The Truth About Verity Sparks Read Online Free PDF Page B

pile of newspaper clippings out of the way. “Here we are,” he said kindly, and then whispered, “It will be all right, Miss Sparks. Don’t worry.”
    Worry?
Worry?
I was beside myself. What were they up to, bringing me all the way out here? And as to staying the night – well, the idea! But how was I going to get back to Ma Bolivar’s? Would Mr Plush send me back in the carriage, or put me on a train? He’d have to pay my fare, I reasoned, since he’d taken me to wherever this was. I shoved my bag under the chair and sat down, very stiff and awkward, just as Etty and a younger girl came into the room carrying trays.
    “Ah, tea!” said Mr Plush senior, as if it was a surprise. After all, it was him that had rung the bell. He lifted the lid of one silver dish. “Anchovy toast.” And then the other. “Teacakes.” He rubbed his hands together. “
Bon appétit
, Miss Sparks.”
    “Beg pardon?”
    “He hopes you’re hungry,” said young Mr Plush.
    Well, I was, and they were as well – those gentlemen really could tuck it away – but after we’d taken the edge off with toast, cakes and tea, Mr Plush senior got down to business. Very serious, he was.
    “Miss Sparks, on Saturday we thought that Lady Throttle had made a silly mistake. Today, we realise that she has attempted to use us for her own purposes, and we don’t like being used. We don’t like being treated as fools. And we most especially don’t like seeing an innocent person hurt by the selfish machinations of others. Is that not right, SP?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Lady Throttle has made a grave mistake, my dear. She mistook my son’s youth for naivety and thought she could use him to blame you for the theft of the brooch. When her plan went awry, she sought revenge by getting you dismissed. Perhaps she thought that no one would care what happened to a milliner’s apprentice, but we do, and we would like to see justice done. Do you understand?”
    I nodded. It was a lot of words, but I got the sense of it.
    “Miss Sparks, since we feel in some way responsible for your regrettable predicament, we would be honoured if you would stay with us until we have – what is your term for it, SP?”
    “Cracked the case,” he said, grinning. “You see, Miss Sparks, I don’t always talk like a book.”
    “Mrs Cannister you have already met, but my daughter Judith and my sister Mrs Morcom reside here at Mulberry Hill as well, so you will have no lack of female chaperones.” He twiddled with the ends of his moustache. “And there’s Etty and Cook and Sarah and little Jemima, the scullery maid. Females galore, in fact.”
    I added them up in my head. A housekeeper, a cook, two maids and two ladies made six in all. It seemed Etty was right. I would be as safe as houses.
    I bobbed a curtsey. “I would be very happy to stay, sirs. Thank you very much.”
    “And I believe, Miss Sparks, that you may be able to help me.” Mr Plush senior beamed that lovely smile at me again.
    “Help you, Mr Plush?”
    “SP tells me you are very good at finding things. Your employer, Madame Louisette, swears by you. My son tells me that you attribute your discovery of the brooch to itchy fingers.” I could feel myself blushing. I searched Mr Plush senior’s face for signs that he was laughing at me, but he seemed perfectly serious. “May I ask you to put your powers to the test?”
    “Do you mean you’ve lost something, sir?”
    “My meerschaum.”
    “Pardon?”
    “My favourite pipe. Meerschaum is a clay mineral, hydrous magnesium silicate, and often used to make ornamental pipe bowls.”
    “I see.” I didn’t quite.
    “Meerschaum is German for sea foam.”
    My fingertips began to tingle, ever so faintly. And then I did see. I had a kind of picture inside my head, but not of sea foam or clay or even of a pipe.
    “Is there a purple silk cushion in the house?” I asked. “With tassels?” My fingers were really itching now, and I found