“She does, indeed,” laughed Donald Condrycke. “Valerie’s bringing her current young man and my nephews will be home from boarding school; so you kids can enjoy watching us oldsters make fools of ourselves. Please say you’ll come.”
It was hard to picture the Condryckes making fools of themselves, but quite possible to believe Graylings would be an agreeable place to spend the holiday. Janet, who’d never been much of anywhere, was trying to look poised and gracious, and in fact giving a pretty good imitation of Cinderella being presented with a brand-new pumpkin. Lady Rhys was clearly pleased with herself, her handpicked daughter-in-law and even, as a startling change from custom, with her son. Having chosen such a different path from the rest of his family, Madoc hadn’t thought about what Janet might encounter when she was with her future in-laws. Perhaps he ought to let her have this taste of what being a Rhys could mean.
“Thank you,” he replied. “If you’re quite sure you want us, Janet and I will be delighted to come up for a day or two. Won’t we Jenny?”
“It’s kind of you to ask us,” Janet said in the sweet, low voice that was going to delight Sir Emlyn when he got to hear it. “What shall we bring?”
*A Pint of Murder.
Chapter 2
THE CONDRYCKES OFFERED A ride up to Graylings in their car, but Madoc was loath to give up a day alone with his Jenny. “Just tell us where it is and we’ll find the place.”
“It’s a long drive,” Babs Condrycke replied doubtfully, “and we’d hate you to miss dinner. Isn’t it tomorrow night we do the Yule log, Donald?”
“Half past six on the dot. Then the wassail and the roast goose. I hope you eat goose, Miss Wadman.”
“I generally eat what’s put in front of me,” she replied in the prim Pitcherville way Madoc found so adorable. “We’ll be there on time if Madoc says we can. Now shouldn’t we be thinking about getting Lady Rhys to the airport?”
They said their farewells to their prospective host and hostess, and set about getting Madoc’s mother out of her diamonds and into her traveling costume. While she was changing, Janet and Madoc telephoned up to Pitcherville. Annabelle was smug when Janet said she’d been wearing the beaver cape when Madoc put the ring on her finger and flabbergasted when she learned what sort of family Janet would be marrying into. Bert got on the phone amid great babble from the background and hoped his sister wouldn’t be too high and mighty to speak to her poor relations. Madoc said she damn well wouldn’t and Bert had better get set to catch him when he fainted at the wedding, and here was Mother to say hello.
Thereupon, Lady Rhys said hello and a great deal more about how delighted she was that Madoc had found such a wonderful girl and what a credit Janet was to her upbringing, which of course was a most delicate compliment to Bert and Annabelle, who’d raised his younger sister since she’d been orphaned while still at school. At last they hung up in an atmosphere of long-distance bonhomie and went to the airport. The long taxi ride back was the best part of all.
The next morning Janet was up betimes and, while she waited for Madoc to take her to breakfast, regaled her awestruck landlady with an account of how Lady Rhys had sung for the Queen Mum.
They spent a long time over the meal, trying to have a serious discussion about the things they ought to be seriously considering and having to break off to say the things they really wanted to say. After that, Madoc took Janet to Birks.
“I meant for us to pick out the ring today,” he explained. “Do you really like that one Mother gave us, or would you rather have something different? You’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life, you know.”
“I know.”
Janet gave him such a misty-eyed smile he was forced to kiss her right there on the sidewalk, to the delight of many Christmas shoppers and the Salvation Army lassie who was collecting donations on the corner.
“I adore the ring, darling, and I wouldn’t dream of hurting your mother’s feelings by choosing another in its place. Why don’t you just buy me a nice, plain one to go with it?”
So they picked out a wedding ring for Janet but not for Madoc because wedding rings were noticeable and in his line of work it was often better not to be. Then Madoc wanted to buy Janet some diamond earrings to go with her engagement ring, but she talked him into a string of pearls that would be modest enough for Pitcherville but elegant enough to wear before royalty should she ever have occasion, as it now seemed entirely possible she might.
