A Christmas Kiss (20 page)

Evalyn lifted her chin and regarded him with her disconcertingly direct stare. “You must have mistaken me, my lord,” she said. “The sight of it brings back associations that are not at all pleasant to me. I'm afraid I'm not in the least tempted.” With a little curtsey, she turned and walked purposefully up the stairs and out of sight.

Jamie looked at his father curiously. “If I didn't know better, sir, I would think you'd been given a very decided set-down.”

“It certainly seems so,” Philip said gruffly, his ears a little red.

“The girl acts more like a duchess than a governess,” Sally murmured, half to herself, with reluctant admiration.

“I told you,” Jamie said, “that she's a very—”

“Yes, we know,” Philip cut him off drily. “A very redoubtable girl.”

Evalyn closed the door of her room behind her and leaned against it, trembling. She considered throwing herself on the bed and sobbing her heart out, but without Nancy's restraining presence, she might not be able to stop. Sobbing, as she had discovered yesterday, did very little good. It was a momentary relief at best, and it reddened the eyes, caused the lips to swell, and left one utterly drained and numb. No, she had better keep her wits about her and decide what to do. She could not continue in this fashion, that was clear. She could not pull herself out of this dejection if she were obliged to see Philip every day, to watch him dance attendance on Sally, to hear his voice, to see his face in the firelight, to catch the glances he threw at her occasionally, and store them up to feed on later, like a starving bird in the snow. The look he had given her last night, when she had recited those lines of Milton's, had sustained her all night long. No, she must go away. It would be foolish to subject herself to more of this feeling of hopelessness and pain.

She still had the money in her reticule which she had saved from her wages. With careful management, it would see her to London. And she still had the address of the unknown cousin who might provide her with a place to stay until she could find work. Quickly, before she allowed the warmth and luxury of the room and the kindness of the people in this house to change her mind, she pulled the battered portmanteau from under the bed and began to pack.

When Nancy found her, she was almost finished. The girl gaped at her openmouthed. “Miss Evalyn! What're ye
doin
'?” she squeaked. “Y're not
leavin'
?”

“Hush, Nancy. I want no one to know about this. Quickly now, I shall need your help.”

“Well, ye ain't goin' to get it! Ye was supposed to stay 'ere till the new year. Where're ye goin'? An' why?”

“Don't ask questions, Nancy. I must go today. You know that I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't necessary. Don't make this harder for me than it is already.”

“Oh, Miss! Y're breakin' me 'eart, fer certain! This ‘as somethin' to do with yesterday, don't it?”

Evalyn merely nodded.

“I knew it! Ye ain't been the same since. It was somethin' bad, I know. Miss Evalyn, I ain't askin' ye to tell me what it was, but if ye could see yer way clear to speakin' to 'is lordship about it—”

“His
lordship
?”

“Yes, Miss. 'E 'as a good 'ead an' a kind 'eart. Everyone says so. An' 'e likes ye. I could tell that when ye was both 'elpin' to get Joseph out of trouble. 'Is lordship could 'elp ye, I know 'e could!”

“He couldn't help me, Nancy.”

“Are you sure? Positive sure?”

“Yes, dear, I'm positively sure,” Evalyn said with a small smile.

Nancy's lip quivered. “Miss Clarissa then.
She
might be able to …”

“Nancy, don't. There's no one to help. Please don't look at me so, or I shall start to sob again.” But it was Nancy who sobbed. Evalyn put her arms about the girl's shoulders and tried to soothe her, but Nancy was inconsolable.

“N-nobody was ever s-so g-good to m-me b-before,” she cried. “It ain't r-right for someone l-like ye to 'ave to g-go away. And on C-Christmas Eve, too. It ain't right.”

When Nancy's tears had ceased, Evalyn rose and said in a firm, steady voice, “You must help me now, Nancy. Do you think you can?”

Nancy sniffed and nodded.

“Good. Now, listen. You must find Joseph for me and ask him if he can take the curricle without anyone knowing and drive me into Ashwater. Tell him we can do it when everyone is dressing for dinner—in about half an hour. Then, Nancy, you must stay in here for the night. If anyone knocks and asks why I haven't come down to dinner, tell them I'm not feeling well and have gone to bed.”

