Christmas Carol (38 page)

“Crampton,” exclaimed Carol, “your experience
as a butler should make you ideally suited to that job.”

“I told Mr. Kincaid I would seriously
consider his offer,” Crampton responded. “However, since for lack
of funds it must be a volunteer position rather than a paid one, I
fear I cannot afford to accept it. My pension is too small to allow
me to continue to live in London. It is a pity, for I would like to
be of some use to my fellow man.” He ended on a sigh.

“Perhaps something can be done to enable you
to take the job,” Carol murmured.

“I do not think so. But it is enormously
cheering to discover that my services could still be of use despite
my advancing age. Now, let us not dwell upon the uncertain future,”
Crampton urged. “Let us instead enjoy this Christmas to the
fullest. Allow me to propose a toast to the five of us who, most
unexpectedly during the last few days, have, I believe, become
friends.”

Crampton poured out the brandy—Lady Augusta’s
finest stock, just as in Carol’s vision of this scene—and they
drank the toast to themselves.

“And to Lady Augusta,” said Nell, lifting her
glass a second time. When Mrs. Marks snorted her disapproval of the
suggestion, exactly as Carol expected her to do, it was Carol who
interceded.

“I have only recently begun to appreciate
what a fascinating woman Lady Augusta was,” Carol said. “I never
troubled myself to learn about her early personal life or to
discover why she was so difficult and so miserly. I think now that
she had a wounded heart and hid her pain beneath a shell of
nastiness. Perhaps she wished for someone who would love her in
spite of the unpleasant front she presented.”

“If anyone had tried,” Mrs. Marks stated
bluntly, “Lady Augusta would have pushed that person away.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Carol said. “But we
aren’t here to analyze her. Let us just drink to Lady Augusta’s
memory and wish her spirit well, wherever she may be tonight.”

“Certainly,” said Crampton, refilling glasses
all around. “In the spirit of Christmas, let us drink to Lady
Augusta.”

With my very best brandy
.

Carol could have sworn she heard the echo of
a ghostly voice that no one else in the servants’ dining room
discerned.

With the brandy glasses still half full and a
fresh pot of tea steeping, Carol brought out the presents she had
purchased the day before and gave them to her new friends.

“I never thought,” exclaimed Mrs. Marks, “I
mean to say, we have never exchanged gifts before and I did not
expect—Miss Simmons, I have nothing to give you in return, and I’m
sure Nell and Hettie haven’t, either.”

“I don’t want anything in return,” Carol
said. “I enjoyed choosing each gift. And the friendship you have
given me is worth more than anything that comes in a package.”

“Oh, my.” Mrs. Marks tried to wipe her eyes
without anyone noticing. “What a Christmas this has been.
What a
Christmas
!”

“It ain’t over yet,” noted Hettie, who, upon
opening the box from Carol, had immediately donned her smart new
hat with the scarlet feather on it. “Mr. Kincaid says Christmas
lasts till Twelfth Night.”

“He’s right about that,” Carol told her,
thinking of Lady Augusta’s claim that she had been given until
Twelfth Night to change Carol’s character.

“We shall make the most of the joyous
season,” declared Crampton. “More brandy, anyone?”

“I do believe just a small drop more would be
in order,” murmured Mrs. Marks.

“Who could we toast next?” asked Nell,
holding out her glass to Crampton.

“Who needs a toast?” Hettie giggled. “Drink
up. Drink up.”

“Now, now,” cautioned Crampton. “Moderation
at all times, if you please.”

With amusement and genuine fondness Carol
watched these new friends of hers. She still sorely missed both
Nicholas and Nik, and she knew she always would. But she was not
sorry she loved them, and she found that her emotional anguish had
diminished somewhat as she tried to make the holiday a happy one
for others. It scarcely mattered to her now what her own personal
future might bring. She would continue to do the work she had set
for herself and pray that in doing it she would improve the future
for those she loved. Perhaps, some day, Lady Augusta would find a
way to let her know if she was succeeding.

