Away in a Manger

by Rhys Bowen

  Eustace’s face flushed beet red. “What absolute nonsense is this?” He turned on me. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he bellowed. Then he swung back to her. “You stupid old woman—you’ve allowed yourself to be fooled by a confidence trickster. These are not my cousin’s children. They are urchins she’s dragged from the streets.”

  “And if I have been given proof of their identity?” Miss Van Woekem asked calmly.

  “There is no proof of that at all. Margaret Montague ran off to England years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. No proof she ever came back to America.”

  “Ah, but there is,” I said.

  “What proof?” he shouted.

  “I plan to show that to her father,” I said. “Now if you will stand aside, we are going to take the children up to see him.”

  “You’re certainly not going up there.” Eustace gave a menacing step toward me. “In fact you’d better leave now, before I summon the police.”

  “Eustace!” Julia exclaimed. “That’s no way to talk to my godmother’s friend.”

  “I take it that Mr. Montague is still alive?” I asked.

  “He is, but while he is incapacitated I am master of this house and I absolutely forbid it. Now you will please leave if you know what is good for you.” Eustace was glaring at me with hatred in his eyes.

  “I think it would be up to Mr. Montague to make up his mind whether these are his grandchildren or not,” I said.

  Eustace was still standing blocking the doorway. “He is not up to visitors. In fact he is close to death—he may not even make it to Christmas.”

  “All the more reason that he should make his peace with his grandchildren now,” Miss Van Woekem said. “Come, children. Take my hands.”

  And she walked toward the door. Eustace stood there, uncertain how to react. Obviously he didn’t want to stop his fiancée’s godmother by force.

  “What makes you think he will even want to see those children?” he demanded. “He told Margaret she was no longer his daughter when she ran off with that Welsh peasant. He hasn’t even mentioned her name ever since. She is dead to him.”

  “We’ll have to see, won’t we?” Miss Van Woekem said evenly. “If he doesn’t want to acknowledge them, so be it.” She turned to a footman who was standing in the doorway. “Please escort us to Mr. Montague’s room.”

  The footman shot a frightened glance at Eustace.

  “I’ll show you,” Julia said. “Come on, my precious.” And she took Emmy’s hand.

  As I passed Eustace I drew him aside. “I have but one word to say to you, Mr. Everett,” I said. “Stallion.” And I gave him a knowing nod.

  I was delighted by the instant reaction this produced as I followed the others up the stairs. I could sense him standing there, watching me, probably trying to decide what to do next. Mr. Montague was still on the third floor in a room off that Spartan hallway. Julia and I arrived before Miss Van Woekem, who was taking the two flights of stairs slowly. Mr. Montague’s door was half open and I heard a female voice saying, “Time for your hot milk, Mr. Montague. Let me help you to sit up.”

  I surged ahead of the others and snatched the milk away as the nurse was putting it to his lips. “Don’t drink it, Mr. Montague,” I said. “You’re being drugged.”

  “What are you doing? Who do you think you are?” the nurse demanded as I wrestled the cup away. Hot liquid spilled across the bed and floor. The nurse gave a cry of anger, grabbed a towel, and tried to mop it up. “Now look what you’ve done. Are you out of your mind?”

  The old man looked up, trying to focus on me. “Who are you?”

  “Someone who cares enough to save you,” I said. “And I’ve brought some special people to see you.”

  Julia had entered the room with Tig and Emmy. She pushed them forward as I beckoned. The old man sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “Meggie?” he said in a quavering voice. “Is that my Meggie come back to me? It can’t be. She’s gone. I’m so confused.” He passed a hand over his face.

  “Not your daughter, Mr. Montague, but your grandchild. Margaret’s children,” I said. “This is Thomas and this is Megan.”

  A frown crossed his face. “My daughter is gone. She has not been in touch with me once in almost ten years. You’re trying to tell me she’s come back home?”

  “I’m afraid your daughter is dead, Mr. Montague,” I said, and heard a gasp from the children. I realized instantly I should have handled this better and broken the news to them gently at an appropriate time.

  “Mummy is dead?” Emmy asked, turning big eyes toward me.

