High Words Among the Upper Servants

Hello, and welcome to my 2025 Blogging From A To Z April Challenge! This year, I’ve written you a complete murder mystery novelette. The setting is rural England, a few years after WWI. The extra challenge that I set myself for this story is that the first murder will not take place until the letter “M”–halfway through! And the second murder will happen at “S.” There may be murders after “S,” of course, but they are less structural or foundational or something.

And now, without further ado…

High Words Among the Upper Servants

It was early the next morning, the hour at which Sneakfork the butler polished the silver in his pantry. He did this in severe silence and isolation; servants who passed his door at this hour generally did so on tiptoe. That made Mrs. Dobson’s actions on this particular morning all the more remarkable. She stormed in just as Sneakfork had fallen into a polishing rhythm.

“She’ll have to go,” said Mrs. Dobson. Mrs. Dobson was a handsome woman in late middle age, with bold black eyes and strong hands.

“Young Kate?” said Sneakfork, looking up from his work with an air of calm disapproval. Sneakfork was young for a butler, having taken over the job from his father when that fine old gentleman was no longer capable of performing his duties. Sneakfork was no older than forty, with nothing of the paunch one associates with the profession.

Mrs. Dobson stamped her foot. “I do not mean Kate Briggs, I mean Dorothy Fletcher!”

Sneakfork sighed and set down his polishing cloth. “Really, Mrs. Dobson, I must disagree with you. I admit the situation is difficult, but it is hardly the girl’s fault that young Mr. Nigel has chosen to act improperly towards her. And the era of throwing maids out into the snow for catching the eye of a gentleman is, surely, behind us.”

“She’s above herself. Thinks herself so clever,” sniffed Mrs. Dobson.

“Well, she is clever,” said Sneakfork, fairly. “That makes her better at her job than poor Kate, who is not. You don’t have to stand over Dotty all the time to make sure she’s doing her job correctly.”

“Kate is very obedient,” said Mrs. Dobson, bristling.

“Kate tries to be obedient, I’ll grant you,” said Sneakfork. “But she can’t follow simple orders.”

“She did the table setting for breakfast all by herself yesterday,” said Mrs. Dobson.

“Yes—and glad I am that some instinct urged me to check that all was well with it before any of the family came down and saw what she’d done. A shambles, Mrs. Dobson. I spent a full half-hour fixing all of her mistakes. The orange juice was in the milk-jug, the kippers weren’t covered and were cooling rapidly, and the last night’s flowers, instead of being removed, were shedding petals into the butter-dish. I mention these mistakes at random. There were others.”

“Well, at least she can be trusted to tell me when the other girls get up to mischief,” said Mrs. Dobson.

“Yes, she’s turning into quite a sneak.”

“I consider it her duty to keep me informed,” said Mrs. Dobson, freezingly.

“You would,” said Sneakfork. Mrs. Dobson opened her mouth. “No,” said Sneakfork. “No, Mrs. Dobson, I won’t have you throwing your weight around where Dotty is concerned. I like having competent people working here, and Dotty’s more than competent. I have her in mind for housekeeper here when you retire. She’d be excellent in the position. And this affair with Mr. Nigel won’t last. He’ll meet some girl of his own class, there will be a tearful scene, and then Dotty will be older and wiser for the experience.”

“And am I housekeeper here or am I not?” said Mrs. Dobson, looking thunderous. “Am I not responsible for hiring and firing the girls in my charge?”

“Technically, possibly. But let me remind you that Sneakforks have served this family for five generations, and that I am perfectly willing to lay all the facts in front of Sir Frank himself, as his wife is in no position to cope with the matter. I’m quite sure he’ll see it in my light.”

“Miss Gertrude Sterling wouldn’t, though—and she’s the proper person to rule on the subject in my opinion—she is the defacto hostess.”

“Miss Sterling has no real position here,” Sneakfork said, genuinely shocked at the suggestion. And would Sir Frank actually risk upsetting his sister-in-law in order to defend a housemaid? Sneakfork couldn’t be sure. It was time to shift tactics.

“I know Dotty’s behavior is a bit shocking,” he said, soothingly, “but really, in her position, it might be hard to say no. The young gentleman is really more to blame in the matter.”

“Well, I can’t give the young gentleman his notice, now, can I?” Mrs. Dobson said impatiently. “Anyway, it’s my belief she did it on purpose. Caught his eye. The sly baggage!”

“Surely—my dear Mrs. Dobson—you don’t really wish to quarrel with me over this? Our relations have always been cordial—but I will be seriously displeased if you discharge Dotty.”

Mrs. Dobson sniffed. She looked stubborn and martyred. “I’m sure I don’t want anything unpleasant between us, Mr. Sneakfork, but I won’t have that girl here and that’s flat. It’s two weeks notice for Dotty, and glad I’ll be to see the back of her.”

“And what about that Kate? She’s been carrying on like a lunatic all day, talking to anyone who’ll listen, telling them that Mr. Nigel is going to murder Mr. Jack. A nice thing for the family, I don’t think!” Sneakfork flung this at Mrs. Dobson’s back just as she was on the point of leaving the room. Her shoulders stiffened.

“Girls do talk, Mr. Sneakfork,” she said.

“Kate talks a sight too much,” said Sneakfork. “No. If Dotty goes, I’ll be compelled to take action in the matter of Kate. I doubt the family would be in the least pleased if I were to tell them what she’s been saying.”

“Mr. Sneakfork,” said Mrs. Dobson, shocked, “this is blackmail!”

“I don’t care if it is.”

Mrs. Dobson shot him a look of pure hate. “This isn’t over,” she warned. “But I won’t act—for now—as long as you don’t report Kate.”

Sneakfork smiled. “So glad we understand each other.” And he picked up his polishing cloth.