appreciated.”
We obliged by singing “In the Bleak Midwinter” again and then Granddad ladled out the punch. He winked as he handed me my glass. “That will put hair on your chest,” he said. “Oh, and by the way, your mum and Mr. Coward have been invited to join you for Christmas dinner.”
“What about you?”
“Not me, my dear,” he said. “Me and Mrs. Huggins will be a lot happier here on our own than where we don’t belong. We ain’t posh and we never will be.”
“I’ll come down to visit on Christmas Day when I get a chance,” I said.
“That will be lovely. Anytime. We’ll be here.”
I took my glass of punch. It was hot and the fumes from the rum were strong enough to make me cough. But it slipped down deliciously and I was feeling that all was right with the world as we left the cottage and headed on our way. We’d only gone a few yards, however, when I had the strangest sensation. We were being watched. I decided that it was probably my mother and Noel Coward having a good chuckle at our expense upstairs in the cottage, but I also sensed something else. I sensed danger.
Chapter 15
SOMEWHERE IN THE DARKNESS, IN THE VILLAGE OF TIDDLETON-UNDER-LOVEY
DECEMBER 23
I had been in enough difficult situations to know what danger felt like and I was clearly sensing it now. A hostile presence was watching us. I turned to look around. The village green lay in perfect stillness and repose. Early moonlight glistened on crisp snow. Smoke curled up from chimneys. Lights peeped out of cottages. Some curtains were not fully drawn and I saw Christmas trees and paper chains and all kinds of greenery decorating cozy front rooms. Here was a picture postcard of the pretty and peaceful English village. And yet three people had died here in three days. I wondered if there was to be a fourth—if someone was stalking our column of singers, pantherlike, waiting to pounce.
We sang outside the rest of the cottages. Willum beamed in delight and did an ungainly dance when we sang “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” outside the shop, while his mother looked on, smiling. I found myself looking around to see if we passed any empty cottages or anywhere else a dangerous presence might be hiding, but every front door seemed to be open to us. I noticed as Lady Hawse-Gorzley instructed villagers to come up to the hall for their Christmas box on Boxing Day and they bowed reverently, muttering, “God bless you, your ladyship.”
If one of the convicts was nearby, I was convinced that nobody in this village knew about him. And certainly none of these happy villagers, their children peeping shyly around their legs and skirts, was harboring him. And yet the feeling did not go away until we were walking back up the drive. Actually, it was overtaken by another feeling —one of unsteadiness. I’ve never been a great drinker and all of those various punches and drafts from wassail bowls were suddenly having an effect on me.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Darcy drew close to me again. “Like reliving one’s childhood.”
“Marvelous fun,” I said. “Absolutely marvelous fun.” At least that was what I wanted to say. It came out “Absholuly maavlus fun.”
Darcy eyed me critically. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Only the punches and the elderberry wine,” I said, trying to look haughty and dignified, which effect was lost as I tripped over an unseen rock in the snow and would have fallen on my face if Darcy hadn’t grabbed me.
“Whoopsie,” I said and started to giggle.
“The elderberry wine?” he said. “My dear girl. Don’t you know that homemade wines, especially those created by old spinsters, are always lethal?”
“Silly me. I had two glasses,” I said, as I staggered and giggled again.
Darcy took my arm firmly. “You’d better give me that lantern,” he said. “And hold on to my arm.”
“You are so kind.” I gazed at him adoringly. “You take such good care of me. But you always go away again. Why do you always go away?”
“A little thing called money,” he said. “One needs to earn some occasionally.”
“What does money matter?” I went on. “Why don’t we run away and live in a little cottage on a desert island and we’ll be wonderfully happy.” I don’t know how much of this he understood. I was having trouble forming words by now. What’s more, the world was swinging around.
We reached the house and Darcy leaned his lantern against the portico. “I think I’d better get you up to bed before anyone else sees you like this,” he whispered. “Come on. Up the stairs with you.”
“I’m perfeckly all right,” I said at the same moment that my foot started to slide on the polished floor. “Who put in an ice rink while we were away? Wasn’t that clever of them?”
“Up the stairs. Now.” Darcy gripped my arm firmly and half carried me up the stairs and then down the hall to my room.
“Finally,” I said as he bundled me inside the door. “We’re alone together, just you and me and a bed. What’s taken you so long, Darcy? I’ve been waiting for this a long time.” I kept talking while he pulled off my various outer garments and then sat me down to take off my shoes. “Do you know how boring it is to be a virgin?” I went on. “Boring, boring, boring. Everybody thinks virgins are boring. And do you know what? They are.”
Darcy undid the leather strap that held my kilt in place and it dropped to the floor.
“Arms up,” he said and yanked my sweater over my head. “There. You’ll do until your maid can finish undressing you. I’ll bring you up a tray from supper. You should eat something if you can. And a cup of black coffee.”
“Where are you going?” I asked plaintively.
“Down to tell them that Lady Georgiana is not feeling well.”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you? Not when there’s this big and beautiful bed and I’m in it all by myself. And you are such a good kisser too.”
Darcy smiled and leaned to kiss my forehead. “As tempting as this offer is, my lady, I’m going to wait until you’ll remember what you’ve done. In spite of what your sister-in-law thinks, I happen to be a gentleman.”
“Oh, Fig. Don’t talk about Fig. If I am boring, then she is boring times ten. The most boring person on the whole Earth. I bet she never invited a young man to her bedroom. Never never.”
Darcy looked down at me with a mixture of amusement and concern. “Now, you’re to stay put and try to sleep. I’ll find your maid and have her come to keep an eye on you. And I’ll bring you something to eat later. All right?”
“I wish you weren’t going away,” I said in a small voice. “I’d rather fall asleep with your arms around me. So nice. So warm. So safe . . .” I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he had gone.
I lay back, half dozing, half awake, until I heard the click of the door latch and a shaft of light came from the hallway outside. This was rapidly extinguished as the door closed again and I sensed someone coming toward the bed.
“Is it suppertime already?” I asked sleepily.
“Supper is over,” said a deep voice. “They’re all having coffee, so I thought I’d slip up and see how you were faring.”
And someone sat on my bed. I fumbled for my bedside light. In its rosy glow Johnnie Protheroe’s face loomed close to me.
“What are you doing in my room?” I demanded, fear giving me control of my tongue.
“Just came up to see how you were, old thing,” he said. “I heard you were feeling poorly. Thought you might need cheering up, what?” And to my horror he put a hand on my bare shoulder, caressed it, then started to slide it down my front.
I mustered all my energy and sat up. “Unhand me, churl,” I said, knocking at his hand as if it were an annoying insect. “Be gone, I say.”
For some reason he found this really funny. “You really are quite delightful,” he said. “I thought I’d be bored to tears this Christmas but now I can see it’s going to be rather jolly.”
He grabbed my hands as I lashed out at him, and pinned me back to the pillow. “A spirited little miss, eh?” he whispered as I tried to break free of him. “I do enjoy a good struggle. The prize is so much sweeter. All of the dried-up prunes around here are all too ready to leap into the sack at the slightest invitation.”
His face was close to mine and I smelled the unpleasant mixture of alcohol, tobacco and some kind of
