Mistletoe and Mayhem

by Kate Kingsbury

  Every instinct shouted at her to run, but fear held her rooted to the spot.

  Lenny staggered backward, shaking his head.

  Horrified at what she’d done, Pansy began stammering. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that but you wouldn’t let me go when I told you to and-”

  She shut her mouth abruptly as Lenny slowly turned toward her. Too late she realized her mistake. She should have run when she had the chance. She dropped the bucket and backed away. “Don’t you touch me-”

  Her words ended in a scream as Lenny raised his hand and smacked her hard across the face. Stunned, she dropped to her knees, little spots dancing in front of her eyes.

  The next thing she knew, Lenny’s hand was on the collar of her frock, dragging her to her feet. “This is what you get for daring to hit me,” he snarled, and raised his hand to strike her again.

  She lifted her hands to shield her face and closed her eyes, bracing for the blow.

  It never came. There was a shout, a thump, and someone grabbed her from behind.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Samuel, fists raised, standing over Lenny who was lying on the ground. “Get up you bloody coward,” Samuel yelled. “See if you can pick on someone your own size.”

  Lenny just lay there, eyes closed.

  Aware of the big hands on her shoulders, Pansy twisted her neck and saw Clive peering down at her. He looked worried, and let her go, then gently touched her cheek.

  It stung, and she drew back.

  “Are you all right?” Clive sent a murderous look at Lenny, who now was struggling to his feet. “I’d have hit him myself if Samuel hadn’t reached him first.”

  Pansy tried to speak and felt something warm trickling down her chin. She dabbed at it with her fingers then looked at them. They were smeared with blood.

  She heard another thud and a grunt of pain. “You dare to touch my girl again and I’ll bloody well kill you!” Samuel yelled.

  Lenny staggered back, holding his jaw. “All right,” he snarled. “You asked for this.”

  Pansy screamed when she saw the knife in his hand. Samuel jumped back, but Clive stepped forward and with one mighty blow sent the weapon clattering across the yard. Samuel scrambled after it, but by the time he’d picked it up Lenny was racing to the gate. He had it open before Samuel could catch up with him and disappeared into the street.

  Sobbing, Pansy ran up to Samuel and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, please! Don’t get into a fight with him. He’ll kill you!”

  “Not if I kill him first,” Samuel muttered.

  “She’s right, lad.” Clive joined them at the gate. He gently pried open Samuel’s fist, then took the knife and slipped it in his pocket. “He’s not worth that kind of trouble. You sent him on his way and that’s what matters.”

  Pansy choked, tears running down her cheeks. All she could think about now was Samuel’s words, yelled in fury. You dare to touch my girl again and I’ll bloody well kill you!

  Did he mean it? Was she really his girl? The thought made her forget all about the pain in her lip, which now felt twice its size when she ran her tongue over it. All she could feel was a fuzzy warmth way down deep in her tummy. She would hear those words in her head, she told herself, over and over again for as long as she lived.

  “Are you all right, little lady?” Clive looked down at her, then pulled a big white handkerchief from his pocket. Very gently he dabbed at her chin and her swollen lip. “You’ll have a bruise for a couple of days, but you’ll live.”

  Pansy tried to smile, but it hurt too much, so she nodded instead.

  Clive stepped back and then Samuel stood in front of her, a look in his eyes she’d never seen before. “You need someone to take care of you,” he said gruffly, “and I think that should be me.”

  Even the pain couldn’t keep Pansy from smiling. She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but right at that moment she didn’t care. Samuel was looking at her the way she’d always dreamed he would, and now it was real. That was all she asked for right now. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have take care of me,” she said unsteadily.

  Now Samuel grinned. “I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid it would hurt you too much.”

  Pansy lifted her face. “Try it.”

  Samuel didn’t need any more prompting.

  “I am quite sure I paid you the right amount!” Seated in her office, Cecily flipped the pages of her ledger back to where she had entered the amount of the check she’d given Stan Whittle. “Look, here it is. Three shillings and ninepence.”

