A Christmas Kiss (23 page)

Half an hour later, the children had been cleaned up and dressed, the baby fed and bundled up warmly, and the entire Caldwell clan stood ready to depart. Mavis, the baby in her arms, turned to Evalyn in gratitude. “Oh, my dear,” she said earnestly, “I don't know how to thank ye. 'Tis a gem ye are, truly.”

Mr. Caldwell nodded in agreement. “I would appreciate the direction of your employer, Miss Pennington. It would give me great pleasure to write to him and tell how helpful you've been.”

Evalyn blushed in embarrassment. “Thank you, but you see I … I mean, that will not be necessary.”

“But why not?” cried Mavis. “Sure and there's no harm in makin' sure your employers appreciate ye as ye deserve.”

Evalyn lowered her eyes and shook her head. Mavis looked at her shrewdly. “Charlie,” she said to the oldest boy, “take the children to the carriage and get them in.” Then she handed the baby to her puzzled husband and took Evalyn's hand. “Something is not right with ye, I'm thinkin',” she said, looking at the governess's face. “I've been wonderin' why a governess is all by herself at an inn on Christmas Eve. Ye've been kind to us. If there's some trouble ye're in, it would surely be a joy to us to do something for ye in return.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell, but I'm in no trouble. I'm on my way to London to seek a post, that is all.”

“To seek a post?” asked Mr. Caldwell. “Do you mean to say that you are not now employed?”

Evalyn nodded. Mavis stared. “I'll not believe it! What a bit o' luck for us! Ye'll come and work for us, then, if the size of our brood doesn't frighten ye. Right, Hugh?”

“By all means,” said Hugh Caldwell firmly. “How long will it take you to get your things?”

“Oh, no,” Evalyn objected breathlessly. “You cannot mean it. You don't know me well enough. I have not even …”

“What haven't you, Miss Pennington?” asked Mr. Caldwell.

“A … a character. You see, my last employer discharged me without giving me one.”

“More fool, he,” laughed Mavis, embracing her like a long-lost sister. “I had y'r measure the first moment I clapped eyes on ye. There's no letter I'll be needin'.”

“Nor I,” smiled her husband. “So get your things, before the children upset the carriage. Unless, of course, you think you'll not relish six charges.”

“On the contrary, it sounds like just what I'd relish. But did you not mention a nurse you have at home?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mavis explained. “She's a dear old thing, and I'd be lost without her, but six are much too much for her. Sure, y're a Christmas miracle, my dear, so let's hear no more. Now, will ye get y're things?”

She embraced Evalyn fondly and pushed her toward the taproom. Evalyn picked up her cloak and portmanteau quickly. She looked around for the innkeeper and his wife, but they were not there. Old Sam'l still sat at the corner table sipping his ale. “Excuse me,” Evalyn said to him. “Have you seen Mr. or Mrs. Fern?” He shook his head. “Will you tell them goodbye for me? I'm sorry I'll not be using the room, but I've left the money I owe them here on the table.”

Sam'l nodded. Evalyn thanked him and ran out to the waiting coach.

Seventeen

Before breakfast on Christmas morning, Clarissa knocked on Philip's door. She had spent a sleepless night worrying about Sally's missing earrings and had decided that Philip should be told without further delay. Wellstock opened the door. “Is his lordship dressed, Wellstock?” she asked.

Philip's voice answered her from the dressing room. “I'm in proper enough attire to receive my sister,” he said, coming in from the dressing room in his shirtsleeves. “You may go to Jamie, Wellstock. I can manage the rest myself.”

Wellstock bowed and withdrew. Clarissa looked at her brother with concern. “You must have had a difficult night, too,” she said with solicitude. “You look quite knocked up.”

“A difficult night,
too
? If
you've
had trouble sleeping, it certainly doesn't show, my dear. You look as bewitching as always.”

Clarissa snorted. “Don't try to flummer me, my lord. I have a mirror or two in my room. This wretched house party is making an old hag of me.”

“What's wrong? I thought everything was proceeding famously.”

