Read No Longer a Gentleman for Free Online

some help. Shall I build up the fire for you?”
    “I’d be most grateful,” the cook said. “There’s chicken broth in the pot there. Could you get me some?” She coughed wrenchingly. “Everyone is sick in bed, can’t even manage stairs. I’ve got hot food for anyone who wants it, but no one has made it this far and ’tisn’t my job to wait on other servants.” More coughing.
    “I hope no one is dangerously ill?” A ladle hung by the fire, so Cassie scooped warm broth into a porringer on a nearby table.
    “The housekeeper died early on, but she was old and sickly already. I don’t think anyone else is in mortal peril, but this winter’s influenza makes a body weak as a kitten for days.” Madame Bertin sipped the hot broth appreciatively. “I kept the fire from dying and managed to make this broth, but now I’m too tired for anything else.”
    Seeing an opportunity, Cassie asked, “Would you be willing to pay a bit for some help, madame? I could carry trays of bread and broth to the servants who are ill, and perhaps do some chores around the kitchen.”
    “’Twould be a real blessing. Let’s see, who lives in …” The cook thought. “There are six maids in the attics and two men in the stables. The stairs are just through that door, but it’s five long flights of steps to the attic. Can you manage that much?”
    “I’m spryer than I look. I’ll be happy to help out. When people are ill, they need something warm.” She stirred the broth with the ladle. “And I’ll be glad to earn a few coins, too. Where do you keep the bread? Cheese would also be good. Strengthening.”
    “The pantry is there.” Madame Bertin pointed. “A good thing Citoyen Durand isn’t here. He’d be raging and whipping people to do their jobs even if they’re too ill to stand. But what is going to happen in a quiet place like this in the dead of winter? We can all rest a day or two until we’re ready to work again.”
    “Fortunate,” Cassie agreed. She filled mugs, cut bread and cheese, and carried a tray out to the stables, where she was gratefully received. After returning to the kitchen, she prepared more trays for the maids. With six of them, she needed to make two trips up the narrow stone stairs. No wonder Madame Bertin hadn’t even tried.
    As the cook said, no one seemed at death’s door, but all the servants lay limp in their beds, weak, tired, and very glad for sustenance. Cassie made a silent prayer that the thieves’ oil would protect her. Becoming that ill while traveling would be very bad.
    She returned to the kitchen, where the cook was drowsing in her chair by the fire. Cassie tucked a knee robe around her. The time had come to learn if there really was a dungeon with prisoners. “Is there anyone else I should take food to?”
    Madame Bertin frowned. “There are the guards and the prisoners in the dungeon. The head jailer, Gaspard, usually sends a man up for food, but one is ill, Gaspard is off somewhere, and the one there now wouldn’t dare leave his post.”
    “So the guard and the prisoners need feeding? How many prisoners are there?”
    “Only two. With everyone ill, they’re being neglected.” The cook crossed herself. “One of the prisoners is a priest. ’Tis very wrong to lock up a priest, but Durand would be enraged at the impertinence if anyone told him so.”
    “Shocking!” Cassie agreed. “What is the other prisoner?”
    “They say he’s an English lord, though I’ve never seen him, so I can’t say for sure.” She shook her head sadly. “No doubt an Englishman deserves a dungeon, but surely not the priest. He is old and frail and needs hot food in this weather.”
    “I’ll take food down to all of them.” Cassie started to assemble a tray. “You say you’ve never seen the prisoners. They are never brought up for exercise in the yard?”
    “Oh, no. Citoyen Durand is very strict about his prisoners. They are never released from their cells, and the guards never