Herald of Death (19 page)

Luckily, Dr. Prestwick was in his surgery when they arrived. He gave James some medicine to dull the pain and set the arm in a plaster cast—a procedure that seemed to take forever and made poor James cry out in pain. Gertie felt sick by the time it was all over.

Dr. Prestwick assured her that the fracture was a simple one and that James would heal in time. “Thanks to Mr. Russell,” he added, as Gertie thanked him. “If he hadn’t bound the arm just the way he did, it might have been a different story.”

Still drowsy from the medicine, James fell asleep on the ride back to the Pennyfoot. Anxious to get the children back to the comfort of their room, Gertie had little time to express her thanks.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there,” she said, as Clive carried James down the kitchen steps. “You saved his life.”

Clive shook his head. “It wasn’t that bad, though I know you must have been terrified. I feel responsible for what happened.”

“Please, don’t.” She took James from him at the door. “It wasn’t your fault. James was being a bloody twerp and I wasn’t firm enough with him.”

“Well, I hope his arm doesn’t give him too much pain.” He started to move away, then added, “I’m so sorry the afternoon turned out so badly. I know how much the twins were looking forward to the sleigh ride.”

Gertie smiled. “It was a lovely sleigh ride. And your sleigh is beautiful. Thank you, Clive.”

He looked at her for a long moment, making her feel self-conscious. “It was my pleasure, Gertie.” With a swift wave of his hand, he walked briskly away from her and up the stairs.

It wasn’t until he disappeared that she realized she’d forgotten to ask him two things. One was about his past. The other was why he’d acted as if the devil was after him in the woods.

 

 

Pansy dumped a pile of serviettes onto the nearest dining room table and grabbed up a silver serviette ring. Here was her one chance for doing something really exciting and old Chubby had to go and spoil it all. It wasn’t fair.

She snatched up one of the white linen squares and rolled it into a thin sausage before shoving it through the ring. Throwing it down on the table, she was about to reach for another ring when Gertie’s voice spun her around.

“Whatcha doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Pansy waved the ring at her. “I’m playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses with the serviettes.”

“All right, you don’t have to be cheeky. I was just asking.” Gertie walked over to the next table. “Here, give me some. I’ll help you.”

Feeling sorry for snapping at her friend, Pansy handed over a pile of serviettes. “Did you have a nice sleigh ride?”

“Yeah, we did.” Gertie gave her a sharp look. “You’re not cross with me because I took the time off, are you?”

Pansy shook her head. “Sorry. I’m upset at Mrs. Chubb. She won’t let me help Doris with her costumes in the pantomime.”

Gertie gasped. “Phoebe Fortescue asked you to help her?”

Pansy turned to her, all her resentment flooding to the surface. “No, it was
Doris
what asked me! She said she needed help with her costumes and didn’t trust nobody else. She trusted
me
to help her, and now Mrs. Chubb says we’re too busy and she’d have to think about it. You know what
that
means. It means she’s not going to let me do it.” Pansy blinked back a tear. “And I
want
to do it! I really do!”

“All right, all right, don’t get your flipping knickers in a twist.” Gertie started threading the rolled-up serviettes through the rings. “I’ll have a word with Chubby. We’ll find a way for you to do it.”

“It’ll mean going to rehearsals. At least the dress rehearsals, as well as the pantomime.”

“Leave it to me.” Gertie smiled at her. “Don’t worry. You know I can get around old Chubby.”

Pansy sniffed. “Thank you, Gertie—you’re a real friend.” Feeling much better, she moved on to the next table. “So tell me what happened on the sleigh ride.”

Gertie shrugged. “Not a lot. We went up to the woods to get some mistletoe, and James fell out of the sleigh and broke his arm.”

Pansy paused, a serviette dangling from her fingers. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not.” Gertie sighed. “It was awful, seeing him disappear over the side like that. I thought he was dead. Scared me to bloody death, I can tell you.”

“Is he all right?”

Gertie rolled up another serviette. “Well, he’s got a plaster cast on his arm. Solid as a rock, it is. He has to keep it on for weeks. That’ll bloody slow him down a bit. It will probably mean he won’t be in the pantomime.”

