A Christmas Kiss (24 page)

“Don't ye want these?” Nancy asked, holding out the parcels.

“What are they?”

“These are fer the twins, Miss Evalyn said. From Father Christmas, ye know. And this one is fer you. She made it for ye, all by 'erself. I'd find 'er working on it every spare minute.”

Clarissa's eyes misted over, and the tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. “How like her to do such a thing,” she said, brushing away the tears with the back of her hand. She took the parcels tenderly. “I can't bear to think she's gone.”

She did not know precisely what, but it was clear to Clarissa that something had to be done. Where could Evalyn have gone in such a storm? And why? She returned to the breakfast room in a turmoil. The only explanation that had presented itself to her agitated mind had been the possibility that Evalyn and Jamie had quarrelled. Had Jamie changed his mind about marrying her? But no gentleman could cry off once a promise had been made! Had Evalyn realized (as Clarissa herself had already sensed and not let herself face) that she and Jamie were not suited? Or had Jamie's obvious neglect caused her to run away? Clarissa clutched the letter in her hand, wondering if she should take some time to reflect before coming to any decision about a course of action. She forced a smile and walked to the head of the table. “Here are two more presents,” she said to the twins as she deposited the parcels before them.

“More gifts? These sons of mine shall be quite spoiled. Who sent them?” Martha asked.

“They are from Miss Pennington,” Clarissa answered, sitting down at her place wearily.

Philip looked up from his plate. “Why didn't she bring them in herself? Is she still ill?” he asked tensely.

Clarissa glanced at Philip, then over at Jamie, who was wolfing down a mouthful of salmon, completely unconcerned. Her moment of hesitation, however, caught the attention of the others at the table, and she found herself being regarded curiously by seven pairs of eyes. “Well, I suppose I may as well tell you all now as later,” she said with a sigh. “Evalyn's gone.”

“Gone?” Philip echoed, getting to his feet so precipitously that his chair fell over. “What are you talking about?”

“Here, read this,” she said and held out the letter. Philip reached across the table, snatched the letter, and strode to the window, while the unobtrusive Hutton stepped forward from his station behind the buffet and replaced his lordship's chair. Philip turned his back to the room, ignoring the faces staring at him curiously, and read the letter hastily. Then he shook his head in a puzzled manner and read it through more slowly and carefully.

Meanwhile, a babble of voices rose. Everyone in the room demanded of Clarissa some information. Had Evalyn left the house? When? How could she have departed in a snowstorm? Where or to whom had she gone?

“Please,” said Clarissa, holding up her hands, “wait until Philip has finished reading her note. Perhaps he—or
someone
in this room”—and she glared at Jamie pointedly—“can make more sense of this than I can.”

Jamie, completely puzzled by his aunt's look, asked in sincere confusion, “Why do you look at me so?
I
don't know where she's gone.”

Clarissa blinked. Could her nephew be as innocent as he looked? She had been like a mother to the boy since his childhood. He had never lied to her. More confused than ever, she glanced at Philip, but he was still perusing the letter. “Well,” she said, avoiding Jamie's eyes, “let's wait until Philip can join the discussion. Meanwhile, shall I open this package? It's a gift from Evalyn. The dear girl evidently fashioned it herself in her spare moments.”

Edward stood up and bent over his wife's chair. “Don't you think we might excuse the twins, my dear? I'm sure they would rather be playing with their new toys in the schoolroom than listening to our discussion,” he suggested discreetly.

“Oh, yes,” agreed his wife. “Would you take them upstairs, Mrs. Noakes?”

“But we would like to hear what happened to Miss Evalyn,” Freddie objected promptly, well aware that his father feared that the ensuing discussion might not be suitable for their little ears. Edward frowned at his outspoken son with severity, and the boy lowered his eyes. Mrs. Noakes quickly thrust a load of parcels into his arms and, after a smile and curtsey for the guests, hastily shepherded the boys from the room.

Clarissa opened the parcel and took out the little lacquered box. “Oh, how lovely,” she exclaimed, holding it up for the others to see.

