt. Huh, Joe? So, where we goin'? Hop in."
"Cherie," Desiree said, "Where is my box? I have been very patient with you but no more."
Joe's eyes looked panicked. His mouth moved but he couldn't speak which terrified him even more.
"I'd give it to 'em, if it were me. I mean, I don't think they're gonna get out of there until you give it to 'em."
Joe's mouth moved again.
"Maybe you better let him talk, Josephe," Leroy offered. "Oh, and have him get in my car. I think maybe I better drive. Wouldn't want him slamming into some poor civilian."
Joe, goose-stepping, looking as if someone had hold of his neck and his ass, walked around the car. Leroy swung open the passenger side door. Joe turned robotically, then sat. Then he swung his legs inside. Leroy got out and walked around to close the passenger door.
"Looks like you're out of practice Josephe," Leroy said as he got back in behind the wheel. "Now, where'd you say we were goin'?"
"Rampart Street," Joe said. Actually it was closer to a terrifed swallowed scream.
"Sure thing. Tante Angelique's?"
"No! Up the street a ways."
"They gonna get their box?" Leroy asked as he swung the car around and headed downtown.
Joe sort of gurgled.
"I think that was a yes," Gayle said, grinning for the first time. "I guess he believes us now."
"Well, you gotta admit," Leroy replied, watching where he was going, "having some ghost, or several, possess you is kind of an immediate way to realize they aren't kidding. How are you Gayle? Sorry about the body. But maybe when they fish it up you'll be freed."
"Thanks, but it isn't that. It's the curse."
"Oui, cherie. You mustn't handle the box or the contents or you will tied to the curse, too," Desiree said from the back seat. "I am sure that is what happened to Joe when he stole it. The baron demanded much when he answered my summons. Mama will have to make it right with him when she breaks his hold on us and the box."
"Oh, man, you mean she'll be in trouble too? That's not right," Leroy said, shaking his head. "Let's aim the blowback at Joe."
"You do not understand. It was a bargain. I wanted Josephe to pay for all time, to suffer, to never rest, and to never have peace. Even then it was not enough I thought, for what he had done. But it was all there was. The baron gave that to me in exchange for anyone else who touched the box. The blood on the box and on the money ties them to him since he gave me a drop of his blood to mix with Josephe's. He already has Joe. Mama will have to find a way to placate him."
Joe's eyes went wide. "They're talking about this Voodoo god, Joe. Baron Samedi. I'm sure you've heard of him," Leroy explained helpfully. "Well, I hope Mama and Tante Angelique have a plan. Man, am I glad I didn't find the ruddy box. So, I guess I better not touch it. Can I get away with using gloves to move it? Or is that gonna get me in trouble too?"
"Josephe will use Joe to handle it. That will be best I think," she said. "Now tell me cherie, how is your beautiful friend? I was so sad for her that she was taken advantage of in such a cruel way."
"She's better. She was pretty upset, as you can imagine. I'm sort of trying to keep her away from Joe. Wouldn't want her to shoot off his private parts, now would we, Joe? She's a crack shot, just in case you wondered."
Joe's eyes went wide.
"It's kinda nice he can't talk back. I found his voice annoying from the first. Okay, here's Rampart. Where abouts, Joe."
Joe pointed ahead. Leroy drove slowly up the road until Joe indicated he stop. "Ah, you've been digging here too? Oh, nice. Hide the bloody thing at someone else's site. "You guys sense it all all yet, Desiree?"
She shook her head. "But he will show us where, won't you?"
Joe nodded, tears, probably of frustration and anger, leaked out of his eyes. He pointed, and Leroy parked the car, walked around to open the passenger side door for Joe and followed along behind the zombified Joe. "So," Leroy asked. "Is this the whole zombie thing? Only with dead guys not live ones?"
"In a sense. The difference is that here an outside personality is controlling the soul. There it is control of a different sort." She followed Joe around to the back of the house and into a garden much like Tante Angelique's. A portion of it had recently been excavated and it was to the far corner of that area that Desiree followed Joe. "Ah, it is here. I can feel it."
