Murder Goes Mumming

by Charlotte MacLeod

  “Really, I couldn’t,” she assured him. “I’m sure there’s a wonderful dessert to come and I’m trying to save room for a taste.”

  “There is and you must. Babs is right, I always do have to diet after a visit to Graylings. She keeps me on bread and water at home. Don’t you, Babs?” Donald called across the table to his wife.

  “As her lawyer I advise her not to answer that,” shouted Lawrence, who was sitting next to his sister-in-law. He was pretty well flown by now. Ludovic had been keeping the glasses filled with what was probably very good wine, although all Janet knew about wine was that it made her sleepy if she drank much and she was already having trouble keeping her eyes open. She motioned Ludovic away when he brought the bottle back to her.

  Madoc was doing the same, she noticed. That was just as well. Dessert turned out to be a trifle so lavishly soaked in rum that the mere smell was enough to turn one’s head. It was a pity Squire didn’t carry his penchant for the good old ways far enough to keep a few wolfhounds under the table so there’d be a place to dispose of some excess food.

  Donald ate his trifle with no fuss about calories. He seemed pleased with himself tonight, and Janet couldn’t help wondering if his self-satisfaction had anything to do with his having been able to snare a distinguished guest for Squire. It was hard for her to think of Madoc as a celebrity, but she supposed he was, after a fashion.

  Squire at any rate was making the most of Madoc’s connections. “What a pity Lady Rhys had to dash off to London instead of coming up to join the party. David tells me she’s quite a personage in her own right.”

  “Oh, she is,” Janet replied, feeling a bit fuzzy on account of the trifle. “Did you know she once sang a concert for the Queen Mother?”

  “No! You must tell me all about it.”

  “Madoc can do that better than I.”

  “Then let’s move to where we can be cozy. May, if everyone’s finished, don’t you think it’s time we had our coffee?”

  “If they’re not finished, they darn well ought to be.” May swung her parrot around to reveal a watch set into its rump. “It’s half past ten, egad. Or do I mean forsooth? Get your nose out of the trough, Lawrence. There doesn’t seem to be anything left to eat anyway. I move we take the coffee into the library, Squire. The Great Hall must be colder than Greenland’s icy mountains by now. All those in favor say aye. The rest keep quiet because nobody’s listening.”

  That was true enough and had been for most of the evening. By and large, the Condryckes seemed more concerned to outshout each other than to engage in any real communication. May at her loudest couldn’t manage to collect everyone’s attention until Babs caught Janet’s eye and rose. Janet most gratefully followed her example, then Clara, Aunt Adelaide, and Val. Madoc shoved back his chair and managed to get next to Janet as they at last left the banqueting board.

  “I thought the gentlemen were supposed to stay and guzzle port after the ladies left,” she teased.

  “I’ve guzzled enough for one night, thanks. How are you bearing up?”

  “I’ll be all right so long as I don’t have to swallow one more mouthful of anything for the next week or so. Where on earth do you suppose they put it all?”

  He glanced at Lawrence’s magisterial paunch. “Isn’t that rather obvious?”

  She giggled and Roy, who was now well over the line, turned around to give Madoc a remarkably dirty look. Did he think they were laughing about him? No matter. Madoc had sense enough not to tackle a drunk on the strength of a sneer, especially when they were both guests in somebody else’s house. And likely to be stormed in by morning if the ghost ship was reliable in its predictions. The wind had picked up while they were at dinner, and the air had smelled like snow when they’d got out of the helicopter.

  Not that snow could be any novelty in these parts and not that it made any difference anyway. Squire obviously kept Graylings well stocked with provender, the woods were full of fuel, and the house must be remarkably well-built to have withstood so many winters already.

  This house party wasn’t turning out as anticipated, but nobody could call it dull. Madoc and his Jenny found a nice, squashy chesterfield far enough from the tall stove to keep from getting boiled alive and settled themselves in one corner.

  “All set for a quiet cuddle, eh?” boomed May.

  Madoc nudged himself even closer to Janet. “Sit with us and chaperon,” he invited.

  “Can’t. I have to pour the coffee. Here, Aunt Addie, come and keep an eye on these two.”