  “I thought so,” Tig said solemnly. “Otherwise she’d never have left us in that horrible place.”

  “How do you know my daughter is dead?” Mr. Montague demanded, now sitting up and more alert.

  I really didn’t want to go on with this in front of the children. Knowing their mother was dead was bad enough, but hearing that she was murdered was something no child should ever hear. But I also had this one chance to convince their grandfather that they belonged to him.

  “Tig, you two go and look out of the window and see if it’s snowing again,” I said. He glanced at me as if he understood and took Emmy’s hand. When they were sufficiently far away, I opened my purse. “I have a picture of her.” I handed it to him.

  He took the photograph in trembling hands and nodded. “Yes, this is my daughter. But where was it taken?”

  “Her body was photographed at the morgue after she was found in the East River. I’m afraid she was murdered.”

  “My daughter was murdered?” He took a moment to collect himself then looked up at me. “If she had come back to America, why didn’t she come home? Why didn’t she try to contact me?”

  “She wrote to you, at least once,” I said. “But Mrs. Braithwaite said that she saw your nephew intercept the letter. She recognized the handwriting and was about to take it up to you when your nephew took it and stuffed it into his pocket.”

  “Where is Mrs. Braithwaite?” Mr. Montague looked around, bewildered. “I haven’t seen her lately.”

  “Eustace dismissed her immediately after that incident. Who knows how many letters he had prevented you from seeing?”

  “Eustace did this? Where is he?” Mr. Montague demanded. “What does he have to say for himself?”

  “I’ll go and find him,” Julia said. “I’m sure Eustace couldn’t have done these horrible things. There must be an explanation.”

  Mr. Montague, his face as thin, drawn, and gray as a skeleton’s, lay propped against his pillows, studying the children.

  Eustace himself came into the room. “I tried to stop them from bothering you, Uncle. I know how sick you are, but these women insisted on your seeing these children. But I have to tell you there is no proof at all that they are Margaret’s children. From what I’ve discovered they were begging on the street until this woman rescued them for her own devices. No doubt she hopes to make money out of this.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” Miss Van Woekem said, coming closer to Mr. Montague. “I have known Mrs. Sullivan for years and I can attest that she is as straight as a die. And what’s more, her husband is a distinguished member of the New York police department, as was his father before him.”

  “And if you want proof, Mr. Montague, you can ask the children to describe an item of jewelry their mother always wore,” I said.

  I glanced across at Tig, who had been staring in wide-eyed fear. He stepped forward. “She wore a locket all the time. She never took it off.”

  “That’s right.” Mr. Montague nodded. “Her mother wore it until she died and after her death Margaret started to wear it, to remember her mother by. What did this locket look like?”

  Tig smiled at the memory. “It had pearls all around the edge and her initials on it and inside there were two locks of hair, and they look like Emmy’s but Mummy said that one was hers and one was her brother’s.”

  Mr. Montague was now staring at them in won
der. “Quite right,” he said.

  “The children had that locket in their possession until it was taken away by trickery—by your nephew,” I said, not looking at Eustace. “And I gather that your daughter had a lovely singing voice. Emmy also has a beautiful voice. Can you sing one of your mother’s songs for your grandfather?”

  Emmy looked up at me. I put an arm around her shoulder, and she started to sing.

  Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,

  Smiles awake you when you rise,

  Sleep, little darling, do not cry,

  And I will sing a lullaby.

  She looked up at her grandfather. “That was a song Mummy always sang me at bedtime.”

  The old man now had tears streaming down his face. “That was one of Margaret’s favorite songs,” he said. “My wife always sang it to her at bedtime too. And this little lady looks just like her.” He held out his hands to Emmy. “Come, child. Give your old grandfather a kiss before he dies.”

  “You’re not going to die, Mr. Montague. I think we’re in time to save you. I suspect you’ve been drugged for some time now … maybe poisoned as well,” I said.

  “What is that?” He looked across at the nurse, who was now standing in the doorway. “What have you been giving me?”

  “Only what your doctor prescribed, Mr. Montague. Nothing else.”

