Away in a Manger

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by Rhys Bowen


  It was only when the carriage stopped at the entrance to Patchin Place that she said, “I have to thank you, Mrs. Sullivan. You saved me from a life of grief. Eustace promised me the moon—trips to Europe, and of course to be mistress of Fairview. It all seemed so exciting.”

  “I don’t think you’d have enjoyed being mistress of Fairview for long,” I said. “I am rather afraid you might have met the same fate as Margaret and her brother and father.”

  “Don’t.” She shuddered. “How can any man be such a monster?”

  “There is both good and evil in the world,” Miss Van Woekem said. “But you and I shall celebrate Christmas together, Julia.”

  “You’d be very welcome to join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” I said. I’d said it more out of politeness, but I saw a pleased expression on Miss Van Woekem’s face.

  “Really? How kind. I can think of nothing better than Christmas with a family. That is how it should be celebrated.”

  * * *

  Relief flooded Daniel’s face when he saw us. “You’re safe. Thank God. I was so worried. When that man came to the door, telling me what the mixture contained, I was afraid for you. It felt terrible being stuck here and able to do nothing. I sent a cable but got no reply.”

  “We were delayed by the snowstorm,” I said, smiling as I kissed his forehead. “Mr. Everett tried to escape but his automobile hit a tree. So he is in hospital and will be arrested for attempted murder.”

  “And Mr. Montague? Will he survive, do you think?”

  “I think he will make a splendid recovery with no more drugs in his system. He’ll need building up, of course, but Mrs. Braithwaite will see to that.”

  “And will he welcome his grandchildren?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. Although it will be hard for Sid and Gus to give them up.”

  “Nonsense,” Daniel said with a laugh. “In a few weeks they’ll be planning a trip to Outer Mongolia or learning to fly an aeroplane.”

  * * *

  When darkness fell we lit the candles on the Christmas tree and roasted chestnuts on the fire. I sat with my son on my lap, contentedly sucking his thumb while he gazed in wonder at the flickering candlelight on the tree. Bridie snuggled up beside me and I smiled to my husband across the fire, thinking what a lucky person I was to be safe and warm and spending Christmas with my family.

  Bells awoke us, ringing out glad tidings all over the city. We all went to early mass, even Daniel managed to walk that far, his arm tucked through mine. Then stockings were discovered by the fireplace. Liam’s dog was too big to fit in a stocking but he gave a delighted squeal when Daniel wheeled it in to him. Bridie took the nuts, the orange, and the sugar mouse out of her stocking, thanking us politely. Then her eyes grew wide as she unwrapped the doll from its festive paper. For a moment I thought she was going to cry.

  “It’s the most beautiful doll I have ever seen,” she stammered.

  “A doll? At your age?” Daniel’s mother said, frowning. “Aren’t you a little old for it?”

  “Bridie can learn to sew by making outfits for it,” I said, trying to swallow back anger that she had spoiled Bridie’s moment.

  She had nothing negative to say about the book on Ireland, however. Daniel was delighted with his whiskey and his tobacco jar, and then he handed me a small package. In it was a delicate blue enamel watch on a pin shaped like a bow.

  “Daniel. It’s lovely,” I stammered.

  “I thought that you, more than anybody, needed to know how to keep track of time,” he said. He pinned it on my front. I glanced at myself in the looking glass—me, Molly Murphy, actually owning a watch of her own!

  The turkey was stuffed and put in the oven. The rest of the meal was prepared when Sid, Gus, and the children came over to join us. Of course there were more gifts and much excitement. Sid and Gus were delighted with their book on Indian cooking.

  “How fortuitous, Molly,” Gus said. “We were just saying it was time we went to India. Sid is determined to ride an elephant, you see.”

  Daniel caught my eye and he winked.

  At around noon Miss Van Woekem and Julia arrived. Sherry was drunk and at two o’clock the turkey was carved and served. After we were full of turkey and puddings and pies, we retired to the parlor, where we played charades and word games until it was time to light the candles again on the tree. Then we sat around, singing carols. As I listened to Emmy’s sweet voice I thought about that first time we had heard her, huddled in her doorway. I hoped her parents were looking down on her now, glad that she was finally safe and happy.

  About the Author

  RHYS BOWEN is the author of the Anthony Award– and Agatha Award–winning Molly Murphy mysteries, the Edgar Award–nominated Evan Evans series, and the Royal Spyness series. Born in England, she lives in San Rafael, California. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Also by Rhys Bowen

  The Molly Murphy Mysteries

  The Edge of Dreams

  City of Darkness and Light

  The Family Way

  Hush Now, Don’t You Cry

  Bless the Bride

  The Last Illusion

  In a Gilded Cage

  Tell Me, Pretty Maiden

  In Dublin’s Fair City

  Oh Danny Boy

  In Like Flynn

  For the Love of Mike

  Death of Riley

  Murphy’s Law

  The Constable Evans Mysteries

  Evanly Bodies

  Evan Blessed

  Evan’s Gate

  Evan Only Knows

  Evans to Betsy

  Evan Can Wait

  Evan and Elle

  Evanly Choirs

  Evan Help Us

  Evans Above

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Also by Rhys Bowen

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  AWAY IN A MANGER. Copyright © 2015 by Rhys Bowen. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  Cover design by Danielle Christopher

  Cover photograph of woman by Shirley Green

  Cover photograph of Christmas tree © Ruby Del Angel / Arcangel Images; lamppost and brownstone © Shutterstock; Christmas wreath and window garland © DNY59 / Getty Images

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-05203-2 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4668-5336-2 (e-book)

  e-ISBN 9781466853362

  Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Cor
porate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].

  First Edition: November 2015

 

 

 


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