Rose Campion and the Christmas Mystery

by Lyn Gardner

  “Well, Grace can’t possibly go,” said Rory.

  “No, she can’t,” said Rose. “But we can.”

  The city was wrapped in a cloak of darkness, the few lamps still lit revealing glittering frosted streets. Rose, Effie and Rory made their way cautiously – slip-sliding despite their sturdy boots – through the narrow passages behind St Paul’s. It was close to midnight. They crept down an alley that would bring them out close to the steps leading up to the front entrance of the great cathedral. Aurora had been doubtful about the plan, suggesting they should get Thomas involved from the start.

  “And shouldn’t we tell Grace about the note? It was sent to her, after all,” she had said, a frown on her face.

  “It would spoil the party,” Rose had said firmly, and watching Grace whirl around the room with such undisguised pleasure, Aurora had to agree it would be a pity to ruin the evening for her.

  “Why worry her half to death, when we can go to St Paul’s, discover who the stranger is who sent the note and apprehend them ourselves? There are three of us and only one of him. Besides, we will have the advantage of surprise. Whoever he is, he won’t be expecting us. Anyway, we can call for help if we need it.”

  “But if he’s a toff, as seems likely from the diamond earring, he will have much more authority than us. We’re more likely to be the ones to be arrested,” said Effie, looking worried.

  “And how much help will there be around at the dead of night anyway? And if he does a runner, what will we do?” asked Rory.

  “Chase him,” said Rose. “We’re bound to be younger, fitter and faster. At the very worst we’ll be able to give the police a good description of him, and at least now we’ve got some evidence,” she added, holding up the note and earring.

  They approached the great cathedral, their boots crunching on the packed ice. Aurora had been wrong in her worry about there being nobody around. Despite the chill, there were plenty of people in the vicinity, although Rose suspected that many of them were engaged in business that they preferred to do under the cloak of darkness. There were also a number of homeless people huddled in the precincts of the church, and down a narrow alley, a brazier had been lit, and the faces of those standing around were ruddy in the glow from the flames. They were singing carols.

  They slowed down to take stock and plan their approach. Rose had assumed that their quarry would be alone and visible from a distance. But there were a surprising number of people, as well as several dogs, milling around at the top of the stairs, and she realised that whoever was trying to lure Grace here had sought safety in numbers. Maybe this was a well-known place for midnight assignations? Leaning against one of the columns, a man and a woman were kissing passionately, and at the top of stairs there were several men standing alone, as if they were each waiting for somebody. From the way they were dressed, it was clear that most of them were gentlemen. But none of them appeared to have a white carnation.

  The girls decided to stay where they were positioned, at the bottom of the stairs to the left, where they were less obviously visible. The moon had escaped from behind a cloud, and they had a good view of the people on the steps. The cathedral’s newly installed clock began to chime the midnight hour. As the last note died away, a new figure emerged from behind one of the columns at the top of the stairs. He was wearing a top hat, and a white carnation was clearly visible in his buttonhole. He pushed his hat up, making his face visible. The girls gasped. The man wasn’t a stranger: it was Sir Godfrey Caskins.

  Rose, Effie and Aurora were at Silver Square, getting ready for the dinner to celebrate Grace’s forthcoming marriage to Sir Godfrey. It was almost seven o’clock. Madame de Valentina was already downstairs, preparing her act in the Chinese drawing room, where the pre-dinner entertainment would take place, and the guests would shortly be arriving.

  “What on earth are we going to do?” asked Aurora, as she tried to do up the hooks and eyes at the back of Rose’s dress. She was all fingers and thumbs, and Rose was so consumed with anxiety that she could barely stand still. Effie was biting her fingernails and kept darting back and forth to the window to peer out.

  They had raced as fast as the icy streets would allow them back to Campion’s, ready to tell Grace, Thomas and Edward what they had discovered. But when they arrived back they had discovered that the party was over early because a message had come, summoning Grace to the Hampshire school where Freddie was a pupil. He had suffered an accident. Thomas and Edward had immediately set off with Grace, leaving a note explaining what had happened, and promising to be in touch with further news in the morning about whether or not the dinner, at which the Easingford Emeralds would be presented to Grace, would go ahead.

