That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,46

room by Miss Postlethwaite’s cries. They were busily exclaiming over the theft, and cries of, ‘Her necklace!’ and ‘Those magnificent emeralds!’ pierced the night.

‘If I could have your attention,’ said Alex, taking control. He strode into the middle of the ballroom and addressed his guests. ‘It seems that a most unfortunate incident has occurred.’ He turned to Miss Postlethwaite. ‘You are sure you were wearing your necklace tonight? Forgive me for asking, but it is as well to examine every possibility before we consider theft.’

‘Quite sure,’ said Miss Postlethwaite.

‘And the necklace could not have slipped off?’

‘No.’ Miss Postlethwaite spoke definitely. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Then, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Alex, looking round the company, ‘if I might ask you all to remain in the ballroom. Unfortunately I feel it is my duty to call the police, and that being so, I feel sure they will be able to clear this matter up more speedily if we are all in one -’

A rustle of conversation, which had started as a whisper at the back of the room, now found full voice, and someone said, ‘The maid. The maid took it.’

All eyes turned to the hapless maid who stood with a tray full of oysters in the middle of the room.

‘Who said that?’ demanded Alex.

But no one knew where the voice had come from.

‘Might as well search her, just to be on the safe side,’ said Mrs Yarrow sensibly.

‘Go ahead,’ said Gladys, the maid. ‘I ain’t got nothing to hide. Look, all I’ve got in my apron pocket,’ she said, plunging her hand deep into that article of clothing, ‘is . . . ’ Her face changed, and out of the pocket she drew . . .

‘Miss Postlethwaite’s necklace.’ Mrs Yarrow’s voice broke the silence that had filled the room.

A hubbub of voices broke out.

‘I shouldn’t stand for it, Evington,’ came a voice from the crowd.

‘Dismiss her!’ came another.

Alex felt himself rapidly becoming caught up in a nightmare. He had no wish to dismiss Gladys, but he knew that unless he did so - or at least appeared to do so – then Mr Goss would not relax.

Inwardly cursing, Alex said, ‘Gladys, you are dismissed. You will wait in my study until the police arrive.’

‘But I never . . . ’ began Gladys, before she realized it would do no good, and her voice tailed off in a sob. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said brokenly.

‘Take over here,’ said Alex in an aside to Roddy, as Gladys left the room. ‘Soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers and get the evening back on an even keel. It’s no good. Goss has been too slippery for us - this time.’

‘But we will get him?’ asked Roddy anxiously.

‘Oh, yes.’ Alex’s voice was steely. ‘We’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.’

Seething, Cicely followed Gladys from the room. How could Alex have treated the girl so disgracefully? she thought angrily. Following Gladys into the study, she found the poor girl wiping her eyes on her apron and sobbing bitterly.

‘Oh, miss, I never took it!’ Gladys cried, as Cicely slipped into the study behind her.

‘No, of course you didn’t,’ said Cicely soothingly. ‘I never for one moment thought you did.’

‘Oh, miss, I’m that relieved,’ said Gladys, beginning to sob less violently. ‘I thought you suspected me like everyone else and I couldn’t bear it. Not after you was kind enough to get me this job at the Manor.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘But what’s going to happen now, miss? I’ll never get another job. Mr Evington won’t give me a reference, and word of this’ll be all round Little Oakleigh, and Greater Oakleigh, too, by tomorrow, if I don’t miss my guess, so who will employ me now?’

‘Hush, Gladys. Dry your eyes. It is not as bad as you think. If the worst comes to the worst, you can always come and work for me. I have been thinking for some time that I need a maid at the Lodge.’

‘Oh, miss, it’s that kind of you, but everyone knows how hard it’s been for you since your father died. There ain’t no way you can afford to take on a maid, not even with your job at the Manor.’

‘My job at the Manor?’ asked Cicely faintly. She had no idea that anyone else knew about it.

Gladys nodded. ‘Yes, miss. You needs what you make from your job to pay Tom to help Gibson.’

‘How did you know?’ asked Cicely, mystified. ‘I thought I had kept my secret so well.’

‘Ain’t no such thing as a