Chapter 8 #2
Exasperation flashed in Daniel’s eyes, but I saw resignation as well. “Very well, I will curb myself until I can see you again. Now, get after Davis before he rouses the house. You might as well tell him the truth. He’ll learn it eventually anyway.”
I’d already decided what I wanted to say and hoped I’d have the chance before Mr. Davis broke the news to Mrs. Bywater.
I accompanied Daniel to the back door, unbolted it, then rose on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “Take care, Daniel.”
He returned the kiss and squeezed my hands. “If Davis cuts up rough, I’ll have a word with him.”
“Very kind.” I couldn’t imagine Mr. Davis doing anything that might be deemed rough, but I knew he could grow quite angry. “Good night, Daniel. Go home and tuck James into bed.”
Daniel guffawed at the image, but he nodded and slipped out.
I bolted the door behind him, then wasted no time hastening out of the kitchen and down the hall to the butler’s pantry. Its door was ajar, Mr. Davis’s candle glimmering inside.
I pushed the door open. Mr. Davis stood at a side table, pouring himself a measure of brandy. He glanced up when I entered, his face like stone.
“Mr. Davis—”
“Please, do not try to explain.” His voice was icy. “I have warned you against that man, Mrs. Holloway. What if Mrs. Bywater had come down and caught you together? You’d be on the street, even at this moment.”
I closed the door so that any other nocturnal wanderer would not hear us.
“I am going to marry him,” I announced quietly. “Not immediately. Sometime next summer.”
Mr. Davis’s expression grew even more forbidding. “Good Lord, I never took you for a madwoman. You’d throw yourself away on the likes of him? I recall you assuring me not long ago that you would not.”
“Daniel is a hardworking, respectable man, who is kind to me,” I said in rising irritation. “Why is it so terrible a thing that I choose him?”
“He likely only wants someone to look after him and to cook decent meals for him.” Mr. Davis held up a hand that trembled.
“Do not grow offended and believe I mean that no one would want to marry you for yourself. But I know his sort. They take whatever is on offer and toss it into the gutter when they are finished.”
“I’m not a green girl, Mr. Davis,” I snapped.
“I’ve had experience before with such a man as you describe.
Long ago,” I hastened to add when Mr. Davis’s brows rose.
“I learned the difference between one who takes advantage and one who treats me with consideration. Daniel is not a bad person in the least. See what fine care he takes of his son.”
“He’ll expect you to help him with that as well,” Mr. Davis muttered.
“James is grown up now. I doubt I’ll have to be his mum.” I firmed my voice. “I have made this choice, and I believe it a good one. But I must ask you to tell no one, as we are keeping it to ourselves for now. Especially not Mrs. Bywater. Please.”
Mr. Davis, if anything, grew even colder. “I had no intention of rushing upstairs to spread tittle-tattle, Mrs. Holloway. If that is what you think of me, I advise you to leave my room and cease speaking to me.”
He had a point, and I climbed down a peg. “Forgive me. You startled me, and I know I have lost your approval, which I value.” I gave his dressing gown another glance. “What are you doing downstairs, anyway?”
“I left a book I wished to peruse.” Mr. Davis lifted a small tome from his table. “When I descended, I saw a light in the kitchen and went to see if all was well.”
His mouth tightened as he recalled what he’d found upon entering.
“I assure you, Daniel’s visit was only to chat,” I said, my dignity returning. “I have not sunk quite as low as you are imagining. Good night, Mr. Davis.”
His reply was only a stiff “Mrs. Holloway.”
I knew I would not move him. I gave him another nod and slipped out the door, closing it again behind me.
My kitchen was cold now without Daniel. I washed up our tea things and the empty plate in the scullery, blew out the candle, and went to bed with much on my mind.
* * *
I dreaded to face Mr. Davis again in the morning, but when I descended from my chamber, the door to his butler’s pantry was closed, and he did not appear.
Mr. Davis had never approved of Daniel, having encountered him only in his capacity as scruffy man of all work. He had no idea of Daniel’s connection to the police, or of the murders he’d solved, or his work that had saved the queen’s life on several occasions.
I wondered if Mr. Davis would approve even if he had known. He had strict ideas of hierarchy among those in service, and in his view, I was marrying a long way beneath me.
Was I, though? Daniel knew nothing of his family, hence our current inquiries.
What if Daniel proved to have come from origins far higher than mine? If Daniel was the missing heir of a viscount or something of that nature, he certainly wouldn’t be able to marry a cook from Cockney London.
I banished such thoughts as nonsense while I kneaded bread, shaped rolls, and fried hash, but the remote possibility niggled at me.
Mr. Davis finally entered the kitchen around the noon hour, plunked down two bottles of wine I’d requested yesterday morning for today’s meals, and glided out again without a word.
I told myself he’d grow used to the notion of me marrying Daniel and forgive me, but my chest ached.
I didn’t like to be at odds with a good friend.
Meanwhile, I considered ways to keep Daniel from running headlong to Bethnal Green and getting killed by one of Mr. Naismith’s henchmen.
Daniel was usually sensible, but he was also as impatient and curious as I was.
In the matter of learning something of his own family, he might not be as prudent as he ought to be.
I mulled things over as I created meals from this week’s leftovers and planned for a grand Sunday dinner.
By the end of the day, I was also planning cakes and scones for an elaborate tea, not one Mrs. Bywater had requested. I sent a note upstairs to Lady Cynthia, asking her if she’d invite the vicar of All Saints in Shadwell to partake of it with her on Saturday afternoon.