  “I saw her putting a spoonful of a white powder into your hot milk, Mr. Montague,” I said.

  “Of course. That was the medicine he’d been prescribed to calm his stomach. I just did what I was directed,” the nurse said.

  “That powder is now with the police, being analyzed,” I said. “If there’s nothing wrong with it, then you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m only the nurse. I do as I’m told,” she said, “and Mr. Everett gave me the tin with the directions printed on it.”

  “Maybe Mr. Everett can give us the name and address of the doctor who prescribed the medicine?” I turned to look at Eustace but he wasn’t there.

  “Eustace?” Julia called. “Eustace, come back and explain yourself. Tell them you did nothing wrong.”

  Eustace came back into the room. He pushed past me and went right up to his uncle. “This stops right now,” he said. “I have worked hard all these years to make sure your business prospers in your absence, Uncle. I have earned my inheritance and I refuse to be cheated out of it by a couple of street brats, by the spawn of a nobody from the gutter.”

  “My father wasn’t a nobody!” Tig said angrily, bravely stepping up to face Eustace. “He took good care of us. And my mummy loved him.”

  “Please spare me the sentiment,” Eustace said. “And don’t think of changing your will, Uncle. If you do, I’ll take you to court and prove that you are of unsound mind. Do you think the courts will acknowledge the children as his legal heirs with no documents and no proof?”

  “But you’ll have to do without my money, Eustace,” Julia said. “How could I have been so blind? I thought you were a nice person but I can’t believe how badly you’re treating your relatives. I can’t marry such a man. Aunt Olivia, do you have your carriage? I want to go home, please.”

  “No, Julia, you don’t understand,” Eustace said. He tried to grab her arm. She shook him off. “It’s these people. They have twisted the truth.”

  “As to that, Mr. Everett, it is you who has twisted the truth,” I said. “What about your cousin’s locket that you stole? And the letters your uncle never received from his daughter? And do you think that Julia will still want to marry you when she learns of the company you keep and the clubs you frequent?”

  Eustace’s face flushed angrily again. He turned on me, raising a menacing hand, and for a second I thought he was going to strike me. “You meddlesome bitch,” he said. “I’ll make you pay for this.”

  “Enough, Eustace,” Mr. Montague said in a voice stronger than I would have believed possible. “Get out of my house. I never want to see you again.”

  “I’ll go,” Eustace said, suddenly icily calm, “but if I do, then they go with me.” And to my horror he produced a pistol from his pocket. He pointed it at the children. “You two. Over here. Now.” He grabbed Emmy by the hair, dragging her to his side, then held the gun at her head. She let out a little whimper. Other than that the room had gone silent.

  “Come on, march. We’re going for a ride.” He waved the gun around at the rest of us, who stood frozen as if in some horrible tableau. “And if you try to stop me, I won’t hesitate to kill them. In fact it will give me considerable pleasure.”

  We watched helplessly as he forced the children down the stairs. Then we saw them put into the backseat of his automobile, Emmy’s little face staring up at the house as if begging us to rescue her. Eustace cranked the automobile and it roared to life. I couldn’t wait a second longer. I ran down the stairs, followed by Julia and her godmother, and we watched from the doorway as the car disappeared down the drive. It was now snowing hard, great white flakes falling silently to blot out the world.

  “Your carriage, quickly,” I shouted. It was still standing there, the horses under a snow-covered blanket and the driver standing beside it, wrapped in a rug and looking miserable. Julia and I piled inside the carriage and we took off at a canter. The carriage swayed as we turned onto the narrow lane and plowed through the new snow. We clung on. It was hard going for the horses. The snow fell faster and faster until it was swirling around us in a world of whiteness.

  “We can’t go on like this,” the coachman called down. “I can’t see two yards in front of me. That automobile will be long gone.”

  “He’s right,” Julia said. “We should go back and call the police.”

  “By then the children will be dead,” I said. “Please just try and make it into Great Neck. It can’t be far now.”

  We came around a sharp bend and the carriage jerked suddenly to a halt. One of the horses let out a frightened neigh. I let down the window and leaned out, as snow swirled into my face.