  That was a desirable arrangement, as Aunt Addie at once fell asleep in the opposite corner of the sofa. By now everybody was showing the somnolescent effects of all that food and drink. The general hilarity had subsided, more or less. Herbert was telling a long story that didn’t seem to have much point. Lawrence was grunting and trying to loosen his trouser button without being too obvious about it. What the rest were doing, Madoc neither knew nor cared. He was watching his Jenny sip from a tiny Royal Doulton cup and thinking what a dainty dish she’d make to set before the Queen. Jenny would be dozing herself any second now, preferably in the crook of his arm with her head on his shoulder.

  “Warm enough, love?” he murmured into her hair.

  “M’m. I like this room.”

  “What was that, Janet?” Squire called out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear.”

  Why should he have heard? She wasn’t speaking to him. Perhaps she ought to have been.

  “I was just saying how much I like your library.”

  “I expect you’ll be living in a much grander house than this one day. Eh, Madoc?”

  “Do you mean the family place in Wales? Not a chance, I’m afraid, unless I bump off two uncles and three cousins of whom I’m rather fond, not to mention my own father and elder brother. Younger sons of younger sons don’t come in for ancestral acres. Janet’s not expecting any elaborate layout. Are you, Jenny love?”

  “Certainly I am. My brother’s already promised us a bearskin rug just like yours, Squire.” Janet buried the toes of her evening slippers in the warm fur at her feet. “I hope it’s a friendly one. This is the happiest bear I’ve ever—good heavens, no wonder! Would those by any chance happen to be your grandmother’s teeth it’s wearing?”

  Chapter 5

  THAT LIVENED UP THE party. Even Aunt Adelaide woke and managed a few polite snickers before dropping off again.

  “Poor Granny,” gasped Babs, wiping her eyes. “Whoever would do a thing like this to her?”

  “Those two whelps of mine, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Herbert sounded very much the proud father. “I’ll haul ’em over the coals for this.”

  “Not too hard, Bert,” said his father-in-law benignly. “It’s Christmas, after all. Or will be, the day after tomorrow.”

  “And you can’t say they haven’t made us merry,” Clara added. “Where did they skip off to after dinner, anyway? I’ve barely had a chance to say hello to them since they got home from school.”

  “Why should you complain? Neither have I and I’m their mother,” May replied. “I suppose they’re off to the billiard room again. I might as well have given birth to a couple of cue balls. Eighteen months lugging those kids around and what have I to show for it? Stretch marks on my tum and chalk on my thumb. More coffee, anyone? Brandy? Crème de menthe? Crème de cacao? Crème de la crème?”

  “Rhys will have some of that,” said Roy, smiling ever so bewitchingly to show he was joking. “Sorry, Janet. I’m afraid you don’t think that was amusing.”

  “Don’t I?” If Roy thought he was going to get a rise out of her, he’d better think again. “Say it again and I’ll try to stay awake long enough to listen. Do forgive me, everyone. I don’t know if it’s that gorgeous dinner or the wassail or the traveling or the fact that I got about three hours’ sleep last night, but I seem to be a little bit drowsy. Did you want Madoc and me to go up and meet your grandmother, Donald, now that she’s got her teeth back?”

 
“Are we sure the bear can bear to part with them?” Cyril wanted to know.

  “Yes, let’s get the bear facts,” Lawrence added owlishly.

  “You’re both unbearable,” Babs told them. “What do you think, May? It’s rather late, isn’t it? Will she be awake?”

  “Who knows?”

  May was pouring herself a tot of crème de menthe, green to match her parrot, and didn’t sound as if she cared, either.

  “If you want my advice for what it’s worth,” said Clara, “you’ll slip those teeth back on her nightstand and make believe they were there all the time and she simply overlooked seeing them. Otherwise we’ll have the father and mother of a row. You know Granny.”

  “Don’t we ever!” sighed Val. “I vote with Aunt Clara. Am I old enough to have a vote, Squire?”

  “I vote with you in any case, Vallie,” he assured her. “We certainly don’t want Granny too upset to enjoy the mumming tomorrow night. You know how she loves to dress up. And now, Janet my dear, you will not outrage my sense of hospitality if you betake yourself upstairs. Nor you, Madoc, since I expect you’d find things dull down here without her.”

