Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“I think it would be better if someone else goes to him,” Dr. Ogden suggested quietly with a subtle cough.

“I’ll go,” Uncle Benjamin volunteered, rising from his chair near the gentlemen’s parlor door.

As the eldest child since the death of Aunt Margaret, Uncle Benjamin usually went out of his way for the family. This caused Uncle Benjamin to often appear worn down―his dark eyes were saggy, and even his graying hair, carelessly tossed about on his head, looked tired with life. But Maggie liked him the most of her uncles. Uncle CF could be entertaining and Uncle William was unintentionally amusing, but Uncle Benjamin had a gentle way about him―much like his son, Louis, and unlike his other son, Francis.

As Uncle Benjamin disappeared through the parlor door, a restless Francis jumped up from where he had been sitting next to the Christmas tree.

“Well, if he’s not going to read it, I will!” Francis snatched Grandfather Clement’s poetry book from the mantel. Grandfather Clement had reluctantly included
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
in his poetry collection when it had been published a decade earlier.

Francis began flipping through the pages as the rest of the family advised against it.

“We should obey Father’s wishes,” Uncle William insisted. “Be obedient to your earthly masters… with trembling flesh… and fear in your heart.”

“It’s also bedtime for Gardiner and Gertrude,” Aunt Lucretia added.

“Oh, Francis, you do have such a lovely speaking voice,” Aunt Maria cooed. “But perhaps this isn’t the best time.”

“You’d better not read it, Francis,” Dr. Ogden bleakly warned. “Grandfather Clement might return with a birchen rod.”

It was often told that when the Moore children were growing up, they were threatened, or possibly struck with a birchen rod when disobedient. None of the parents used such disciplinary methods on the grandchildren. But if any of them ever deserved it, it was Francis. And he knew it.

Grandfather Clement suggested the punishment to Aunt Maria years ago when Francis had been throwing one of his theatrical tantrums. Of course, Aunt Maria would have sooner traded away her revered singing voice before ever laying a finger on Francis’ dear head. But it seemed that now even the mere notion of a rod caused Francis to squirm a bit.

Still, Francis ignored the others, and when finally coming upon the correct page, he gleefully cleared his throat and began reading, “‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring―”

A knock suddenly sounded on the front door of the mansion. Francis stopped reading and anxiously looked up from the book.

In all the years at Chelsea Manor, no one had ever come to call on Christmas Eve.

ho on earth could that be?” asked Aunt Maria.

“Could something be wrong at the seminary?” Uncle William squeaked.

“Maybe one of the servants got locked out,” suggested Uncle CF just as Thomas popped his head out of the kitchen.

“No, sir. We’re all here.”

Grandfather Clement and Uncle Benjamin stormed out from the parlor.

“Who is that?” Grandfather Clement bellowed.

Charles and Hester appeared beside Thomas in the kitchen doorway.

“I’ll answer it,” Charles said, wiping his hands on a rag and tossing it back into the kitchen.

The Moore family remained quiet as Charles and Hester walked across the hall and into the foyer. After the heavy front door was hurled open, the servants could be heard speaking with the visitor.

“A gentleman is here to see you, Mr. Moore,” Hester announced, reentering the Great Room. Her expression was uncertain. “His name is Henry Livingston and says you know his family.”

“Actually, just my father,” Henry said, slipping in from behind Hester. “You may recall the name Sidney Livingston, Mr. Moore.”

Maggie stared in shock. Perhaps her eyes hadn’t deceived her earlier. But Henry was supposed to be returning to Poughkeepsie. She couldn’t think of a logical reason that would bring him to Chelsea Manor, especially on Christmas Eve.

Maggie was not the only one unnerved by Henry’s appearance. Grandfather Clement studied the young man with obvious contempt.

“What business do you have here?” Grandfather Clement grumbled.

With his cap in hand, Henry stood before the Moore family looking uneasy. He ran shaky fingers through his bronze hair while the room watched him curiously.

“I am most sorry to come unannounced like this, especially with everyone celebrating Christmas Eve together.” Henry gripped his cap tighter. “But I wasn’t certain of the next opportunity where the family would all be here. You see, Sidney Livingston died last month, and I was not aware of my father’s connection to the Moores until after his passing.”

Grandfather Clement held up a long, bent hand. “Do not waste your words, young man. I remember that many years ago a student by the name of Sidney Livingston was kicked out of the seminary for plagiarism, something I consider to be the worst sin in academia. And such a man would not have any association with this family. I am sorry for your loss, but you are clearly here under false pretenses.”

Henry looked slapped in the face. His blue eyes widened and cheeks reddened.

“Sir, with all due respect, I know that not to be true. I have countless journals and letters that indicate my father did in fact have a close relationship with your late wife, Catharine, and daughter, Margaret. As well as some of your living children.” Henry patted his left breast pocket. “I have a few papers with me if you wish to see.”