  Although the girls were worried about Freddie, the news that the dinner might be cancelled had come as something of a relief, making the need to tell Grace about Sir Godfrey’s behaviour less pressing. In the morning, Thomas had sent another note, saying that Freddie’s accident was less serious than initially feared and that they would be returning to London by late afternoon.

  “Which will at least give us time to show them the note and earring and tell them about seeing Sir Godfrey at St Paul’s,” said Rose.

  But late afternoon had come and gone, and it had been followed by another note to say that the party had been caught in a snowstorm but would be back before the first guests arrived. But that was now looking increasingly unlikely too.

  “You don’t think,” asked Aurora, “that Sir Godfrey could possibly have known that ‘Jenny’ is really Grace?”

  Effie shook her head. “I don’t. Even some of Campion’s regulars are unaware that Pru and Belle Canterbury are one and the same person. The leap from Grace to Prince Charming is an even greater one.”

  “No,” agreed Rose. “The disguise is far too good.”

  “It is,” said Effie. “I’m confident of that. It’s far more likely that Sir Godfrey was simply tickled by a pretty face and thought he’d try his luck, as he had with Ivy.”

  “I knew he looked familiar – and that he was lying when he claimed that he had never been to Campion’s before on the night Ivy died,” said Rose.

  “It was a risky thing to do though,” said Effie. “You might have called him out on it if you had been more certain you had seen him there before.”

  “It was even more risky to slip in to see the pantomime last night. Any one of us might have seen and recognised him,” said Rose.

  “Much less so if he took a little care over his appearance and was up in the gallery,” said Rory. “But maybe taking the risk is part of the thrill for him. Perhaps he enjoys getting away with it, knowing the world sees him in one way, when privately he behaves in quite another.”

  “Maybe shooting music-hall stars is just another form of thrill for him,” said Rose darkly. “Like big-game hunting.”

  “But did he shoot Ivy?” asked Effie. “We can’t jump to conclusions. We’ve got the evidence of our own eyes that Sir Godfrey is a hypocrite – engaged to Grace and yet seeking dalliances with other women – but we don’t know that he is a murderer. He may well have formed a relationship with Ivy but that doesn’t mean he killed her. He may well have been very fond of her.”

  “But somebody did kill Ivy,” said Rose, “and he’s the obvious suspect.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Effie. “But what was his motive?”

  “I don’t know,” conceded Rose.

  “All I’m saying,” said Effie, “is that I’ve been reading The Illustrated Crime News from cover to cover for weeks now, and one of the things I’ve learned is that when the police are investigating a murder, they don’t begin by asking who killed the victim, but rather, why the victim was killed.”

  “That may be,” said Rose impatiently, “but what we can be certain of is that, with a little nudge from us, Sir Godfrey is about to topple off his pedestal, and just in time to save Grace from marrying him.”

  There was the sound of a carriage outside. Effie l
ooked out. The first guests were already arriving, and Sir Godfrey was among them. Aurora said that they must go down and greet them. As they reached the drawing room, Lucy the parlourmaid stopped and told them that Thomas, Grace, Edward and Freddie had arrived a few minutes earlier around the rear of the house and had gone up by the back stairs to get ready. Edward would lend Thomas some evening clothes and they would be down shortly. Edward had requested that the girls hold the fort for them and greet the guests.

  “Is Freddie all right?” asked Rory.

  Lucy nodded. “The walking wounded, but no serious harm done by the looks of it, miss.”

  Rose wondered about the nature of the accident that had befallen the boy. Could it have been bullying that caused his injuries? The doorbell rang loudly, announcing the arrival of the first guests.

  “Smile,” instructed Aurora, looking tense.

  “Should I go upstairs and speak to Thomas about Sir Godfrey?” asked Rose.

  “It’s too late,” said Aurora tersely. There was the sound of voices in the hall, and of coats and wraps being handed over.

