The Riverboat Mystery (Jenny Starling #3)(6)

‘Right. Might as well start the cruise off on a good nosh-up,’ he agreed cheerfully, and Jenny positively beamed at him.

He was a man after her own heart, despite the rather rough edges.

‘Then something light for lunch — salad, paté, something like that,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘then as lavish a meal as you can manage, say, round about eightish at night?’

Jenny gave him a long, considering look. ‘I can manage a very lavish meal, given the right ingredients,’ she warned him. It was her dream to be let loose on a no-holds-barred feast. She tended, she knew, to go rather over the top though.

Lucas laughed. ‘I bet you can.’

Jenny looked at him archly. ‘How many courses had you in mind, Mr Finch?’

Lucas leered at her. ‘Surprise me, darlin’.’

‘Give us a kiss,’ the parrot interpreted helpfully.

Jenny looked at the bird thoughtfully, then glanced at its laughing-eyed owner.

‘I might just do that,’ she murmured. And then smiled. Well, he’d asked for it!





CHAPTER TWO

Jenny had no intention of sleeping in the narrow and cramped room on the Stillwater Swan that night if she could possibly help it. And certainly not when Wainscott House itself was standing nearby practically empty and presumably just full of comfortable bedrooms with nice big beds! She’d arrived on a Friday afternoon strictly for Mr Lucas Finch’s convenience, and she intended to sleep in one of the spare rooms at his country residence that same Friday night for her own.

A labourer was still worthy of her hire, after all. And so she set about securing these sleeping arrangements with all her usual tact and diplomacy — not to mention downright sneakiness. As with most things, timing was everything.

Just before the deliveries of food were due to arrive, Jenny was sitting on a garden chair under a large plum tree, with her small case by her feet. She had deliberately kept it by her side, and now she gave it a thoughtful glance. She was waiting, very patiently, for the opportunity to deposit it where she wanted it and, inevitably, her patience was eventually rewarded.

Catching sight of a grey-haired figure at the kitchen sink, she promptly rose to her feet, grabbed her case and made her way to the kitchen through the well-tended vegetable garden. The housekeeper, busy filling a glass vase with water ready for a spray of gladioli, jumped a little as a large shadow fell over her, then turned sharply, her rather frosty face thawing a little at the sight of the cook. She obviously had no objection to her employer asking an outside agency to cook for his weekend guests, and Jenny guessed that the woman was glad to have a weekend off. So much the better — in her subconscious at least, she probably already felt as if she owed the new arrival a favour.

Jenny smiled at her pleasantly. ‘Hello. You must be Mr Finch’s housekeeper?’ She held out her hand, forcing the woman to put down the vase. ‘I’m Miss Starling — but please, call me Jenny.’

The older woman shook her hand, looking a little flustered now.

‘I was hoping you could show me to my room?’ Jenny said, and looked at her case helplessly. ‘I’m expecting the food to be delivered soon and I must go over it all. I wouldn’t put it past the greengrocer to try and palm me off with bruised peaches or marked plums.’

The housekeeper, who introduced herself as Beatrice Jessop, tut-tutted and agreed that nowadays shopkeepers would indeed take the most atrocious liberties, should you let them.

‘Exactly,’ Jenny agreed, as if she’d been listening to the Wisdom of Solomon. ‘So I’d really like to just unpack my night things and stow away my case before rolling up my sleeves, so to speak, to do battle. I imagine I’m to be put up in the room next to yours? We are the only two ladies in the house, I presume? Or does Mr Finch have a partner?’

The housekeeper, who’d obviously had no such orders from her employer to prepare a room for the cook, very quickly agreed that, obviously, Jenny was to have a room next to hers. Where else? Professional women should stick together after all. And no, her employer was so far very much a bachelor.

Soon Jenny was helping the by now thoroughly thawed housekeeper to make up a fresh bed in a pleasant and large room at the rear of the house. It had a charming view overlooking the village, with its old church, well-maintained village green and picturesque cottages.

Mrs Jessop then very tactfully withdrew, and Jenny slipped a voluminous — but quite sexily diaphanous — white nightdress under her pillow and straightened up again. She gave the sturdy double bed a satisfied smile, nodded once in satisfaction, and left the room. On the landing she couldn’t resist stopping at the window to look down at the winding, wide river, and the Stillwater Swan at her mooring. From the second floor, the boat looked even more impressive. Having an overall, prow-to-stern look at it, she saw at once that it was surprisingly large. It was a good thing, she mused, that the river had been recently dredged and enlarged or she’d doubt the Swan would be able to clear it. Although she supposed that good old Father Thames had seen — and accommodated — much more prestigious boats in his time.

She’d spent the afternoon minutely exploring every inch of the beautiful paddle steamer, unable to resist it. It had, she knew, three large bedrooms on the top floor, including the master suite, which faced the front. A spacious bathroom had every modern convenience, including flushing toilet, shower and full bath. Down below, as well as the main salon/dining room and galley, it had a games room, and another toilet. At the rear was a large expanse of open decking, on which to play quoits or even, if you didn’t mind being just a touch cramped, a game of badminton.