Mistletoe and Mayhem (28 page)

He was silent so long she was afraid he was never going to answer her. Just when the silence became unbearable, he spoke.

“What you really mean is that
you
don’t want to leave here and move to London.”

She thought about it for several seconds, then sighed. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean.”

“I’m sorry, Gertie. I wish I could tell you I’d stay here, but I can’t. My life is in the city. That’s where I belong.”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d been nursing that small hope. “I understand, Dan. I really do. That’s why I can’t marry you.”

She stole a look at him. He sat staring straight ahead, and she couldn’t see his expression, but she could guess from the set of his shoulders.

When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. “Very well. Then I suppose this is good-bye.”

The pain cut deeper and she blinked. Hard. “Good-bye, Dan. I wish you lots of luck in London.”

He nodded. “You, too.”

She turned quickly and scrambled out. She didn’t wait for him to crank the engine and leave. Without looking back she fled around the corner and into the kitchen yard.

Shutting the gate behind her, she leaned against it, listening to the engine turn over until at last it caught and roared to life.

His motorcar door slammed, and it was like a door slamming on her life. She’d turned down the chance of a future with a man she’d loved with all her heart. Probably the last chance she’d ever have of marriage and a home of her own. Perhaps tomorrow she’d feel better about it. Perhaps tomorrow she’d know she’d made the right decision.

Right now, however, it felt as if she was the biggest fool on earth. And still she didn’t cry.

The quartet began playing the opening chords of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” as Cecily quietly closed the library door. She could hear Colonel Fortescue’s voice booming out above the rest. Apparently the deaths of four people had little effect on him. Phoebe, no doubt, was at this very moment doing her best to shut him up.

Cecily hurried along the corridor until she reached her office. Once inside, she felt for the matches on her desk and quickly lit the oil lamp. The photographs were where she’d left them, and she picked them up, thumbing through them until she found the one she wanted.

Now she was convinced she knew who had killed Ellie Tidwell and most likely the other three victims. As for the motive, she could only guess right now. What she needed was proof, and there was only one way to get that.

To do so meant being elsewhere far longer than was prudent. Baxter, at least, was bound to notice her absence, but that couldn’t be helped. He would understand if she found what she expected to find. Wasting no more time, she dropped the photographs back onto her desk, picked up her oil lamp, and left the room.

She encountered no one on her way upstairs, and reached Sir Walter Hayesbury’s suite without being seen. It took only a moment to unlock the door with her master key, and slip inside the room.

Placing the lamp on the bedside table she headed for the wardrobe. She had learned long ago that if someone wanted to hide something, the wardrobe was usually the first choice.

Opening the door, she quickly rummaged through the contents, searching pockets, feeling along shelves, and tipping boots upside down to make sure nothing had been hidden inside them. She had almost given up when she found it. A rolled-up cravat, with something solid inside it.

Carrying it over to the lamp she opened it up. As she did so, a white bow tie fell to the floor. She barely noticed, her gaze focused on the glitter of gold that sparkled in her hand. With a feeling of triumph, she held up the broken necklace.

Stopping to pick up the tie, she saw at once the smeared bloodstain. That’s why Sir Walter couldn’t wear it the first night at the banquet. Why he’d borrowed one from Baxter. He must have had blood on his fingers from the cut on Ellie’s neck when he tore the necklace from her.

Quickly she wrapped the tie and necklace back in the cravat and tucked it into her sleeve. Then she picked up the lamp and left the room.

P.C. Northcott would not be pleased with her for summoning him on Christmas Eve, but she had no choice. The man had in all probability committed four murders, and once he realized she had uncovered evidence to the fact he would most likely do everything in his power to see that it didn’t reach the constable.

Again she passed no one on her way back to her office. Once inside, she went straight to her desk, lifted the telephone off its hook, and held it to her ear.

The operator’s voice asked, “Number, please?”

Cecily was about to answer when she heard a slight sound behind her. She spun around, dropping the phone onto the desk with a clatter.