"Dig it up Joe," Leroy suggested. "Might as well. I'm thinkin'they can make your life even more miserable if they wanna."
Joe lurched forward then fell to his knees. He began digging with his fingers, pulled the dirt, dirt that was loose and loamy from centuries of use as a garden, aside. He dug down about 6 inches and then there was a small oilcloth bag. He reached in and lifted it out.
"Wait," Leroy said, frowning. "I thought it was a box?"
Joe struggled then managed, "I threw the box away. Just kept the coins."
Desiree flew at him, screaming. "It wasn't yours, it was mine. Give it back!"
"I can't!" Joe yelped. "This is all I have!" He huddled into a fetal position despite Josephe trying to stop him from doing so. He looked as if he'd gone catatonic.
"Damn," Leroy commented. "What now, Desiree. What was so important about the box? Aren't the coins enough?"
"It is the blood," she screamed. "Soaked, saturated into the wood. Where did you throw it, cochon?"
"In the bayou with Gayle's body!" Joe yelped.
"Desiree, please," Gayle said. "Wait. Didn't you say you put the blood on the coins too?"
"Oui, but it is gone. There is no sign of blood on them."
"There might still be."
"Yeah," Leroy agreed. "We got tests now. We can find the slightest traces of blood on things now. Let me test them, Desiree."
"If there is none I will kill him," she said, her eyes on him cold and implacable, "and it will be worse than what I did to Josephe, I swear it."
"Yeah, well, at this point I'm thinkin'he'd be glad to be dead. Save a little for Billie Jo though." Leroy took latex gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He pulled out an evidence bag and dug up the bag the coins were in and put it in the evidence bag and sealed it.
"Now listen to me, Desiree. It's gonna take a little time. Oh, I'll know as soon as I get a hold of some luminol if there is blood, but if we need to be sure it's Josephe's, that'll take longer. You want I should get some luminol and do it right now just so you know?"
"Who else's blood would it be," she demanded.
"I don't know. I don't know if it there is blood. Maybe Gayle's is mixed on it. Who can say?"
"Do what you must," she said. "What is a little more time when it has already been so long."
"There ya go," Leroy agreed. "What are we gonna do with Joe here?"
"Take him with us," she said indifferently.
Leroy shrugged. He'd wanted to see if Billie Jo wanted to watch, but now, no way. They all piled into his car and he headed on over to Tante Angelique's. He also called Mama to come by.
When they got to Tante Angelique's Leroy led them inside. He pulled out the evidence bag, put on another set of gloves and fished out a coin. Joe was sitting across the table from him, staring at the table, watching the coins.
Leroy zapped up a bottle of luminol and hit the coin with it. Immediately the coin turned colors. "Blood," Leroy announced. "We've got a winner."
"So there is still hope for this cochon?" Desiree said.
"Oui," Leroy replied, grinning. Mama arrived then, staring for a moment at Joe. "I see," she said after her appraising look. Tante Angelique, who'd tried to stand aside through all of this, began to make tea.
"Madame," Desiree said, addressing Mama Bella, "I will be forever in your debt. You have but to tell me how I may assist you and it shall be done."
"And I," Gayle said.
Bella looked at the two female ghosts critically. "You both must agree to accept the judgements of Baron Samedi. That is what you can do for me."
"Oui, certainement," Desiree said while Gayle nodded her agreement.
"So... we've the means to lift the curse?" Mama asked, looking at everyone.
"Well, we have blood from Desiree and Josephe, we think anyway," Gayle said.
"We have the chemise too. It will be enough," Mama declared. "Tomorrow night. He," she added, "pointing at Joe," must be here. Keep him somewhere."
"I..." Joe began.
"Shut up," Leroy told him.
"We will take him home and stay with him," Desiree said. "He will be here."
Mama nodded. "Angelique, we will begin the preparations in the morning. All of you be here at 9pm."
Leroy nodded, and zapped out.
Desiree nodded and she and the others left as well.
