Aftermath

43. Explosion

I got to to my feet.  

"Tell the others I will hear their excuses later."

Where was that blasted woman? I rushed down the corridor towards the main part of the house feeling like nothing more than a massive ocean wave bent on sinking or capsizing anything it came into contact with. And I would do! It'd tear everything apart and not feel bad for a moment!  How dare she set him off with her nonsense! And what the bloody hell was she doing in that part of the house so early in the first place? 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew It would be much better for that woman if I ran into Agatha first, but even if I did, she wouldn't be able to stop me. Slow me down, yes, but I was not about to be stopped. I had a bone to pick with that zounderkite and she was going to feel it and feel it painfully. 

The gods were kind, and after storming through only half the house did I find the culprit on all fours dusting the legs of a side table in the grand salon. 

"MRS THROWER! Or whoever you are.  Just what do you think you're playing at?" I bellowed, rushing across the length of the room to where she was crouching. 

The silly woman gave a cry and a start, banging her head on the underside of an extended table leaf. That only elicited another cry which was followed by some theatrical moaning.  I wasn't having any of it.

"Get out from under there before I drag you out, you idiotic buffoon!" 

She began to crawl backwards, her generous rump wiggling like the back end of a badger attempting to shuffle its way out of a rabbit den. It would have ben comical if I were not ready to lay violent hand on her. 

When she was completely out, she stayed on all fours, motionless, feather duster still in one hand. 

"Stand up, woman! I'm talking to you." 

She didn't move. 

"You really are begging for a kicking, aren't you? GET UP." 

Infuriatingly slowly, she got to her knees and then pushed herself up to a standing position in a protracted series of movements. Her bonnet was askew, brown curls falling out everywhere and the shoulders and front of her dark dress covered in a grey layer of dust. She looked at the floor.

"What were you doing in the West wing of this house two days ago? Very early in the morning? Answer me." 

She pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything. 

"Answer me!"

"Cleaning," she mumbled.

"What? Speak up, woman!"  I'd heard her perfectly clearly, but I wasn't in the mindset for tolerating games.  

"I was cleaning."

"Were you? Really. And who told you to clean in the Field Rabbit offices? Or was it the mens' bedrooms you were to be cleaning? And that so very early, some of them might have still been abed? Hmmm? "  

A slight shake of the head. So slight, I might have missed it if I'd not been staring daggers into her.

"No one, correct? No one told you to go there. So what possible reason do you have for being there?"

She shrugged, still not meeting my eye. "Wanted to see the rest of the house,  didn't I? That's all. Nice, big house like this. My kind don't get to see a fine house so often. So many pretty rooms." 

"Nice, big house like this. I see. Perhaps with lots of pretty rooms full of interesting, easily pawnable trinkets behind unlocked doors? Costly trinkets no one would notice were missing for years? Especially if one were clever and went exploring before it was even light?"