A Drakenfall Christmas: A Novel

by Geralyn Corcillo

  Just then Kendrick clattered into the room. “Kafi?” he echoed.

  “Yes,” crooned Mrs. Jennifer Winter, gleefully looking at her life-long best friend Mrs. Fox. “We were just talking about his running all around Drakenfall this afternoon.”

  Without missing a beat in his duties, Kendrick chattered on, as he was wont to do. “And didn't he just run into the kitchen, all out of breath and rumpled, as if he'd been tumbling about outside in the snow?”

  Mark looked up.

  “Tumbling in the snow?!” Mrs. Fox was scandalized. “The boy will catch pneumonia!”

  “Well, tumbling around somewhere,” amended Kendrick. “I think he was working up a sweat in the stables today, so maybe he was there. And it's quite cozy in there, so don't you worry, Mrs. Fox.”

  “But he's back now?” Mark asked this a bit sharply.

  “Oh, yeah. Cold and wet and exhausted. And where on earth was his coat? Whatever he was up to today, messing about and losing half his clothes, he's sure putting his all into Drakenfall, I'll tell you that, Lord Shiley.”

  Mark almost choked on his arugula.

  Just then, Maisy swept into the room like a gust of wind off the mountain. “Evening, everyone,” she trilled. “Sorry to be late.”

  Mark, as indeed did everyone, noticed how cold and red her exposed neck and shoulders looked above the fabric of her gown.

  “Why, you look frozen solid,” Mrs. Stockleton observed. “Tumbling about in the snow, were you?And without your coat on?”

  And as the quick young Maisy took her seat, she didn't miss the catty sting of the question. She looked around the table, a curious light in her eye. “Oh, I feel as if I've come into the middle of something really juicy. What fun!” She picked up a glass of water in front of her and took a sip.

  That's when they all saw it.

  Mrs. Stockleton cleared her throat. “Lady Shiley,” she positively purred. “I think you've got a piece of straw stuck along the underside of your glove.”

  Maisy's brows shot up and she twisted her arm and looked, a giggle peeling out from her. “So I do!” She plucked it off and Finola was right there to take the blade of straw from her. She turned her attention back to the table.

  To the very silent table.

  Everyone was staring at her. Maisy's eyes grew wide and bright. “Someone just has to tell me. What did I miss?”

  And Mark started laughing and he couldn't help himself. Maisy was just so … Maisy. He remembered when he was back in California with her and they'd spent one morning in Malibu. The spring waves had been high—towering, in fact—to someone whose idea of the beach formed in the Lake District. And he'd been tumbled by the force of the surf and rammed into the sandy shoal of the beach. Maisy had been laughing as he stood up from the frothing water, spitting out sand. “When the big waves come at you,” she'd said, “Don't try to fight them. Just turn around and go with them. It'll be a fun ride into shore.”

  And that's what Maisy always did when things got crazy—she went with it, found the rhythm, and made it work. She made it fun.

  “Well, my dear,” he began, looking across the table with a twinkle in his eye. “Estate gossip has you running around playing footsie with our most worthy valet.”

  “Kafi? Kafi Diop and I are having an illicit affair? Oh, how marvellous!” With a shimmy of her shoulders she picked up her wine glass. “Well, that calls for a toast, I think. To … to accommodating staff during the holiday season.”

  “To accommodating staff,” Mark echoed. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” came the echoes of the guests. Everyone raised a glass except for Mrs. Stockleton, who looked like she just swallowed the worm at the bottom of the bottle.

  Maisy winked across the table at Mark, who just smiled back, looking as smitten as he had nine months ago when Maisy had first walked into the halls of Drakenfall.

  For the next hour, dinner conversation tripped along easily as Maisy played her role of Lady of the Manor to the hilt.

  But she knew the whole time that she had to slip out as soon as she could.

  She and Kafi HAD to check the trap again before the cat they already caught got too cold or Pippa made her way home for the night.

  Maisy suspected her alleged paramour was probably already in the Rover, gunning the engine.

