Mushroom Pudding
3/4LB. or flour, 6 ozs. or chopped white vegetable butter, 1 tsp. baking powder, cold water, 1 qt. button or cup musnrooms, pepper and salt.
Make a crust with the flour, taking powder, ana 5 ozs. of the matter. Line with it a greased pudding-basin. Put in the mushrooms with the remaining oz. of butter, pepper and salt ana moisten with a little water. Finish off like a beefsteak pudding. Boil or steam for one and one-half hours or longer.
One of the girls was gone from the line outside the servants' hall, her place taken by a stout, scowling woman of middle age whose black brows were drawn together over small, suspicious eyes. She gave Charles a dour look as he rapped at the door, then went in without waiting for a summons.
The constable was sitting at one end of the table, talking with a seated girl of eleven or twelve, her hair plaited into a single thick braid down her back, her face so white the freckles stood out, giving her a fragile look. Charles frowned. He was steadfastly against the employment of young children, and his heart went out immediately to the girl sitting on the edge of the chair, nervously answering the constable's questions.
The constable looked up, irritated. "I said no interruptions," he barked, and then pushed back his chair, his face blank with surprise. "Charlie? Charlie Sheridan, is that vow?"
"It is, Ned," Charles said, and gave his old friend a warm handshake. "How many years has it been?"
"All of twenty, I'd warrant," Laken said. His ruddy face split with a grin. He stood back, shaking his head. "Sir Charles, is it?"
"An honor bestowed liberally is scarcely an honor," Charles said with a dismissive wave. "I was only one of
dozens the Queen showered with her largesse. So you are of the Scotland Yard sort after all."
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Laken glanced at the girl, who was gaping up at them. "I'm just finishing up here. Shall I treat you to a pint at the Head afterward? You can tell me what you have been up to."
"Yes to the pint," Charles said, pulling out a chair, "although we may have to choose a later day. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to join this business." He smiled at the girl. "Which are you, child? Scullery or tweeny?"
"Scullery, sir," the girl said nervously. "Harriet."
"Ah, good, Harriet," Charles said. He took out his bundle, put it on the table in front of Laken. "D'you remember, Ned, our tramps through the woods in those long-gone days, and what we often found there?" He untied the handkerchief.
The constable studied the mushroom carefully, an intent look on his face. ' 'Is this what I think it is?''
"Quite. Do you mind if I ask a question or two of the young lady?"
The constable nodded, and Charles turned to the girl. "I would like you to tell me what you can about the preparation of the evening meal. Did you assist?''
"Oh yes, sir." The girl beamed with obvious pride. "Cook said I were a great help."
The constable leaned forward. "How was that?"
The girl was eager. "Well, I done as usual, cleanin' pots and straight'nin' the table. Then she let me cut up th' mushrooms fer th' puddin'." She spoke with a sense of having learned a new skill, one that was usually reserved to those of higher place in the kitchen.
"Go on," the constable prompted.
"Well, ye see, sir, things were'n a frightful state on account o' we hadn't 'xpected to do luncheon fer comp'ny. And then th' sweets tray were knocked into th' fire, which weren't nobody's fault. We was just too busy, we was, wot wi flyin' round, tryin' to get it all done up proper. An' then Cook had t' make a new sweet 'cause th' other were all over soot an' she asked me t' cut up th' mushrooms fer th' puddin'. I'd never done't before, so she showed me."
"And what did she say?" the constable asked.
"She said as there was diff rent kinds an' I was t' cut 'em all up together like th' one she done."
Charles slid the open bundle in front of the girl. "Did any of the mushrooms you cut up look like this?"
The girl glanced at the specimen. She answered without hesitation. "Yessir."
"Are you sure? This is important."
"Yessir," the girl replied. " Twas th' very last one I cut up. 'Twas so beautiful, I wanted t' put it in. I knew t'wud make th' puddin' taste grand."
Laken looked sharply at Charles. Charles nodded very slightly. The girl caught the glance.
"T'weren't nuthin' wrong with it," she said defensively. "If it'ud bin bad, it wudn't o' bin in th' basket, wud it?"
Charles nodded reassuringly. "Can you tell us where the mushrooms came from?"
"Sometimes Cook gets 'em in th' woods. Sometimes Pocket picks 'em. Sometimes they're bought."