  The driver had climbed down. The horses were stamping nervously. Through the blizzard there was a hissing noise. “Don’t look, ma’am,” he said.

  I ignored this remark and let myself out of the carriage. The automobile had skidded off the road at the bend and had hit a tree. Its front was buckled in and Eustace Everett lay sprawled across the steering wheel, unconscious or dead. Frankly I didn’t care which at the moment.

  “Where are the children?” I shouted, and pushed past the coachman. The backseat of the car was empty. A lump came into my throat. He had killed them already and dumped their bodies. But surely he had not had enough time to do that … I looked around and picked up a small footprint and then signs that someone had scrambled up a snowbank beside the road. They had survived and fled while they could. But a blizzard was now blowing and they were not wearing any outer garments. Neither was I for that matter.

  “Julia,” I shouted. “Go on into Great Neck and get help. Tell them the children are lost in the storm. I’m going to try and find them.”

  “But you’ve no coat on,” she said.

  “Neither have they. I must find them before it’s too late,” I said.

  “Here, take this.” She threw me down the traveling rug that was in the carriage. I draped it around my head and shoulders as the carriage disappeared into the gloom. I heard the jingle of harness long after I could see them. I slithered up the bank and tried to spot another small footprint. It was snowing so hard that I’d have to work quickly before they were all covered. But then I spotted one. It was facing in the direction of a stand of trees on the other side of the field. Snow blinded me as I slithered and stumbled forward, sometimes plunging into snow up to my knees. I could no longer see more than a foot in front of me, and I plowed on guided only by instinct and desperation. I don’t know how long I blundered in that nightmare. I could no longer feel my feet or hands. My face stung. My eyes watered and my breathing was ragged. I realized how stupid I had been to have attempted this. Now q
uite possibly I’d die in the snow as well as the children. I thought of Liam and Daniel and Bridie. How could I have let them down like this?

  Surely there must be some kind of homestead somewhere out here, I thought. What about all those mansions we had passed? And the market gardens and small holdings. People live out here. It’s not that far from New York City. And as soon as I’d bucked myself up with those thoughts I saw a dark shape through the blizzard. It formed itself into a small hut or shed. I stumbled up to it and lifted the latch on the door. The warm herby smell of cow dung greeted me and I saw two cows looking at me anxiously. I took off the snow-covered rug and shook off the coating of snow. As I did so I heard a sound—a gasp, and there in one corner were the children, huddled together.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’m here. That man won’t be coming after you anymore.”

  And they rushed into my arms.

  “We’ll have to stay here until the storm dies down,” I said. “But the cows will help keep us warm.”

  I found enough clean straw and we huddled together under the rug. I don’t know how long we were there. I think we might all have drifted off to sleep. Then through my half-consciousness I heard a sound—the sweet ringing of a distant bell. And suddenly it came to me. It was Christmas Eve and those were the first bells of Christmas. We really were away in a manger and we were going to be safe.

  Twenty-six

  It was later that day when a big cart horse pulling a sleigh finally found us. We were bundled in rugs and taken into Great Neck. There we learned from the local sheriff that Eustace Everett had been taken to hospital and was expected to recover. The sheriff was pleased about that, as Eustace would now have to face kidnapping and attempted murder charges. I found out that the sheriff had received a wire, presumably from Daniel, giving him the result of the chemical analysis. The mixture given to Mr. Montague had contained arsenic, opium, and barbiturate. So I had been right. Mr. Montague was being drugged and poisoned.

  We were taken back out to the estate and received warmly by a very worried Mr. Montague and Miss Van Woekem. After a good hot meal it was decided that the children should return to Sid and Gus for the time being, until their grandfather was recovered to good health. I was glad about that as I knew Sid and Gus were looking forward to celebrating Christmas with them and had surely bought far too many presents. Emmy sat on my lap and Tig snuggled against me as we undertook the long carriage ride back to the city. Fortunately the snow had abated, but it was still hard going and the journey seemed to take forever. Julia and Miss Van Woekem sat facing us. Julia stared out of the window, saying nothing. I thought she was being very brave. To have found out the man she planned to marry had such an evil side must have been a horrible shock to her.