Louise Allen - A Regency Christmas Treat - Moonlight and Mistletoe / A Mistletoe Masquerade

‘Jethro! Where has the boy got to?’ Hester walked through the house to the back door, only to see him coming across the yard struggling under the weight of a long ladder with a pair of somewhat rusty shears pinned under his arm.

‘There you are,’ she said mildly. ‘Whatever kept you?’

‘Gentleman called.’ Jethro grounded the ladder with a grunt of relief. ‘He rode over from the fields and through the back gate into the yard. Said he was passing and wanted to know if you were receiving. I said not today because of the heavy luggage arriving, but I thought you might be at home after that. Was that all right, Miss Hester?’

‘Yes, of course. Who was he?’

‘Sir Lewis Nugent of Winterbourne Hall.’

‘He must be the son of Sir Edward who sold me the house and died soon afterwards.’

‘Must be, Miss Hester, he was wearing mourning. Good tailor,’ Jethro added critically, ‘but not as good as the earl’s. Mind you, his lordship has the figure for it.’

‘And doubtless the money,’ Hester retorted tartly. The less she thought about Guy Westrope’s admirable form, the better it would be. Quite how he had managed it she was not sure, but in the space of two days he had inveigled his way into her bedroom, had established first-name terms between them and had succeeded in mystifying her about his character and motives. The sooner she widened her social circle the better; perhaps Sir Lewis and his family would prove the means.

‘Jethro, you have not been in my dressing room this morning, have you?’

‘Certainly not, Miss Hester. Why, is something amiss?’

‘Those loose pearls are all over the floor again, but the bowl is still exactly where it was on the dressing table.’

She had been hoping that Jethro would immediately produce some convincing explanation, but all he did was stare at her, wide eyed. Eventually he said, ‘That’s strange, Miss Hester.’

‘Could anyone have got in? Perhaps a chance thief found his way up there, picked the pearls out of the bowl, then dropped them when he heard something.’ It was the only explanation she could think of other than the supernatural.

‘Suppose so.’ Jethro wrinkled his nose in thought. ‘Back door was open and Susan and Cluck…I mean, Miss Prudhome are out. Someone could have come in the back way while we were out the front.’

‘It would be a bold thief to do that. Oh dear.’ Hester sighed. ‘It seemed such a nice village. Now we will have to be suspicious and lock our doors. I must speak to Susan about it.’

Miss Prudhome arrived back at the same time as the vicar’s wife called, so Hester had no opportunity to ask her about the pearls before she greeted her visitor. Mrs Bunting was as well rounded as her husband and equally as welcoming to the newcomers to her parish.

She settled in the front room in a rustle of skirts and beamed cheerfully on Hester and Prudy once the initial exchange of introductions and greetings was done with. ‘Now, my dear Miss Lattimer, I understand you require some respectable women to do the rough cleaning. I can thoroughly recommend Mrs Dalling and Mrs Stubbs. They are both widows; decent women who are bringing up their families by thrift and hard work.’

‘Then by all means I must follow your recommendation. May I offer you tea, Mrs Bunting?’

‘Thank you, Miss Lattimer. I will speak to both women when I leave you and ask them to call this afternoon, if that is convenient. I am glad to be able to say that the inhabitants of this village are as honest and hard-working as may be found anywhere. You have certainly found a most pleasant place to settle and I hope you find it so.’

Hester smiled back, delighted to have found approval from the vicar’s wife. She would go a long way to establish Hester’s credit in the neighbourhood. ‘I am so glad to hear that, Mrs Bunting. I had been somewhat concerned, for it seemed that someone had made their way into the house this morning.’

Prudy gave a squeak of alarm, then subsided with a nervous glance at Hester. Hester sighed inwardly; somehow she was going to have to teach Prudy to be a more self-assured companion and not keep nervously in the background as a proper governess must.

‘Oh dear, surely you are mistaken?’ Mrs Bunting looked quite amazed. ‘No one here would behave in such a way and I would have heard if there were any tramping fellows about. The churchwardens are very alert for that sort of thing, you know. The last thing they want is any vagrant settling in and attempting to claim parish support.’

‘Oh, it is a relief to have you say so.’ It was anything but. A sneak thief was a familiar London nuisance that could be guarded against. Now she was left with no explanation again—and no defence.

‘What made you think something was amiss?’ Mrs Bunting asked.

‘Perhaps it was nothing after all. It was just that some pearls that had been in a dish were scattered all over the floor and I could think of no other explanation,’ Hester said lightly.

‘Oh.’ Mrs Bunting looked both thoughtful and somewhat disturbed. ‘How very…odd. Has anything else out of the ordinary occurred?’

‘No.’ Hester was not going to describe the state of the dressing room again. ‘Nothing.’

‘Well, that’s all right then.’ The vicar’s wife looked relieved. ‘There will be a perfectly rational explanation.’ She sipped her tea, then added vaguely, ‘I never think it a good idea to listen to village gossip.’

Hester decided to ask right out. ‘Mrs Bunting, is there some rumour circulating about this house? Only the vicar said something that made me wonder, and now you mention village gossip.’

The older woman looked distressed and flustered. ‘My foolish tongue! It is inexcusable of me to alarm you. The villagers will talk so, but I am sure it is only because this house has been empty for so long. They tell a silly tale of blighted love or some such nonsense concerning the lady who last lived here. But that was such a long time ago.’ She fanned herself with her lace handkerchief and took another sip of tea. ‘There is a local story of the scent of roses—although how anyone could know I have no idea because Sir Edward Nugent never allowed anyone in except for his agent and the occasional workman.’

Hester shivered. She had smelt roses as she had entered the house for the first time—roses on a warm breeze in a cold airless room. ‘The garden is full of them, quite untamed and half-wild. There are even a few now with a flower or two despite the season. It is no wonder that the scent is noticeable here.’

‘A very sensible observation, my dear Miss Lattimer,’ Mrs Bunting remarked. ‘My husband and I have only been in the parish for four years so we know little of the earlier history. However, there has been talk of lights being seen here at night, quite recently. That seems to be a new rumour. I think it would be sensible to check all the window catches, just in case someone has started using it as a shelter. Although with you in occupation they would soon be scared away, I am sure.’

‘Yes,’ Hester said slowly. ‘That would be a wise precaution. How recently were the lights seen?’

Mrs Bunting cocked her head on one side and thought. ‘Two or three days before you arrived, that I heard of. But it will have been some tramping fellow I am sure, now long gone—or imagination.’

Hester turned the conversation and began to talk about the garden and her plans for it. In Mrs Bunting she found she had another enthusiast for horticulture and was soon overwhelmed by offers of plants and cuttings in the spring. ‘Thank you so much, ma’am, but I had better not accept anything until I have the front garden under control somewhat or I will have nowhere to put the plants. I suppose I should be concentrating on plans for the house, but I confess that I look to the garden to distract my eye from the Old Manor opposite.’