  “It should have been four and six.” The craggy face of the coal man glared down at her.

  “I ordered five hundredweight. At fifteen shillings a ton that’s three shillings and ninepence.”

  “I had two extra bags so I added them in.”

  Cecily puffed out her breath. “I didn’t ask for two extra bags. When I order five hundredweight that’s exactly what I expect and what I’m prepared to pay. No more, no less.”

  The coal man jutted out his chin. “You got the coal, so you pay for it.”

  “Why didn’t you mention all this when I paid you two days ago?”

  “I didn’t look at the check until after I left.” He leaned over her desk. “I thought I could trust you to pay the right amount.”

  Cecily met his angry gaze squarely. “Is this what you were arguing about with Ellie?”

  Stan Whittle straightened, his face turning to stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I heard that you and my new maid, Ellie, were in the kitchen yard, arguing about something.”

  “I talk to a lot of people. I don’t remember which one Ellie is, do I.” He strode to the door, tossing words over his shoulder. “Keep your money. I’ll just leave two bags less next time.”

  “As you wish.” She was talking to empty air. The door had closed behind him. Furious, she snapped the ledger shut. Infuriating man. She had never cared for his attitude, and now she thoroughly disliked the man. Perhaps her first thoughts were right, after all, and Stan Whittle had killed Ellie. But then why would he have killed Charlie as well?

  No, it was far more likely that Mick Docker was the culprit, and all she had to do was prove it. She wasn’t quite sure yet how she would do that, but she had asked Samuel to send the roofer to her office as soon as he arrived, which should be just about any minute now.

  Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, a loud rap on the door announced the arrival of her next visitor. Crossing her hands on the desk, she called out, “Come in!”

  Mick Docker’s round face appeared in the gap. “You wanted to see me, m’m?”

  “Yes, Mr. Docker. Please, come in.” She waved him to a chair, and waited for him to sit down.

  “I’ve sent the men up to take a look at the roof,” he said, tucking his cap into a back pocket. “As soon as I know what needs doing, I’ll give you a report and then you can decide what you want us to do.”

  “Very well. Thank you.” She fixed her gaze on his face as she added, “I’m afraid I have some very bad news. It’s about Ellie.”

  She saw a flicker of alarm in his eyes. “Ellie? She’s all right, isn’t she?”

  “I’m afraid not.” She paused, then added quietly, “My stable manager found her body yesterday afternoon. She’d been strangled.”

  He made an odd sound in his throat, as if he were choking. “Dead? Ellie’s dead?”

  If he was, indeed, the murderer, Cecily thought, he was a remarkably good actor. He certainly looked as if he’d received a tremendous shock.

  He swallowed a couple of times, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Who did this?”

  “I was rather hoping you could tell me.”

  Mick’s eyes widened. “Me? How the hell should I know who did it?”

  “According to a witness, you were probably the last person to see her alive.”

  He stared at her for a moment as if he didn’t understand the words,
then he violently shook his head. “That’s impossible. The last time I saw Ellie was three days ago. I’d come down from the roof to have a bite and she was walking across the kitchen yard. I knew there was no point in talking to her. She’d made it very clear how she felt about me. So I went around to the rose garden and ate my lunch there. That was the last time I saw her.”

  Cecily frowned. “You didn’t see her that evening? You didn’t have an argument with her in the yard?”

  Again he shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Mrs. Baxter. I swear it. Ask Lenny. We knocked off around four o’clock that afternoon, when it was getting dark, and we went straight down the pub. We had dinner down there and stayed until closing time. Left there just after eleven and then went home.” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t believe she’s dead. Who would do this to her?”

  “That’s what we’d all like to know.” Cecily sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Docker. I know this has been a shock for you.”

  “Yes, it has.” He got up from his chair, slowly, as if he were lifting something heavy with his shoulders. “I’ll be getting along now, m’m. I’ll let you know what we find on the roof.”

