The Twelve Clues of Christmas (26 page)

“You saved my life. How can I ever thank you?” I said.

“You tried to save her,” Sal said. “When she deserved to die. Well, now she’s getting what she deserves. Now she knows what it feels like.”

We both peered out into the darkness where Trixie Robbins was thrashing and screaming. “Help me! Get me out!”

“Is there no way we could help her?” I asked.

“Only if we had planks, which we don’t,” she said.

“Is your rope not long enough to reach her?”

“I don’t have no rope,” she said.

“But you threw it to me.”

“Just the piece of cord I tie around my middle,” she said. “It ain’t but a yard or more.”

An image of the shining silver rope flashed across my mind. Surely it had been longer than that, and almost moved with a life of its own?

“We can’t reach her,” she said. “She’d go to the gallows anyway. This is Nature taking her revenge.”

Trixie’s last moments seemed to go on forever: the cursing, the spluttering, the pleading and the last horrible choking sounds. They will probably be in my head forever. She had only just vanished into the bog when we heard the baying of hounds and the tramp of feet and the first policemen appeared.

“You’re too late,” I said, feeling stupid tears running down my cheeks. “They’ve both gone into the bog. I would have gone too, but Wild Sal saved me.”

I turned to her, but she was no longer there.

Chapter 41

M
IDNIGHT ON
N
EW
Y
EAR’S
E
VE AND THE FIRST MOMENTS OF A NEW YEAR

It seemed to take an eternity to walk back down to the village. I stumbled along in a nightmare of what I had just lived through. A young policeman held my arm and helped me along, saying encouraging things, but I couldn’t shake those images from my mind. I thought about Wild Sal and how she had vanished when the police arrived. Had she really been there at all? Was she really a witch after all? I remembered the voice that had seemed almost to be inside my head. How could she have whispered to me over such a distance? But one thing was sure—somebody or something had saved my life. I was still here. The bog had not taken me.

An explosion rocked the night, then another. I recoiled in horror, wondering if this was a last act of vengeance set up by the Robbinses—blowing up the village that had sheltered them. But then a rocket burst into brilliant color over my head. It was only the fireworks at the end of the evening. More flashes and crashes could be heard as we came down the last of the slope.

“I’ve got the young lady with me,” my policeman shouted. “She’s all right.”

People started running toward us, one running more quickly than the rest. Darcy swept me into his arms and held me so tightly that I thought he’d crush every bone in my body. “Thank God,” he muttered, his lips on my face and hair. “I was worried out of my mind.”

“How is your aunt?” I asked. “Is she going to be all right?”

“Only a flesh wound, luckily. The nerve of the fellow, shooting her in front of us all.” Then he released me a little, looking down at me. “And what were you thinking, going off with that woman on your own?

“I thought she was Wild Sal,” I said. “She told me Miss Prendergast was getting away and we had to stop her. It was stupid of me, and it was a trap anyway. She was really Robbins’s wife and they wanted me as a hostage.”

“Where are they now?” he demanded.

“Dead. Both of them drowned in the bog. It was horrible, Darcy. I was nearly sucked down with them. I would have died if Wild Sal hadn’t appeared and rescued me.”

“I’ve a good mind to take you over to a convent in Ireland and lock you up there until we can be married,” he said, half laughing. “That is, if you want to marry me someday.” He paused. “I didn’t get the feeling you were too keen on the idea last time we spoke about it.”

“Because I thought I couldn’t marry you and I didn’t know how to tell you,” I said.

“You can’t marry me? Why? And don’t tell me you’re engaged to Prince Siegfried again.”

I had to laugh. “I’m part of the line of succession,” I said. “English law prevents a claimant to the throne from marrying a Catholic.”

“Then I’ll give up my religion if that’s what it takes,” he said.

“You don’t have to, Darcy, and I wouldn’t want you to. But it’s all right. Your aunt said I could just renounce my place in the line. I hadn’t realized I could do that.”

“You’d give up the throne of England for me?” he asked, his eyes challenging mine in the darkness.

“Darcy, I’m only thirty-fifth in line,” I said. “Unless there is a particularly big epidemic I don’t think there’s any danger of my becoming queen. And besides, the answer to that question is yes. I would give up the throne of England to marry you. Only you haven’t asked me properly yet.”

“You’re right.” He went down on one knee, oblivious to the people milling around us. “Lady Georgiana of Glen Garry and Rannoch, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

And I, who prided myself on never crying, cried for the second time in one evening.

“I can’t think of anything I want more,” I said.

Around us the crowd broke into applause, and as if on cue, the church bells began to ring.

Darcy took me into his arms. “Happy New Year,” he said and he kissed me.

Chapter 42

N
EW
Y
EAR’S
D
AY,
J
ANUARY 1, 1934

Everyone is going home today. I wonder where I will go?

Queenie didn’t come in with her tray until after ten o’clock the next morning.

“That Mr. Darcy told me to let you sleep,” she said. “My, but he’s a bossy one, ain’t he? And they are saying you’re going to marry him. You really going to let him boss you around all your life?”