Thank God for hot water Betty Jo thought, and lots of it. She stood and let it stream over her while she tried to wake up enough to start the day. The five hour time difference between London and DC demanded a level of stamina she hadn't expected. Then responding to the emergency call from Leroy last night...well, she told herself, struggles and suffering built endurance and endurance led to hope, or St. Paul said. She groaned. She couldn't care less about endurance. At the moment all she wanted was a couple hours more asleep.
She rinsed and wrapped herself in a robe and went to find copious quantities of caffeine. Edwards had brought the tray while she was showering and Ian was already sipping tea by the bedroom window. She smiled and poured herself some coffee. It was going to be a Starbucks morning in DC, there was no doubt about that. "Good morning," she said after she took a serious swallow. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Is she all right?" Ian asked.
"Well," Betty Jo said, buttering a slice of toast, "she will be. She was pretty upset though, and Leroy's shirt was drenched when she finally let go of him."
"Interesting he's the one she was clinging to, then," Ian observed as he dipped scrambled eggs out of a chafing dish and added some bacon to the dish to hand to Betty Jo. "You look tired. This time difference is difficult for you."
She considered prevaricating and decided not to. "It's an adjustment that requires creative problem solving."
"Is there a way I can help? Put you to bed earlier? No more sex?"
"I'll find a job here before I'll give up a second of sex with you," she said without thinking.
He grinned. "I dare say Blackheath would think you a coup if they could get you. But let's see if we can't adjust, the both of us, to your hours. I confess I've always been someone who sleeps few hours. But I'll do my best to see you have a chance to sleep more."
"Essentially it means adjusting to life on second shift, for which you have my undying gratitude. But let me talk to Rimes and see what I can work out. The government's big on flex time and that would make it almost normal...something like eleven to seven London time."
"Good. You should partner with Leroy. I gather he's a night person and might prefer that shift as well."
She sighed and set her fork down. "The way it looks he's certainly not going to be able to partner with Billie. It's hard to believe but she's totally clueless, you know."
"Clueless? I'd hardly use that descriptor for Billie. Are you certain it's even a good idea?"
"Frankly? No, I'm not. Trying to picture them together...I just can't quite manage it. It's a sort of beer versus wine thing. Does that make me a snob?"
"No, it makes you realistic. However, I might point out that Leroy is a bit of a chameleon. He fits in most anywhere, even if he does tend to hide his own positive attributes and plays up those of others. It's a good technique if you want to stop people from noticing you."
"Now why would he want to escape notice?" she asked.
"I don't know. Until recently he seemed fairly ordinary. Perhaps he's just the sort of fellow who doesn't like praise. He seems a modest fellow. Odd that, amongst those we know."
"I'm not even going to go there," she said. "And to change the subject, I'm told Edwards is interviewing his preferred candidate today. Bobbie suggested, when I asked what I was going to do with a maid, that it was a perfect excuse to go shopping so she'd have something to take care of."
"Excellent idea. The three of you can hit all the trendy London shops. It will be a change for you. Invite them to stay the weekend, if they're off."
She laughed. "I will. We can invite all your single male friends over and the three of us can pile on the southern charm. Edwards would adore it."
"Yes, I've been meaning to speak with him. Better I remind him you're off the market at least for the moment. I'll aim him at Billie or Bobbie. Do you, by the way, actually want a maid? You could just tell Edwards no, you realize. He'll be devastated but he'll live through it."
"I considered it," she said, her tone suddenly confiding. "But then I realized that not only would he be devastated, he'd probably feel compelled to take on all the work that would have fallen to her that he could."
"Ah, well, there is that. You know, I want you to be comfortable. I don't expect you to change your attitudes, Betty Jo. I love you as you are."
"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "And I am comfortable you know, sinfully so I sometimes think. Are you?"
He cocked his head and regarded her for a moment. "Rather frightfully so, I'm afraid. I keep wondering when things will start to go wrong."
"Let's not borrow trouble. I feel sure we've earned a long period of dull routine with no crises intervening."
"Ah, an optimist. I pray you're right. So, what is on your agenda for today besides maids?"
"Work. And I'll call Billie later, see how she's doing. Other than that not very much. How about yours?"
