Mrs. Jeffries Speaks Her Mind (33 page)

Smythe knew she was up to something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it might be. She had done him proud today, and though it went against his nature not to try and protect her from everything he possibly could, she was right, she could take care of herself. “Alright, you’ve got my word. Now, tell me what this is all about. Is something botherin’ you? Are you still bothered by Phyllis?”

“Nothing is bothering me and I made my peace with Phyllis this morning. As a matter of fact, everything is wonderful.” She took a deep breath. “But our life is going to change. We’re going to have a baby.”

Dumbstruck, he gaped at her.

“Did you hear me?” She poked him in the arm. “I said we’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh, my God in heaven.” He pulled her close and enveloped her against his chest in a tight hug. “I’m going to be a father! I’m going to be a father!”

“Yes, you are.” She laughed.

“Blast a Spaniard! You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.” He suddenly released her and drew back, looking at her closely. “Are you alright? Should I call a doctor? Do you need to sit down?”

“I am sitting down,” she said dryly. “And now we’d better have that discussion about respecting my wishes.”

 

Witherspoon walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen. He knew his household would be having their afternoon tea and he had something important he needed to share with them. He’d thought hard about his decision and, to some degree, it made him very sad, but on the other hand he knew it was the right thing to do.

“Why, Inspector, I didn’t hear you come in,” Mrs. Jeffries said as he entered the room. “Would you like some tea? There’s plenty.”

“Yes, I believe a cup would be nice,” he replied. She started to get up but he waved her back into her chair. “I can sit anywhere, Mrs. Jeffries, you’re fine where you are.” He slipped into the spot next to Wiggins.

Betsy got up and grabbed another place setting. She put it on the table and sat down. She looked at the housekeeper and noted her easy smile had disappeared. Mrs. Goodge had sobered as well.

No one said a word as Mrs. Jeffries poured the tea and passed the cup down to the inspector. “There’s plenty of food, sir,” she said brightly.

“Perhaps later, Mrs. Jeffries,” he replied. He cleared his throat. “I’ve something I want to say to all of you. This morning, you all came very close to having your lives taken by a madwoman. All of you acted with good sense and bravery. I was very proud.”

There were murmurs of “thank you” all around the table.

“But despite how brave or clever any of you might be, you wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for me.” They started to protest, but he held up his hand for silence. “It’s the truth.”

“Inspector, what are you trying to tell us?” Mrs. Jeffries had a terrible feeling about this.

“Before I tell you, I want you all to know something.” He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat again. When he turned back to them, he said, “Most of my life, I lived in very modest circumstances, and after my mother passed away, the only person I had to consider was myself. I come from a very small family. My father died when I was two and, growing up, I had only my mother and my aunt, Euphemia. When I inherited this house from Euphemia, and the means to keep it up, I had no idea at that time that I’d be gaining another family, all of you.”

“We feel the same, Inspector,” Wiggins muttered.

“And I’m very glad you do,” he replied. “Nonetheless, once one has feelings for others, once one has watched a young lad grow to manhood or walked a young woman down the aisle”—he smiled at Betsy, who was blinking back tears—“one can’t turn away from one’s true duty. I’m responsible for all of you and I almost cost you your lives.” He took another deep breath. “I can’t let that happen again. I won’t let it happen again. That’s why, tomorrow, I’m resigning from the Metropolitan Police Force.”

There was a shocked silence.

Mrs. Jeffries pushed back from the table and stood up. “In that case, sir, you’ll have no objection if I speak my mind.”

“No, of course not,” he replied. “But you shan’t make me change my mind—”

“I won’t try, sir,” she interrupted. “I’ll simply speak my mind and you can do as you will.”

“Go ahead.” He eyed her warily.

“To begin with, you certainly didn’t do anything that would jeopardize our lives; Bernadine Fox did.”

“But she wouldn’t have come here if she hadn’t wanted to kill me. You heard her, she told me I’d ruined all her plans,” he stated flatly. “If not for me, none of you would have been in danger.”

“You give yourself too much credit, sir,” she said bluntly. His eyes widened in surprise, but she continued speaking. “Not that you aren’t a brilliant detective, sir—you are—but any of us could have come across a demented soul like Mrs. Fox in the normal course of our lives. Life is filled with risk. Each morning when we get out of our beds, we’re taking the chance this will be the day we draw our last breath. But we do it anyway, we get up and face the world. We don’t lie there with the covers over our heads, too scared to get out and live our lives.”

“No, of course we don’t,” he murmured.

“Inspector, none of us can really understand what you face each and every time you step out the door and go to work, but we’ve all felt that, in some small way, we’ve helped to contribute to your success.”

“Your contributions haven’t been small.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have been successful without my household, without all of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied. “That is kind of you to say, but, much as we all enjoy working for the famous Inspector Witherspoon, I think I can safely speak for everyone when I say that what we’re most proud of is your commitment to justice. You’re not afraid of the truth; you don’t let politics, social status, or wealth influence you when you’re trying to catch a killer. That is a very rare quality, sir. Because you believe in truth, you’ve arrested the truly guilty and saved countless innocent people from prison or, even worse, the gallows.”

He blushed with pleasure. “Nonetheless, I don’t want to put anyone else I care about at risk, ever again.”

“You ain’t puttin’ us at risk, sir, life is,” Wiggins muttered. “People die all the time, sir, even without crazy people chuckin’ lamps through windows. Most of us in this room don’t have anyone but each other because all the people we loved died a long time ago. None of them was murdered. They just died.”

“Well put, Wiggins.” Mrs. Goodge stared at Witherspoon. “I can honestly say that the fact that I can make you good meals and occasionally share a bit of gossip about one of your suspects has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know it’s not much, but I like to think I play a tiny part in catchin’ killers. That has made my life worthwhile. For the sake of an old woman, please don’t leave your position.”

“If you’ll remember, sir,” Betsy added, “Bernadine Fox might have tried to kill us, but when you all come running out of the house, I was pounding her, not the other way around. If Smythe hadn’t pulled me off, I’d have beaten her good and proper. We can take care of ourselves and each other, sir.”

Witherspoon looked around the faces at the table and they stared back at him with their features mirroring all manner of emotions, but the one thing he didn’t see was fear. He smiled broadly. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a household, but I am a very blessed man.”

“Does that mean you ain’t quittin’?” Wiggins wanted to be sure about this before he allowed himself to feel relief.

“Yes, that means I’m not quitting.” Witherspoon laughed. “I guess the Metropolitan Police Force will be stuck with me for some time to come.”

“Good, then,” Betsy said. She cleared her throat. “Now that that’s settled, Smythe and I have something we’d like to say.”

“I hope you’re not announcing you’re going to Australia,” the cook groused. “My nerves can’t take any more bad news.”

Mrs. Jeffries ducked her head to hide her smile. She didn’t want to steal their thunder.

“It’s good news, Mrs. Goodge,” Betsy promised. She glanced at her husband. “Do you want to tell them or should I?”