“B-but they'll be bound to find out sooner or later,” Nancy said.

“Yes. Tomorrow you're to find Miss Clarissa and give her this letter. I also want you to give her this box I've made for her. If you can find some silver paper, we can wrap it up before Joseph comes for me. And give her these gloves that I've knitted for the twins. Tell them they're from Father Christmas.”

“Oh, Miss Evalyn …” Nancy whimpered.

“And Nancy, this is for you. It's my Spanish shawl. It was my mother's. It would make me so happy to know you have it.”

“Oh, no, Miss Evalyn, I couldn't. It's too pretty fer me.…”

But Evalyn put it around her shoulders. Nancy burst into fresh tears, and the two embraced. “Oh, Miss Evalyn, what's to become of me without ye?”

“I've written about you in my note. I'm sure Miss Clarissa can find a place for you, if you want it. Now, go along, Nancy dear, and get Joseph for me.”

Half an hour later, Evalyn put on her cloak, picked up her portmanteau, and looked around the room. The portrait of Philip's aunt gazed at her coldly. She could hear Philip's voice.… “You and she should deal extremely well together.” She could see through the window the outlines of the balcony railing over which she and Philip had pulled Joseph to safety. She looked at the dressing table where she had left the few packages that were all she had to express her thanks. And thanks she owed in full measure to all the people in this house. Despite the pain she carried with her, a pain for which no one was to blame but herself, she realized that she had experienced more of the emotions of living, had felt more of the pleasures, the joys, the excitements and—yes—the sufferings, than in all of her days before. Yet, as she crept stealthily down the back stairs to where Joseph sat waiting in the curricle, she realized with a shock that, since the day she had left the house of Lady Carbery, less than one week had elapsed.

Fifteen

Sally looked with pleasure at the dress laid out for her on the bed. She had chosen it especially to wear tonight—Christmas Eve. It was of the loveliest Florentine silk in a green that exactly matched her eyes and was cunningly designed to drape across the bosom in the most flattering way. The tiny puffed sleeves could be pulled back off the shoulders, and the high waist admirably suited her figure. It was a deceptively simple creation, the only trimmings to be found in a wide band across the bottom, where a classic design had been intricately woven into the material and edged with seed pearls.

Annette had already dressed her hair. It was brushed back into a knot at the back of her head, with only a small part of the front escaping into little curls that surrounded her face. A jewelled band circled her head, and later she would thrust a tall ostrich plume into the center of it.

A gasp from Annette in the dressing room widened her smile. “Ma'm'selle! Come quick!” the girl cried.

“What is it, Annette?” Sally asked in a voice that was calculatedly casual.

“Your diamond earrings, Ma'm'selle! I cannot find them!”

“I don't want to wear the diamonds tonight, I told you. I want the pearl drops.”

Annette appeared in the dressing room doorway, looking distraught. “
Mais, non! Vous ne comprenez pas!
They are gone!”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean gone! Disappeared!
Perdu!
”

Sally strode quickly to the dressing room and surveyed the open jewel box. “Are you sure?” she asked, looking through the contents hurriedly.

“But of course I am sure. Did you not put them here yourself, in this very compartment?”

Sally carefully emptied every compartment and every tiny drawer, while Annette watched nervously at her elbow. “How strange.…” mused Sally. “Only you and I know where I keep the key.…”

Annette straightened up and spoke haughtily. “You are not suggesting, Ma'm'selle, that I am responsible for such a thing! You cannot believe that I—! I am no thief,
moi
!”

“Oh, be still, Annette! I'm not accusing you. It would be stupid for you to have done so, and you are not stupid. Irritating and disrespectful, yes, but not stupid.”

“For that, I suppose, I should make thanks. But why do you think it would be stupid of me to have done it?”

“You would be the first one suspected, as you well know. No, you are not the culprit. I think you had better go and bring Lady Steele to me. She must be informed at once.”

