Herald Of Death

The twins waved back, shouting, “Happy Christmas!” at the top of their voices, nearly deafening Gertie, though after a while she was calling out, too. She felt like a queen, riding along and waving to her subjects.

Before long they had left the town, headed for the path leading up to the Downs. Gertie began to get a bit nervous as they climbed higher, following the path as it ran along the cliffs.

The twins were not a bit scared. They hung over the edge to watch the waves rushing onto the beach, and waved at the seagulls that swooped overhead.

Gertie hung on to them both, terrified they would fall and plunge down the cliffs to the rocks below. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when Clive turned the horse off the path and followed the trail into the woods.

Once inside the trees, he pulled up and brought the sleigh to a stop. “You wanted to get some mistletoe,” he said, as the twins scrambled down to the ground. “This is the best place to find it.”

Smiling her thanks, Gertie let him help her down. Standing beside the sleigh, she ran her hand along the smooth side. “This is lovely, Clive. You’re so blinking clever with your hands. You should be doing it for a living. It must have cost a bloody fortune to build, though.”

Clive laughed. “Mrs. Baxter helped out with the fittings. The leather seats came out of a motorcar that Samuel had in the back of the stables.”

Gertie stared at him. “Was that the one what was given him last year by one of our guests?”

“Yes, it was.” Clive watched James dart off into the trees. “The guest gave the motorcar to him because it had broken down and he was getting a new one. Samuel thought he could fix it, but it was beyond repair.” He started forward. “James? Come back here! You’ll get lost if you stray too far.”

James’s voice drifted back to them. “I’m right over here.”

Clive shook his head. “I’d better go and fetch him. It’s too easy to get lost in these woods.”

He rushed off, leaving Gertie alone with Lillian. The little girl’s shoulders were hunched, and she hugged her muff close to her chest.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?” Gertie put an arm around the shivering child.

Lillian nodded her head, her teeth chattering. Gertie shoved her back into the sleigh. “Here, cover yourself up with the blanket. I’ll go and look for some mistletoe and I’ll be back right away, so you stay here until I get back, all right?”

Lillian nodded again and snuggled down under the blanket. Satisfied the child was all right, Gertie trudged off after Clive and James.

When she caught up with them, she was surprised to see they had collected several bunches of mistletoe. “Where did you find all that?” she demanded. “It’s not easy to find.”

Clive grinned. “It is when you know where to look.”

She made a face at him. “Well, I’m glad you found some. Lillian’s feeling the cold, so I think we should be getting along.”

“Look what I found!”

Gertie turned around to look at her son. He held a thick walking stick in his hand and he waved it at her in his excitement. “I can keep it, can’t I?”

“I don’t know. Let me look at it.” Gertie took it from him and examined it more closely. The knob of the walking stick gleamed like gold, and it had some sort of military cross on it. “This looks like the walking stick Colonel Fortescue always carries,” she murmured, turning it around in her hands. “Though what would it be doing out here?”

“Those military sticks are quite common,” Clive said, taking it from her. He held it up to the light. “This one has initials carved into it.” He squinted. “F.G.F.”

“Frederick G. Fortescue.” Gertie frowned. “I bet it’s his.”

“He must have lost it when he was out walking.” Clive ran his fingers down the stick. “It doesn’t look as if it’s been here too long, though.”

“Can I keep it, Mama? Can I?” James reached for the stick, but Gertie pulled his hand away.

“No, luvvy, we have to take it back to the Pennyfoot to see if it belongs to the colonel.”

“But-”

James’s words were cut off by Clive, who had thrust up his hand. “Shshsh! Listen.”

Gertie looked at him in alarm. “What’s the matter?”

“Listen!”

Gertie listened, and heard what Clive must have heard-the sounds of snapping twigs and crackling leaves. Scared, she clutched James close with one hand and Clive’s arm with the other. “Is it a wild animal?”

“Not unless one has escaped from a zoo.” Clive tilted his head to one side. “That sounds too big for an animal in these woods. That’s a man crashing around out there.” He thrust the mistletoe and walking stick at her and then snatched James up in his arms. “Where’s Lillian?”

Something in his voice scared her even more. “She’s in the sleigh. I tucked her up to get warm.”

“Quickly. We have to get back to her.” Clive surged forward, brushing aside branches and shrubs as he ran back to where they’d left the sleigh.

Clutching the mistletoe and walking stick, Gertie stumbled after him. Panic. That was what she’d heard in his voice. She’d never seen Clive scared of anything before. She couldn’t imagine what had scared him now, but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Picking up her skirts, she tore after him.

CHAPTER 11

Pansy scuffed her feet as she walked slowly down the hallway to the ballroom. From the far end she could hear music and a chorus of out-of-tune vocalists. The pianist sounded as if he was taking his anger out on the piano. That didn’t surprise Pansy. Every year Phoebe Fortescue had to hire a different pianist. They never came twice.

Pansy heard one say that he wouldn’t work with that screaming witch again if his life depended on it. And now she had to tell that witch that Gertie’s twins would not be at rehearsal.

Pansy knew what that meant. It meant she’d get screamed at, that was what. Phoebe Fortescue wasn’t all that friendly at the best of times, but when she was working on one of her events, she’d tear someone apart if they didn’t do what she wanted when she wanted it.

Pansy was not looking forward to being torn apart.

She reached the doors of the ballroom and slowly eased one of them open. Phoebe was marching back and forth in front of the stage, shouting directions at everyone while the scarlet-faced pianist thumped the keys in a desperate effort to drown her out.

The women up on the stage completely ignored Phoebe as usual. They were used to her tantrums and blithely turned a deaf ear, much to Pansy’s admiration. They were all singing, but it sounded as if they were singing different songs. Some were singing faster than others, and some were so off-key it hurt Pansy’s ears to listen.

Phoebe leapt up and down, shrieking, “Stop! Stop!”

No one listened, and the women went on warbling their awful medley until finally Phoebe stalked over to the pianist. “I said, stop!” she yelled in his ear. Apparently running out of patience, she grabbed the lid and slammed it down.

The poor man snatched his hands off the keys and out of the way just in time. “I say!” he said, in a pained voice. “You don’t have to be so vicious. I heard you.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?” Phoebe leaned forward so sharply her hat toppled over her eyes.

Giggles erupted on the stage, interrupting the singing. One by one the voices faded into blissful silence.

Struggling to straighten her hat, Phoebe’s voice cut across the room like ice. “If any of you want to appear in this prestigious event, I suggest you pay attention and obey instructions. I should hate to have to dismiss you for insubordination.”

The women looked at one another, whispering and shrugging.

Phoebe walked to the front of the stage. “The word means disobedience!” she yelled.

“Oh,” said one of the performers, a hefty woman with ginger hair and a double chin. “Why the flipping heck