“Yes, I am, I suppose,” I said.

Downstairs there was an end-of-term feel, with guests exchanging addresses, promising to write and to come for a visit. The Upthorpes had been invited to America. Cherie and Monty were going to write to each other daily. Badger was going to stay with the Upthorpes. Even the dowager countess had melted a little and invited Colonel and Mrs. Rathbone to come to tea when they were all back in London.

“I don’t get much company these days,” she said. “I’d welcome a chat to share memories with old India hands.”

So all was well, except for poor Johnnie Protheroe and Mrs. Sechrest. I felt terribly sad about Johnnie. He was the sort of man one couldn’t help liking, in spite of his wicked ways. And I wondered if the fire would leave Mrs. Sechrest permanently disfigured. She had certainly lost a man she really cared about and life would never be the same for her.

Bunty came up to me after breakfast. “Just been for a brilliant ride with your intended,” she said. “You’re a lucky stick, you know. I’d always hoped . . . but I suppose cousins really shouldn’t marry, although they do it in royal circles all the time, don’t they?”

“That accounts for all the insanity.” I smiled. “Luckily my mother brought in an infusion of good common blood so my children should be all right.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re going to be my cousin. I asked Mummy if you could stay on here, after everyone else has gone. It’s dashed lonely and boring here. And Mummy said you’d be more than welcome, anytime.”

“That’s very kind of her. Actually, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave here. I’d like to stay, but I don’t want to be dependent on other people all the time. I want to make my own way in the world. Darcy and I won’t have the money to marry for ages and I want to do my part. Now I’ve been a social hostess once, maybe I’ll find a similar job somewhere. Without the bodies, that is.”

She nodded. “It was rather awful, wasn’t it? Poor Mummy, with her plans for the perfect English country Christmas. Who would ever have thought everything could go so horribly wrong?”

“Actually, everyone seems to have had a good time, in spite of everything,” I said. “I know I did. And the best thing is that those awful Robbins people didn’t succeed with their twelfth victim.”

“You’re right. And Mummy’s talking about getting up to say good-bye to everyone this morning. Daddy is trying to persuade her to stay in bed, but you know what she’s like when she puts her mind to something.”

“I suspect stubborn determination runs in the family,” I said, noticing Darcy coming across the foyer with a piece of paper in his hand and a frown on his face.

“I’ve just had a telegram,” he said, waving it at me. “I’m afraid I’m wanted back in London straight away. I may be going back to South America.”

“Is it going to be dangerous?” I asked, looking at him with concern.

He smiled. “I know how to take care of myself better than you do.”

“All the same,” I said, “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“So do I, but I don’t have much choice.”

We stood looking at each other, our gaze not faltering, and so many unspoken things passing between us.

Bunty coughed. “Well, I’d better go and leave you lovebirds to the mushy stuff,” she said.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked, trying to sound bright and cheerful.

“I don’t know. Not too long, I hope.”

“I wish . . .” I began.

He stroked my cheek. “I know. I wish too. But we have something to look forward to now, don’t we? By hook or by crook I’m going to make enough money to set you up as Mrs. Darcy O’Mara in the style to which you’re accustomed.”

“Oh, please, no. Not another Castle Rannoch.” We both laughed and he slipped his arms around me. “I don’t want to make this official until I’ve spoken with my father,” he said, “so let’s keep it to ourselves, shall we?”

I nodded, trying hard to master a brave smile. He leaned toward me and his lips brushed mine. Then he stroked my cheek. “I’d better go and pack. Monty’s driving me to Exeter to catch the express.”

I watched him walk away, longing to call after him, to run after him, to beg him to take me with him. But I forced myself to behave as a lady should.

One by one the guests departed. Lady Hawse-Gorzley made an effort to come down and see them off. The doctor had told her to stay in bed, but she insisted on doing the right thing, as she put it. Stubbornness definitely did run in the family. When the car headed down the driveway for the last time she turned to me and took my arm to walk back up the steps and into the house. “I shouldn’t say this, but thank God they’ve gone,” she whispered. “It was a bit of an ordeal, wasn’t it?”

“But fun too,” I said. “I had a lovely Christmas in spite of everything. I think you did splendidly and gave them a perfect old English Christmas just like they wanted.”

She patted my hand. “Thank you, dear. Most kind of you. I did try hard. And between ourselves, I don’t think we actually made much of a profit, but we did eat and drink very well, didn’t we?” She closed the door behind us. “You know, when these deaths started happening, I kept asking myself whether I was being punished in some way for trying to make money out of a sacred holiday. And when I was shot, I really did ask myself if it was the Lovey Curse.”

I chuckled. “Don’t be silly. If anybody was the victim of the Lovey Curse it was the awful man who shot you. At least he and his wife got their just deserts, didn’t they?”

She nodded. “It’s hard to imagine someone could be so warped as to cleverly plot the deaths of twelve innocent people.”

“But speaking of the Lovey Curse,” I said, “I’d like to do something for Wild Sal—send her some clothes or food or something. She saved my life, you know.”