A moment later Clarissa, wearing a loose wrapper, her hair only half dressed, hurried into the room. “What is it, Sally? Annette says you've something to tell me. Of the greatest moment, to use her words.”

“Well, it is of some moment, I'm afraid. I hate to trouble you with this matter, my dear, but I don't see what else there is to do. My diamond drops have disappeared.”

“Diamond drops? You mean those magnificent diamond earrings?” Clarissa gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, but yes,
Madame
. We have looked most carefully,” Annette said earnestly. “They have assuredly disappeared.”

“You see,” Sally explained, “Annette has instructions that she's to stand by me and make sure I lock them away in my jewel box after every time I wear them. I'm inclined to be somewhat careless, so we devised this system between us, didn't we, Annette?”

Annette eyed her employer curiously. Something in Ma'm'selle's voice put Annette on the alert. She knew her Ma'm'selle very well. The “system” was devised only two nights ago, and at the time, Annette had not been comfortable about the manner of its devising. She had felt then that Miss Trevelyan was up to some trick. Now she was sure of it, but what it could be she did not know. There was nothing she could do but answer the question. “Yes, we did,” she said reluctantly. She would have liked to add “two nights ago,” but decided to hold her tongue.

“I see,” said Clarissa, who looked quite pale, her brow furrowed in worried lines. “You think that someone in this house may have stolen them?”

“I don't see what else I can think,” Sally said.

“There are other possibilities. When was the last time you saw them?”

“The night I wore the mauve silk, isn't that so, Annette?”

“Yes, Ma'm'selle. Two nights ago. Then we put the earrings away here in the box.”

“Are you sure you haven't worn them since?” Clarissa persisted.

“Quite sure. Last night I wore the Venetian velvet and decided not to wear any jewels with it. We did not even open the box.”

“Oh, dear. I don't know what to say. A thing like this has never happened before. Sally, do you think we might wait a day or two before we do anything about this? It is so awkward, especially on Christmas Eve, to start questioning servants and so on.… Perhaps if we wait, the earrings will turn up.”

“I don't see how they possibly can,” Sally said, masking her impatience for her plan to unfold, “but I wouldn't dream of upsetting your holiday festivities. I'm sure I can rely on you to handle the matter tactfully. Do just as you think you should, Clarissa. I leave it entirely in your hands.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Clarissa said. “I regret that such an occurrence should have taken place in my home, but I'm sure the earrings will be restored to you before long.” But her worried frown did not disappear as she retreated, much disturbed, to her own bedroom.

The kissing boughs had been hung over the doorways of several of the downstairs rooms, and Jamie and Reggie, coming down to dinner early, had placed themselves on either side of the drawing room doorway. As each lady made her entrance, the two young men bent and kissed her cheeks simultaneously. First, Martha arrived, bearing a twin by each hand. The boys, dressed in long trousers, white shirts with turned-down collars trimmed with lace, and blue coats exactly like their father's, had been permitted to join the adults for dinner for this occasion. When they saw their mother caught under the mistletoe by two gentlemen at once, they went off in a fit of giggles. Their sister followed. Marianne, her brown ringlets shining from an hour of energetic brushing, looked—to one man at least—the very essence of feminine loveliness in her demure evening gown of ruby-colored lustring. When she was kissed, her brothers giggled again, louder and longer. It became infectious, setting off the entire room when Clarissa entered, and climaxing in a paroxysm of merriment when Sally at last came in.

Almost an hour later, the guests had still not left the drawing room to go in to dine. Hutton had twice put in his head to see if he could enter and announce dinner and had twice withdrawn, because one of the company had not yet put in an appearance. Finally, Clarissa beckoned to him and whispered instructions to dispatch a footman to see what had detained Miss Pennington. Philip watched the interchange and quietly and unobtrusively left the drawing room. The returning footman found his lordship pacing the hall. “Well, where is Miss Pennington?” he demanded abruptly.

“She begs to be excused, my lord. She is not feeling well.”

“Did she say what was wrong?” his lordship asked in concern.

“No, my lord. I did not speak to the young lady. Her abigail informed me she had retired.”