That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,8

Roddy, it’s that I managed to earn enough money to rescue our sister from that life, otherwise what would have become of her? She was turned out onto the streets without a reference, with no way to prove her innocence, and all because of Goss. But we’ll catch him, Roddy. We’ll nab him red-handed. We’ll show him up for the liar and thief he is.’

‘And to that end, you’ll have to be nice to Miss Haringay,’ Roddy reminded him. ‘Charm her. Win her over. We need her on our side. If she accepts us, then the rest of the county will do the same. They’ll be delighted to come to our balls and entertainments, and then we have only to tempt the thief with the kind of jewels he likes and we have him.’

Alex pushed away his empty plate. ‘You’re right. What does eating a little humble pie matter if it means we can clear Katie’s name? I’ll be as charming as the day is long to Miss Haringay, and I won’t return until she’s promised to come to our first ball.’

Cicely was in the kitchen of the Lodge, looking at the range. It was a large, black contraption which at the moment reminded her of a sleeping dragon. Which was a pity, because what she really wanted to see was an angry dragon, all heat and fire and dancing flames. Because then, and only then, would she be able to get some hot water and have a proper bath.

The range was, without doubt, the most contrary thing she had ever encountered in her life. And yet the range at the Manor had always been so obedient. Mrs Crannock, the cook, had never had any trouble with it, and had made the most delicious meals on it. But the range at the Lodge seemed to have a mind of its own.

‘I’ve tried everything I can think of, miss,’ said Gibson unhappily, ‘but it won’t heat the water properly and it keeps going out.’

‘What did Mrs Crannock used to do?’ Cicely felt as helpless as Gibson in the face of the uncooperative range.

‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ said Gibson. He drew himself up a little as he spoke.

‘Of course not,’ said Cicely soothingly. She realized that she had, unwittingly, ruffled Gibson’s feathers. At the Manor, Gibson had been a person of consequence. As the Haringays’ butler he had been at the top of the servants’ hierarchy, and it would have been beneath his dignity to enquire into such menial matters. ‘If only Mrs Crannock was still at the Manor we could ask her, but Mr Evington has brought his own servants down from the city with him and as Mrs Crannock has taken a well-deserved position with Lord Boothlake, she is no longer here for us to ask.’

‘No, miss,’ said Gibson.

Cicely looked helplessly at the range. ‘We must have hot water. There’s a copper-load of clothes to be washed, and on top of that we will need the range if we are to have a hot meal.’ She picked up the poker and, opening the small door at the front of the range, she poked hopefully at the coals. ‘It is worse than I thought,’ she said. ‘There is no spark at all. It has completely gone out. Well, we must simply light it again. You pump the bellows, Gibson, whilst I get it alight.’

‘Very good, miss,’ said Gibson.

Ten minutes later, Cicely at last succeeded in lighting the range. Gibson pumped manfully with the bellows and the small glow began to grow larger until the range was well and truly alight.

Cicely gave a sigh of relief and straightened up, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. Keeping her hair in its fashionable pompadour style was not easy when she had so much work to do. Stray strands would keep working free of their pins and falling in soft tendrils around her face.

She had just pushed it back into place when there came a knock at the front door.

‘Are you at home, miss?’ asked Gibson. He slipped on his frock coat and prepared to answer the door.

‘Yes, Gibson,’ said Cicely. ‘I will go through into the sitting-room. You may show the visitor in there.’ She went over to the sink and washed her sooty hands, shaking off the excess water and drying them thoroughly on one of the kitchen towels before going into the sitting-room.

The sitting-room was a pretty apartment at the back of the house. It was well-proportioned,