To Carol’s surprise, the dignified Crampton
now produced a supply of Christmas crackers, those paper-wrapped
party favors so beloved of the English for their holiday
celebrations. The cardboard tubes were covered with red and green
tissue paper and decorated with gilt. When a long strip of paper at
one ruffled end was pulled, a loud
pop
could be heard, after
which it was possible to extract tiny treasures from within—and a
funny paper hat.

“We must all put them on,” declared Hettie,
who, after imbibing a bit too readily during the toasts, could not
seem to stop giggling. “0h, Mrs. Marks, yours is a crown.”

“How very appropriate,” said Nell, upon which
the two younger women fell into fits of laughter. Unabashed, Mrs.
Marks did place her crown upon her gray hair.

“I note that I am a dunce,” said Carol,
unfurling a bright blue tissue-paper cap with a long point that
stood straight up when she donned it. “Open yours, Crampton, and
let us see what you are to be.”

“Did you hear something?” asked Crampton,
holding up one hand. “Hush, please, and let me listen. I thought I
heard someone at the front door.”

Into their startled silence fell the loud
noise of the seldom-used door knocker.

“Who could that be so late on Christmas Day?”
asked Mrs. Marks.

“There is only one way to find out.”
Straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair as he went,
Crampton left the servants’ dining room and headed for the steps to
the upper level of the house.

“Well, I’m sure I wasn’t expecting guests,”
said Mrs. Marks. “Were you expecting anyone, Miss Simmons?”

Carol did not answer, but only shook her head
because she was listening intently. She could hear voices from the
entrance hall above. Crampton and another person were talking
together. The second voice sounded oddly familiar, though muffled
as it was by the intervening walls, she could not place it exactly.
Automatically, without thinking about what she was doing, Carol put
up her hand and removed the blue paper dunce’s cap. Then, intrigued
by the continuing sound of male voices, she left the servants’
dining room and went into the kitchen, intending to go up to the
front hall to discover who was there. Just as she put a foot on the
bottom step Crampton came through the door at the top. Behind him
loomed a taller figure.

“Crampton?” said Carol. “Is anything wrong?
Who is that with you?”

“There is nothing wrong,” Crampton informed
her. “It is only that Mr. Nicholas Montfort has arrived somewhat
earlier than expected.” Crampton moved down a step, making room for
the person behind him, who advanced to the upper landing, where
Carol could see him more clearly.

He was tall and rather slender, although she
could not doubt that beneath his well-cut suit there were hard
muscles. His hair was black and straight and his eyes were green.
That strong, thrusting jaw, that long slash of nose— it was, and
yet it was not. . .

Carol grabbed for the banister, praying she
would not faint.

“Good evening,” said Nicholas Montfort,
looking straight at her with no sign of recognition. But then, why
should he recognize her? He had never seen her before in his
life.

“Oh, my God,” Carol gasped. “Lady Augusta,
why didn’t you warn me about this?”

“Yes, thank you,” Nicholas Montfort replied
to Mrs. Marks’s question. “I would appreciate some dinner. Airline
food is not especially satisfying.”

“As I have explained to you, Mr. Montfort,”
Crampton said, “we were told that you would not arrive until
Tuesday at the earliest. Marlowe House is, however, prepared in
expectation of your coming.”

“I cleaned and aired Lady Augusta’s rooms
myself,” Nell said, contributing her part to Crampton’s assurances.
“There’s even clean towels in the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas Montfort said again.
From his position on the topmost step he gazed upon the little
group below him, his eyes gleaming with amusement when they lit on
Hettie with her brandy glass still in hand, on Nell’s flushed,
eager face, and on Mrs. Marks, who in her excitement had forgotten
to remove her gold paper crown. Only Crampton really looked like a
proper servant, and even his cheeks were a bit more pink than
usual, thanks to several glasses of good brandy.

“I am afraid I have interrupted your holiday
celebrations,” Nicholas Montfort said.

“Not at all,” Crampton responded. “We have
finished with our dinner. Mrs. Marks will be delighted to prepare a
meal for you.”

