Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

Louis and Maggie, walking a few yards ahead of the group, were the first to see Aunt Lucretia come tumbling out of Chelsea Manor, her short arms waving wildly.

“They’re here! They’re out here,” she shrieked back into the front door.

As they reached the bottom of the hill where a pathway curved up toward the mansion, Louis softly tugged Maggie’s arm. “What are we going to tell everyone?”

Maggie looked at Chelsea Manor, remembering how she had scaled down its chimney only hours before. Noticing that Sir Pringle’s carriage was nowhere to be seen, Maggie hoped he and Grandfather Clement had parted on relatively good terms.

“Well,” Maggie said, peering out toward the Hudson River. Its serene waters struck her as an absurd sight. “I think it would be best if we tell them anything but the truth.”

Aunt Lucretia swept the twins up the moment they stepped through the front door and took them upstairs to be cleaned. The remaining grandchildren were corralled into the Great Room by the rest the family. Maggie, Catharine, and Louis packed onto the sofa as the family circled around.

Grandfather Clement was the only person missing.

There were many times that night Maggie had wondered if she would see her parents again. So when Dr. John and Mary Ogden entered the Great Room, she was so overcome with happiness that their pressing stares didn’t even register.

Surprisingly, the first question from the family was not where the grandchildren had disappeared to in the early hours of Christmas Day, but rather why they had returned wearing such unusual clothing.

Uncle Benjamin and Uncle CF stared with great uncertainty at Francis’ black uniform as the boy slouched in Grandfather Clement’s armchair, being the least responsive of the grandchildren.

Clemmie took the lead, situating himself confidently in front of the fireplace. He explained that the grandchildren had given the special clothes to each other as gifts and then had gone on an early morning walk, which went longer than expected.

“But why do all of you look so filthy?” Aunt Maria arched an eyebrow.

Louis and Maggie exchanged desperate glances while Catharine adjusted her red skirt, impossibly trying to hide all the blemishes from the night. None of the grandchildren―not even Clemmie―knew how to respond.

“It was my fault,” a voice declared from the doorway.

Aunt Emily let out a gasp as the room turned to see Henry standing in the hall. The young man appeared significantly more beaten since they last saw him the night before. His injured face glowed with bruises while his tattered white shirt hung unevenly out of his black trousers.

Henry cautiously stepped into the Great Room.

“Come to ruin Christmas Day, too, have you?” growled Uncle William. “Out! Out I say!”

Uncle William charged at Henry, but Catharine quickly leapt from the sofa and positioned herself between Henry and her uncle.

“Let him speak, Uncle William,” Catharine defended.

With her legs tucked beneath her body, Maggie twisted on the sofa to get a better view of Henry. More than anything, Maggie wanted to hear how he planned to explain their Christmas morning whereabouts.

After giving Catharine an appreciative smile, Henry gestured to the open front door, so everyone could see his horse and carriage out on the road. A cold breeze fanned the Great Room.

“Earlier this morning I came back to Chelsea Manor to apologize for the way I behaved last night―coming here unexpectedly and disrupting your Christmas Eve. Upon my arrival, the horse became startled and turned a corner too quickly, causing the carriage to tip over. The children were already awake and, seeing that I was in distress, came to my aid. They helped get my carriage upright, but I’m afraid that it caused them to dirty their new Christmas clothes. They then saw me off to an acquaintance’s where my carriage was repaired. That is what delayed their return home. However, I am so very grateful for their assistance.”

The room was quiet. The family stared at Henry before turning toward the grandchildren, searching their faces for confirmation that his story was true.

“Yup.” Clemmie finally nodded, sucking in his lips and then popping them out again. “That’s… what happened.”

Dr. Ogden approached Henry. “Well, then. We appreciate you clearing up this matter. And we expect that you’ll be on your way now.” But Henry didn’t move. “Was there something else?”

“I was hoping to speak with Clement Clarke Moore,” Henry said firmly. “I want to apologize privately for what occurred.”

The rest of the family assumed he meant the confrontation on Christmas Eve, but Maggie knew his apology went beyond that.

“Absolutely not,” Uncle William snapped. “You have no business seeing him again. You have troubled us all long enough.”

“We can pass your sentiments along to our father,” Uncle CF added, but he was soon drowned out by an old, raspy voice.

“The young man can speak to me alone if he wishes.”

Grandfather Clement stepped out from the gentlemen’s parlor. Although he was dressed in his typical dreary attire, Maggie thought her grandfather appeared significantly more depleted. Even from across the room, Maggie could see darkness sagging under his eyes.

“Father,” Aunt Emily exclaimed. “We didn’t know you were there.”

With his gaze focused solely on Henry, Grandfather Clement didn’t respond to his daughter’s comments or the confused stares from the rest of the family.

“Come along, Mr. Livingston,” Grandfather Clement said simply. He then turned back into the parlor without another word.

The family watched as Henry crossed the room and entered the parlor like a remorseful child bracing for a scolding.

“Well,” Aunt Maria huffed. “This has certainly been the strangest Christmas.”

Louis let out a deep, guttural cough that prompted a glare from Clemmie. But he was too busy shaking his head to spot his cousin’s disapproval.

“You have no idea, Mother,” Louis murmured, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You truly have no idea.”

Realizing that Grandfather Clement and Henry were in no hurry to return from the parlor, the family went about their normal Christmas activities and gathered in the dining room for brunch. However, Maggie quickly excused herself from the table, explaining that she wasn’t hungry, even as her rumbling stomach gave away her lie.

