The fire was burning brightly in the grate, and the table was perfectly set. That Emma was a treasure. How she had managed to get all this done Cook had no idea. But she did appreciate her help. She’s a good girl, God bless, Cook thought, and hurried back to the kitchen.

Her task now was to get the food onto the sideboard as fast as possible. Master Edwin was waiting.

Fifty-Two

It took Blackie only a day or two to understand how Fairley Hall was run and also to figure out the people who lived there. It was the longest he’d ever spent in such a grand house.

His favorite by a long shot was Mrs. Olivia Wainright, the sister of Adele Fairley, the wife of the Squire.

Mrs. Wainright was a widow, personable, pleasant to deal with, down-to-earth and practical. She took control of the household immediately without seeming to do so. There was a sudden sense of ease, and certainly a feeling of tranquility in the air. The Squire, Adam Fairley, was a kindly man who seemed a little distracted in general, but he appeared to appreciate the arrival of his sister-in-law. He worked hard running the Fairley mill and the brickyard, and other interests.

Mrs. Fairley, thin, dark-haired and haunted looking, was an alcoholic. Not that Blackie had ever seen her drinking, but he had smelled her breath. She reeked of liquor when she came downstairs even at noon. Later, in the evening, she seemed wobbly on her feet.

Their two sons were as different as chalk and cheese. Edwin, the eldest, was a gentleman like his father. He was good-looking and proper in his dress. He was always polite with everyone, including the staff, who loved him.

Blackie had taken a genuine dislike to Gerald, the younger son, instantly. He had wanted to punch him when Gerald was nasty to Emma. He was a bully, and most likely a coward, as all bullies usually were. He had a tendency to be bossy, and he lost his temper a lot, shouting at everyone. It was obvious to Blackie that Gerald was universally disliked in the Hall and in the village as well.

The butler, Murgatroyd, was also a difficult man. He had grown too comfortable in his job no doubt and lax in his duties. He had a grumpy expression and a cold voice, and could become enraged about nothing much.

But Blackie did like Cook. Mrs. Turner was the salt of the earth and a mine of information. She was easygoing to a certain extent, and always smiling. But he’d seen her put her foot down with Murgatroyd and knew she ruled her territory with an iron hand.