Mistletoe and Mayhem Page 19

  Kevin turned his back on his wife, shaking his head in defeat.

  Baxter cleared his throat. “Ah, perhaps I should wait to call the constabulary?”

  “Suit yourself.” Kevin strode to the door. “I’ll be searching the grounds if anyone needs me.” He flung open the door and disappeared.

  Baxter patted Cecily’s outstretched hand. “I’d better go along and help him.” He turned to go, then paused. “Oh, by the way, that photographer chap came by with the photographs from the banquet. I left them in your office.”

  Cecily nodded absently, her thoughts still with the missing baby. “Thank you, dear.”

  Just as he reached the door someone rapped on it from outside. Baxter stood back to let the maid pass then rushed out into the hallway.

  For a moment Cecily had forgotten why she’d sent for the maid, but then Madeline spoke, coming forward to sit next to her. “I don’t need brandy,” she said, sounding less confident than she had earlier. “I just need my baby back.”

  Cecily studied her friend’s face, then nodded at the maid. “Have Pansy and Gertie returned yet?”

  “No, m’m.” The maid looked worried. “They’re both missing.”

  Cecily’s stomach lurched, and she made an effort to calm herself. Expecting the worst would not help matters. “They are probably helping in the search. Tell Mrs. Chubb to serve the midday meal as best she can. I’m sure Pansy and Gertie will be back shortly.”

  “Yes, m’m.” The young girl curtsied and quietly left the room.

  Cecily looked at Madeline. “They’re all right, aren’t they?”

  Madeline looked down at her hands. “I don’t have any signals that tell me otherwise.”

  Not exactly comforted by that, Cecily had to accept the fact that she could do nothing but wait… and pray.

  “Where is she going?” Pansy was panting so hard she could barely get the words out. As it was, her voice was carried away by the wind, drowned by the rustling branches. Ahead of her, Samuel was following Tess, but now all Pansy could see of the dog was a flash of white at the tip of her tail as she disappeared in the brush.

  Afraid of being left behind, Pansy lifted the hem of her skirt and plunged into the prickly shrubs and grasping weeds. The wind tugged at her cap, and strands of her hair blew across her eyes. She swiped at her face, then yelped as a greedy bramble grabbed her hand and carved a deep scratch across her knuckles.

  Samuel must have heard, as he paused and looked back. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she shouted back. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

  His “Sorry!” floated back to her on the wind, and thankful to see him waiting for her, she lifted her skirts higher and leapt over a clump of blackberry vines.

  Samuel held out his hand as she approached. “Come on. Tess has gone in here somewhere.”

  She looked around, but could see nothing but solid, gnarled tree trunks, low-hanging branches, and undergrowth thick with ferns, thistles, and scratchy brambles. “Is she lost?”

  Samuel took hold of her hand and led her into the damp shadows of the woods. It smelled of decaying leaves and wet earth. She felt cold and frightened, trying not to imagine the lifeless body of that little baby.

  What would she do if they found the baby lying dead on the ground? Faint, that’s what she’d do. Samuel would have to bring the baby back. She couldn’t touch the baby, not if her life depended on it. She felt sick at the thought, and hastily directed her mind to think of the ocean and the sands, and summer walks along the beach.

  Samuel whistled, the shrill sound making her jump. An answering bark made her nerves tighten. Tess sounded urgent. Could she have found something?

  “Tess?” Samuel quickened his pace, moving toward the direction of the dog’s barking.

  Stumbling after him, Pansy prayed as she’d never prayed before. Head down, she bumped into Samuel as he stopped short, holding up his hand.

  “Shhsh! Wait a minute.”

  It took all her courage to peek around him. She caught her breath when she saw Tess, a few yards ahead of them, digging frantically in the soft earth, dirt flying from her paws.

  Pansy gasped and clutched Samuel’s coat. “You don’t think it’s…” She gulped, unable to say the words.

  Samuel stretched his hand out behind him and found hers. “Let’s hope not.”

