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All was quiet in the Doctor's lodgings, though down below the servants quarters were as ever a positive hive of activity. The clock in the hall struck three and Mrs. Brantshaw raised her head from the tray of pastries she was hastily preparing for Dr. Mandral who was soon to return from his rounds.
"Oh heavens! This will never do. Me all in a fluster and the dainties not yet baked. Whatever will the doctor think of me?"
Just then she was startled by a low voice behind her.
"I don't think we shall be bothered by the master's little foibles any longer Mrs. Brantshaw" rumbled Jones the butler in his peculiar baritone as he entered the pantry.
"Jones!" cried Mrs. Brantshaw almost dropping her pastries, "you gave me quite a start!"
"I apologise Mrs Brantshaw. It is the habit of a butler to be seen and not heard" replied Jones.
"Well it is a most undesirable habit. The master will return soon and the baking is not yet done," said Mrs Brantshaw in a flustered tone.
"Be that as it may, but the silent butler is often privy to certain most intriguing pieces of information," continued Jones with an odd twinkle in his normally dull eyes.
"Since you entered the pantry I have not been able to fully grasp what it is you wish to say Jones. If this business can wait until after supper, I should very much like to return to my baking."
Jones could sense a certain irritation in Mrs. Brantshaw's voice and so decided it would be best to impart his information at a more appropriate moment, though the words were fighting to escape from his lips.
"Very well. After supper it shall be," he said with that odd gleam in his eye.
He left the pantry with a wry smile on his face, leaving Mrs. Brantshaw more bemused than ever.
"That butler will drive me quite distracted," puffed the portly cook as she hurriedly returned to the task at hand.
It was after 9 before Mrs. Brantshaw had a chance to rest her tired feet. The Doctor had been unusually demanding on his return. Tea and cakes, and later a supper stretched over a good 2 hours followed by the customary port and cigarettes. In spite of the considerable demands he had made on the servants throughout the evening, the doctor had seemed quite distracted and was unreasonably short with Mrs. Brantshaw. This left her feeling thoroughly exhausted and slightly browned-off by the doctor's manner. As she slumped into her wooden chair to sit down to her rather meager supper, Jones entered the pantry looking in surprisingly high feather considering the evening that they had both had. He jauntily revealed a parcel that he had tucked into his coat and placed it before Mrs. Brantshaw.
"Why, what is this Jones?"
"Just reward for your labour Mrs. Brantshaw".
She nervously unwrapped the parcel and was bewildered by what she saw.
"Jones! These are some of the master's finest comfits, what ever shall he say?" squeaked the cook red-faced.
"For once he shall say nothing Mrs. Brantshaw. I think we shall be rewarded with many more choice morsels from the master's table," boomed Jones with a guffaw.
"Bbbut whatever do you mean...hhhow...?" stuttered the utterly perplexed Mrs. Brantshaw.
"Let me just say that I was witness to a certain indiscretion that the doctor would do well to conceal."
"Pray do tell, though I am loath to hear such things," said the cook finding her wits.
"My story goes something like this. While pressing the master's flannels I heard a rather queer sound from the study. Though I am not known to pry, my curiosity got the better of me and I took a peep through the keyhole. The sight that met my eye near made me cry aloud. There was the doctor with his breeches around his ankles being gobbled off by none other than the newly wed Mrs. Thimpson!"