by V. M. Burns
The look in my sister’s eyes was a cross between a deer caught in the headlights and “I can’t believe I just saw that.”
I couldn’t help laughing and she eventually joined in.
“Are they always like this?”
I wiped a tear from my eye. “This is nothing. You should see them once they’re good and liquored up.”
The fright in Jenna’s eyes caused me to laugh harder. Over the past few months I had grown accustomed to Nana Jo and the girls and long ago shed any layers of sensitivity and embarrassment. Clearly, Jenna had a few layers left.
Endless food and alcohol, plus a desire to let your hair down and party, made the night at the casino a lot more exciting than our typical girls’ nights to the Four Feathers. We dined together with the men but would be separating soon after.
In the private dining room, in one of the casino’s restaurants, we all enjoyed watching a Japanese Hibachi chef slice, dice, and fillet an amazing meal. I found myself sitting next to April.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Apart from the occasional morning sickness, I’m doing great.” She smiled. “I wish I could drink something stronger than a Coke.” She patted her tummy. “However, all things considered, I’m very happy.”
“You look happy.” I stared at her closely. I’d heard pregnant women had a glow, but I honestly hadn’t met too many pregnant women I’d describe as glowing until now. I wasn’t sure if her clear skin, bright eyes, and shining hair were due to the bun in her oven, freedom from Lydia’s tyranny, or the fact she was, obviously, in love. Whatever the reason, April looked less like a mouse and more like a vibrant woman.
“I never realized how much working for Lydia took out of me. I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” She looked up and smiled. “I know it sounds horrible, but I feel so relieved.”
“That doesn’t sound horrible at all. Will you be staying in North Harbor?”
April shrugged. “I don’t know. Rudy’s here and he wants me to stay.” She smiled shyly. “I think it would be nice for him to be around for the baby. I don’t really have any family, so it doesn’t really matter where I live.
Mom was sitting nearby and I hadn’t realized she heard our conversation. “Well, you have family here. Harold is working on convincing Oscar to move back to the area and he is your stepfather. I think you should stay and open a wedding planning business right here.”
“What do you mean?” She stared openedmouthed. “Oscar is my step . . . father?” She stared from Mom to Oscar at the other end of the table.
Mom fluttered. “I’m so sorry, dear. I thought that detective told you?”
“Told me what?” April stared from me to Mom.
“Margaret Robertson was your biological mother. I thought you knew.”
April looked pale and I grew concerned for her health. “Take a drink of water.” I handed her a glass. “Detective Pitt was supposed to have told you.”
She drank from her glass.
“Why that lazy flatfoot gives policemen a bad name,” Nana Jo said.
“I’m so sorry you had to find out like this.” Mom reached out a hand to April.
She stared at Mom but then shook her head as though shaking away the cobwebs. “He said they didn’t know for sure . . . He thought it was either Lydia or Margaret, but he said I wouldn’t know for sure until DNA results came back.”
“Pshaw.” Mom waved a hand as though whisking away the very notion. “Anyone with a brain could see Lydia couldn’t possibly be your mother.”
I stared at my mom. “How can you be so sure?”
Mom stared at me. “Weren’t you paying attention the other day at Tippecanoe Place when we were talking about biology and genealogy?”
“I might have been distracted by the hostage situation and the gun Margaret was pointing at Lexi. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”
Mom shook her head. “Lydia had red hair and blue eyes. When we first met her, she mentioned that everyone in her family had red hair and blue eyes. She specifically mentioned her husband, her brother, and her parents.” Mom stopped as though everything should be crystal clear now.
Still puzzled, I stared and shook my head.
“April has brown hair. Red hair and blue eyes are recessive genes. It would be rare for two redheaded, blue-eyed people to have a brown-haired, brown-eyed child. However, Margaret has dark hair. Margaret has to be her mother.”
I stared at my mom, but this time in awe rather than surprise.
She continued, “So, April will pass along the red hair and blue eye genes she got from Bufford Jones, her father, to her baby. But unless your . . . ah . . . partner carries the same gene, then your child will most likely have dark hair and eyes, like you.” Mom smiled. “Dark hair and eyes are dominant.”
I was impressed. “You found all this out through that DNA test you sent?”
She smiled. “I researched it and Harold knows a lot about biology. He explained some of it, but really, it seems pretty easy to understand.”
A flash of joy crossed April’s face but quickly vanished and was replaced by sadness. “I always knew I was adopted. I lived with so many different foster families, I stopped counting.” She looked at her belly. “You can’t help wondering about your parents.” She laughed. “When I was small, I used to imagine all kinds of tragic stories about what happened to them.” She swallowed hard and sighed. “I never dreamed my parents would both turn out to be criminals. My mother was a bigamist and a murderer.” She looked cautiously at Oscar, but he was too far away and not listening.
Mom reached over and patted April’s hand. “You can’t choose your biological parents, but that doesn’t mean you will inherit their criminal behaviors. Now, you need to eat more leafy greens and milk. You’re pregnant.” She turned to Harold, who immediately sent a waiter to get a salad and a glass of milk.
