The Twelve Clues of Christmas

the first time. “This is her daughter, Lady Georgiana Rannoch, calling on a matter of great importance,” I said. “So if you could possibly see if Her Grace is still awake?”

He was instantly gushing. “Yes, yes, of course, my lady. Please hold the line and I will try to connect you.”

I waited, thinking of the minutes being added to Fig’s telephone bill. At last an agitated voice said, “Georgie darling? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mummy, but I just had an absolutely brilliant idea for you.”

“I was sound asleep,” she said.

“You’ll be glad that I telephoned. Listen, you know Granddad’s next-door neighbor Mrs. Huggins cooks decent plain food,” I said. “I thought you could ask her and Granddad to come down and run the cottage in Tiddleton- under-Whatsit for you. They were frightfully good at playing butler and cook when I had to entertain that German princess.”

“I can’t ask my own father to wait on me,” she said. “Besides, he’d never do it. He’s too proud.”

“Persuade him, Mummy. I know you can if you try. It would be a perfect solution for both of you. You wouldn’t have to look around for suitable servants and have people in the house you didn’t know. He’d benefit from fresh air and country living. London in winter is so bad for his chest.”

“It would make things awfully simple, wouldn’t it? And give me more time for shopping. I’d have to put it to him in the right way, so that he felt he was being invited and not as a servant.”

“You could suggest that Mrs. Huggins come and cook for you and naturally she wouldn’t want to travel alone so you suggest that you pay his way to accompany her. You know what he’s like. He hates not being busy, so he’d be bringing in the firewood and that sort of thing without being asked. And then you hire a local girl to clean, and bob’s your uncle, as he would say.”

My mother laughed that wonderful bell-like laugh that had enthralled theatergoers for years. “You’re becoming as devious as I am, darling. All right. I’ll do it. And by the way, guess who I saw going into the Cafe Royal this evening? None other than the delicious Darcy.”

“Darcy? But I thought he was in Argentina.”

“Not any longer, obviously. I’m sure it was he. Nobody else has those roguish black curls—so very sexy.”

I wanted to ask if he was alone, but I couldn’t make myself. “Then I expect I’ll be hearing from him in due course,” I said, trying to sound breezy and unconcerned, “although he won’t come up to Scotland, I’m sure. Fig is so jolly rude to him.”

“Then escape to London and meet him in a hotel, darling. You’d have a blissful time.”

“Mummy, you’re not supposed to suggest things like that to your unmarried daughter. Besides, think what the royals would say if they got word of it.”

“Oh, bugger the royals,” Mummy said. “It’s time you stopped trying to please other people and started living for yourself. I always have.”

* * *

IT WAS ONLY when I climbed into bed and curled into a tight ball in an attempt to bring back life to my frozen feet that I realized what I had done. I had condemned myself to spending Christmas with Fig and her family.

Chapter 4

STILL CASTLE RANNOCH

DECEMBER 15

Stopped snowing, at least for a while.

I was awoken in the morning by loud bumping noises and muttered curses. Queenie appeared and instead of bringing in my morning tea she was dragging my trunk.

“Here you are, miss,” she said. “Your trunk like you wanted. I hope I got the right one. It does have your name on it.”

I sat up, my breath coming out as steam in the freezing cold of the room. “Yes, it’s the right one, Queenie, but I’m afraid I won’t be going anywhere after all.”

“Ruddy ’ell, miss. You mean I got to take it back up all them stairs again?” she demanded.

“Just leave it for now and go and get my tea,” I said. “I’ll feel better when I have something warm in my stomach.”

“You should see what’s going on downstairs, miss,” she said, pausing to look back from the doorway. “Apparently them people what we stayed with in France are coming to stay. You know, the stingy ones what only had one piece of cheese and crackers for their dinner?”

“It was lunch, Queenie,” I corrected. “Remember I told you that people of my class eat luncheon in the middle of the day and dinner at night.”

“Well, whatever it was, there weren’t enough food to feed a ruddy hamster,” she said bluntly. “I expect they’re coming here for Christmas so they can eat your brother’s food instead of their own.”

“That’s not for you to comment on,” I said. “You must watch what you say. If my sister-in-law ever heard you, I really would be forced to sack you. You realize that.”

“Sorry, miss. My dad always said my big mouth would get me in trouble, if something else didn’t first.”

“So the servants are getting their rooms ready, are they?” I asked. “That must mean they are arriving very soon.”

“It’s a pity you aren’t going away after all,” Queenie said. “I don’t see a very happy Christmas shaping for us.” With that she made a grand exit.

I got up and went over to the window. The world was covered in a blanket of white, apart from the black water of the loch, which lay mirror-still reflecting the crag and the pine trees. For once the scene looked almost like an Alpine picture postcard and I tried to cheer myself up by thinking of the fun I’d have building snowmen and going sledding with little Podge, my nephew. He was almost five years old now and splendid company.

When I came down to breakfast, however, I learned that Podge had developed a cold and was not to be allowed out in the snow. “But you can take Maude out tobogganing when she comes,” Fig added, as if that were an incentive. Maude probably wouldn’t want to do normal things like tobogganing, I thought. I’d never met a drearier child. Nor a worse know-it-all. I looked up as Hamilton came in with the morning post on a salver.

“Anything for me, Hamilton?” I asked hopefully. If Darcy was back in London, surely he would have written. . . .

“I’m afraid not, my lady. Only a letter for His Grace and some magazines.”

Magazines were better than nothing, I supposed. I took Country Life and The Lady and went to curl up in an armchair by the fire in the morning room, which was the only room in the house that became passably warm. I flicked through the pages, trying not to feel anxious and depressed. Every page seemed to show pictures of jolly Christmas house parties, hints on how to decorate with holly and mistletoe, amusing cocktails for New Year’s bashes. . . . I put down Country Life and thumbed idly through The Lady. I was about to put it down when some words leaped off the page at me: Tiddleton-under-Lovey.

It was an entry in the advertisements column. Wanted: young woman of impeccable background to assist hostess with the social duties of large Christmas house party. Applications to Lady Hawse-Gorzley, Gorzley Hall, Tiddleton-under-Lovey, Devonshire.

I stared at it as if mesmerized. What an astounding coincidence. Here was a place I had never heard of before and now it had come up for the second time in two days. That ought to be a sign from heaven, surely. As if I were destined to go there. My breath was coming in rapid gulps. I could escape from Fig and be paid for it. It really did seem too good to be true, an answer to a prayer. I was about to rush to the writing desk and send in my application when I felt a warning siren going off in my head. Maybe it was too good to be true. I had come up with brilliant ways to make money before and they had all turned into disasters. I couldn’t face a repetition of the escort service fiasco, and I had never heard of Lady Hawse-Gorzley.

I went back into the breakfast room, where Fig and her mother were working their way through the Tatler, making catty remarks about the society pictures.

“Does either of you know anyone called Hawse-Gorzley?” I asked.

They looked up, frowning. “Name sounds familiar,” Fig said.