Free Anything But Civil by Anna Loan-Wilsey Page A

handed me a cup of coffee.
    “No, not everyone would’ve done what you did. It took real bravery to do what you did.”
    “But I didn’t even think about it. I was acting on instinct.”
    “Should’ve known you’d be so brave,” she said as if she hadn’t heard me. “People said you faced down a murderer after all.” I flinched at her reference to the murder of my previous employer.
    “I’m not brave, Mrs. Cassidy. And I’m certainly no hero.” I looked down at myself. I was a mess. I was wearing a man’s coat, several sizes too big for me; my dress was filthy, wrinkled, and torn in several places. Even my new rubber boots were covered with ice, mud, and grime. I touched my head and could only imagine the state of my hair. And my hat, where had I left my hat? “I’m simply cold, filthy, and slightly embarrassed.”
    Granted I couldn’t think of what else I should’ve done. The child was drowning. But what would Sir Arthur think of my escapade? Would he approve of my rescuing the girl or merely think me impulsive? I glanced at the kitchen clock.
    It won’t matter if I don’t get back right now, I thought. The Baineses’ train was about to arrive any minute and I’d be out of my job.

C HAPTER 9
    W hen I returned to Sir Arthur’s house, all I wanted to do was run up the back stairs, get to my room without being seen, and change my clothes. None of that happened. Instead, as I came out of the kitchen, before I could even get to the stairs, Ida was in the doorway, blocking my way.
    “Oh, mein Gott! ” she declared. “What happened to you, ja? ”
    “It’s a long story and I need to change quickly. The Baineses will be here any minute.”
    “Too late, meine Freundin. They’re already here , ja. He wasn’t pleased you weren’t here to greet them. I was sent to find you.”
    “Oh, I better be quick.”
    “ Nein, nein. You have to come with me now.” She took my arm, as if she expected me to dash out the door and escape Sir Arthur’s reprimand, and pulled me toward the parlor door. “If you don’t come, it will be my trouble, ja? ”
    “All right, all right.” I tossed the borrowed gloves and cloak over Ida’s outstretched arm but didn’t know what to do with my boots. “This is ridiculous, Ida. I can’t go in there with boots on and looking like this.” I attempted to repin my hair in place without the aid of a mirror.
    “But you must,” Ida said, helping me with my hair. “You go in and I’ll get your shoes. You can change later, ja? ”
    Ida escorted me to the parlor and knocked. “I found Hattie, Herr, ” she announced. As I entered the room, my worst fears were confirmed. Sir Arthur was not alone. Lieutenant Triggs and his wife turned at my approach. A tall, handsome, impeccably dressed man in his fifties with a full head of silvery-blond hair and a short, tidy mustache stood leaning against the wall next to the fire. He winked at me. I blushed, confused until he did the same thing a moment later when he was looking elsewhere. I’d come to recognize it as a nervous twitch in his eye. But what did he have to be nervous about?
    Also in the room, seated on the settee closest to the fire, chatting about the barely palatable breakfast she had been served on the train, was a woman in her early fifties, who, though still attractive, must have been striking in her youth. Her light brown hair showed not a single streak of gray; her complexion was creamy and flawless except the few wrinkles etched into the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her day dress of cream and pink printed silk was exquisite, expensive, and probably mail-ordered from Paris or New York. She didn’t smile when she saw me. Nor did she stop talking.
    “Don’t you agree, Mrs. Triggs?” Before Mrs. Triggs had a chance to reply, the woman continued. “And the food they served was simply atrocious. The omelet was cold, the salmon was slimy—” She glanced at me again. She screamed. “Oh my God, Sir Arthur! The