“Oh, Gertie, I’m so sorry.” Pansy rushed over to give her friend a hug. “Poor James. I hope this doesn’t spoil Christmas for him.”

Gertie snorted. “Once he sets eyes on what Clive is making for him he’ll forget all about his blinking arm.” She shook her head. “That man is so clever with his hands. Too bloody good he is to be working here.”

Pansy gave her a sly smile. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Gertie turned away with a careless shrug. “He’s all right. I don’t really know him, do I. I mean, just when I think I know him well, he goes and does something really strange. Like in the woods this afternoon. He acted as if he was really scared of something. Took off in the sleigh like a bleeding bat out of hell. We were going so fast we hit a bump and that’s when James went flying. Mind you, he was hanging out of the sleigh, so it wasn’t really Clive’s fault, but I never did find out why Clive had acted so strange.”

Pansy put the serviette down on the right side of the place setting. “P’raps he was scared of the Christmas Angel.” She caught her breath, silently cursing the slip of her tongue.

Gertie raised her head. “The who?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Pansy hurriedly moved to the next table.

Gertie walked over to her, her hands on her hips. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I shouldn’t have said nothing. Samuel told me not to say nothing to nobody.”

“I’m not nobody.” Gertie leaned forward. “So bloody well tell me.”

Pansy held out a moment or so longer, then gave in. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew, anyway. Samuel had said that himself. “The Christmas Angel. He’s going around Badgers End killing all sorts of people. He leaves golden angels on their foreheads and chops off lumps of their hair.”

A loud gasp echoed across the room. Pansy swung around, just in time to get a glimpse of Lizzie’s terrified face before the maid rushed from the room.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Gertie said, looking a little frightened herself. “It’ll be all over the Pennyfoot. You’d better tell me the rest of it.”

Pansy shivered. “I don’t know any more than that. Madam and Samuel have been going around asking questions, but Samuel says nobody knows why he’s killing people. They think he’s loony and just does it because he feels like it.”

Gertie’s face had turned pale. “Where is he killing people? Not here in the hotel?”

Pansy felt sick. “No, no, not here. All over Badgers End. Remember Jimmy, the dairy farm boy?”

Gertie nodded.

“Well, it were the Christmas Angel what killed him. He killed a shoemaker and a farmer as well.”

Gertie looked as if she was about to cry. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, it’s true. Samuel wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. Ask him yourself.”

“Does Chubby know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, we’d better tell her, before Lizzie spreads it all over the Pennyfoot. Maybe we can stop her. Come on!”

Gertie sped across the room to the door, and Pansy followed, certain now that she’d never get the chance to help Doris in the pantomime. Mrs. Chubb was never going to forgive her for spreading the word about the Christmas Angel.

Worse, Samuel was going to be really cross with her, too. This was turning out to be a horrible Christmas season.

 

 

Cecily arrived back at the Pennyfoot to find the entire place in an uproar. The lobby was full of young women and a half dozen children all milling about, some crying, some shouting, and all of them acting as if the world were about to come to an end.

Spying one woman huddled on the staircase, clinging to a banister, Cecily hurried over to her. “Mabel! Whatever has happened? Has someone been hurt?”
Don’t let it be Phoebe,
she prayed silently, as the frightened woman stared up at her.

Mabel let go of the banister and clutched Cecily’s skirt. Loud enough for the entire population of Badgers End to hear, she yelled, “There’s a madman loose in the village! He’s going around chopping off people’s heads!”

Loud screams greeted her words, adding to the chaos in the lobby. Cecily rolled her eyes at the ceiling, then waded into the hysterical crowd, searching for someone, anyone, who could help her restore order.

As if in answer to her thoughts, a bellow erupted from the stairs, quieting the frightened women. “What the blue blazes is going on here?”

A few whimpers answered, but Baxter put an end to that with a raised hand. “Silence! This is a respectful country club. I will not tolerate such raucous behavior. You will leave the premises immediately. All of you.”