“Yes, it is,” Martha said admiringly. “May I hold it?” She took the box and turned it lovingly in her hand. “It's so light. I think it's made of
papier-mâché
. I wish she had told me about it. I would have loved to learn the way of making it.”

Sally, to whom this latest turn of events was quite a shock, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her plans were going all awry. Why had she not considered the possibility that Evalyn's enamelled box might be a gift for someone else?

“Open it,” Gervaise urged. “Let's see what it looks like on the inside. I'm fascinated by all the things one can fashion from this interesting material. I hear that Prinny has a coat with
papier-mâché
buttons!”

Clarissa lifted the lid. “It's beautiful,” she said, running her fingers over the satin. “She's lined it complete—why, what's this?” Her fingers had felt something hard and sharp beneath the lining. In another second the diamonds were in her hand. She stared at her hand in horror. “Good God!” she breathed. “Sally's diamonds!”

“How on earth did your diamonds get
there
?” Martha asked curiously.

“I have no idea,” said Sally cautiously. “I'm as surprised as you are.” She glanced at Philip, to see what his reaction was to this latest revelation, but he was staring out of the window, his face pale and his mouth set in a rigid line. He had obviously not heard a word of their conversation.

“Are you sure they are Sally's earrings?” Gervaise was asking. “Why would they be? Have Sally's been missing?”

Clarissa gave Gervaise a nervous glance. “They must be Sally's. Are they, my dear?” she asked. Sally nodded. Clarissa's hand began to tremble, and she set the diamonds down on the table as if they burned her palm.

“Yes, they're mine,” Sally said. “I reported to Clarissa yesterday that they had disappeared.”

“Disappeared? You don't mean
stolen
?” asked Gervaise, shocked.

“What else?” Sally said shortly.

“You can't mean it,” Reggie said with disapproval.

“I don't see what else it could have been. My maid saw me put them in my jewel case, and I haven't seen them since. Until this moment, that is.”

Clarissa gasped. “You're not thinking … suggesting … that
Evalyn
stole them?”

“I'm not suggesting anything,” Sally shrugged. “I'm as much in the dark as everyone else.”

The entire assemblage was struck dumb. They stared at the diamonds in dismay. Philip, who had turned to hear Clarissa's outcry, glared at them all and bit back a retort. He must try to remain calm. He was too upset by Evalyn's letter to express his feelings now without giving himself away.

Edward was the first to speak. “The girl
has
run away,” he suggested tentatively.

“I see what you mean,” Sally said coolly. “The fact that she has run off seems to add substance to the suspicion that she
did
steal them.”

A sound came from Philip's throat but went unnoticed in the hubbub Sally's words had aroused. “I don't believe it,” Martha declared roundly.

“It'th a ridiculouth idea!” Reggie said firmly.

“If she were the thief,” Gervaise asked reasonably, “why would she put the diamonds in Clarissa's gift box, only to give them—and herself—away?”

“Exactly what I was about to point out,” Jamie said.

Edward cleared his throat. “I do not for a moment suggest that Sally is right in her suspicions, but she does have a point. It is possible that Miss Pennington did indeed steal the gems and secrete them in the lining of the box. Then in her haste to leave, she simply forgot to remove them from their hiding place.”

Clarissa groaned. “Oh, Edward, no!”

“Edward, that was dreadful of you,” his wife snapped.

“There must be many other more plausible explanations than that!” Jamie said staunchly.

“That'th right!” Reggie said loudly, then muttered under his breath, “I wish I could think of one.”

Philip, listening from the window in white-lipped fury, could restrain himself no longer. “I cannot believe,” he said angrily, “that you can persist in discussing such an impossibility! How can anyone who has been more than five minutes in Miss Pennington's company doubt for a moment her honesty, her sincerity, her forthrightness? You, Edward, do you already forget how she cared for your son during his sickness? And Gervaise, did you not remark to me how impressed you were by her straightforwardness that night we discussed the enfranchisement of the working classes? There's not one of you to whom she has not been generous and helpful. Yet at the first wild, unsubstantiated and quite illogical theory that she may have been guilty of thievery—a thievery we don't even know took place!—you are, none of you, ready to stand up for her character!”