"I'm scheduled for a working lunch at my club and I've had a rather cryptic phone call from the current Earl of Charlbury. I dare say he's a few questions. What could Leroy have done to make the poor fellow suspicious?" Ian's lips were twitching.
"Whatever he could think of, I suspect," she said, laughing. "Well you can tell me all about the poor man's trauma at the hands of the colonials tonight."
Edwards reached down to smooth the cover on the bed and then he ran his eyes over the room once again. It was a small room comparatively speaking, but still quite large as servants quarters went. And luxurious. It communicated with the boudoir through a door that was hidden by the wallpaper and the wainscotting. It was so flush it was nearly invisible unless you knew where to look for it. The room itself looked out over the street rather than the gardens behind the townhouse. But then the street gave a view of Green Park so it was still quite pleasant. It received afternoon sunlight and the curtains were such that they allowed that light in, to spill over the sitting area, where a comfortable easy chair, reading light and stool awaited a soon to be selected occupant.
Yes, it would do for most lady's maids, he was quite certain. And if it didn't for this one well then she was entirely the wrong sort.
He turned and marched down to the servants quarters and found Cook bustling around making tea for him and for the applicant.
"Have you gotten with Ms Dubois about the meals, Roxy?" Edwards asked Cook.
"Aye, I have," Roxy replied. "I've got the grocers sorted too. She seems a nice lady, Ned."
Edwards nodded. "That she is. Doesn't seem to be very demanding, and she's making Lord Avery easier to live with, if I do say so."
Roxy chuckled and poured water over the leaves in the teapot. "Now you be strict with this woman. Ms Dubois deserves someone as well mannered and proper as you are, Ned, even if the current crop of youngsters are a sight."
Edwards nodded, as the bell at the servants'entrance rang. "That'll be her now. Or at least it should be," Edwards replied and went to get the door, leaving Withers, the butler, to sleep in his rocking chair undisturbed.
Ned opened the door and smiled, "Hullo."
She smiled back, friendly but still with a degree of reserve. Her light coat was buttoned except for the top one, and her hair confined to a simple twist at the back of her head. "Hullo. I'm Miss Collins, Jenelle Collins. The agency sent me over; at your request I believe," she said, speaking clearly and with a soft, pleasant voice.
"Come in then Miss Collins. I'm Ned Edwards, Lord Avery's gentleman's gentleman. I'm handling the interviews tis true. Our butler, Mr. Withers, is a bit on in years and has only recently been moved to London from the country house. Lord Avery prefers his duties be light, in honor of his advanced years. If you'll come this way into the servant's sitting room, we'll have tea and a bit of a chat."
"Thank you," she said and followed him.
The sitting room was pleasant with comfortable chairs and a fireplace for the winter. The dining table sat at one corner of the room. "We're a small household, Miss Collins. Until recently I was the only live-in servant as Lord Avery spent little enough time here. Cook and the maids come in during the day and leave after tea. Your duties, if you fit here, will be a bit more than just a lady's maid, as you can no doubt imagine. The lady in question, Miss Dubois, is American and is not used to servants. So her needs for personal attention will be limited. Mostly you'd be expected to see to her clothing and her personal shopping if needed and other such things as she might request of you. There's a room here for a live-in Lady's Maid, but if you preferred otherwise, I am open to alternatives. Miss Dubois, of course, will have the final say on whether you are hired."
"It sounds very clear, Mr. Edwards. In what way would my duties be -- 'a bit more than just a lady's maid'-- I believe you said?"
"Well, I'm not entirely certain, Miss Collins. I expect you'll just have to see how things go. Now tell me about yourself, beyond the little here that I have in the application sent over by the agency. For instance, is travel an interest of yours? And would you be all right with time spent at Lord Avery's country house?"
"I was recently Lady Fanshawe's maid, until her demise a few weeks ago. I'd been with her for eight years. I would enjoy travel I think, though I have not had the opportunity to do very much, Lady Fanshawe being elderly and not inclined to it. I was raised in the country, in Hadley outside of Ipswich, so I would have no trouble if the household removed to his lordship's country estate. Do you anticipate a degree of travel?"
