Miss Townsend proved so unobtrusive, however, that after a time, even Tess forgot she was there. I sautéed pears for the tart, adding in the last of the dried berries in the larder. Soon spring would arrive, and with it, delicate vegetables tasting of sunshine and rain, a promise that winter’s hold had loosened.
Not long later, Mrs. Redfern, who’d come into the kitchen to fetch a pot of tea for Mrs. Bywater, glanced out of the high windows.
“It’s that Mr. McAdam,” she said stiffly. “With a delivery, it seems.”
I wished I hadn’t raised my head so quickly at the mention of his name. Mrs. Redfern gave me a frown, as though to remind me of her scolding the night before.
“He can’t help making deliveries,” I said, wiping flour from my hands. “It is his job. I do need the things he brings.”
“You do indeed.” Mrs. Redfern fixed me with a gaze. “But he should not linger.”
“Never mind, Mrs. Redfern. As I told you, I am not rushing to elope with him, or even walk out with him. We are friends.”
“Be ever so fine if you did elope,” Tess put in, not helping matters. “He’s sweet on you, Mrs. H.”
“Hush,” I said sternly. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Afternoon, Elsie, Tess, Mrs. Redfern.” Daniel entered on the heels of this comment, moving with his usual briskness through the scullery, a sack across his shoulders. He lowered the sack to the kitchen floor, making a show of rubbing his back. “Good day, Mrs. Holloway. A bit wet out, and your order of potatoes has nearly done me in. Can I beg a bit of coffee from you before I must face the elements once more?”
His face was damp, his cap dripping water on to my clean floor. Mrs. Redfern humphed and marched out with a teapot and cup on a tray. Daniel grinned after her then turned to me.
“Save any scraps for me, Kat? I mean, Mrs. Holloway.”
His dark blue eyes glinted, his smile as charming as ever. He dragged his cap from his head and wrung it out with exaggerated care, making Tess laugh and Elsie giggle.
He cast his gaze about the room as he always did when he entered one, no matter which persona he wore. He spied Miss Townsend in the corner, who had looked up to take us in.
Miss Townsend’s eyes widened the smallest bit, and her lips parted. Daniel’s eyes likewise widened, but so subtly, one had to know him well to discern it. I also saw his very slight shake of head. Miss Townsend subsided, closing her mouth.
Miss Townsend had recognized Daniel, and he her, I could see clear as day. And neither had expected to find the other on this afternoon, in my kitchen.
4
I alone noticed the silent exchange between Daniel and Miss Townsend. Elsie had returned to her sink, and Tess carried on chopping herbs while she burbled at Daniel.
“Mrs. Holloway made us a lovely meat pie for luncheon. There must be some left. I saw her setting back a slice.”
“Yes, indeed.” I finished crimping the tart shell for the pears and wiped my hands on the towel again. “It is in the larder. Would you care to step through with me, Mr. McAdam?”
Daniel clapped his cap to his head. “Come to think of it, I must get on. Many more deliveries to make.”
“It won’t take a moment.” I gave him a hard stare. “And you need to warm yourself.”
I saw Daniel realize refusing me would be a mistake. He gave me his devil-may-care smile and followed me into the corridor to the next room.
“Leave the door open,” Tess called after us. “Or Mrs. Redfern might think you up to something.” Her cackle of laughter drifted off.
I marched into the larder and to the shelf where I’d left the slice of meat pie on a plate covered with a bowl. When I turned around, I found Daniel immediately behind me.
“I was teasing you,” he said in a low voice. “I never expect you to feed me.”
I lifted off the bowl and shoved the pie at him. I’d already laid a fork on the plate in preparation. “You know Miss Townsend,” I declared.
Daniel took the plate and lifted the fork. “Yes.”
I was surprised. Daniel usually answered my direct questions with evasions, rarely the stark truth.
“In Paris?” I guessed, remembering Cynthia saying Miss Townsend had studied with a French lady artist there.
“Yes.”
Again, a straight answer. I waited while Daniel shoved a chunk of pie into his mouth and chewed.
“Were you courting her?”
Daniel gulped down pie, coughing in amazement. “No.”
“An important question, you will agree. I will ask another—was it to do with your police business?”
Daniel broke off a second hunk of pie. “Yes.”
So many acknowledgments in one afternoon. An unusual thing for Daniel.
“How was Ireland?” I asked abruptly.
Daniel chewed and swallowed before he answered. “Cold. Rainy. Gray and gloomy.”
“More police business?”
“Business that is finished.” He eyed the pie as though debating whether to continue eating it, then gave in and attacked it with the fork.
“I believe the day has come,” I said.
Daniel had just taken another large mouthful. He chewed noisily, eyeing me with a frown. “What day?” he asked when he could.
“You have stated many times that one day, you will tell me all your secrets. I believe that day is at hand.”
Daniel’s cheeky twinkle vanished, and he regarded me with the quietness he took on when he faced dire situations. “Not yet.”
I had not thought he would answer. “Will you at least tell me about Miss Townsend?”
Another hesitation and then a shake of his head. A reluctant one. “I can’t. Too soon.”
This did not please me either. “I see.”
Daniel reached the fork to the last bite. “This pie is delicious, Kat. I thank you for it. Haven’t had anything this fine in a while.”
“Flattery.” I watched him scoop up the crust sopping with gravy and bits of meat and shove it into his mouth.
He watched me watch him chew, swallow, and put the fork back into his mouth to savor the last of its juices.
“Truth.” The fork clattered to the plate.
I wasn’t certain I liked him looking at me in all seriousness. The cocky assuredness was easier to bear.
“I came with another purpose,” he said, dipping a hand into his pocket. “My brother . . . Errol . . . wishes to meet with you again. Tomorrow.”