They then returned to get Madoc’s luggage and check him out of the hotel, retrieve his car from the garage, and swing around to collect Janet’s suitcase from her now totally overwhelmed landlady. At that point Janet gave Madoc the russet wool sweater she’d spent all fall knitting him because she couldn’t stand to wait till Christmas Day and he might as well have it to wear up at the Condryckes’ because goodness knew what the weather would be like up there. She herself wasn’t banking any too heavily on that old hot-air furnace and had packed her thermal underwear just in case.
Then Madoc had to try on the sweater, which fitted him perfectly and made him look far handsomer than the pictures Lady Rhys had shown Janet of his famous brother Dafydd. What with one thing and another, they were impossibly late starting what would have been roughly a three-hundred-mile drive, so they drove the sixty-five miles to Fredericton, dropped in at RCMP Headquarters to receive general felicitations as well as sandwiches and mugs of tea gratis from the canteen, got rid of Madoc’s car, and bummed a lift in a helicopter that happened to be headed up Dalhousie way.
The pilot knew Graylings even without Madoc’s directions. According to him, the place wasn’t all that close to Dalhousie but ’way the hell and gone out in the middle of nowhere. He was surprised Madoc and Janet had got invited. The Condryckes were a clannish lot, though he guessed they did throw the odd bash for visiting swells when the mood was upon them.
“Big place, I understand,” Madoc observed.
“Cripes, I’ll say. Looks from the air like one of those old castles or something.”
“Costs a packet to keep up, eh?”
“Oh, I doubt there’s any dearth of money in that crowd. You warm enough, Janet? There’s hot tea in the Thermos behind you, and an extra blanket if you need it.”
“Thanks. Right now I’m so excited I couldn’t tell you whether I’m cold or not. I’ve never been up in one of these things before.”
“Besides, she’s got her thermal underwear,” Madoc added, reaching from the seat behind to tuck Janet up in the blanket and get in a squeeze or two. Even in ski pants and a down jacket, Janet was an eminently huggable young woman.
They had their tea. After a while, Janet began to weary of white snow and green-black forest and the noise of rotor blades overhead. The sky grayed, then darkened. It was an ineffable relief when the pilot shouted at last, “We’re going down,” and brought his craft’s skis to rest on a vast plowed-out driveway in front of the biggest private dwelling she’d ever been this close to.
By now it was really dark, a beautiful clear night with each separate star glittering like the diamond in her new engagement ring. As she climbed stiffly out of the helicopter, Janet could feel tiny icicles forming inside her nose.
“Thank you again for the ride,” she called up to the pilot. “You come and see us as soon as we have a house.”
“Don’t forget your thermal underwear. You’ll want it up here, that’s for sure.”
He handed down the bags. Janet and Madoc walked up the steps of Graylings and thumped on the knocker.
A tall, handsome, elderly replica of Donald answered the door. This must be Squire himself. He was all affability.
“Here you are, just in time. Delighted you could come. Good God, what’s that racket? Donald, Babs, they’ve flown up in a helicopter. Come and see, quick!”
A great many large blond people crowded to the front windows to watch the flying bug take off. They all appeared to think young Rhys and his bride-to-be had done something screamingly funny by
arriving in this really not so unusual way. For a country as big and as underpopulated as Canada, small aircraft were often the most practical form of transport.
Anyway, it was pleasant to find themselves getting off on the right foot among so merry a party. Mrs. Condrycke came forward to do her part as hostess. She was wearing an ankle-length skirt of handwoven wool in the Black Watch tartan and a dark green mohair pullover with a rolled neck, managing to look chic and warm at the same time. Her only ornaments, Janet was pleased to note, were her diamond rings and a nice string of pearls.
“Do call me Babs,” she urged. “The only Mrs. Condrycke around here is Granny, who hasn’t come downstairs yet. My husband is Donald, as you doubtless know. Squire is Squire and he gets livid if you call him anything else. Don’t you, Squire darling?”