April tried to protest, but I knew she was wasting her time. Harold had been given a task to complete and he would make sure it got done.
After dinner, the two groups split up along gender lines. There was a great deal of alcohol and dancing involved with the girls’ group. I was prepared for a rowdy night with Nana Jo and the girls. However, I might never recover from the shock of seeing my mom and my grandmother dancing atop the bar. I looked at Jenna, who was staring with her mouth open.
“I may need therapy after this,” she said.
The limo meant I didn’t have to worry about being the designated driver, but I still wasn’t interested in drinking. I guessed old habits died hard. Instead, I found a quiet corner, sat down, and pulled my notepad out of my bag.
Detective Inspector Covington paced in front of the fireplace in the library at Wickfield Lodge. He was dressed in the tuxedo he’d purchased for the first murder at Wickfield Lodge. He smiled as he looked at his reflection in the window.
Thompkins opened the door. “Percy Waddington,” he announced and then turned and walked out, closing the door.
The detective glanced from Waddington to Lady Elizabeth. Receiving a slight nod, he took control. “It took a while to get the proof we needed, but we got it.”
Percy Waddington looked from the detective to Lord William and Lady Elizabeth. “I don’t know what you mean. Proof, what proof?”
Lord James Browning rushed into the room. He halted at the sight of the detective with Percy Waddington. “You haven’t arrested him yet? The wedding starts in less than half an hour.”
Percy Waddington stood. “Arrested?”
Detective Inspector Covington sighed. “I was getting to that.”
“Getting to it? You’d better get on with it. I need this wrapped up before the wedding.” He smoked and paced rapidly. “Get on with it.”
Percy Waddington continued to look from the duke to the detective as though watching a tennis match. “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but I think you’ve got the wrong man.”
Lady Elizabeth, dressed in a beautiful lon
g gown, rose from her chair and turned to the detective. “I think James is right. William has to get upstairs shortly, and it would be wonderful if we could get this wrapped up before the wedding.”
“I was just about to—”
Thompkins opened the door again. “Constable Freeman.”
The constable entered the room and stood by, unsure which direction to go.
Detective Inspector Covington took a step toward Percy Waddington. “Percy Waddington, I—”
Waddington tried to back away from the door. “I don’t know what this is about.”
Penny opened the door. “What’s going on? James, Father Timmons is looking for you.” She turned to her uncle. “And you’d better get upstairs before Daphne has a meltdown.”
Lord William got up and hurried to the door. Before he left, he turned and looked at Detective Inspector Covington. “Get on with it, man.”
Detective Inspector Covington huffed. “Percy Waddington, I—”
The door opened and Victor entered. “James, we’ve really got to get in the parlor or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I’m trying.” James turned to Percy Waddington. “Look, I don’t have time for this. We know you killed Philippe Claiborne. You were partners. He stole art and jewelry and you fenced it. Now, you can either go along with the constable nicely or I’ll punch your lights out.”
The blood drained from Waddington’s face. “Why would I . . .”
“Claiborne seduced your sister and when he found out she was with child, he dumped her,” Victor said.
“When Sir Wilbur found out, he refused to marry her. Your family shuffled her off to relatives in Australia,” Lady Elizabeth added quickly.
“So, when you heard Philippe Claiborne was here, you made your way and stabbed him,” James added. “You totally gave yourself away when we talked.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Waddington stood, trembling.
“You said you didn’t know Philippe Claiborne well enough to stick a knife in his back and then strangle him,” Victor said.
“The police withheld that information. They never revealed how Mr. Claiborne was killed,” Lady Elizabeth said.
“So, the only way you could have known that he was stabbed and strangled was if you were the one who killed him.” Victor pulled out his pocket watch.
“Now, go along with the nice constable or I’ll break your scrawny neck.” James stepped toward Percy Waddington. Although, Lord James Browning wasn’t an extremely tall man, he was solid.
Percy Waddington looked from James to Victor to the two police.
Detective Inspector Covington held up a piece of paper. “I have proof.”
Percy Waddington pulled a gun from inside his jacket and waved it from James to Victor as he inched backward toward the door. “Don’t move. I’m going to walk out of here and—”
The door swung open suddenly.
Virginia Hall, a tall, dark-haired American spy, entered. Despite having only one leg, Virginia Hall was a top-notch agent and a crack shot. She reached down and pulled up the skirt of her dress, revealing a small caliber gun strapped to her wooden leg. She grabbed the gun, pointed her weapon, and fired at Percy Waddington. The gun fell from his hand.
Percy, dazed and clutching his bleeding hand, stared at the well-dressed, gun-toting American.
James looked from Virginia to Percy. “Oh, bugger it all. I don’t have time for this.” James reached back and slugged Percy Waddington in the nose with a sharp right hook.
Percy Waddington crumpled like a rag doll.
Victor turned to Virginia. “Glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She smiled. “Now, you better get going or there’ll be another body.”
Detective Inspector Covington nodded. “You better go. We’ll take care of this.” He looked at Percy, still sprawled out on the floor.
Victor, Virginia, and James rushed out of the room just as the first strains of “The Wedding March” began to play.