  Tess paused to snuffle in the ground, then started digging again, spraying clods of earth in the air. Samuel started to creep forward, but Pansy tugged her hand loose, unable to move from the spot.

  Samuel had covered about half the distance when Tess suddenly stopped digging and backed away, tail wagging and a proud look on her face. He hurried over to her, while Pansy clutched her stomach and prayed she wouldn’t be sick.

  Samuel paused, looking down at the hole Tess had dug. Then he squatted, reaching down with his hand.

  Pansy moaned and shut her eyes.

  She heard Samuel’s voice, and he sounded relieved. “Look, it’s all right. It’s only a bone.”

  She forced her eyelids up just a bit and saw Samuel still squatting by the hole, holding up a very dirty bone. “She must have buried it here some time ago,” Samuel said, getting to his feet. “It’s amazing what dogs can remember.”

  Feeling weak in the knees, Pansy stumbled toward him. “Thank goodness it wasn’t the baby,” she said, when she reached him.

  “Yeah.” Sam threw the bone to Tess, who sniffed it, then promptly walked away. “But now we have to go on looking for her.”

  Pansy grabbed his hand for comfort. “Let’s just hope we find her alive.”

  Samuel nodded. “God willing, we will.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Gertie jutted out her chin and stared up at Clive. “Just try and stop me.”

  Clive’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “I’ve got no intention of trying to stop you from doing anything. I know my limitations.”

  Gertie wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she rather liked the way he said it. “Well, all right then. Let’s go and look for that baby.”

  Without another word, Clive turned and strode off across the lawns toward the woods.

  Following behind the big man, Gertie had trouble keeping up. She was not exactly dainty herself. In fact, she was taller and bigger than most other women she came across, but the man charging across the grass ahead of her managed to make her feel strangely weak and fragile.

  It was not a familiar feeling for Gertie, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. She was used to taking care of herself. And her twins, come to that. Her first marriage had turned out not to be a marriage at all, since Ian was already married-something he hadn’t bothered to tell her until his real wife had spilled the beans.

  Her second marriage was cut short by Ross’s death, leaving her alone again. Everything that had happened to her in her life had given her the stamina and fortitude to get through anything, and she was proud of that. Much as she loved Dan, she knew that if she had to, she could manage quite well without him.

  Yet whenever she was with Clive, she felt like surrendering all that stamina and control, and just letting herself be protected and guided by him. He was a quiet man, never said much, but she could feel the power of him, that hidden strength that made her want to lean on him and trust that he would make things right for her.

  Her thoughts startled her. She could never think of Clive that way. Not like her and Dan. Yet she had to admit, whenever she was with Clive, she felt an inner peace, as if she could stop trying to be in charge of the world and just allow him to take over.

  He had reached the edge of the woods, and stood waiting for her to catch up to him. “I don’t know where to start looking,” he said, as they started walking down the trail side by side. “I can’t imagine anyone bringing a baby in here, unless he intended to harm her.”

  “Don’t say that.” Gertie shivered, and pulled her shawl tight about her shoulders. “Madam wanted us to
search the grounds, and we’ve looked everywhere else. The woods is the last place to look.”

  “What I don’t understand, is why take a baby at all.” Clive shoved a low-hanging branch out of her way, holding it until she was safely past it. “I mean, he’s already killed four people. Why would he want to kill a tiny baby? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “None of it makes sense.” Gertie lifted her skirt to step over a fallen tree. “Why kill all those people, anyway? We thought it was the Mayfair Murderer. After all, he was going around killing people all over the place, but Mrs. Chubb said she heard he’d been caught. So it can’t be him.”

  “This doesn’t look like the work of a serial killer.” Clive paused to help her down a steep slope. “They usually pick victims that all look alike in some way.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Gertie hesitated, then put her hand in his. His fingers felt warm and really strong. Unsettled by the contact, she skipped down the slope and pulled her hand free. “So why is this lunatic killing men and women who look nothing alike and have nothing in common?”