Moving toward her, a wicked-looking knife gleaming in his hand, was Sir Walter Hayesbury.

“Where’s madam? I can’t see her anywhere.” Gertie held on to the hands of Lillian and James, just in case they got too close to the Christmas tree. It wasn’t often they were allowed in the library, and now that it was transformed into a Christmas wonderland, their excitement had them jumping all over the place.

Gertie had visions of them crashing into the tree and sending it to the ground. She’d never live that one down.

Looking over at the window, she saw Mrs. Chubb and Clive. They’d know where madam was. Pulling the twins with her, she edged over to them.

The housekeeper held out her arms the minute she saw them and hugged the children. “Where have you been? I thought you would have been here ages ago.”

The children ran to Clive, and he wrapped his arms around both of them.

“I was talking to Dan,” Gertie said, her attention on her daughter, who was clinging to Clive’s arm.

Mrs. Chubb gazed around the room. “Where is he? Didn’t he come with you?”

“No, he didn’t.” She hesitated, aching to tell someone, yet knowing this was not the right time.

She had underestimated Mrs. Chubb’s perception. The housekeeper leaned forward, asking softly, “What happened, Gertie? You can tell me.”

Gertie shrugged. “Dan asked me to marry him.”

Mrs. Chubb clasped her hands together with a loud gasp, while Clive uttered a slight choking sound, then coughed. “I think I’ll be off, now,” he said, immediately invoking a chorus of protests from the twins.

“Oh, no, Uncle Clive, don’t go,” Lillian pleaded. “We just got here.”

“Gertie!” Mrs. Chubb threw her arms around Gertie’s shoulders. “I’m so happy for you!”

“I turned him down.”

Gertie pinched her lips together as both Clive and the housekeeper stared at her.

Mrs. Chubb was the first to speak. “What did you do that for? I thought you were so in love with him!”

“Shhsh!” Gertie glanced around to make sure no one had overheard. “I don’t want the whole world to know.”

“I’m sorry.” The housekeeper lowered her voice. “Gertie, what happened?”

“He wanted us to move to London.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Chubb looked up at Clive for help.

Gertie met his gaze and looked away. He was looking at her so intently, he made her nervous.

“Would that be such a terrible thing?”

He’d spoken so quietly she’d barely heard the words. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her daughter’s face. “I just didn’t want to leave everyone we know and go to a strange place where we don’t know anybody. James and Lillian’s friends are all here, and I-” She broke off, appalled to hear the catch in her voice.

Mrs. Chubb patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. You don’t have to talk about it now. You’re upset, I can see that. Perhaps you’d feel better if you went and lay down for a while. I can keep an eye on the kiddies.”

Gertie shook her head. “No, we came to sing carols, didn’t we, loves?”

The twins nodded, each of them holding one of Clive’s big hands.

Gertie looked over at the quartet, which was gamely struggling through their rendition of “O Holy Night
.
” She could never understand why Phoebe hired the aging musicians every year. They sounded terrible, though most of the time the guests were singing so loud they drowned out the missed chords and fumbled notes.

Tonight, however, everyone seemed subdued. She could understand why, what with all the terrible things that had been happening at the Pennyfoot lately. Surely madam would be able to find out who did it and see the bugger put away. She was so good at doing that.

Gertie turned back to Mrs. Chubb. “Where did madam go? I can see Mr. Baxter over there, but I can’t see madam anywhere.”

“She was here a few minutes ago.” Mrs. Chubb looked around, too. “I don’t see her now. That’s strange. It’s not like her to leave her guests, especially tonight. The carol singing is her favorite night of the whole Christmas season.”

“I’ll see if I can find her.” Clive gently disengaged himself from the twins’ grasps. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, little ones,” he promised them. Looking at Gertie, he added, “Don’t go away.”

She watched him skirt the guests, sliding along the wall until he reached the door. Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

She shivered as an odd sensation chased down her back. His words had unsettled her, but even more so, the look he’d given her as he’d said them. Shaking her head, she banished the thoughts from her mind. She’d had enough of men and their confusing behavior.