  When they finally got up from dinner and went to the drawing room, Maisy led Mark to the piano as if she were about to slip into a carol, but then she turned to him. “Oh, Mark,” she murmured, “There's something I've got to go take care of. It can't wait. I'll be back.” And with that, she kissed him lightly and escaped quietly through the door in the back corner of the grand, well-appointed room.

  Mark watched her retreat, a furrow running down his forehead as the door clicked shut behind her. Where on earth was she going? That door led to a smaller study. She had nowhere to go from there unless she climbed out the window. Mark went to the door through which she'd disappeared, opened it, and peeked into the dark room lit only by the moonbeam shining through the window. The icy white light was shooting through the open window. Maisy had actually scarpered out the window. He decided not to shut it, in case she planned on getting back in that way. He closed the door to the study, shaking his head.

  As Mark returned to the guests, Maisy dashed around the house in her heels and her sleeveless dress, shivering so badly she wanted to scream. When she finally made it to the east entrance, she found Kafi in the Rover, the ignition on but the car in park. Maisy held up one finger to indicate she'd be one minute as she raced past the headlights. Dashing into the mudroom, she slipped on a pair of Mark's boots over her stilettos and grabbed the longest coat she could find. She'd barely climbed in the car a minute later when Kafi gunned the engine and took off.

  This time, when they raced to the traps, they were both scared to even look to see if the second trap had closed.

  It had!

  But did they have Pippa's cat or some other woodland night creature who'd wandered in? A fox? A badger? Maisy turned on her torch, crouched down, and checked.

  “We got her!”

  “Yes!”

  Kafi shrugged into his coat, and Maisy put on hers over the one she was already wearing. Then they picked up both traps and raced around to the front of the house where they let themselves into Pippa's flat.

  “Wait!” Kafi grabbed Maisy before she could step more than a foot inside. “Coats and boots off here so we don't track slush all through her house.”

  They both quickly stripped off their outerwear as they got ready to step inside.

  “Wait!”

  This time it was Maisy who ordered the halt. “The traps are wet and dirty. We can't bring them any further, either. We'll have to open them right here, and with a little luck, both cats will shoot out like rockets and hide as far away from us as they can get. If we take off the covers, they'll be twice as likely to get the hell away from us and the traps.”

  “Okay.” Kafi set down the traps and removed the covers, revealing the two growly, unhappy cats.

  “It's okay,” Maisy said softly to them. “You had an adventure today, but now you're home and all is well.”

  Kafi bent to open the door of the first trap and Maisy crouched to open the door of the second trap.

  “Wait!” Maisy called again. “Let's get bundled back up so we can get out of here as soon as they're set free. Then we can open the door and leave while they're heading into the deepest recesses of the flat.”

  In less than a minute they were dressed again for the weather and crouched and ready to release the cats. “Okay,” Maisy said. “Go.”

  They each opened the traps. The cats shot out so fast they almost missed it.

  “Pick up the traps and get back up to the car,” Maisy hurriedly instructed. “I'll towel dry the floor as I step out to meet you.” She whipped one of the covers off the trap. “Damp, but it'll do.”

  Kafi took off.

  A minute later, Maisy had just locked Pippa's
door behind her when she saw Pippa headed toward her.

  Oh, damnation! The front of the building was too exposed for Maisy to disappear. Unless she jumped into a yew bush. But that would—

  “Maisy! What on earth?”

  “Oh, hi, Pippa! Here you are.”

  “You came down here looking for me? Now?” She looked Maisy up and down. “In your evening dress? And are you wearing two coats? And have you got a shawl there, besides?”

  Maisy pulled the old shawl she'd used to cover the trap into her chest, as though she were warding off a chill. “I was in a hurry. And it's so cold out, you know. Brrrr!”

  Pippa nodded, but still look confused. “You didn't need to come down here to find me. I was still up at the house.”

  “I know, I know. It's just that dinner was over and I suddenly wondered about Mrs. Browning. Things have been so busy these past few days, I really haven't had a chance to check on her.”

  “But Maisy, Mrs. Browning doesn't live in the cottages. Not for months. You remember? She and Barbara bought a place in town.”

  “Yes, I know. How silly of me! I remembered as soon as I got down here. But, before I left, I figured that as long as I was here, I'd see if you'd gotten home yet.”