"Yesterday's mushrooms," Charles said. "Were they picked, or bought?"
The girl hesitated, obviously wondering why she was being asked so many questions about the mushrooms. "I dunno, sir. Cook just handed me th' basket."
"I see," Charles said. He smiled. "Do you and Cook get along?''
The girl's smile echoed his. "Oh, t' be sure, sir," she said brightly. "She's almost like me mum. She kep' Mrs. Jaggers from-" She caught herself in midsentence, her guilty expression mirroring her realization that she might be saying too much.
"From what, Harriet?" Charles asked gently. When she did not answer, he said, ' 'Come now, child, someone will tell us. If not you, one of the others. What did Mrs. Jaggers threaten to do?"
"She din't threaten, sir." The girl's anger was artless. "She done it! She beat me till Cook made her stop. An' she beat Nettie too, an' locked her in th' cellar in th' dark o' night, blackin' grates, e'en a'ter her candle went out." She
began to sniffle. "Not t' speak ill o' th' dead, sir, but Mrs. Jaggers weren't a kind woman."
"And how did Cook make her stop beating you?"
Harriet looked up, torn between her reluctance to betray Cook's rashness but proud of her daring. " 'Twas only water, sir. Nothin' wot'd harm."
"Water?"
"Cook dumped th' slops on her head. Then Jaggers give her th' sack."
"She did?" The constable's eyebrows went up.
"Yes, but th' young miss put a stop t'it." Harriet's sniffles gave way to tears, and the sorrow of long-held and deeply felt offense. "T'weren't just th' way she beat me, sir, or Nettie. Before us'ns 'twere Jenny, who died cause o' her." The tears and the words, intermingled, flowed faster, punctuated by hiccups. "An' Jaggers took th' fire an' th' sofa an' th' jam, an' Miss Ardleigh was goin' to give 'em all back an' now she's dead too an' I'll have t'find a new place." The thin shoulders shook with the awful realization of unknown horrors ahead, and tears streaked unchecked down the pallid cheeks.
"That's enough for now, Harriet," Laken said quietly. "You may go. But you are not to speak of this to anyone else, in any circumstance. Do you understand?''
With a gulping nod, the girl wiped her nose on her apron. Then she stood up and almost ran from the room.
Laken reached for Charles's bundle and poked at the toadstool with his finger. "I take it that you found this on the premises?''
"In the kitchen storeroom," Charles said, "in a basket with various edible mushrooms. The symptoms of the poisonings are consistent with ingestion of Amanita-severe abdominal cramps, vomiting, violent diarrhea, jaundice, coma. These may occur up to twelve hours after the fungus is ingested, and death can take place within fifteen."
The constable was thoughtful. "So it appears that the two women died of eating the mushroom pudding prepared by Mrs. Pratt, who-if the girl can be relied on-may have strongly resented her employers. You concur, I take it, with
my feeling that the girl's involvement was quite innocent?"
"That is my impression as well," Charles replied. "Mrs. Pratt had both means and opportunity, and the girl has revealed a possible motive. You may find others when you begin to probe. I would especially dig into this business about the dead girl, Jenny. There is also some connection to the parlor maid, who seemed to feel her death quite keenly."
"Jenny Blyly," Laken said. "They're sisters." He stood up. "This part of the job is not my cup of tea. I frankly prefer to go after poachers."
' 'Are you going to take her in?''
"Yes. People seem more ready to tell the truth when they're not surrounded by the comforts of home." He looked around at the bare, bleak room. "However comfortless it may be."
Charles would have liked to hear Cook's story. But one of the unfortunate responsibilities of staying at Marsden Manor was the requirement of punctual attendance at tea. He stood.
"Then I leave you to it, old man," he said. "Would you mind conveying my farewell to Miss Ardleigh? I will let myself out by the kitchen door." There was no point in once more confronting the woman who had met his well-intentioned efforts with such an ill grace. He would only be embarrassed by her apologies when she learned that she had him to thank for apprehending the killer in her kitchen.
Laken held up his hand. "One more question before you go," he said with a thoughtful look. "Could the young woman have eaten the mushroom pudding and showed no ill effects?"
"Not likely," Charles said. "In fact, she told me that she did not eat any pudding."
Laken's thoughtful look deepened. "I wonder why not," he said.