  “That’s something we’ll only find out when he’s caught.” Clive halted and held up his hand. “Listen. Can you hear what I hear?”

  Gertie paused, straining her ears. “It sounds like someone laughing. A child laughing.”

  Clive nodded. “Come, I have an idea.” He took off at an angle, charging through the undergrowth without regard for the brambles snagging his hair.

  Stumbling after him, Gertie was surprised when they reached a trail that looked familiar. “This is the way to the tree house,” she said, as Clive set off down the narrow path.

  “We took a shortcut.”

  His words were tossed over his shoulder, and she had to run to catch up with him. She could hear the laughter now, closer and more clearly. There were at least two of them as far as she could tell. Who were they, and what were they doing in her twins’ tree house?

  Clive had built it for the twins’ Christmas present the previous year. She could still see their faces the first time they’d caught sight of it. James had climbed up there immediately and refused to leave. She’d had to threaten all kinds of horrible punishments. All of which were ignored. It was Clive who had finally persuaded him to climb down.

  The twins had spent most of the summer playing in that tree house. They would not be happy to find out other kids had taken it over.

  Clive had reached the clearing and was standing still, apparently listening. She crept up to his side, and listened, too. She could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out what they said. Then she heard another sound that took her breath away. The quiet whimper of a baby.

  She looked up at Clive and met his triumphant gaze. “I think,” he said softly, “we have found Angelina Prestwick.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Sitting by the fireside in her suite, Cecily struggled to keep up a decidedly one-sided conversation. Madeline was preoccupied with her thoughts, and Cecily could hardly blame her. She couldn’t imagine how she would have felt had someone stolen away one of her babies.

  Even now, with both her sons grown men and living in a foreign country, she worried when she didn’t receive word from them. One never stopped worrying about one’s offspring, no matter how old they were.

  Nevertheless, she felt compelled to keep Madeline’s mind off her troubles, or at least distract her for a while. “Are you quite sure you don’t want to summon the constable to organize a search party?”

  Madeline shook her head. “I don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble.”

  “Unnecessary?” Cecily stared at her, totally unable to comprehend her friend’s thinking. “I don’t like to disagree with you, Madeline, but I can’t help feeling you are making a grave mistake. How can you be so certain your baby is safe?”

  Madeline sighed. “I didn’t say I was certain. I simply have a very strong feeling that if I raise a hue and cry about this, an innocent person will be greatly harmed. I have to trust my instincts, Cecily. I have to have faith in my powers.”

  “And if your powers are wrong this time?”

  A brief spasm of pain crossed Madeline’s face. “Then I shall lose faith in everything.”

  Cecily blinked back a tear. “Oh, Madeline. I pray you are right. I hope-” She broke off as a timid summons on the door brought her to her feet.

  Madeline looked up, hope flaring in her face. She uttered not a word as Cecily hurried over to the door and opened it.

  The young maid who stood there looked frightened, as well she might. The events of the last few days were not exactly in keeping with the festivities of the season. “You have visitors, m’m,” she said, dropping a deep curtsey. “Colonel Frederick Fortescue and his wife request to call on you.”

  Cecily heard Madeline muttering behind her. She could guess the general content of her comments. Although she confessed to being fond of Phoebe Fortescue, Madeline was often irritated by the capricious woman, and could be quite biting toward her when her mood was low. Cecily could not imagine her mood being much lower than it was at present, which did not bode well for any interaction with Phoebe, much less her bombastic husband.

  Between the two of them, the Fortescues could be exhausting, and Cecily was quite sure that Madeline would not be in a suitable frame of mind to handle such turmoil.

  She was about to inform the maid to give Phoebe her regrets when Madeline called out, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cecily, invite them up here. They will help take my mind off things. After all, one can never dwell on private matters when Phoebe is in full gusto.”