Maggie grabbed her coat before walking outside and plopping down on the front porch. Bent forward with her arms around her knees, Maggie was determined to fight through her exhaustion while waiting for Henry to emerge from Chelsea Manor. But she was nearly asleep when footsteps sounded behind her. Startled, she straightened her back and looked up. Henry was standing over her. He silently glanced back at Chelsea Manor and then started down the front path. Maggie followed him halfway down the hill where they were out of earshot from the curious family members eager to know more about the Christmas Eve intruder.

“What did Grandfather Clement say?”

Henry put his hands on his waist and studied Chelsea Manor for a moment before turning to Maggie. “I told him that I knew what he had done for my family, particularly my father. And that I was very grateful he took credit for
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
. I also apologized for accusing him of less than noble motives.” A small smile appeared on Henry’s face. “He wouldn’t accept it. He said my apology wasn’t necessary.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Maggie asked softly, finding it difficult to speak.

In her heart, she already knew the answer, so Maggie wasn’t surprised when Henry responded, “I’m going back home. To Poughkeepsie.”

Saddened, Maggie looked away without saying anything. But Henry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He then stuck his other hand in his pocket and pulled out a familiar key.

“This should go to you.”

“The Horologe key!” Maggie exclaimed before glancing around nervously, as though the Garrisons could be lurking nearby.

“It should remain with your family,” Henry said. “And with someone who is trustworthy. And as it so happens, you meet both of those requirements.”

Maggie discreetly took the key from Henry and clenched it in her fist. “I’ll watch over it.”

Henry smiled, giving Maggie’s shoulder a final rub. But before he turned to go down to the road, he looked back at Chelsea Manor. Although the entire Moore family was trying to get a glimpse of him from the dining room, he seemed more interested in the pair of green eyes peering through the front door.

“Give my regards to your family,” Henry said somberly.

His glance lingered an additional second and then with a slight wave to Maggie, he wandered down the hill to where Dunder and the carriage waited on the road.

Feeling a flood of emptiness, Maggie strolled back inside Chelsea Manor. Voices drifted from the dining room, but she wasn’t in a hurry to rejoin the crowd.

Maggie slowly walked into the stair hall just as Grandfather Clement came out from the Great Room. Upon seeing his granddaughter, he paused in the wide doorway.

“Henry…” Maggie started to say.

But she found herself unable to find the words as Grandfather Clement walked past her and into the dining room.

Maggie pressed the key she was holding deeply into her palm. Its hardness dug into her skin and when she unclenched her fist, a red imprint was left on her hand.

“Miss Margaret,” Charles said, coming out of the kitchen with a platter of steaming sausages. “You best be getting yourself something to eat before Clemmie devours every last crumb.”

Charles continued into the dining room where his sausage platter was immediately swarmed like a hive of bees. Clemmie scooped a spoonful of sausages onto his already overflowing plate while Gardiner and Gertrude didn’t even wait for utensils, plucking out portions with their fingers. Catching Maggie’s eye, Louis gave her a subtle nod before dishing up his own share.

Francis slouched in his chair at the corner of the dining room table. He mindlessly pushed about a slice of potato on his plate with a fork. Catharine was seated next to him, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the meal. With her back twisted in her chair, she dazedly stared out the window.

Charles walked back out into the stair hall empty-handed. He gave Maggie a smile, but before he could disappear back into the kitchen, Maggie called to him.

Charles turned around. “Yes, Miss Margaret.”

Slowly, Maggie approached Charles, her hand still clenching the key.

“Do you remember what you told me about the clock key in Great-Grandmother Elizabeth’s house?” Maggie whispered.

“Yes, Miss Margaret.” Charles’ eyes narrowed on the young girl’s fist.

“I was going through drawers in Aunt Margaret’s old room,” Maggie lied. “And I found this.” She opened her hand and showed Charles the key.

Charles stared at the familiar object. “Well, I’ll be…” He pointed down at her hand. “May I?”

Maggie nodded as Charles picked up the key and held it above his head. Squinting into the light, he smiled. “Yes sir, this is the one. How about that!” He handed the key back to Maggie.

“I need a favor, Charles.”

“Yes, Miss Margaret.”

“Would you help me hide the key somewhere in Chelsea Manor? Since it used to be at Elizabeth’s home, it has great sentimental value. I would like to find a place where it will be safe.”

Charles nodded. And then after looking around the hall, his eyes settled on the library door. “Follow me, Miss Margaret,” he whispered as he led Maggie into the library.

The library was unsettling to Maggie, recalling how she had been in the room with Henry that night. And what was even stranger was the burning in her chest just thinking about him. Maggie already greatly missed Henry, and she had to look away from Charles in order to hide the tears forming in her eyes. But when she remembered she hadn’t slept in over a day, she concluded the emotions were brought on by tiredness and she quickly dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

When Maggie turned back to Charles, he was hauling a large book down from a high shelf. The old book was so thick he had to brace it against his chest with both arms before slamming it down on the desk nearby.

“What is that, Charles?”

“It was your grandmother’s, Miss Margaret,” Charles explained as he undid the leather strap wrapped across its center, securing the cover and keeping its loose pages from slipping out. “This family Bible is one of the oldest books in all of Chelsea Manor.”

“I am not sure if that would be the most ideal place to keep the key. I’m worried it will be a snug fit in between the pages…” Maggie trailed off as Charles opened the book, exposing a hollow center cut within the paper.

“Someone removed pieces of the Bible?” Maggie asked, trying to imagine Grandfather Clement’s reaction to such a sight. He surely would have never allowed such a thing to happen. “Who would do that?”

Charles shook his head. “I don’t know, Miss Margaret. Your grandmother said it had always been this way. For as long as her family has lived in this country.”

Maggie approached the book and gently gripped its edges. The defacement began in the Book of Ezekiel and reached all the way to the Gospels.