Gertie scowled. “I’m chopping onions, aren’t I. Why can’t Pansy take it?”

“She’s doing Ellie’s job, isn’t she.” Mrs. Chubb shook her head. “I wonder why she didn’t come in today. I thought I could rely on that girl. I just hope she isn’t ill or something.”

“Well, we’ll soon find out. Samuel went over her house a while ago to see if she was all right.”

Mrs. Chubb raised her eyebrows. “Samuel? What’s a stable manager doing running a footman’s errands, may I ask?”

Gertie shrugged. “We’re short, aren’t we. What with Charlie gone and all.”

“God rest his soul.” The housekeeper walked over to the dresser and put the sandwich down on the tray. “That poor boy’s parents. My heart goes out to them. Especially at Christmastime. Makes it twice as hard to bear.”

“I still can’t believe it.” Gertie finished the onion and grabbed another from the bowl. “Fancy taking a morning stroll in the rose gardens and getting bumped off like that. Who’d have thought that could happen.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose again. “Wonder what he was doing there so early in the morning. Rotten luck, that’s what it was.”

“Yes, well, you’ll have bad luck, too, if you don’t get this tray up to Mr. Mortimer. He’s not exactly a patient man, so I’ve heard.”

Gertie put down her knife and the onion with a puff of breath. She wasn’t about to admit it to old Chubby, but the truth was, she didn’t want anything to do with J. Mortimer after what Pansy had told her about the old geezer. He was a scary old bugger, that’s what, and she would just as soon stay out of his way.

Still, she knew how far she could go with the housekeeper, and she wasn’t about to let a grumpy old grouch get the better of her. After making up the cheese and fruit plate, she grabbed the tray, muttering, “If I’m not back in ten minutes send Clive up to look for me.”