“Positively foam at the mouth,” he agreed. “We must get these young adventurers into something comfortable right away. You must be half-frozen, Miss Wadman. Or may I say Janet?”
“Please say Janet.”
She couldn’t picture Squire foaming at the mouth, except perchance over a tankard of brown October ale. He looked like the embodiment of all the Squire Allworthys who’d ever galloped across a British countryside. He even had on suitably ancient plus fours and knitted wool socks in a brown and yellow argyle pattern, with a bright yellow pullover and a tweed jacket with suede leather patches at the elbows. Like the other Condryckes he was tall and burly and fair, with eyes of a clear light blue.
In fact, the entire group looked much alike. Babs was another blue-eyed blond, and so were the rest of the in-laws. A family that came in matched sets was going to be a problem to keep sorted out. Janet tried to remember some of the professional tricks Madoc had taught her about remembering people’s faces as they thronged around clamoring for introductions.
The woman who was even taller and somewhat older than Babs, and who looked the most like Squire, was his eldest daughter May, who appeared to function as housekeeper at Graylings. Like Babs, May had on a long skirt and sweater, but her skirt was checked in a dazzle of red, green, and yellow. Her pullover was the same canary yellow as her father’s. Around her neck hung a gold pendant made to represent a parrot and enameled in the same vivid shades as her skirt. The thing was about the size of a real chickadee and when she pulled the tail it flapped its wings and squawked. Janet laughed more from surprise than amusement, and May roared with her.
“Isn’t this priceless! Herbert gave me the bird for our last anniversary. He claims it reminds him of me. Don’t you, you old louse?”
May put a neat hammer lock on a tall, blond, jovial soul who was running a bit to fat, and dragged him to the fore. “This is my ever-loving husband Herbert, who’s Squire’s steward when he can get his mind off other things. Don’t let him back you into any dark corners, Janet. Ever-loving doesn’t necessarily mean he’s loving me.”
“Pay no attention to my wife, Janet,” drawled the alleged lady-killer. “I never do.”
He gave May a mighty whack on the rump with his left hand and stretched out the right to shake hands.
Madoc managed to get his own hand in before Janet’s and was not a whit surprised to feel a tingling buzz against his palm. May thought this was pretty funny, too.
“Didn’t I tell you he was a louse? We’ve got a couple of sons around somewhere, as I dimly recall. They’ll show up for dinner, no doubt. And this is my sister Clara. Shake hands like a good little girl, Clara.”
“Not with Herbert, I won’t. How nice to meet you, Janet. Madoc, we’re so glad you could come. Do you sing like your brother? And don’t you positively hate being asked?”
Clara was either several years younger than May or a good deal better preserved. Her skirt was a discreet blue and beige plaid with a faint wine-colored stripe, and she wore a light blue pullover with a string of garnets.
“I do not sing like my brother,” Rhys assured Clara. “Nobody does. Not even my brother, sometimes.”
That quip raised another laugh from one and all. Janet was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm inside the ski suit she still had on, and to realize how tired she was. She managed to get through a couple more introductions, not sure which was Clara’s husband Lawrence the lawyer and which was Clara’s brother Cyril. There didn’t seem to be any Mrs. Cyril.
“Now we really must let these two get changed,” Squire intervened with a slight edge to his geniality. “They’ll meet the rest at dinner. It’s after six already and we’ve still the Yule log to do. Get along, May, show them upstairs.”
“I’ll do it,” Babs volunteered. “Where are you putting them, May?”
“Janet will have to share with Val, since Val towed that devastatingly unforgettable young what’s-his-name along and didn’t tell us in advance. I’ve given him the room that would otherwise have been Madoc’s, and Madoc can have the one next door to Janet and Val, which Janet would have had if I hadn’t given it to Madoc. Nicely confused, everyone? I’ll buzz on out to the kitchen and see how Fifine’s making out, and with whom. Herbert, you’d better drag the young fry out of the billiard room if that’s where they are. Clara, would you mind checking the table?”
