Kate Kingsbury: Mistletoe and Mayhem

“What’s the bloody matter with you?” Gertie demanded, jamming her fists into her hips. “You look as if you’ve got the devil chasing you.”

Panting, Pansy flapped a hand in front of her face. “I just came from that Mr. Mortimer’s room. He gives me the willies, he does. He wouldn’t even look at me. Just stood there looking out the window at nothing but darkness.” She shivered. “Did you see him when he arrived? That hat pulled right down over his face, like he didn’t want no one seeing him?”

Gertie shrugged. “Maybe he’s just shy. He’s here on his own, isn’t he? Some people just like to be left alone.”

“Then why did he come down here if he wants to be alone? Why didn’t he just stay home?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

Pansy twisted her lips. “Very funny. I tell you, Gertie, there’s something creepy about that man. If anyone’s the devil, it’s him. You mark my words.”

Having invited Madeline over for breakfast the next morning, Cecily happened to be in the lobby when she arrived earlier than expected. Thrilled to see that her friend held her tiny daughter in her arms, she held out her hands as Madeline approached. “Oh, she is so precious. Do let me hold her.”

“With pleasure.” Madeline handed over the baby. “She is getting so heavy. She was such a tiny thing when she was born. That’s less than six months ago.”

“Babies grow fast the first year.” Cecily touched the soft cheek. “Hello, little Angelina. I wonder what Father Christmas will bring you for your very first Christmas.”

“Too much. Kevin utterly spoils her.” Madeline unwound her chiffon scarf from her head and tucked it in the cloth bag hanging from her arm. Her hair gleamed like black gold as it streamed over her shoulders. Glancing up, she murmured, “I’m having second thoughts about that kissing bough. I’m not sure the lobby is the right place to hang it. Perhaps we should hang it in the ballroom, instead.”

Cecily frowned. “Baxter said the same thing. I suppose we could move it there. After all there’s a lot more room in there.”

Madeline chuckled. “You are expecting a good many people to take advantage of it, then?”

“I’m expecting people to admire it, at least. But you’re both right. It needs plenty of room to show it off properly. I’ll have one of the footmen move it this afternoon. But before I do, I’m going to make use of it right now.”

She bent her head and pressed a light kiss to the baby’s soft forehead. “Merry Christmas, little one. May this Christmas be the first of very many happy ones to come.”

Angelina gurgled in response and stretched up a pudgy hand as if reaching for the huge ball above her head.

Cecily drew her away. “You don’t want to play with that, precious,” she murmured. “That has holly in it and will prick your fingers.”

“You’re forgetting whose daughter she is,” Madeline said, as Cecily headed for the stairs. “She has a fascination with all kinds of plants.”

She’d said it with a note of resignation in her voice, and Cecily felt a thump of apprehension. The one thing Madeline had worried about was that Angelina would inherit her mother’s special powers. Dr. Kevin Prestwick would not accept his daughter’s abilities lightly. As a man of science, his methods of healing differed vastly from his wife’s and had proved a formidable bone of contention in their marriage.

Once inside her suite, Cecily motioned Madeline to take a seat, then sat down herself on the chaise lounge. Still holding the baby, she rocked her for a moment or two, then said lightly, “So how is your husband adjusting to fatherhood? You haven’t mentioned much about Kevin recently.”

Madeline’s expression grew wary. “I haven’t seen much of him of late. He spends a great deal of his time in surgery or visiting patients, and it’s often quite late before he returns home. That’s why we arrived early this morning. Kevin brought us in the carriage before he started his rounds. He sees so little of his daughter. He’ll forget what she looks like before long.”

“I doubt that.” Cecily watched in fascination as Angelina tugged at the strings of her bonnet until they came undone. “She is as beautiful as her mother.”

“And just as controversial, I’m afraid.”

Cecily looked up. “Are you saying she has your powers? How do you know? What-” She broke off as an urgent rapping on the door interrupted her words. “Oh, that must be our breakfast. I thought it would be better to have it sent up here. You can lay Angelina on the floor and eat your food in peace.” Getting up, she handed the baby to Madeline.

“Won’t Baxter be joining us?” Madeline asked, as Cecily hurried across the room.

“He’s already had his breakfast.” Cecily opened the door. “He’s gone to the barber’s. He likes to get there before it gets too busy.” To her surprise, she saw Gertie hovering outside, a breakfast tray in her hands, and by the look on the housemaid’s face, something had greatly upset her.

“Come in, Gertie.” Cecily opened the door wider. “You don’t usually deliver trays. Where are the maids?”

“All busy, m’m. Most of them are serving breakfast in the dining room, and Pansy is taking a tray to Mr. Mortimer.” Gertie marched into the room, murmured a polite greeting to Madeline, and set the tray down on the table in front of her. “Ellie didn’t come in this morning, either, so we’re bit short.”

“Oh, dear. Is she not well?”

Gertie shrugged. “I dunno, m’m. I haven’t heard nothing about it.”

“Well, perhaps we should send a footman over to her house later to see if she is all right.”

“Yes, m’m.”

Gertie seemed in no hurry to move, and Cecily was startled to see her chief housemaid’s lower lip trembling. “Is something the matter?”

Gertie glanced at Madeline, then back at Cecily. “I don’t like to be the one to tell you this, m’m, but… there’s been an accident.”

Cecily felt as if her stomach had dropped all the way to her shoes. “What kind of accident?”

Gertie swallowed, then blurted out, “It’s Charlie, m’m. He got hit in the head. He’s… I’m afraid he’s dead, m’m.”

Cecily sat down heavily on the chaise lounge, while Madeline uttered a soft cry of distress.

Gertie looked as if she wanted to run from the room. “I’m sorry, m’m. It were Clive what found him this morning. Said Charlie was lying behind the rose bushes. Good job and all, ’cos no one else could see him. Clive went in to dig up the flower beds and saw him lying there in a pool of blood.”

Cecily closed her eyes while Madeline muttered something under her breath.

Gertie struggled on, her words becoming more and more strangled. “Clive says Charlie got hit on the head by a gargoyle from off the roof. It must have been left up there by the workmen last night and got blown off by the wind. It were lying next to Charlie all broken in pieces.”

Cecily took a deep breath. “Where is the body now?”

“Still in the rose bushes, m’m. Clive said it was best to leave it there until the doctor could take a look at him.” She glanced at Madeline. “Mrs. Chubb has sent for Dr. Prestwick, m’m.”

Madeline nodded, and Cecily rose to her feet. “Thank you, Gertie. Please, do let me know the minute Dr. Prestwick arrives.”

“Yes, m’m. Oh, and Mrs. Chubb wants to know if we should send for P.C. Northcott.”

Madeline groaned. “That’s all you need.”

Cecily heartily agreed. Police Constable Sam Northcott was more often than not a hindrance rather than a help. Though the sole constable in Badgers End, he usually had little to do, except occasionally arrest one of the customers from the Fox and Hounds for disturbing the peace.