  “Not at all,” the younger son of the younger son replied courteously, “but I may as well make sure she doesn’t get lost on that remarkable staircase of yours. It’s been a thoroughly delightful evening, Squire, and I look forward to tomorrow as I’m sure Janet does, too. Good night, everyone.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Babs, “and I strongly recommend that you come too, Donald. You might give an arm to Aunt Addie while you’re about it. We do exhaust her, poor dear. Vallie, why don’t you take Roy down to the billiard room with Franny and Winny if you’re going to stay up for a while? Clara, are you coming? Good night, Squire darling. It’s been marvelous as always.”

  “Wait a second,” cried May. “Who gets to bell the cat?”

  “You mean put Granny’s teeth back? I will if you like.”

  “Then who’s to put Aunt Addie to bed?” Donald protested. “I don’t mind helping her into her nightie, you understand, but she might resent my attentions.”

  “I’ll do Aunt Addie, then, and Clara can manage the teeth,” said his wife. “Anyone else care to join the expedition?”

  “Lawrence will,” said Clara. “If he goes to sleep in that chair he’ll wake about two o’clock with a case of lumbago and claim it’s all my fault. Up, sluggard!”

  Lawrence upped, somewhat unsteadily. Clara took her husband’s arm with an efficiency born, Janet suspected, of much practice, and steered him up those incredible stairs to the room that was evidently set aside for them.

  “Get to bed, Lawrence,” she ordered. “I’ll be along in a minute,” and came out of the room with the teeth in her hand.

  They next deposited Aunt Addie, by now more or less awake and protesting that she could manage perfectly well by herself, thank you.

  “Then we’ll leave you here,” said Donald, opening another door for Babs.

  “Oh, no you won’t,” Clara protested. “What if she wakes up and attacks me with her cane?”

  “I’ll come.” Babs was beginning to sound frazzled around the edges. “Donald, you needn’t.”

  “Would she actually hit you?” asked Madoc, much interested.

  “She would and then some,” Clara assured him. “You don’t know Granny.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “I can’t imagine why, but come along if you like. Your rooms are down near hers anyway.”

  “Have you got your bearings yet?” Babs added. “See, this end of the hall fans out into a sort of hexagonal bay. The bathrooms are clustered around the inside walls and your rooms are on the outside. Franny and Winny have the two beyond Val’s and Granny has the two at the far end. The children are here so little, you see, except during their holidays from boarding school, that it’s quiet most of the time. Granny sleeps in the big room that corresponds to Val’s, and uses the little one beside it for a sitting room.”

  “It’s a convenient arrangement,” said Clara, “for everybody. Why’s she got her door shut, I wonder?”

  “She didn’t want anyone to barge in and catch her without her teeth, of course. Go ahead, Clara. We’ll stay out here, just in case. I’m sure she’s asleep by now, though.”

  Janet hoped so. She was ready to drop on her feet, and feeling a trifle annoyed with Madoc for being so darned polite. Surely Granny would rather meet them fresh and rested tomorrow morning.

  “I wonder if I should take the lamp?” Clara sounded so nervous one might have thought she was confronting a caged lion. “I shouldn’t think so, unless Herbert’s been doing tricks with hers. Lawrence and I got one of those battery-operated table lamps for Granny,” she explained to Janet and Madoc, “because we’ve been so afraid she might upset an oil lamp. She doesn’t see too well, and you know how dangerous those things can be if they fall and break, especially in an old wooden house like Graylings.”

  “Clara, quit stalling,” said Babs, rather amused. “You can give your fire prevention lecture some other time.”

  “All right. Wish me luck.”

  Clara smoothed down her beige and blue skirt and edged the door open. “Granny,” she called softly, “are you awake? Gran—Babs, come here!”

  “Here, hold this.” Babs quickly handed the oil lamp she was carrying to Madoc and ran into the bedroom. “Clara, what’s the matter? Is she—oh, Clara!”