  “Oh. That was nice of you.” Pippa looked around. “Did you race down here to see Mrs. Browning on foot?”

  “No, no. Kafi was just taking the Rover out on some job Fletcher had given him, so I asked him for a lift.”

  Pippa slammed her brows together. “And he just left you here?”

  “No, no. He'll be back to get me any minute now.”

  And just then, Kafi, who had been wondering what had held up Maisy, and fearing the worst, that one or both of the cats had gotten back out, stomped into view from around the corner of the cottage in all agitated haste.

  “Kafi!” Pippa's eyes bugged out of her head.

  Kafi pulled up so short you'd think he'd smacked into an invisible force field. “Pippa!”

  “I thought you were supposed to be picking up Lady Shiley in the Rover.”

  “I am,” he countered, bristling.

  “You are?” she said. “Where's the Rover?”

  “Up on the ridge.”

  “What? Why? Can't you just drive it down here?”

  “I would … but … the battery died. Uh, just now.”

  “So Lady Shiley has to walk back?”

  “It's okay,” Maisy piped in to say, anxious to be gone. “It's cool, Pippa.” She looked to her partner in crime. “Okay, Kafi. Let's go.”

  Pippa thrust her hands on her hips. “Kafi! You can't just let her walk all the way back in that dress!”

  “Pippa,” Kafi said, “the Rover … has a battery charger in it. Yeah, the battery's charging. So I just came down here to tell Maisy what was going on. But it should be charged by now, so I'll go get the car and I'll be back in a wink.”

  “Nonsense, Kafi,” Maisy scoffed. “I'll come with you. Then we'll be on our way that much faster.” She turned to Pippa. “Well, good-night, Pippa. We'd better be off. Maybe tomorrow we can watch White Christmas. Okay, good-night.”

  And she and Kafi turned toward the corner of the house, both of them schooling themselves mightily not to run.

  Chapter 23: One Day Last Spring

  Pippa let herself into her flat, but before even taking off her coat, she slumped into the big, cushy, bright yellow armchair. On this particular evening, though, while the scrumptious chair caught her, it failed to ease its enchantment into her.

  Pippa sighed.

  Lady Shiley. What was up with Kafi and Lady Shiley, skulking around at night? When Lady Shiley was supposed to be in the drawing room, playing it up as Lady of the Manor? Whatever it was, she had Kafi following her around like a puppy dog.

  Pippa looked heavenward in exasperation. Maisy was taking Kafi, too. It was bad enough when she'd shown up early last spring to steal Mark away.

  Pippa picked up the framed picture on the table at her elbow. The wedding reception of Lord and Lady Shiley. A snap of her and Kafi's smiling faces. Kafi and Pippa. Pippa and Kafi. Oh, how many hundreds of times had she looked at that picture and told herself impossible tales?

  Glynis had found them standing at the buffet table as she'd been whirling through the party taking pictures of everyone. “Smile!” Pippa remembered it like it was the day before yesterday.

  Suddenly, Kafi had snagged her around the waist with one of his mighty arms and pulled her against him so they were hip to hip and cheek to cheek, beaming into the camera. She had been pressed so close to Kafi. That moment, caught by Glynis on camera, had probably been the only moment she'd genuinely smiled that whole day. Oh, she'd played her part and smiled and laughed, all right. She had every reason to, hadn't she? The Twelfth Baron Shiley of Drakenfall had brought home his baroness.

  But Pippa hadn't been happy.

  No, on that day, Pippa had been decidedly distraught. It had been bad enough when Maisy's holiday at Drakenfall had been over and Mark had proposed to the departing guest who'd stolen his heart. Maisy had gone back to America to sell her house, quit her job, and get her dogs. And Mark had gone with her. For three weeks while Mark and Maisy had been in America, Pippa hadn't had to think about Mark. She could just pretend that none of it was happening. Then they got word from America that Mark and Maisy had driven to Las Vegas to get married.

  Pippa ran a thumb across the picture. The day Mark and Maisy had returned home to Drakenfall, the entire staff and village had greeted them with a wedding reception of such jubilation.