Dan had been hurt when she’d told him she couldn’t marry him. She hadn’t been prepared for that. It had been too hard to explain why she couldn’t drag her children to London, where their lives would be so utterly different. Or why she couldn’t tear herself away from everyone she loved.

She’d done it once before, when she’d married Ross and moved all the way to Scotland. She’d been so miserable, and deep down she knew the reason Ross had given up his business to come back to work at the Pennyfoot was because of her heartache over leaving Badgers End.

Dan wasn’t like Ross. He would never come back to Badgers End for her. That small hope that she’d been nursing, the chance that if he knew how much it meant to her, he wouldn’t leave, had been crushed tonight.

No, if she wanted him, she and her children would have to be the ones to uproot their lives and go with him. She might have been able to do that, but for one thing. For the one thing she hadn’t told him, or anyone else for that matter, the biggest reason she had refused to marry him, was the fact that in all the time they’d been together, not once had he told her he loved her. Not once. Not even when he’d asked her to marry him.

She wasn’t even sure why he’d asked her. Perhaps for companionship. Perhaps he felt responsible for her and the twins. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t enough.

Gertie Brown McBride simply couldn’t give up everything she knew and loved to marry a man who couldn’t love her. Not for all the money and posh living in the world. That’s all there was to it.

Cecily mentally cursed herself for being so careless. Sir Walter was well aware that she was investigating the murders.

She should have known he would realize the photographs would incriminate him in a lie, thus leading her to her conclusions.

He was between her and the door. Her only chance of escape was to keep him talking and hope that Baxter would soon come looking for her.

“Is there something I can do for you, Sir Walter?” Thankful for her measured tone, she carefully backed around her desk.

Fear gripped her throat, however, when he moved forward, the knife poised to strike. “You should have left well enough alone, Mrs. Baxter. Look where your meddling has led you. I really, truly dislike having to silence you, but I have no choice.”

“I could promise not to say a word to anyone about what I know,” Cecily suggested hopefully.

Sir Walter’s face darkened. “I am in no mood for frivolity. I-” He broke off, passing a hand across his forehead as if in great pain.

“I’m so sorry, you still have your headache. I really think I should fetch a powder for you.” She reached for the bell rope. “Let me ring for the housekeeper.”

“Let go of that this instant!” He brandished the knife in her face and she backed away, out of reach of the rope. “I’m not relishing this moment. I wish you had just minded your own business, then none of this would be at all necessary.”

He really didn’t want to kill her, she realized. Maybe she could take advantage of that. “I’m really sorry. I’ve never been able to resist a puzzle, and you were so clever in everything you did. I greatly admire your fortitude.”

He scowled. “I’m afraid it’s a little too late for sweet words. I must do what I have to do, to preserve the good name of both my wife and myself. The scandal would kill her.”

He moved closer to the desk, forcing her to back up to the wall. Now she had nowhere to go. “I would like to know just one thing.” She edged sideways, one hand supporting herself on the back of her chair. “I would like to know why you went to all the trouble of killing all those people.”

“I was under the impression you knew the reason.”

She shook her head. “I really don’t, and it’s puzzling me greatly. I do know that Ellie worked for you when she was in London. Her mother mentioned that she worked at Rosewood Manor. It was your wife’s handkerchief I found outside the Danvilles’ suite. I realized that the R.M. stood for Rosewood Manor.”

“Ah.” He moved closer. “I wondered where that handkerchief had gone. My wife gave it to me to wrap around a cut on my finger. I’d tucked it in my pocket and forgotten it.”

Strange that she hadn’t seen any blood on the handkerchief, Cecily thought. Then again, she hadn’t unfolded it. “A cut on your finger? Or was it, perhaps, blood from Ellie’s neck when you tore the necklace from her?”

Sir Walter’s face darkened. “That ungrateful little libertine. I gave her that necklace, and she had the audacity to refuse my favors. She left my house without a word to me. Just simply disappeared.”