Uncle William jumped up. “There is no need to see anything. You come here claiming a family connection to two of our loved ones who are no longer around to verify your claim. How very convenient. Except I do not remember your father. And I’m certain neither of my siblings do as well.”

Uncle William looked around the room for affirmation. Aunt Emily shook her head and Uncle CF rubbed his chin in puzzlement. However, Uncle Benjamin and Maggie’s mother exchanged knowing looks, which did not escape Uncle William’s searching eyes.

“Benjamin, do you know what Mr. Livingston is talking about?”

Uncle Benjamin cleared his throat. “How could I when we haven’t even heard what has brought him here? Surely, there must be something to all of this.” Uncle Benjamin stepped toward Henry. “What is it that you want?”

Henry smiled for the first time since entering Chelsea Manor. “I just thought the great Clement Clarke Moore might be interested in the current whereabouts of the Livingstons. Both his professional and personal reputation depends upon it.”

“Well, come on. Out with it,” Uncle William snapped. “Say what you want to say.”

“I just wish to acknowledge that something was plagiarized over thirty years. But it was not my father’s seminary work.”

“Enough,” Grandfather Clement said. “I have no time for the son of a disgruntled former student to bombard my home on Christmas Eve, making false accusations because he has an old bone to pick with the seminary.” And then in a moment that may not have been intended, Grandfather Clement added, “Now go back to Poughkeepsie.”

Henry was silent before smiling tensely. “You remember my father better than you let on, Mr. Moore.”

And with that Charles and Hester showed the visitor back outside. But Maggie and Henry locked eyes before he disappeared from the Great Room. His look was apologetic as though he was ashamed he hadn’t mentioned anything that morning. And Maggie couldn’t help but feel similarly sorry.

Maggie walked over to the hall just in time to see Henry adjust the cap on his head before the front door shut behind him. They shared one last glance as Maggie tried to convey her sadness for how poorly Grandfather Clement and Uncle William treated him.

The Moore family, still stunned by Henry’s sudden arrival and even quicker departure, didn’t notice Maggie in the doorway.

“What balderdash!” Uncle William finally spat. “On Christmas Eve! To come here like that? The man must surely be insane.”

“Are you all right, Father?” Aunt Emily asked.

No longer paying attention to his family, Grandfather Clement was facing the window, looking out at the seminary.

“What? Of course, I’m all right,” Grandfather Clement grunted. “I have dealt with my share of unhappy students and their family members. It’s just unfortunate that the young man decided to call at this hour while everyone is here for Christmas. He’s no doubt overcome by his father’s passing. Only amplified by the holiday season. In my lifetime, I have witnessed what such grief can do to men.” Grandfather Clement spoke rather manically.

“What did he mean when he said something was plagiarized thirty years ago?” Dr. Ogden mumbled to himself, but the rest of the room easily heard.

“What do you mean, what did he mean?” Uncle William asked sharply. “The man was clearly crazy. Spouting strange things. All of it.” Uncle William then added another bit of flimsy scripture while waving his arms. “Like a madman who throws deadly flaming arrows at his neighbors and then he comes around and says, oh! I’m sorry. It was just in sport!”

Although Maggie was standing in the doorway with her back toward the Great Room, she sensed Louis mouthing
problem verb
her direction. They had made up the term for when Uncle William inaccurately recited a biblical proverb, which happened more often than not.

“It was all quite odd. No doubt about that,” Uncle CF commented. “But there has to be something behind what he was saying.”

Unable to contain the question nagging her the most, Maggie spun around and spoke before Uncle William could burst into another confusing tirade.

“How did you know Henry was from Poughkeepsie, Grandfather?”

The entire room focused its attention on the girl in the doorway.

If the question had surprised Grandfather Clement, he didn’t let it show. Instead he replied harshly, “Most Livingstons live up in the Hudson Valley, particularly around Poughkeepsie. A ridiculous lot.”

The family continued to speculate about the true intention of Henry Livingston’s visit. But Maggie couldn’t help notice that Uncle Benjamin and her mother didn’t contribute to the discussion.

The Christmas festivities did not return to the same level of excitement they had reached right after dinner, and soon everyone began retiring for the evening as the clock chimed ten.

Maggie headed upstairs with Gertrude who whispered giddily, “The rest of the family can say what they wish, but that Henry Livingston is one of the most handsome young men I’ve ever seen.”

Maggie couldn’t decide whether or not to be amused at Gertrude’s overt adoration. Since Maggie had met Henry first, she felt a strange claim to him.

“Surely, you must agree!” Gertrude looked up at Maggie with glassy, gray eyes. She playfully tugged on the braid that curved around her pronounced ear.

“I found him to be very adequate looking,” Maggie mumbled. “But wasn’t the whole episode peculiar? Do you think it could be true? That his father knew Grandmother Catharine and Aunt Margaret.”

Gertrude shrugged. “What difference does it make if Henry’s father knew our family?”

“Grandfather Clement seemed to think it made one. Otherwise, why would he so adamantly insist that there was no connection between us and the Livingstons?”