Excerpt: Weasel Under The Sun

A decade or so ago, I wrote a mystery story with a lesbian main character in service in a British manor house, and I really enjoyed the character. After The Mysterious Affair of Giles (which came out as an audiobook just recently, read by the lovely Huskyteer), I wrote another story with her called “Death on the Tile,” which appeared in the anthology The Rabbit Dies First.

This year, you’ll get to see the third Ellie story! It’s going to be a short novel called Weasel Under The Sun, and I’m having a blast with it. We’re hoping to get it out in April for TFF, but you can see a bit of it now. Here’s how it starts:

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Miss Davis, the brown rabbit who ran the serving staff of Fortescue Hall—and thereby ran the Hall itself—met Ellie at the Willow’s End rail station and appraised her with eyes as sharp as the grey dress she wore and the bonnet pinned neatly between her long ears. “So you’re Miss Stone.”

Ellie, very aware that her own small hat had slid over one ear and her blue dress was rumpled from the journey, clutched her luggage with both paws. “Yes’m,” she said.

The appraisal lasted only a moment longer, and concluded with a small, “Hm!” after which Miss Davis reached out and took Ellie’s case with one paw, hefting it easily. “Come along, then. It’s over a mile to the Hall. I hope you’re not afraid of a little exercise.”

“No’m.” Ellie fell into step slightly behind the athletic rabbit, almost jogging to keep up with her pace. They left the small station and walked quickly down the main street of Willow’s End, which here seemed to be mostly business offices.

“Now tell me,” Miss Davis said, hardly breathing hard at all, “how is it you come to our kitchen? Master Charles has told me you’re an assistant cook for the Hathaways up in Widden’s Crossing, and you’re on loan to us while they’re in Monaco.”

“That’s right,” Ellie said, trying not to pant too hard.

“And why are the Hathaways not bringing you to Monaco?”

“Mr. Hathaway told me, ma’am, that the resort has its own cooks, and so all the cooks are being given leave.”

“But you are being sent here.” Miss Davis did not turn, but Ellie felt the sharp appraisal on her again.

“Yes’m,” Ellie said. “Er, Mr. Hathaway would like me to get more experience in a well-run kitchen, and he said your head chef is very well regarded.”

At that, Miss Davis stopped and did turn to Ellie, her ears cupped forward. “I see. So he intends you to take over the head cook position in a few years.”

Ellie’s ears warmed. “He hasn’t said, ma’am. But our head cook is getting on, and last month he made a chicken pie entirely without salt.”

“Oh, dear. So this isn’t a punishment for you.”

“No’m. Although Mister Hathaway did say he hoped I would ‘broaden my horizons’ and learn some new dishes.”

“Ha.” The rabbit smiled. “You’ll learn that from LeFou, all right. Just have a caution you don’t learn too much more from him.”

She set off again, and Ellie hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry, ma’am, what do you mean?”

“Oh, LeFou is brilliant at cooking. Not so much at other things, such as getting along with people, or courtesy.”

“I see.”

Miss Davis pointed as they crossed to a smaller street, bustling with activity. “There’s our greengrocer, and beside them the dry goods. If LeFou sends you out for ingredients, that will be where you go.”

Ellie fixed the two stores in her mind, but it was not hard to remember them. The greengrocer’s canvas awning stretched over many small carts filled with carrots, lettuce, parsnips, vegetable marrows (these looked surprisingly fresh, considering it was summer; they must be from a hothouse). Next to that small brick building stood another, with “Dry Goods” prominent over the window in which Ellie could see fabrics and either salt or sugar, maybe both.

Miss Davis paused to look into the greengrocer’s, an imperious stare as though she owned the store and wanted to assess how assiduously the employees were working. “Well,” she said, “it doesn’t seem Georgette is busy. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

With no more explanation than that, the rabbit strode quickly toward the greengrocer. A badger leaning against the carrot cart stood straighter as they approached. “Good afternoon, Miss Davis, ma’am,” she said.

“Working as hard as ever, I see.” Miss Davis cast an eye around the carts. “I suppose Mr. Hochley doesn’t mind if the carts aren’t kept full?”

“I was just about to go fetch more carrots,” Georgette said.

“Of course you were. I shan’t keep you. I only wanted to introduce you to Miss Ellie Stone. Miss Stone will be assisting us in the kitchen up at Fortescue for a month, so if she comes by on an errand, please give her the same quality of vegetables you would provide to me.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Georgette met Ellie’s eyes with something like sympathy.

“And there will not be so much call for you to come up to Fortescue yourself. At least for this month.”

The badger’s brow lowered for a moment, and then she put on an even sweeter voice. “Oh, Miss Davis, I don’t mind goin’ up to Fortescue.”

“I am sure you don’t. Still, we shall have more paws in the kitchen and perhaps with Ellie taking cooking duties, we can send William down to pick up the delivery.”

“William.” The badger’s expression made it clear what she thought of William, if not precisely why.

“Yes, William. Now, do remember Miss Stone, and have a pleasant afternoon.”

“You too, ma’am.” But Ellie didn’t turn quite as fast as Miss Davis did, so she saw Georgette stick the tip of her tongue out at the rabbit. The badger met her eyes and gave her a wink, and then disappeared back into the grocer’s.