  It didn’t matter how many times Madeline read her mind, Cecily could never get accustomed to the jolt it gave her. She instructed the maid to send up the couple, though she had the distinct feeling it was not the wise thing to do.

  Closing the door, she looked across the room at Madeline, who was gazing into the fire, her chin propped on her hands. “Are you quite sure you want to be in such… ah… invigorating company right now?”

  Madeline sat up, smoothing her long hair away from her face. “Of course not, but you were dithering about for so long I felt someone had to make a decision. I could hardly tell you to send them away, now could I?”

  Cecily sighed. “I’m sorry, Madeline. I know this isn’t the best time, but Phoebe is most likely here to prepare the library for her musicians. The carol singing ceremony is tonight, remember?”

  “Yes, of course I remember.” Madeline got up from her chair and wandered over to the window. “What on earth is taking them so long?”

  “Well, they do have to walk all the way up three flights of stairs.”

  “No, I don’t mean the Fortescues. I mean the people searching for Angelina. Someone should have found her by now. She’s cold. She doesn’t have her blanket.” She turned suddenly, her face pale and drawn. “Oh, Cecily, what if I am wrong? What if-”

  “Don’t even say it!” Cecily rose swiftly and hurried over to her. “You’ve never been wrong before. I shouldn’t have questioned you. I’ve put doubts in your mind-”

  A loud rapping on the door made them both jump. Cecily raised her eyebrows at her friend, silently asking if she was ready to receive the visitors.

  Madeline gave her a brief nod, then moved back to the window.

  Calling out, “Do come in!” Cecily walked toward the door to greet her friends.

  Phoebe entered first, carrying an umbrella, her skirts rustling as she walked. As always, she looked spectacular, dressed in a pale green tea gown, covered with a navy blue coat and a massive dark blue hat perched sideways on her head. Green ostrich feathers curled over the brim, which was heavily adorned with holly and frosted red berries.

  “Cecily, dearest!” she cried, as she swept across the carpet. “I’ve been hearing such dreadful stories! As if that poor girl wasn’t enough. I can’t close my eyes without seeing her swinging from the rafters. Now I hear that her husband is dead and Madeline’s poor little baby is missing.” She grasped Cecily’s hands
in her gloved fingers, tears gushing from her eyes. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”

  “It’s quite true.”

  Madeline had spoken from her spot by the window, and Phoebe spun around so fast she almost lost her balance. “Dear heaven, Madeline! I didn’t see you there. Oh, you poor thing. How can you possibly bear it?”

  “I’m bearing up quite well, thank you.” Madeline came forward and suffered a hug from Phoebe before drawing back. “Nice of you to ask, though.”

  “Of course. I-”

  Phoebe’s next words were drowned out by a deep, booming voice at the door. “Blast it, woman, do you have to walk so fast? I’m out of breath trying to keep up with you.”

  The gentleman who entered wore a tweed hacking jacket and carried a matching tweed hat. The lower half of his face was hidden behind a mass of white whiskers and his nose glowed viciously red, suggesting a recent bout with a large bottle of brandy.

  “Freddie, dear, do come in and shut that door. There’s such a dreadful draft.” Phoebe shivered and tucked her hands in her muff. “I simply can’t get warm these days.”

  “It must be old age creeping on,” Madeline said, moving closer to the fireplace. “Come and sit down, Phoebe. It’s warm by the fire.”

  Phoebe gave her a suspicious look, then, apparently deciding Madeline meant well, delicately lowered herself onto the armchair. “So do tell me all about it. Where did you find that poor dead man? How long has the baby been missing?”

  Cecily was about to loudly change the subject when Colonel Fortescue did it for her.

  “Reminds me of when I was on a tour of duty for the British army in India, old girl.” He’d pronounced it Inja, thrusting out his chest and tucking his thumbs into the top pockets of his waistcoat. Standing with his back to the fire, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Ah, yes, I remember it well.”

  “Oh, Freddie, do please be quiet.” Phoebe gave him a fierce frown then turned back to Madeline. “As I was saying-”