Percy Waddington was quietly and discreetly removed from the premises. James and Daphne were married in the presences of friends, family, and loyal and dedicated servants. If guests wondered why the Marshes’ traditional Christmas decorations also included a menorah, no one bothered to ask. The wedding dinner prepared by Mrs. Anderson was scrumptious and kosher friendly, thanks to Thompkins’s son-in-law, Joseph Mueller.
Daphne was radiant. James wasn’t the only one who gasped at first sight of her. The celebration went on late into the night. A few minutes before midnight, the couple slipped away for a few quiet moments on the terrace overlooking the hedge maze. Neither of them seemed to notice the cold weather as they snuggled together and watched the dawning of one of the most religious days of the year.
James turned to face his new bride. “Happy Christmas.”
Daphne’s face radiated pure love and happiness. “Happy Christmas to you too.”
He pulled her close and kissed her passionately and intensely. When he finally released her, she snuggled into his chest.
“I’m so incredibly happy. I think the world is a wonderful place, and I’m so excited to start our new life together.”
James was silent.
Daphne turned and looked at her husband.
James gazed into the night sky. After several moments, he said, “I feel like an absolute rotter to be so incredibly happy when I know there is so much pain and suffering in the world.” He looked at Daphne. “There are going to be dark days ahead. All signs indicate we may be headed into another war soon.” He looked away. “You realize if England needs me, I’ll have to go. I shouldn’t have—”
Daphne pressed her fingers gently over his lips. “I know.”
James shook his head and tried to speak, but she halted him. “I know. I know you work for MI5. I know you have registered for war service. I know if there’s a war, you’ll likely be called to serve.” She stared into his eyes. “I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to marry you, and I’m so proud of you and proud to be your wife.”
James pulled Daphne close and nearly crushed her as he kissed her ardently. “You’re amazing.”
She smiled. “No, I’m just a woman. Women have been supporting the British Empire in much the same way for centuries. We’ve supported our husbands, brothers, and fathers as they’ve gone off to war and fought incredible battles to keep the empire safe. I’ll do the same.” She frowned. “I can’t say I’ll enjoy it, but I know my duty too.” She lifted her chin proudly. “Hail Britannia.”
Hours later, when all of the guests were gone, Victor noticed Penelope outside on the terrace in the same spot James and Daphne had occupied earlier. He hurried outside and draped his jacket around his wife’s arms. “You’ll catch your death of cold out here.”
Penelope continued to gaze into the night sky. “On a night like tonight, the stars are so bright. It’s easy to imagine a star guiding shepherds and wise men to a stable.”
Victor tore his gaze from his wife to the sky but immediately turned back to her. “Look, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now.” He swallowed hard. “Now the wedding is over, I’m taking you to the doctor. You’ve been sick and tired and . . . well, I’m taking you to the doctor and that’s that.”
Penelope smiled and then turned and whispered in her husband’s ear.
Victor’s face went from concern to elation in a flash. “Are you sure?”
Penelope smiled. “I wasn’t at first until Aunt Elizabeth suggested it to me, but Dr. Haygood confirmed it.”
Victor kissed his wife and spun her around but quickly stopped. “Sorry, are you okay? Maybe you should sit down.”
Penelope laughed. “I’m fine.”
Victor gazed into his wife’s eyes. “When?”
Penelope patted her stomach. “Dr. Haygood says we should expect the next Earl or Countess of Lochloren midsummer.”
Victor looked at his wife’s stomach. �
��I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a father. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Does anyone else know?”
She shook her head. “At first, I didn’t know myself. I wasn’t positive. Once I knew, well, I decided to wait until after the wedding. I didn’t want anything to overshadow Daphne and James’s big day.”
“Is that why you’ve spent so much time with the children from the Kindertransport?” Victor asked softly.
Penelope smiled. “I don’t know. I feel so badly that they’ve had things so hard.”
“I thought you might want to keep them,” he said.
Penelope smiled. “When things settle down, I suspect Thompkins’s daughter, Mary, and his son-in-law, Joseph Mueller, may want to take the children. They haven’t had children of their own and they’ve been so helpful.”
She pulled her husband’s arms around her and looked up at the stars.
The two stood that way for some time. Eventually, Penny said, “I can’t help thinking about another baby that was born on this date.”
Victor squeezed her tightly. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas.”
The next day, Harold and Grace were married in a small but elegant wedding. Ruby Mae’s granddaughter sang and Tony accompanied her on the piano. It had been a long time since I’d heard my brother-in-law play. I’d nearly forgotten what a great musician he was. The happy couple went to the Yacht Club, which was beautifully decorated. Frank was busy making sure the food was hot and presented in the best possible light. The pièce de résistance was the wedding cake. A nervous, but extremely proud, Dawson created a work of art, complete with roses, pearls, flowers, leaves, and a fleur-de-lis border. The four tiers were each elegant and extremely beautiful. Mom took one look at the cake and burst into tears.
Dawson’s face turned ashen. “You don’t like it?”
Mom grabbed his face in her hands. “Not like it? I love it. It’s the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen.” She kissed him. “It means all the more to me because you made it.”
Dawson blushed.