“She wouldn’t accept it, my dear. We have tried in the past and she rejects all help. She’ll probably go on living wild like that until she’s ninety.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll see her again, but do thank her for me when you see her,” I said. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see what my mother is doing. It would be just like her to up stakes and vanish without saying good-bye.”

“Of course, my dear. Off you go, then. Just a simple supper tonight. Thank God.”

I was just walking down the drive when I met Inspector Newcombe’s car coming toward me. The car stopped and he got out.

“Just the person I was coming to see,” he said. “You’re not off yet, are you?”

“I was just going to visit my mother and grandfather,” I said. “I’m not sure when they are leaving.”

“I’ve come to get an official statement about last night from you,” he said, “but I can interview Lady Hawse-Gorzley first. How are you feeling today after your ordeal?”

“Never felt better, thank you.”

“Whoever thinks that the aristocracy are useless and frail should take a look at you,” he said and chuckled. Then he looked at me, stroking his chin. “You had a lucky escape last night. Not many can say they’ve walked away from that bog. And it takes care of the pair of them nicely, doesn’t it? Saves us the trouble of hanging them.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The images were still too raw in my mind.

“All the same,” he went on cheerfully, “I’d have liked the chance to question them. To know exactly how he managed to pull off all those murders without being caught. It took talent and skill, I’ll give them that.”

“They used disguises, I’m sure,” I said. “I expect they moved around disguised as Willum and Wild Sal, knowing that nobody would have paid them any attention.”

“Too crafty for their own good,” he said. “Oh, well. Now we’ll never know, will we? I’ll stop off at your mother’s cottage after I’ve talked with Lady H-G, then, shall I? I’d like to say good-bye to your grandfather. A proper old-fashioned gent, isn’t he? I wish there were more like him on the force these days.”

I went on to the cottage and found that my mother was packing up to leave too.

“I’ve had a telegram from Max,” she said. “He is coming to London to meet me. He had a gloomy Christmas and missed me dreadfully. And frankly I’ve had enough of country living. I mean, it’s fun to play at cottages and simple English food for a while, isn’t it? But then one longs for a good nightclub and caviar and the things that make life worth living.”

“Will you be going back to Germany right away?” I asked.

“Actually, I’m going to persuade Max to rent a house in London for a while.”

“So that you can finish working on the play with Mr. Coward?”

She glanced up the stairs and I recognized that expression. “I don’t think this play is going to work out somehow,” she said, sotto voce. “Noel really does want to hog all the best lines, darling, and I’ve only just found out that he sees my character as a mature woman. I ask you—me, a mature woman? Well, really!”

And she made a dramatic exit. My grandfather and I exchanged grins.

“So you’ll be heading back to Scotland, will you?”

“I hope not,” I said. “I’m going to try to find another job. I wish I could come and stay with you, but . . .”

“Of course you can’t, my love,” he said. “We live in different worlds, you and me. But you’re always welcome to come and visit.”

“At least you’ve got Mrs. Huggins.”

He made a funny face and stepped nearer. “Between you and me and the gatepost, she’s beginning to get on my nerves. Fusses over me like an old hen. I don’t mind it when she’s next door, but not under the same roof.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good-bye, then.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s been a sad day. All these good-byes.”

Granddad stroked my hair as if I were a small child. “I expect you’ll keep turning up like a bad penny,” he said fondly.

Mummy appeared at the top of the stairs again. “Georgie, I’ve just had a brilliant idea. Noel suggested I write my autobiography. Won’t that raise some eyebrows!”

“Are you sure you should?” I started to laugh. “Won’t there be an awful lot of husbands who have to do some explaining to their wives?”

“Darling, I’ll be discreet. I’ll only include the really juicy ones. But listen to my brilliant idea. Why don’t you come to London with me and you can be my secretary. Can you use a typewriting machine?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“No matter. I’ll buy you one and you can learn and I’ll scribble down my thoughts and you’ll tidy them up for me. How about it?”

“Sounds like fun,” I said.

I was fully aware as I said the words that working with my mother was not going to be easy. But living in a house in London, with proper heat and decent food, was definitely preferable to the only other alternative—time spent in a bleak Scottish castle with Fig. What’s more, I’d learn to use a typewriting machine and develop a real skill, more useful than where to seat a bishop at a dinner table. And I’d be in London, on the spot, the moment Darcy reappeared in the country. All in all, the future hadn’t looked brighter in a long while.

The next morning Sir Oswald, Lady Hawse-Gorzley and Bunty came out to see me off. The latter two hugged me fondly and begged me to come back soon. What an incredible stroke of luck that I’d seen that advertisement and dared to answer it, I thought as I waved through the rear window. The car took me and Queenie to the station and we caught the train going back to London. The Devon countryside flashed past the train window, with the snow-clad tors of Dartmoor in the background, until they merged into the Somerset lowlands and green fields, and Tiddleton-under-Lovey was just a memory.

The old-fashioned Christmas has almost disappeared, but if you’d like to re-create some of the things in this book, here are some recipes for games, food and fun.

* * *

Click here for more books by this author