Mistletoe and Mayhem (20 page)

She found the young girl sitting on the floor, making a dreadful noise with her wailing. “Where are you hurt?” Phoebe demanded, trying to draw the girl’s skirt down to cover her knees.

Deirdre only shook her head and cried louder. The rest of the dancers picked themselves up and gathered around, offering words of advice.

“She’s hysterical,” Dora explained. “Here, I’ll slap her face. That’ll bring her out of it.” She stepped forward, her hand raised.

Phoebe lifted her own hand and knocked Dora’s arm away. “If there’s any slapping to be done, I’ll do it.” She looked back at the sobbing girl. “Deirdre, dear, you must tell me where you are hurting.”

Again Deirdre shook her head, then waved her hand in the air.

“Who the heck’s she waving at?” one of the dancers wanted to know.

“Dunno,” someone else answered.

“I told you she was hysterical,” Dora declared. “You’ll have to slap her face.”

Aware of the fascinated audience out front, murmuring and speculating among themselves while the baby continued to screech, Phoebe turned on Dora. This was to have been a rare performance, free of disaster. Once more at the last moment she had been foiled by yet another calamity. Consequently, she was not in the best of moods.

“Since you refuse to keep your silly mouth shut,” she snapped, “if I slap anyone’s face at all, believe me, it will be yours.”

The audience applauded, and someone cheered again.

Deirdre wailed louder, and pointed up over her head.

Phoebe followed the gesture, looking straight up into the rafters. Then she clutched her throat and let out an unearthly shriek, far louder and shriller than Deirdre’s howls.

In fact, startled by the noise, Deirdre stopped crying and clutched the skirt of the dancer standing closest to her.

The murmurs of the audience intensified, and the baby howled again, but Phoebe was now past caring. Her shocked gaze was locked on the slowly swinging figure of the woman hanging from the rafters.

Cecily wasn’t quite sure when she realized something was seriously wrong. She was seated a few rows from the stage, with Baxter on her right, and Madeline on her left. Kevin had charge of the baby next to his wife.

Angelina had been sleeping peacefully throughout most of the performance until the screaming began. The baby awoke and began screeching at the top of her lungs, so loud it actually brought pain to Cecily’s ears.

Both Madeline and Kevin tried in vain to calm her, while Cecily looked up anxiously at the stage, wondering if she should go up there to see if anyone was hurt. The sight of the dancers sprawled all over the stage was a familiar one. Phoebe rarely put on an event without something disastrous happening, but it seemed the young woman in the center of the attention was in some kind of distress.

Making up her mind, Cecily leaned toward Baxter, who sat with a pained expression on his face, his shoulders hunched against the noise Angelina was making.

“I’d better go to see if I can do anything,” she said, and he immediately rose to his feet.

“I’ll go with you.”

They had barely reached the end of the aisle when Phoebe’s scream echoed throughout the ballroom followed by another bellow of fright from Angelina.

Even then, Cecily thought that Phoebe was simply expressing her outrage. Her friend could be quite vocal when seriously upset. She hurried through the wings with Baxter on her heels, and signaled to the footman in charge of the curtains to bring them down.

He was clinging to the ropes, and looking at her with an odd expression, rather as if he were in a trance. She paused for a moment, puzzled by his attitude. “Bring the curtains down, please,” she ordered. “At once.”

“Begging your pardon, m’m, but I can’t.” He glanced back at the stage then turned to her, his movements all in slow motion. “They won’t come down.”

“What the devil do you mean?” Baxter demanded. “Here, I’ll do it.”

“You can’t.” The footman stubbornly held on to the rope. “There’s a dead body hanging on the other end.”

Cecily felt as if she had just swallowed a large glass of icy water. She heard Baxter utter a curse as he strode past her and out to the stage. For a moment she couldn’t seem to move her legs, then she heard him say, “Oh, good Lord.”

Forcing herself to move, she rushed out after him. Phoebe was in a dead faint on the floor, surrounded by whispering dancers. Some were looking up at the rafters, while others stood huddled together, looking ready to cry.

Baxter stood with his face upturned, his lips clamped together. She followed his gaze, and clutched her stomach when she saw the limp body of a woman twisting slowly around on the end of a rope.

Taking several deep breaths, she turned to the audience. A few had left their seats and were wandering toward the doors, while the rest stood about, looking as if they weren’t quite sure what to do.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cecily announced, holding up her hand. “I assure you that all is well, here. Just a little mishap, that’s all. If you would all care to retire to the library, I will see that refreshments are served in a few minutes.”

“We won’t be able to keep this quiet,” Baxter said, his voice grim.

“Perhaps not.” Cecily glanced up again with a shudder. “But we can try, at least for now.” She pushed her way through the group of girls to Phoebe’s side.

Phoebe was struggling to sit up, one hand holding on to her hat, which had somehow remained stuck to her head. It was a little lopsided, but with great presence of mind, she shoved it back into place. “What happened?”

“You fainted when you saw the body,” Dora said helpfully.

Some of the girls whimpered, and Cecily said quickly, “All of you, go back to the dressing room and get out of your costumes. What you see up there is just a dummy. The object of a bad joke, nothing more.”

Dora peered up, squinting against light from the gas lamps. “It looks real to me.”

“Yes, well, whoever did it was very clever.” Cecily gave the woman a forced smile. “Since Mrs. Fortescue is feeling a little under the weather, would you please take charge of the dance troupe? Perhaps you could make sure that they all get dressed and go home?”

Dora gave the body a second look, then shrugged. “All right, everybody, get a move on. Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry.”