  Madoc stepped quietly into the room. Janet, not caring to be left alone in the dark, followed him.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured. “I’ve had a little first-aid training. Can I help?”

  “Nothing’s going to help her now.” Clara’s voice was shaking. “She’s ice cold.”

  The old woman hanging half out of the high tester bed might have been a beauty once. Now she was frightful to look at. Her eyes were staring, her toothless mouth agape, her sparse white hair hanging down over her face in wispy locks.

  “Where’s her nightcap?” Clara asked stupidly.

  “Here on the floor. It must have fallen off when she …” Babs bent to pick up the frilly white cap, and stood turning it over in her hands.

  “I’d made her a new one for Christmas,” she said dully. “Well, I suppose at her age it was bound to happen. We ought to be relieved she went so quickly. She must have been all right when Ludovic took the wassail up to her, otherwise he’d surely have said something. Look, here’s the little tray with the silver pitcher and the cup she drank out of, right here on the nightstand.”

  “There’s still some left in the pitcher,” said Clara. “That’s not like Granny.”

  “Maybe she decided to save that last bit for a nightcap.”

  “Oh, yes, that would be it. And she was reaching out to get it when she …” Clara shook her head as if to clear it. “Do you think we ought to tell the others?”

  “I don’t know.” Babs hesitated. “It’s so late. Squire must have gone to his room by now. I hate to spoil his night’s rest. It isn’t as if anybody could do anything, and you know what it would be like if we got them all milling around again.”

  “But his own mother …”

  Janet caught herself. This was family business. She had no right to pass an opinion.

  “Granny was only Squire’s mother-in-law.” That seemed to clinch it for Clara. “Madoc, I hate to ask, but would you mind lifting her back on the bed? I don’t think I could …”

  “Of course.” He set down the lamp next to the wassail tray, then gently laid the old woman’s body back among the eyelet-embroidered down pillows and drew the lace-edged sheet up over her face.

  “I’ll shut the damper on the stove.” Babs was herself again, calmly efficient. “The colder we keep the room—oh, God! Of all the times for this to happen. It’s awful, I know, but that’s all I can think of. Squire loves his Christmas so, and May breaks her back to have everything the way he wants it. And you do so much, Clara,” she added before her sister-in-law
could point out this fact herself. “We simply mustn’t let this put a damper on the whole holiday. Granny wouldn’t have wanted that, would she?”

  “God knows what Granny would have wanted. I just hope May doesn’t take a notion to look in here. You know the kind of hullabaloo she’d raise. Come on, Babs, let’s shut the door and turn the key. I’m half dead myself and you must be, too. Maybe in the morning we’ll be able to think straight.”

  They turned off the battery lamp and went out into the chilly hallway again. Janet was relieved that her room was nearest. Val must still be downstairs with Roy, but somebody had been in while the family were at dinner to pull out the trundle bed and turn back its warm flannelette sheets.

  She gave Madoc a goodnight kiss at the door and changed quickly into her night things. The room was so cold she put on her thermal underwear under a long-sleeved granny gown. She left her pearls on, too, tucked in against her skin to keep them warm. Then she made a hurried trip to the bathroom and rushed back to the trundle bed. Let Val have the one she was used to. By now, Janet would have been content to stretch out on a picket fence.

  Madoc went to bed, too, but he was less exhausted than Janet. He had in his career developed the useful faculty of grabbing a few minutes’ sleep here and there as occasion permitted. He’d slept a good bit on the helicopter coming up and sneaked several catnaps under cover of the general hilarity during that long dinner and the gathering in the library afterward.

  An hour or so later, when he judged the household was settled down for the night, he woke himself up, slid out of bed, and put on heavy sheepskin-lined slippers and a most wonderful bathrobe warmly handwoven of wool grown on that vast family estate in Wales he would never, God willing, fall heir to. As he was brushing his hair and tying the sash, for he was a tidy man by nature, Rhys heard a small commotion in the next room. Val was still up, blast her, and from the sound of things she was waking his Jenny. He couldn’t make out what they were saying for the door was heavily built and weather-stripped against drafts, but it became clear when Janet, in blue knitted bedsocks and a fleecy blue robe, opened the door and came into his room.