The room was silent. Everyone looked down at his hands. Then Gervaise looked up at his friend. “We all think the world of Miss Pennington, my boy. Yet in our defense, you must admit that she did run away.”

“And a thievery
did
take place, did it not?” Sally put in, emboldened by Gervaise's remark to see what she could rescue of her original plan.

“Perhaps it did,” Philip retorted curtly. “All we know is that the diamonds were removed from your box and reappeared in this one. The circumstances, I grant, are strange, but they do not necessarily point to thievery. And at least you have your baubles back.” He picked up the diamonds from the table, walked around to Sally and dropped them in her lap. “I shall do what I can to investigate the matter and solve this mystery, but I tell you all here and now that were I to find a witness who claimed to have seen Evalyn
with her hand in Sally's jewel box
, I would not believe she had stolen them! Nor, I think, should anyone with eyes in his head!”

“Hear, hear, Philip!” Clarissa cheered warmly. “I think you're absolutely right!”

“And so do I,” Jamie said, smiling proudly at his father.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Philip growled at his son. “It's more than time to have heard something of the sort from you!”

Jamie looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean by that, sir? I don't understand you.”

“Then I'll make myself plainer. Accompany me to the study, if you please, if our guests will excuse us.”

“No, we won't,” said Gervaise with asperity. “We want to know what is in that letter, dashed if we don't. I'm not cowed by your grand manner, my lord, even if everyone else is. Known you too long and too well, so it won't do you any good to get on your high ropes with me. If it weren't to make off with the gems, why
did
the girl take to her heels in weather like this?”

“I wish I could answer that, Gervaise, but I'm as perplexed as you. Perhaps my son will be able to cast some light on the matter. In the meantime, I hope you will all forgive me for getting on my ‘high ropes,' as Gervaise puts it. This has been a sorry interruption of our holiday activities. Please try to continue them cheerfully and leave me to deal with these matters.” And with an affectionate clap on Gervaise's shoulder, he quickly left the room. Jamie exchanged a puzzled shrug with his friend and followed his father out.

In the hallway, a tense and nervous Nancy stood waiting. “What is it, Nancy?” Philip asked her. “Did you want to see me about something?”

“No, me lord, but Lady Steele said I was to wait. She said ye might be wantin' to ask me some questions.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you see the box that Miss Pennington made for Lady Steele?”

“Yes, me lord. I saw it lots of times.”

“Did you see what Miss Pennington put inside it?”

“Inside it? You mean the lining?”

“No. Something else.”

“I didn't know there
was
anythin' inside it, except the lining.”

“Well, there was,” Philip said, his eyes fixed on her face. “Miss Trevelyan's diamond earrings were inside it.”

Nancy gaped at him. “No, me lord, that can't be! How could they be in Miss
Pennington's
box?”

“That's what we'd like to ascertain,” Jamie put in drily.

“What my son means,” Philip said, “is that we don't understand either, but they surely were there.”

“This ain't making any sense, me lord. I 'elped to wrap the box meself, and there wasn't anythin' inside it. And no one's touched that box but me, ever since Miss Pennington left. Until I give it to Lady Steele, that is.”

“It certainly seems strange. Have you ever seen Miss Trevelyan's diamond earrings?”

“No, me lord, I ain't. Unless she was wearing 'em, o' course, but even then I wouldn't reco'nize 'em, not knowing the difference between a diamond and a piece of glass from that there chandelier.”

“Have any of the servants ever spoken to you about diamonds, or seemed particularly interested in them?”

“No, me lord. Why would they? None of us'll live long enough to get to own one. And even if we did, what'd be the good? If we wore one, nobody'd believe it was real.”

“That may be,” said Jamie, “but diamonds can be sold for a good price, and money can be used by anybody.”

Nancy looked at him shrewdly. “Are ye saying that Miss Trevelyan's diamonds was copped?”