May stamped off, pulling her parrot’s tail and laughing at the squawk as though she’d never heard it before. Madoc looked around for his and Janet’s luggage.
“Oh, Ludovic will have taken up your bags. This way, please. Luckily we have electricity of sorts on the staircase and in the bathrooms when the dynamo’s working. Oil lamps or candles elsewhere, I’m afraid. There’s always talk of wiring all Graylings, but it never happens. Do mind the turns, they’re tricky. Perhaps you haven’t seen a switchback staircase before. I never knew such things existed till I married Donald. I’m still not quite sure they do.”
Babs laughed as she led them up a dimly lighted, strangely zigzagging stairway that seemed to have at least one window and two landings to each flight. Madoc kept a protective arm around Janet so that she wouldn’t be apt to stumble on one of the pie-shaped steps at the turns, which didn’t make for the soundest of footing. Janet was glad of the support for several reasons, but mostly because it was Madoc’s arm and not someone else’s.
Chapter 3
“JANET, YOU’RE IN HERE. We gave Val this big room when she was a youngster because she always liked to bring her girlfriends when we came. Now she brings her boyfriends, but we’re creatures of habit. You’re quite sure you won’t mind sharing? That’s a trundle bed underneath the four-poster. You just pull it out and flip a coin to see who gets which.”
Babs demonstrated, making sure the trundle bed was properly made up. Janet was relieved to see there were good, thick Hudson Bay blankets on it.
“No, I don’t mind sharing. I’m used to roommates.”
Janet was relieved that she’d at least get a bed to herself, and it was only for a night or two anyway. She had a sneaking hunch Babs might be putting her into service as a chaperon, since there must surely be some other place she could camp in a house this size. On the other hand, perhaps Valerie was supposed to chaperon her. It was an amusing thought.
“Madoc, you’re right next door. This used to be a boudoir and there’s room enough in it to swing a cat if you don’t pick too big a cat.”
Babs laughed with what might almost have been a naughty imitation of May’s lusty guffaw and opened a door connecting the two rooms. “You can lock this if you’re feeling prudish. There, you see. What they call functional.”
The room allotted to Rhys was in truth not much smaller than the bedroom Janet had slept in most of her life back at the farm, and far less simply furnished. Some antique dealer would give his eyeteeth for that roped cherrywood bedstead. It must date from Loyalist times, maybe even from the early French settlers. Madoc was amused to see both his and Janet’s bags on the luggage rack.
“Here, Jenny, this is yours.” He carried it back into the larger room for her. “We shall be very comfortable, Babs. Are there really bathrooms?”
“
Four, thank goodness, but they’re all clustered in one place, around the main chimney just across the hall here. To keep the pipes from freezing, you see.”
“Of course. An extremely sensible arrangement.”
“Use any one that isn’t occupied. There should be plenty of hot water and towels. And we have just about fifteen minutes before we light the Yule log, so please be as quick as you can. Put on whatever you’re comfortable in. As you see, we don’t dress.”
Janet took the not dressing for what it was worth and decided she’d be most comfortable in her red velvet skirt. She wished she dared stretch out for a few minutes’ rest on that cozy-looking trundle bed, but she did manage a quick hot shower, taking her clothes into the bathroom with her to steam out the travel creases as best she could. When she emerged in the long skirt, a lacy white cable knit pullover Mama Dupree had made for her last Christmas, and her new pearl necklace, she met Madoc, freshly shaven and damp about the ears, coming out of the bathroom next to hers.
“Integrating with the group, I see.”
He smiled and pulled her close. “My darling Jenny, how beautiful you are. I hope you’re going to enjoy this.”
“I expect I’d enjoy anything so long as I had you with me,” she murmured, rubbing her lips along his clean, warm jawbone. “Come on, we mustn’t miss the Yule log, whatever that is. I’ve never seen one. Have you?”
“Oh, yes. At my great-uncle’s place in Wales they always do it. We’ll go there next Christmas, eh?”
Murder Goes Mumming Page 2
