Herald Of Death

CHAPTER 14

“He’s not dead, is he? Oh, please tell me he’s not dead!” Phoebe leaned forward, one hand pressed to her throat. “I can’t bear to think of it.”

Madeline blinked. “I’m sorry, Phoebe, truly. I just don’t know.”

Phoebe sank back, her handkerchief pressed to her mouth. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”

“Now, now.” Cecily reached out to pat her arm. “I’m sure the colonel is perfectly fine.” She looked at Madeline, willing her to give them some good news.

Madeline hesitated, then said firmly, “Phoebe, I can tell you that Kevin and Clive are with your husband, and I saw nothing to indicate that he is dead.”

Phoebe shuddered. “Just hearing those words makes me ill. How long do you think it will be before the doctor and Clive return?”

Madeline glanced at the mantelpiece, where an ornate clock sat steadily ticking the seconds away. “Not long, I promise you.” Again she paused, then added quickly, “The colonel might not be with them. They might have taken him home first before coming back for you.”

“In which case,” Cecily put in, “Samuel will take you home immediately.”

“We can take Phoebe home,” Madeline said, getting up from her chair. She walked over to the window and drew back the heavy velvet curtain to peer outside. “They should be back soon.”

“Oh, poor Frederick.” Phoebe started rocking again. “He will be so cold and wet. I hope he doesn’t get pneumonia or something awful like that.”

The thought crossed Cecily’s mind that being able to catch pneumonia was better than the alternative. All she could do was pray they’d found the colonel alive and that he hadn’t fallen prey to the murderous Christmas Angel.

In spite of Madeline’s prediction, it was a long, agonizing wait, during which Phoebe fluctuated between bouts of deep depression, when she was certain her life with the colonel was over, to moments of hope and optimism, where she intended to scold him for straying so far.

At long last, they heard the welcome tap on the door. Madeline’s face was inscrutable as Cecily got up from her chair. “Come in!” she called out and reached for Phoebe’s hand.

The door opened and Dr. Prestwick strode in, his face a grim mask. He carried his hat in his hand, and it dripped water all across the carpet as he walked toward the fire.

Cecily ignored him, her gaze pinned on the door. For a dreadful moment she thought the colonel wasn’t with him, but then a familiar voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

“I say, old chap, unhand me at once. I’m not a blasted invalid!”

Phoebe let out a cry of pure joy and raced across the room to the door, just as a disheveled colonel stepped through it. “Freddie! Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Cecily hurried over to him and saw Clive standing in the hallway outside, twisting his cap in his hands. “Thank you, Clive.” She smiled at him. “Would you please go down to the kitchen and tell Mrs. Chubb to send up a bottle of brandy and glasses.”

“Yes, m’m.” He touched his forehead, grinned at her, and ambled off down the hallway.

“I say, that sounds like a jolly good idea!” Colonel Fortescue disengaged himself from his wife’s suffocating hug. “I could use a brandy, old bean.”

“It’s on its way, Colonel.” She looked at Kevin, who stood with his back to the fire, hands clasped behind him. “I imagine you would like some, too.”

“Thank you, Cecily, but we must leave.” He reached out a hand to Madeline, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it and rose to her feet. “We have a baby waiting for us at home.”

“Yes, thank you, Cecily.” Madeline walked to the door, followed closely by her husband. “I shall return tomorrow to finish the decorating.”

Troubled by her friend’s somber expression, Cecily closed the door behind them and returned to the fire. Phoebe had sat down again, while the colonel had taken up residence with his back to the smoldering coals. Mud stained his heavy coat, his beard was matted with pine needles, and a deep scratch adorned his nose. Otherwise he seemed in good health.

Having apparently assured herself that her husband wasn’t seriously hurt, Phoebe demanded, “What on earth were you doing in those woods? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the Pennyfoot? You know very well you don’t go anywhere without me.”

The colonel raised his chin. “I was going to buy you a Christmas present.”

“In the woods?”

“No, of course not.” A puzzled look crossed his face, as if he was trying to remember. “I… er… got waylaid.”

Phoebe sounded exasperated. “Waylaid?”

“Yes.” He stared into the fire for a moment, then startled them all by raising his hand and shouting, “I was ordered into battle!”

“Oh, dear,” Cecily murmured.

Phoebe merely looked exasperated. “Frederick, I don’t think-”

“There I was,” the colonel bellowed, “surrounded on all sides by the enemy. I took my trusty sword and I had at them.”

Phoebe uttered a little scream as her husband lunged forward with an imaginary sword, narrowly missing her head with his fist.

“Colonel-” Cecily began, but now the colonel was at full throttle and cut her off with an expansive flourish of his hand.

“I caught up with one of them and charged!” Once more he dove forward, and this time Phoebe managed to lean back out of harm’s way.

“Frederick!” She sat up, tugging on her hat to straighten it. “Stop this nonsense at once!”

“I stabbed at the blighter and…” The colonel paused, his face going blank. “And then…”

Both Cecily and Phoebe stared at him in expectation. After a moment, Phoebe prompted, “And then?”

“He flew off.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Flew off?”

The colonel gave her a sheepish smile. “Must have been a blasted pheasant.”

Cecily hid a smile, while Phoebe uttered a guttural sound of disgust. “I don’t know why I humor him so.” She glared at her husband and stood up. “Come, Frederick, it is time we went home. We have inconvenienced these good people quite enough for one day.”

“But what about my brandy?” Colonel Fortescue appealed to Cecily. “You did send for brandy, didn’t you, old girl?”

“I did, and you are most welcome to it.” Cecily glanced at Phoebe, who gave her a fierce shake of her head. “I think, however, that it will have to wait for now.” She rose. “I will make sure there is a snifter waiting for you when you bring Phoebe back for rehearsal tomorrow.”

The colonel sighed. “Oh, very well. Much obliged, old bean.” He took hold of Phoebe’s arm. “Come along, then, ducky.”

Phoebe looked as if she would like to resist but allowed him to escort her to the door. “Until tomorrow, then, Cecily!” She waved, then disappeared as the colonel tugged her out into the hallway.

A few minutes later Cecily opened the door to find her husband standing outside with a tray of glasses and a bottle of brandy.

“I passed Gertie on the way up,” he said, as she stood back to let him in. “Thought I’d save her a trip.”

“That’s very accommodating of you, my love.”

Baxter looked around the room. “Everyone gone home?”

“Yes.” Cecily walked back to the fireplace and sank onto her chair. “It’s been rather a long day.”