  “We’ll just have to sit through the dinner and tell them about Sir Godfrey afterwards,” said Rose.

  “Might be tricky,” said Aurora. “He’s one of the guests staying the night. Along with his sisters, their husbands and a countess who Sir Godfrey insisted was invited too. We may just have to be patient and wait until the morning when everyone has left. It would be awful if there was a big scene.”

  The girls could hear the voices moving towards the drawing-room door, when there was a tap on the French windows that led down into the garden. Edward was standing there adjusting his tie. Rose ran and unlocked the door, and as Sir Godfrey and guests swept into the room, the four of them stood in a line to greet them, smiles fixed upon their faces.

  “Have you got the emeralds?” whispered Aurora.

  Edward nodded. “In my pocket. I made an excuse for stopping off at the bank on the way back. I shall return them first thing in the morning, and we can retrieve them for Grace to wear at the wedding, if that is what she wants to do.”

  “About the wedding…” said Aurora, but she got no further, as a beaming Sir Godfrey bore down upon them.

  Madame de Valentina was in full flow, delighting Sir Godfrey’s sisters and the countess with her card tricks. They had moved upstairs to the Chinese drawing room, and Rose was sitting next to Thomas towards the back of the room. She had a good view of Grace, sitting to one side of de Valentina. She was next to Sir Godfrey, who held her hand firmly in his, as if worried she might run from the room. Grace looked tired and pale, and she kept glancing towards the door, as if she wanted to get away and be with Freddie. Edward and Rory were sitting next to them and both seemed preoccupied. While everyone was having drinks, Rose, Rory and Effie had taken the chance to creep upstairs and find Freddie. Perdita was sitting with him, tenderly stroking the child’s face. The boy was fast asleep, but they could see the black eye and the broken arm.

  “Bullying?” asked Rose softly.

  Perdita nodded. “Grace believes so, although of course the school denies it. They say the child must learn to toughen up.”

  Rose made a face and whispered, “So what they are really saying is that Freddie should learn how to be a bully himself.”

  Perdita nodded. “I believe that sums the situation up. But at least Grace has decided that he should not return.”

  Good, thought Rose to herself. It was one more reason why Grace had no need to marry Sir Godfrey.

  “You can start teaching Freddie again,” whispered Rory. “He loved that.”

  “Maybe,” said Perdita, a look of sadness in her eyes.

  Madame de Valentina continued her act, so familiar from Campion’s, although with only the card trick and hypnotism components.

  “She should stick to the hypnotism. She shouldn’t do card tricks up close in full light where we can see every move,” whispered Effie, who was sitting on the other side of Rose.

  Rose nodded. Effie was much better at card tricks. It made Rose think about de Valentina’s act. It may be popular with the Campion’s crowd, but it was an ill-conceived mish-mash, as if it had been thrown together. Why didn’t she just do the hypnotism? She was clearly good at that. After all, that was what Pony Snatchwitch told them she had originally been booked to do at the Alhambra. The communing with the dead element seemed to be another add-on, like the card magic. It had been undeniably popular and profitable, but even Madame de Valentina herself seemed to have lost interest in that section of the show, as if it had outlived its purpose.

  “She’s leaving. After tomorrow’s show,” whispered Thomas in Rose’s ear. Rose looked up at Thomas with a frown as he continued. “Can’t say I’m sorry, although we will take a financial hit. There is a touch of the night about her – she makes me think of a vampire, the way she appears and vanishes, always in her onstage costume, never joining in with the day-to-day of Campion’s life.”

  “Where’s she going?” hissed Rose.

  Thomas shrugged. “She mentioned something about returning abroad. It’s strange. She was so keen to come to Campion’s, and she’s only been here a few weeks. She could easily top the bill until Easter if she wanted. Clearly we’ve served our purpose, whatever that was.”