Cries of fear greeted his command and Cecily sped back to the stairs. Bounding up them to stand by his side, she called out, “Quiet, everyone. I have something important to say.”

It took a few moments of grumblings and whimpering before the group fell silent. Cecily made an effort to sound calm and confident. “Please, listen to me. The person they are calling the Christmas Angel is not chopping off people’s heads, I can assure you. Neither is he running around killing off everyone he sees. It is true one or two men have died recently, but at the moment we have no way of knowing who killed them or why. In any case, no women have been killed, so none of you has cause to worry. You can go home now. You will all be perfectly safe, I promise you.”

Praying that was true, she watched the women file fearfully out of the door.

Baxter said nothing until the door had closed behind the last performer. “You managed to calm them down. Well-done,” he said, rubbing his fingers across is brow. “That caterwauling was giving me a blasted headache.”

Cecily followed him up the stairs. “How did they find out about the murders?”

“I don’t know. I had just arrived home and was reading when I heard the racket below and came down to see what was going on. I was surprised to see you in their midst.”

“I walked in on them.” Cecily frowned. “Someone must have told them.”

She reached the turn of the staircase just as a voice called out from below.

“Oh, there you are, Cecily! A word with you, please?”

Baxter groaned. “I was wondering where she had gone.”

Cecily turned to look down at Phoebe. “She must have stayed behind in the ballroom. She probably wants to know what all the ruckus was about.”

“Just don’t bring her up to the suite.” Baxter left her, climbing rapidly to the top of the stairs.

Grimacing, Cecily hurried down to where Phoebe stood by the Christmas tree. Cecily had been so focused on the group of hysterical women she’d failed to notice that Madeline had decorated the tree.

Colored glass balls hung from the branches, while lacy white snowflakes and red and gold bells added color. Cecily saw gold garlands and silver ribbons, but nowhere on the tree were the golden angels that usually hung there. Madeline obviously had decided they would be inappropriate.

Phoebe looked at the tree with an air of disdain. “It’s not up to her usual standards.”

“I think it’s lovely.” Cecily relaxed her shoulders. Phoebe must not have heard the uproar in the lobby or the news of the Christmas Angel, or she would most likely have been beside herself with terror.

“Well, to each his own.” Phoebe tucked her hands inside her fur muff. “Have you seen Frederick? I looked in the bar, but he’s not there. I was wondering if perhaps he was visiting Mr. Baxter in your suite.”

Cecily almost laughed. The idea of Baxter entertaining the addle-headed colonel was ludicrous. “I just left Baxter and he made no mention of the colonel. Have you looked in the library? Sometimes he takes a brandy in there to sip by the fireplace.”

Phoebe clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I suppose he could be there. Now I shall have to go all the way back there to look.”

Just then Cecily caught sight of Gertie and Pansy emerging from the hallway. She beckoned to them, and they rushed over to her.

“I’m so sorry, m’m,” Pansy said, dropping a shaky curtsey. “I had no idea Lizzie was there. I wouldn’t have said nothing otherwise. It just sort of slipped out.”

Cecily realized at once to what she referred.

Before she could signal to her to be quiet, however, Gertie added, “That bloody twerp told everyone about the Christmas Angel. I told her he was just chopping off locks of hair, but she went running around saying he was killing people and chopping off their heads, and I . . .” Gertie’s voice trailed off as she finally noticed Cecily’s eyebrows frantically twitching up and down.

It was too late, however. Phoebe turned slowly to Cecily, her voice pitched an octave higher. “Chopping off people’s heads?”

Cecily took hold of her arm and felt it shaking beneath her fingers. “Now, now, Phoebe, it’s quite all right. No one is chopping off heads.”

“No, course not,” Gertie said helpfully. “The crazy bugger cuts off a lock of their hair after he kills them and sticks a gold angel on their foreheads. That’s why they call him the Christmas Angel.”

“Oh, my.” Phoebe’s eyes rolled up in her head and her knees sagged.

Supporting her friend as best she could, Cecily glared at Gertie. “Bring a chair over here and don’t say another word.”

“Yes, m’m.” Gertie hustled across the foyer and dragged a chair out from behind the reception desk.