To Cecily’s relief the dancers moved off, some still glancing up at the figure above their heads. She waited until both the stage and the ballroom had emptied out, except for Madeline, who stood out front, rocking Angelina back and forth in her arms.

Just as Cecily was about to ask the whereabouts of Kevin, the doctor strode onto the stage. He took one look at the rafters and shook his head. “This is getting to be too much,” he muttered.

Cecily heartily endorsed that sentiment. She signaled to the footman, who still held on to the curtain ropes. “Find Samuel and ask him to go up there with you and bring that poor woman down.”

The young man gave her a nod, finally let go of the ropes, and disappeared. Baxter started pacing back and forth, while Kevin gazed up at the body. “Do you know who she is?”

Cecily felt perilously close to tears, and had to swallow hard before answering. “Her name is Caroline Danville. She was here on her honeymoon.” She reached for Baxter’s hand to steady herself. “Someone will have to tell her husband.”

Kevin looked around. “So where is he? Why wasn’t he with her?”

Cecily looked down at Madeline, who had seated herself in the front row. She was looking down at her baby, whispering something to her.

“He could be looking for her,” Cecily said. “I’ll see if I can find him. First, though, I’ll take Madeline up to the suite. She can wait for you there.”

Kevin gave her a nod of approval. “That would be best. Thank you, Cecily. By the way, has anyone sent for P.C. Northcott?”

“Not yet.” Cecily sighed. “He won’t be pleased to have his Christmas interrupted again.”

“Not to mention ours,” Baxter put in. “When the blazes is this going to stop? It’s obvious Northcott’s theory is shot to shreds. Someone out there is going around killing people willy-nilly, and somebody has to stop him.” He glared at Cecily. “You have to give that note to Northcott now.”

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Note?”

“Yes,” Cecily said hastily. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She gave Baxter a reproachful look. There had been absolutely no need for him to reprimand her, especially in front of the doctor. In any case, she had specifically asked him not to mention the note. She would have words with him about it later.

She turned back to Kevin. “Right now I really should find Mr. Danville and inform him of his wife’s death. It’s not something I look forward to, I promise you.”

Her husband at least had the grace to look repentant. “If you would rather I-”

“No, thank you. As manager of this establishment, I should take care of it.”

“And as a woman, you will do a much better job,” Kevin said gently.

She flashed him a smile of gratitude.

Just then, a shout from above them lifted their heads. Samuel peered down at them, his face a white blob among the dark shadows. “We’re getting ready to lower her down now,” he called out.

“I’ll take care of this,” Kevin said. “Perhaps you’d like to ring the constabulary, old boy?”

Baxter gave him a stiff nod.

“Use my office,” Cecily told him. “It will be more private than the foyer.”

“I had intended to, of course,” he said, looking offended. “I’m not completely obtuse.”

“My apologies.” She felt even more like crying. It wasn’t often she was at odds with her husband, and it pained her greatly when they were.

She hurried ahead of him, unwilling to exchange any more words with him until they were alone. Madeline looked up as she reached her. “That poor child.”

“Yes.” Cecily swallowed hard. “All of them. So young. Such a tragedy.”

Madeline stood, and Angelina whimpered. “Don’t blame yourself, Cecily. It has nothing to do with you. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that Madeline had read her mind. “I can’t help feeling I should have done more before this. Maybe I could have done something…”

Madeline shook her head. “No, Cecily. There was nothing. Please believe me.” She pushed the baby toward her. “Here, hold her. She will help ease your mind.”

Cecily took the child, who had begun to fuss, and rocked her. She had forgotten how comforting it was to hold a tiny, warm body close to her. She walked toward the door with Madeline at her side. Passing under the kissing bough, she dropped a kiss on the baby’s forehead.

Madeline’s gasp startled her. “No! Don’t do that!”

Clutching Angelina tighter to her bosom, Cecily cried out, “What? What is it? What do you see?”

Madeline’s face was a mask of fear. She snatched the baby from Cecily’s arms and bent over her as if to shield her from some unspeakable horror. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know. Just a… feeling… I don’t know.”

Cecily saw Baxter heading their way and grabbed Madeline’s arm. “Come. Let us go to the suite. You can rest there until you feel better.”

Madeline merely nodded, her lips clamped shut as if she were afraid to speak. Carrying Angelina, she climbed the stairs behind Cecily without saying a word.

A small group of guests stood on the first landing, whispering among each other. When they caught sight of Cecily they stopped talking, and nodded and smiled instead as she and Madeline passed them by.

A small child broke free of the group and ran over to them. “Oh, is that a baby? A real live baby? Let me see! Let me see!”

“Adelaide!” The male voice thundered across the landing and the child shrank back. Turning, she ran back to her father, who took her hand and led her away, with her brother trailing along behind.

Cecily felt sorry for the little girl. Obviously, Lord Millshire was a strict parent. She couldn’t imagine Kevin shouting at his child like that.

Opening the door to her suite, she ushered Madeline and the baby inside. “Wait in here for me. I’m going to see if Mr. Danville is in his room. If not, I’ll send a footman to look for him. Then I’ll come back here.”

Madeline nodded, though Cecily couldn’t be sure if her friend had really heard the words. She seemed preoccupied, worried. Her obvious distress intensified Cecily’s apprehension as she closed the door and started back down the corridor.

The Danvilles’ suite was on the same floor, and Cecily saw no one in the hallway as she approached the door. Just before she reached it she saw something white lying on the carpet. She bent over to pick it up, and saw it was a woman’s lace-edged handkerchief.

Initials had been embroidered in one corner. An
R
and an
M
. Madeline’s words came back to her.
A small lace-edged handkerchief, belonging to a lady.