  Somebody in the row in front turned around with a frown. Elenora had moved on to the hypnotism segment of her act. Rose was bored of it by now. She had seen it enough. Aurora was being beckoned up on to the stage, and Rose felt sympathy as Rory rearranged her features from horror to acquiescence, as Sir Godfrey insisted she oblige Madame de Valentina. Edward’s mouth was set in a grim line. He clearly wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of his daughter being made a spectacle of, but there wasn’t much he could do. Rose felt relief that she was hidden away at the back and hadn’t been called up on to the makeshift stage.

  She just hoped that de Valentina didn’t make poor Aurora do anything too embarrassing. But, as if knowing that would be inappropriate in this particular company, Elenora was restrained. When she rang her little bell after whispering in Rory’s ear, all that the glazed-eyed Aurora did was say the alphabet backwards, stand and sit, pretend to take a dog for a walk, and sing “Three Blind Mice” at de Valentina’s command. It was all very polite, and quite as dull as the card tricks.

  Rose was relieved when the gong sounded and they all trouped into dinner. Particularly when she overheard Effie in full flow telling the countess about her personal experience of slum life in Shoreditch, and what she’d like to do to absentee landlords who charged impossibly high rents to the poor for insanitary housing.

  After they had eaten dessert, Edward briefly left the table and returned with a black velvet box. He quietened the chatter by tapping on his glass with a spoon.

  “My dear Grace,” he said. “These are a wedding gift to you from Rory and me.” He opened the box and lifted the Easingford Emeralds up so that they caught the light.

  “Oh, Edward – I cannot accept such a generous gift,” protested Grace, but Edward held up a hand to silence her and fastened the necklace around her neck. The emeralds glinted, and Sir Godfrey’s eyes glinted admiringly too. The table clapped, and Grace expressed her thanks.

  “They are beautiful, Grace,” said Aurora. “And so are you. The Easingford Emeralds couldn’t have found a better home.”

  “By rights they should be yours, Aurora,” said Grace gravely.

  Rory shook her head vigorously. “I don’t need to own them. I have more than enough.”

  Rose looked around the table – at the silverware, the gold-embossed crockery, and at the people sitting around it, in all their finery, with their pearl necklaces and gold rings, and thought that Rory was right. Everyone sitting around the table, herself included, had more than enough.

  “A toast!” said Sir Godfrey.

  He poured a little wine into one of his own unused glasses, handed it to Grace and raised his own glass.

  “To my beautiful fiancée,
Grace.” He paused. “And to Edward and Aurora, for their generous gift.” He clinked his glass with Grace’s and said, “Drink, my darling! Drink to your benefactors.”

  Rose woke with a jump and sat up in bed. She had been having a dream, and in the dream she could hear a bell ringing – a distant tinkle. But some other sound had woken her. It was very dark. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She, Aurora and Effie were all sharing a huge double bed in a large bedroom with heavy furniture inlaid with a dragon motif. The bedroom overlooked the square. She slipped out of bed and went to the window, pulling back the thick damask curtains so that she could look out. Silver Square was in darkness. She turned back to the bed. Effie was fast asleep, snuffling like a hedgehog with both arms flung up over her head. But Aurora was missing from the bed. The door to the room was ajar. Perhaps she had gone to get water? Rose realised how parched she was – all that rich food had given her a thirst. She padded towards the door, and as she reached it, Effie sat up and said sleepily,

  “Where are you going, Rose? And where’s Ror?”

  Rose shrugged. “I don’t know. I woke up and she was gone. I’m going to get some water. Maybe that’s what she’s doing too.”

  Effie scrambled out of bed just as the church clock struck three a.m. “I’ll come with you. I don’t want to be alone in here with them dragons giving me the evil eye. They’re creepy.”

  Rose held out her hand. “Come on. I don’t want to be wandering round a great house like this on my own.”

  “Me neither,” said Effie. “I don’t know how Ror can stick it here. Or those people. That sister of Sir Godfrey’s is a real snob. The way she kept looking at me made me think she’d be advising Edward to count the spoons before I leave.”

  “Don’t be daft, Effie. You’ve as much right to be here as anyone else. In fact, rather more right than Sir Godfrey’s snobby sister.”