“On the contrary. It's been a week full of major and minor crises—the sort of domestic contretemps that you never notice. But this one, I'm afraid, is too serious for me to handle on my own.”

Philip felt a stab of alarm. “It's not—? There's no one seriously ill, is there?”

“No, no. Thank goodness, it's not quite as bad as that. I suppose I'm being overly dramatic to have made you think that. It's Sally. She reported to me last evening that her diamond earrings have been stolen.”

With a relieved sigh, Philip took Clarissa's hand and led her to a chair near the fire. “Stolen? Rubbish! She's probably only misplaced them.”

“That's what I thought at first,” Clarissa said, sinking into the chair with a feeling of relief to be able to share this burden, “but I'm afraid Sally is right. She remembers quite clearly putting her earrings away in her jewel box, with her abigail looking on. It seems that this procedure is their way of making sure that Sally doesn't leave her jewels lying about carelessly, as she had been used to do. So the other day, as usual, Annette watched her lock her things away. And then, the next time they opened the box, the earrings were gone. I hate to admit it, my dear, but it does seem as though we have a thief in our midst.”

“Unlikely. Most of the servants have been with us for years, and our guests are certainly above suspicion. Take my word, Clarissa, the blasted baubles will turn up before another day goes by.”

Clarissa gave a hopeful sigh. “Do you really think so? I pray you may be right, but what if they don't?”

Philip gestured impatiently. “Then we'll buy Sally another pair and be done with the matter.”

“But, Philip, we couldn't do that! We can't let a thief go undiscovered, can we?”

“I suppose not,” Philip said with a sigh of resignation. The pair remained silent for a moment. Then Philip made a grimace of annoyance. “Blast that Trevelyan woman!” he growled. “She does have a way of cutting up one's peace.”

“Yes, I'm afraid she does. Though watching you last night, I was almost convinced you had suddenly developed a
tendre
for her,” Clarissa ventured with a coy glance at her brother from the corner of her eye.

“Don't be jingle-brained,” her brother retorted curtly.

“Jingle-brained! Very pretty talking, I must say. I suppose you'll be telling me next that it was someone else who dangled at her shoe strings all evening!”

Philip darted a quick glance at his sister and grinned guiltily. “Only trying to be a good host, that's all,” he said with obvious insincerity.

“What a whisker!” Clarissa declared roundly. “I didn't cut my eyeteeth yesterday, you know. You can't ignore the girl all week and then suddenly sit in her pocket all evening and explain your behavior away on the grounds of your obligations as a good host! You needn't explain yourself if you don't wish to, but I don't for a moment believe that this explanation is anything but a hum.”

“You're right, of course,” Philip admitted, “but since I don't wish to explain, let's get back to the subject of Sally's earrings. I agree that we'll have to investigate the matter, but can we wait until after Boxing Day? The household staff has been looking forward to the celebration, and I don't like to have them disturbed at this time of year.”

“Neither do I. Rumors of a theft would be bound to spread, and everyone would be nervous and upset. I'm sure we can wait two or three days. And perhaps you are right,” she added, rising, “that the earrings will turn up before we're forced to take action. Well, hurry and finish dressing. It's almost time for breakfast. I think we should all take Christmas breakfast together.”

“Of course. I'll be ready in a few minutes.” He took her arm and walked with her to the door.

She hesitated at the doorway. “I was only joking before, about you and Sally, you know. But Philip, is something troubling you?”

“Nothing at all. Why?”

“I don't know. I have the feeling that you're in the dismals and you're trying to cover up.…”

Philip leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Silly widgeon. Haven't you enough to worry you? If you must have something else to brood about, try to find signs of affliction in Gervaise. Truly, my dear, there's no need to trouble about me.”

“Very well,” she said, giving him a tired smile and patting his cheek. She was not at all convinced that all was well with him, for the dark shadows under his eyes belied his smile. But, realizing that he didn't want to discuss his private thoughts with her, she let the matter drop.

Philip, returning to his dressing room, turned back to her just before the door closed behind her. “Clarissa,” he asked, “have you seen Miss Pennington this morning? Is she feeling any better today?”