“Hmm.” Nicholas Montfort’s eyes were once
again fixed on the glass in Hettie’s hand. Carol half expected him
to demand to know exactly whose brandy the girl was drinking. Then
he turned his attention to Carol. “I assume you are my late aunt’s
former companion. Miss Simmons, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Carol was amazed to discover
she could still speak, for she remained in a state of shock at the
sudden appearance of the man whom she had loved in both the past
and the future but had never expected to encounter in the present.
Lady Augusta had not bothered to warn her of this unexpected
development.

“Perhaps you will join me in the dining room
while I eat, Miss Simmons,” Nicholas Montfort continued. “Before I
speak with the solicitors there are a few questions I would like to
have answered about my aunt’s last weeks.”

“Of course.” Carol met the green eyes
directly. Deep inside her a glorious excitement was building, a
sense of unlimited possibilities. This man’s presence at Marlowe
House was Lady Augusta’s doing. Carol was certain of it. Therefore,
his arrival must be connected in some way to the changes she was
expected to make in both the present and the future.

“Did you take dictation for my aunt?” The
question was a little abrupt, but Carol was not offended.

“Occasionally,” she said, adding, “I am
probably not as proficient at shorthand as you might want.”

“I will only require you to take a few
notes,” he said, his eyes still on hers. “Find your notepad and
some pencils and meet me in the dining room in thirty minutes. Now,
Crampton, if you will see to my baggage, I would like a bath before
I eat. Mrs. Marks, I will expect my dinner in one hour.”

He was gone, Crampton following him. Mrs.
Marks moved toward the stove, muttering to herself about possible
menus using the leftover roast turkey.

“Who made him king of the hill?” asked
Hettie, still gaping at the door through which Nicholas Montfort
had left the kitchen.

“You put down that brandy glass, girl, and
come and help me,” Mrs. Marks ordered. “He may not have a title
before his name, but I know a nobleman when I see one. Mr. Montfort
will expect the very best service and the best food I can
prepare.”

“First,” said Nicholas Montfort, watching
Carol scribble hasty notes on her pad, “there will be two more
guests arriving late on Monday afternoon. Have the servants prepare
rooms for them.”

“Right.” Carol put down her pencil to take a
sip of tea while her companion applied himself to a plate heaped
high with creatively transformed, reheated roast turkey and
vegetables. “Will one of the guests be Mrs. Montfort, and if so,
shall I tell Nell to make up the room next to Lady Augusta’s
bedchamber? I believe it is in suitable condition. Nell takes very
good care of all the rooms.”

“There is no Mrs. Montfort. I am
divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She was not sorry
at all. She feared her heart would have broken if he had said he
was married.

“Don’t be. I’m not,” he responded to her
politely insincere remark. “It was best for both of us. We never
matched well together. Something was always—always
disjointed
between us.” He stopped, fixing her with an
inscrutable look. “Now, why the devil should I feel compelled to
tell you such a thing, when I never discuss personal matters with
my employees?”

“I am not exactly your employee,” Carol said.
“I worked for your aunt.”

“May I assume that you know Aunt Augusta’s
solicitors?” he asked, turning his attention to a list in his own
handwriting which he had put next to his plate for easy
reference.

“Yes. She used to send me to their offices
carrying sealed messages she did not want to discuss over the
telephone.”

“That sounds like Aunt Augusta. She never
trusted anyone that I knew of. Do you think she trusted you?”

“Not at first,” Carol said. “But recently,
yes, she put great faith in me. I hope I never disappoint her.”

“Why do you say that? Did she leave some
particular instructions with you?” His glance was sharp. “It is my
understanding that she left little or nothing to the people who
worked for her.”

“Not in her will, no.” Carol took a deep
breath, preparing to state facts that were not true in any legal
sense, but which she knew to be Lady Augusta’s deepest desires.
“Mr. Montfort, I do think she meant to do much more for her
servants. She did understand how difficult their lives would be if
they were turned out of their positions. Crampton and Mrs. Marks
are too old to find new employment, and Nell and Hettie are not
especially well educated. Hettie, in particular, can barely read.
They are not likely to find good jobs elsewhere. Then there is St.
Fiacre’s—”

“Are you .telling me that my aunt was fond of
these people?” he said, interrupting. “I find such a claim
difficult to believe.”