  But Pippa had been beside herself. For Maisy had married Mark and now Pippa no longer had her distraction.

  For over a year, Pippa had been making herself think about Mark every time she thought about Kafi.

  Kafi. The first time she'd seen him, she'd almost fainted. Well, maybe not fainted, but she almost fell over. Seeing him had made her quite literally weak in the behind-the-knee part of her legs. He was so tall and dark and strong. His brilliant smile. His quick laugh. His perfect dreds.

  A god among men.

  But a god who could talk to anyone. Befriend anyone. Cheer up anyone. Listen to anyone.

  Kafi.

  An amazing man who could never look twice at a doughy chinned, pot-bellied, quick to frizz, and prone to sweat Pippa. A gutter snipe, an alley cat, who had worked her way into a life she now found glorious and fulfilling and wonderful. Her life at Drakenfall … as a domestic. She loved her life and her chance to work at Drakenfall … but then there was Kafi. Also a domestic, but one who had come from Senegal to England for the schools. Kafi who lived in the village so he could get to Drakenfall as easily as he could get to his classes at Uni.

  Pippa was so happy where she'd landed. Kafi was heading into a blisteringly bright future.

  So she'd started thinking of Mark, someone who would at least always be at Drakenfall. So devastated was she by the thought that she would never have the likes of Kafi, she consoled herself by dreaming of something not so impossible as having Kafi: one day landing a baron.

  Not that she ever really fancied Mark. Sometimes she wondered if she got along with the baron more as if they were brother and sister. But then, Pippa had never known siblings who got along and actually liked each other. The truth was, she and Mark were friends. They had been almost since the day she'd applied for the job. That was the moment in her life when someone had first seen her. Really seen her and who she was. And he had liked what he saw.

  Pippa's passion to get out of Grant Street had been so fierce that when she'd seen the advert for jobs at Drakenfall in a bit of newspaper she'd found in a skip, she'd hitched and walked all the way from London that very day just to apply for the job.

  And oh, how she had bristled when, right out of the gate, Mark had asked her what she would be willing to do.

  “I beg your pardon!” She'd shot to her feet.

  Mark sat completely still and had looked at her steadily, his nostrils flaring a bit. Then he'
d turned his face away, looking toward the doorway. “Glynis!” And he called LOUDLY.

  Glynis came running into the parlour. “Mark?”

  “Please, sit in for this interview.”

  “Interview?” Glynis had stepped forward, examining Pippa. “We're not interviewing today. I thought we—”

  “This is Pippa Taylor,” he said, cutting in, but with a smile. “All the way from London.”

  “How do you do?” Glynis stepped forward and shook Pippa's hand before taking a seat next to Mark.

  “Hullo.”

  Glynis, with her soft clear voice and open smile seemed to bring down the girl's hackles. A bit.

  “Please,” Mark said. “Let's begin again. Would you do dishes?”

  Pippa's eyes darted between Mark and Glynis. “Do what to them?”

  “Wash them. Dry them. Put them away. Carefully.”

  “Is this a trick?” Pippa narrowed her eyes. “Are you not supposed to wash fine China or something like that?”

  “No trick,” Glynis'd assured her.

  “Well, yeah. I don't like getting my hands burned in real hot water, though. Could I wear those rubber gloves?”

  Mark nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Then yes.”

  “Okay.”

  Glynis asked the next question. “Would you hoover carpets, really thoroughly, moving things out of the way if you had to, carefully, and put them back just the same way when you're done?”

  “Sure.”

  “Serving guests?” Mark asked. “Always with a smile and friendliness, even if they're rude?”

  Pippa clenched her jaw. “What do you mean, 'rude.' I don't go in for no hands up my skirt or worse.”

  “No!” This both Mark and Glynis yelled at once.

  “It's just that with a manor like this,” Glynis explained, “when we open as a resort, some will come here to play the aristocracy card to the hilt. And sometimes they might snap at you. Not that we would ever encourage such behaviour or welcome such people back.”

  “That's it? Just snap at me? Like, 'Hey, you ham-fisted tart, step it up, will ya?' That kind of thing?”

  “No!” Once again, the young baron and Glynis were in not only perfect accord, but perfect harmony.