"We must leave me tamily's skeletons to rattle in the dusty dark"
Kate never knew exactly what went on between Aunt Jag-gers and Aunt Sabrina in the library that morning. When Aunt Sabrina dismissed her, she went first to the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Pratt, who was sweeping the floor with an amazing energy.
"Don't know, 'm sure," she said snappishly, when Kate had asked her about the brown felt hat.
"I felt," Kate pressed, "that I had seen the hat before. I recalled the young man who came visiting last evening-Tom Potter. He had such a hat."
Mrs. Pratt stopped sweeping, her face pulled into a scowl. "If yer thinkin' 'twas Tom Potter who came skulkin' roun' the libr'ry, miss, yer wrong."
"But he has reason to dislike-"
"Aye, he has that," Mrs. Pratt said firmly. "But he ain't the sort t' descend t' skulkin'. Me word on't."
And that, for the moment at least, seemed to be that. Although Kate sensed that there was a great deal more to be learned, she was not going to get it out of Mrs. Pratt. She took a basket and scissors and went out into the mild,
bright morning to cut flowers for the luncheon table's centerpiece.
After the night's rain, the asters and roses were bedraggled, but Kate had no difficulty finding more than enough. As she filled her basket, she was frankly glad that Aunt Sabrina had not asked her to attend the meeting with Aunt Jaggers. However Jaggers had managed to extort control of the household, it was an authority she valued and she would not easily yield it up. The confrontation between the two aunts was bound to be a painful one, embroidered with old bitterness and-Kate felt sure-laced with ancient secrets. Kate would have liked to know those secrets, but she was glad to be spared the pain of learning them.
And there was the earlier meeting with all the servants to mull over. While her aunt had talked, Kate had observed their faces and had been surprised to observe that not all were equally delighted with Aunt Sabrina's announcement. Amelia, Nettie, Harriet, and Pocket seemed quite pleased, especially at the prospect of gaining a few creature comforts and perhaps a bit more leisure. Mudd, however, had seemed perturbed at Aunt Sabrina's request that he bring her the household accounts. Why?
Kate frowned and clipped a pink rose, still heavy with raindrops. She dropped it into her basket. Was there something about the accounts that Mudd did not want to reveal? Kate's first thought, for Mudd's reaction fitted neatly into a scenario that Beryl Bardwell was considering for "The Conspiracy of the Golden Scarab," was that Mudd himself had been mishandling the household funds and feared to be found out. If true, Kate thought regretfully, it was a pity. In spite of their initial difficulties, she had come to like him.
And she liked Mrs. Pratt, too. But the cook had been even less pleased than the butler by Aunt Sabrina's announcement-which was very odd, Kate thought. She had expected Aunt Jaggers's downfall to bring a smile of triumphant vindication to Mrs. Pratt's face. But in actual fact, her expression had grown blacker and blacker while Aunt Sabrina was talking, until she looked like a summer thunderstorm. It was as if her anger was focused on both the sisters.
No, it was more than anger, Kate thought. It was hatred she had seen in Mrs. Pratt's eyes. It could only be because of Jenny Blyly-which brought up Tom Potter and the brown felt hat.
Kate shook her head, frowning. The belowstairs situation was clearly complicated, woven through with as much anger and bitterness as that upstairs. Aunt Sabrina would do what she could, but perhaps the problem could not be solved with the simple removal of Aunt Jaggers. She looked toward the French doors onto the terrace, open to the mild morning, and wondered what her aunts were saying to each other in the library. As she did, someone hurriedly pulled the doors shut. Whatever was being said, her aunts did not wish to be overheard.