  Cecily watched him leave, letting out her breath as the door closed behind him. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Samuel had seemed fairly certain that he’d heard the roofer arguing with Ellie that night, but he could have been mistaken. There was one way to find out. She would talk to the new publican of the Fox and Hounds, Barry Collins.

  Since she couldn’t trust the operator not to listen in, she would have to go down there in person. Meanwhile, she must go at once to the foyer. Madeline would be arriving any minute. Baxter was probably still in the suite, going over his records, which, he told her, would take most of the morning. She would have to have her conversation with her friend in the library and hope that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  For what she had to ask Madeline was definitely not for anyone else’s ears.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Samuel kissed you!” Gertie stopped curling coils from the slab of butter and stared at Pansy. “Go on! What happened next?”

  Pansy shrugged. “Nothing. He had to go back to the stables and I came back in here.”

  “Well, you was lucky he was around, that’s what I say.” Gertie picked up the lump of butter again and swiped the curler across it, letting a soft spiral of butter join its companions on the silver dish. “Wait until Chubby sees that lip. She’ll faint from shock.”

  The voice from the doorway froze Gertie’s hand. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Chubby!”

  Gertie winced. She hadn’t heard the kitchen door swing open, with all the racket Michel was making over by the stove.

  “Sorry, it just sort of slipped out.”

  The housekeeper switched her gaze to Pansy and let out a gasp of horror. “What happened to you?”

  “She had a fight with her boyfriend,” Michel said, slapping a metal pot on the stove. “With all this fighting and upset going on, it is impossible to concentrate. How am I supposed to produce my magnificent meals in this chaos?”

  “Same bloody way you always do,” Gertie muttered. “Throw it all together and pray.”

  She cringed as Michel crashed a lid on the pot. “I do not have to put up with such impudence! I go somewhere else, where I am more appreciated.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Michel. Can’t you see this child is hurt?” Mrs. Chubb rushed over to Pansy and tilted her chin up with her fingers. “Great heavens. Your lip is swollen twice its size. You can’t go into the dining room like that. What on earth happened to you?”

  Gertie groaned. More work for her.

  Pansy’s words were muffled as she recounted the argument with Lenny. “It wasn’t just Samuel that helped me,” she said, as the housekeeper soaked a face flannel in cold water over the sink. “It was Clive.” She looked at Gertie. “He was so gentle and kind. Brave, too. He knocked the knife right out of Lenny’s hand.”

  Gertie smiled. “That sounds like Clive. He’s always coming to someone’s rescue.”

  “Well, that Lenny sounds like a really nasty person.” Mrs. Chubb dabbed at Pansy’s lip, ignoring her muffled cry of pain. “If I were you, Pansy, I’d stay out of his way.”

  “He frightens me,” Pansy said, as the housekeeper let her go. “I thought he was going to kill me. Samuel, too.”

  “Well, I’ll talk to Mrs. Baxter about it. She’ll see he never works around here again.” She hurried to the door. “Meanwhile, Gertie, you had better get a move on. The tables haven’t been laid yet and it will soon be time for the bell. Get one of the other maids to help you. Pansy can give us a hand in here.”

  “That blinking bell drives me crazy.” Gertie scraped the last curl off the butter and carried the knife over to the sink. “We live our life by that bell. We’re always rushing around to get things done and we always have to ring it before we’re ready.”

  “Then you will all have to rush faster, non?” Michel smacked a saucepan down on the stove. “Instead of standing around talking all the time.”

  For once Gertie didn’t have a smart answer for him. She was thinking about Clive, and what Pansy had said. Kind and gentle, and brave, too. That was Clive. Didn’t have much to say, but when he did say something, it was always warm and thoughtful. So different from Dan.

  Dan was clever and funny, exciting to be with, always wanting to go places and do something. He was the restless type, never standing still. For a long time she’d thought that was what she wanted in a man, but the longer she was with Dan, the more she realized that all his emotions were on the outside, for show.

  He was a good man, in his way. He took presents for the orphans at Christmas, and he was good to her and the twins. But in all the time she’d known him, she’d never really seen inside his mind. It was like he’d locked it away, and didn’t know how to unlock it anymore.