"Generally speaking, Lord Avery travels alone and leaves me in charge of the household whilst he's gone. But with the new lady in the house, I'm not entirely certain things will remain that way. Particularly if he anticipates staying more than a few days running in the country.
"As Lady Fanshawe's maid you must indeed have led a quiet life. It is true that Lord Avery has mostly entertained at his club, having few dinner parties and such, I 'm not sure that won't change, as the lady has already invited her sisters here for the weekend. So I anticipate much more activity round here. Oh, and how are you with... odd happenings. Don't scare easily do you?"
"Odd happenings?" she asked.
"Yes. The usual. The master fancies himself a sort of, uhm, magician. We act as if nothing whatever is out of the normal. Can you do that?"
She nodded. "Of course. In those sorts of situations that is what one does."
"Are you all right with firearms?" Ned asked, looking at notes he pulled from his breast pocket.
"I have never had the occasion to fire one, but my father and brothers enjoyed country sports."
"That's all right then. The lady is a law enforcement officer, so she quite often carries one and you'll see her cleaning hers. There, now I think I've covered most of my questions. Have you any for me?"
"Given her occupation I would assume the lady does not keep to a regular routine," she said.
"Correct. We are, however, attempting to alter the ways of the house to better enable her to get the rest she needs."
"In what way, Mr. Edwards?"
"Well, as in letting her sleep late when she can and not assuming breakfast is at a set time. Oh, and the master and she generally take breakfast on a tray in his rooms. Which is easier on us, I might add."
She nodded. "While I have understood you to say that Lord Avery does not entertain at home, or rather has not, does the lady maintain a full social schedule?"
"I've no idea. Given her work schedule possibly not."
"Would it be necessary to schedule my days off or would they be set each week? And the household itself, are there, well rules, that I should be aware of?"
"Well, the usual sorts of rules, of course, no talking out of school, and being flexible with respect to social arrangements and travel. Have you preferred days off? Other than the weekends, I don't see that as a problem. Generally speaking Lord Avery is quite ready to dismiss us from responsiblities and gives us a good deal of time off when he can. The job here is hardly onerous, and the salary, as you have seen, most generous."
"No, I have no preference and am perfectly willing to be flexible. I merely wish to have the outline clear in my mind." She hesitated, looking at her cup for a moment. "In asking this last question I am asking in order to determine if this would be a good fit for me, not because I wish to pry into matters that are not my concern. I hope you can understand that when I say I would be grateful if you could tell me a little about the personalities of Lord Avery and the lady?"
Ned frowned down at his own teacup. "I'm not certain how to answer that, Miss Collins. Lord Avery is a gentleman. He does not shout at the staff, nor does he expect miracles from us. Yet, when he wants something he wants it, as I dare say only makes sense. As for the lady, she seems quite pleasant and undemanding. Whether that will change, I cannot say. It is as new to her as it is to us."
"Yes, I rather took the majority of that for granted. I meant more in terms of is the lady the quiet sort for example. I was brought up to service, and it has been my experience and observation that there are some ladies who sometimes desire a level of -- companionship is perhaps the best description or they prefer a more formal or a more casual sort of interaction."
"Casual I should think from her, given as how she treats me."
"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate your frankness. Is there anything else I can tell you?"
"A bit about your background, perhaps. You said you were brought up in service?"
"My parents were in service for many years, until I was a teenager. Then they retired, if it may be called that, to open their own public house. As a result I have done a bit of most sorts of service work. Even some cooking and I was trained in table and wine service."
"Ah, I see. And would you be averse to helping out the staff in the event of public events and dinners?"
She smiled. "No, not at all."
"Excellent. I will present your papers along with several others to Miss Dubois within the next day or two and then will get back with you. She may wish to interview you herself. Will that be acceptable?"
"Certainly. I am at her disposal. And thank you for taking the time to answer my questions."
Ned saw her off and turned to Cook, shaking his head. "I'm not sure if she'll work out. One shudders to think what may happen the first time Nicco drops in for a visit."