“No, I haven't seen her. She hasn't yet come out of her room. She must still be asleep.”

“Don't you think you should inquire?”

“Not yet. If she wishes to sleep late, I don't want to disturb her. I'll look in on her after breakfast, if she still hasn't put in an appearance.”

Philip was about to remonstrate but changed his mind. “Well, do as you think best,” he said with a shrug. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

To Clarissa's delight, almost everyone had assembled in the breakfast room by ten for a repast that bid fair to rival her Christmas dinner. She had provided for her guests a buffet that included eggs cooked in an assortment of styles, pickled salmon, a round of beef, two hams, an assortment of breads, biscuits and jellies, steaming pots of tea, coffee and chocolate, Hyland cream, gooseberry tarts, and even a dish of orange peel. This last was provided specially for Martha who forced herself every morning, Christmas or no, to drop the peel into a cup of boiling water and drink it, being convinced that this unappetizing brew had the power to dissolve what she called her “flegm.” Since Christmas morning was made especially joyous by sharing with children the bounty of the day, the twins had been brought down by Mrs. Noakes and were seated at the head of the table, still in their nightshirts and tasselled caps. Piled before them were a number of parcels Father Christmas had brought and which they were excitedly opening in full view of the whole party.

While this was in progress, Hutton quietly came into the room and bent over Lady Steele, whispering that Miss Pennington's abigail was waiting outside to have a word with her. Clarissa nodded calmly but was struck with a feeling of apprehension. She got up as inconspicuously as she could and went out.

Nancy stood in the hall holding a letter and three small parcels, her face revealing her trepidation. She bobbed a quick curtsey and held out Evalyn's note. “What is this, Nancy?” Clarissa asked in surprise. “Is Miss Pennington still unwell?”

“Can't say, ma'am. She asked would ye read this 'ere note.”

Clarissa took the note and tore it open.
My dear Clarissa
, Evalyn had written,
It gives much pain and embarrassment to have to say my goodbyes in this fashion. A personal matter has made it necessary for me to cut short this wonderful holiday and return immediately to my original plan for finding employment, which I had postponed when I accepted your kind invitation. Since I was convinced that you would use your persuasive powers to urge me against this course of action, and that this would probably cause some disturbance to the household at a time when nothing but merriment and joviality should prevail, I determined to leave quietly and without ceremony. The thought that most oppresses me is that you will think me rude and ungrateful because I left without a word to you. Please believe, most dear friend, that this is not the case. I shall never forget the many kindnesses you and your family have so generously bestowed on me, and the many happy hours I have spent at Gyllford Manor. Please convey to your family and your guests my thanks and warmest regards, and to Lord Reginald and Jamie my deep appreciation for their gallant attempt to rescue me from my difficulties at Carbery Hall. I would like to ask one last favor of you. Nancy, my abigail, has been a loyal, generous and hard-working girl, and it would make her very happy to continue in Lord Gyllford's employ. If a place can be found for her here, I will be, more than ever, your most grateful and devoted—Evalyn
.

Clarissa looked up from her letter with eyes filled with shock and concern. “I don't understand a word of this, Nancy. Is Miss Pennington really gone?”

Nancy bit her lip and nodded wordlessly.

“She left last night? In all this snow?”

“Yes'm.”

“But why? I can't understand. What personal matter could have come to her attention at such a time? Had she received a letter or message from anyone?”

“Don't know, ma'am.”

Clarissa perused the letter again, but it gave no clue. Her suspicion grew that whatever had happened to send Evalyn fleeing from the house had happened here. She looked at Nancy closely. “Did she quarrel with my nephew, Nancy? Don't be afraid to tell me the truth.”

“With Mr. Everard?” asked Nancy in surprise at the question. “Not that I know of, my lady. But someone upset her, that's certain.”

“Someone here, in this house?”

“I don't know, ma'am. She wouldn't tell me.”

Clarissa sighed deeply. “Oh, dear, I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. Please sit down over there on that bench, Nancy. Lord Gyllford or I may want to speak to you in a moment or two.” And she turned to go back to the breakfast room.