  Now, with all this talk about moving to London, she knew it was just a matter of time before he left Badgers End. She also knew she couldn’t go with him, no matter how much she’d miss him. Much as she loved him, she didn’t think he could ever give her the kind of love she needed. She would just have to let him go without her.

  The lump in her throat hurt, and she rinsed her hands under the tap and wiped them dry on her apron. It was Christmas, she told herself, and soon her twins would be home. That’s all she needed to be happy. Her Lillian and James. Who needed a man? She certainly didn’t.

  Having convinced herself of that, she opened the silverware drawer and started loading a tray with the polished utensils.

  Cecily reached the foyer just as Madeline arrived, wearing a black coat over her flowered cotton frock with Angelina cradled in her arms.

  As usual, Madeline’s dark hair flowed down her back, though she had caught up a large strand with a small circle of miniature silk daisies. Her cheeks glowed from the bite of the wind, and she hugged the baby, whom she’d wrapped in a soft pink blanket, as she hurried through the main doors. “It’s chilly out there today. We could have more snow before long.”

  “Goodness, I do hope not.” Cecily hurried forward to greet her friend and held out her hands to take the baby. “How precious she is. Look, she’s smiling!”

  “More likely a spot of indigestion.” Madeline handed her Angelina and shivered. “I would love a warm fireplace right now.”

  “Of course.” Carrying the child, Cecily headed for the hallway. “Come, we’ll go to the library. There’s a roaring fire in the fireplace and I’ll have crumpets and tea sent there. Baxter is upstairs working in the suite.”

  Madeline laughed. “I wouldn’t mind in the least if he cared to join us.”

  “Well, I would.” Cecily lowered her voice. “I need your help.”

  Madeline nodded. “I thought perhaps that’s why you invited me. After all, I intend to be here tonight for the pantomime. We’ll be seeing each other then.”

  “Ah, but we’ll have no chance to talk
then.”

  Still carrying the baby, Cecily led the way to the library where, to her relief, they found it unoccupied. Once inside, Angelina started fussing, and she handed her back to her mother.

  After settling them both in a chair by the fireplace, she summoned a maid with the bell rope. “Now,” she said, when Angelina was quiet again, “I assume Kevin has told you about Ellie.”

  “Yes.” Madeline lowered her head and pressed her lips against her baby’s forehead. “That poor mother. I can’t even imagine how she is suffering right now.”

  “It must be so hard on her.” Cecily sighed. “The worst part, of course, is not knowing who did this dreadful thing to her daughter. Knowing that whoever killed her is out there somewhere, free to do the same thing again to someone else’s daughter.”

  “And you want me to tell you who he is.”

  Startled, Cecily looked at her. “Can you do that?”

  “I rather doubt it.” Madeline undid her coat and slipped it off her shoulders. “But that is why you wanted to see me, isn’t it?”

  “Not entirely.” Cecily gave her a guilty smile. “I always enjoy a visit with you.”

  “It’s all right, Cecily. You know I will do my best, but I have to confess, since Angelina came into my life, my powers have somewhat diminished. I’ll do what I can, but don’t be surprised if I can’t be of much help.” She sat back, closed her eyes, and was still.

  Cecily waited, one anxious eye on the now sleeping baby in case she should wake up and disturb her mother’s trance. Madeline was now breathing deeply, her face a mask of concentration. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. She stared ahead, at something Cecily couldn’t see, and now her breathing became more shallow, quickening, while her fingers twitched as if they were reaching for something.

  For several long moments Cecily watched in silence, until suddenly Angelina stirred and let out a soft whimper. Madeline was instantly awake, rocking her baby.

  Cecily waited in an agony of suspense while Madeline fussed with her daughter, until once more the child was quiet. Madeline laid the blanket on the floor and set Angelina down on it. “I saw Ellie,” she said, her voice low and anxious. “I saw her attacker but it was dark. I couldn’t see. He had his back to me. I tried to reach him but he kept moving farther away. I’m so sorry.”