Mistletoe Mystery (5 page)

In the cold, early morning light as dawn broke, all of that
seemed more possible than him being so instantly attracted to her. Such things
did not happen. At least not to her. She knew she had been stupid to invite a
man she barely knew to stay at the house, but at the time she had been so eager
to see him again she forgot to be her usual, sensible self.

Now she wondered how to cool things. She could not be rude
to him whilst he was staying, or just ask him to leave for no good reason – finding
him on the stairs at night was hardly a hanging offence – but when the weekend
was over, she would not see him again. The thought pierced her heart like a
dagger. She realised it would hurt more if he did turn out to be a conman after
she had succumbed to his charms. Better to break her own heart than let him do
it.

On the other hand, she did wonder if she were merely
replaying her dates with Puck, and the way she deliberately sabotaged any
chance of a relationship. The difference was that whilst she had liked Puck as
a person, because he was handsome, funny and charming, there had not been the
same connection she felt when she met Matt. With Matt there was a sense of
inevitability, as if he had been waiting in the wings all along, ready to make
his entrance.

Philly often thought that fate sent her Puck so that Meg
could be happy, and she liked that idea. She may fear a long-term relationship
herself, but she loved seeing the two people she cared for most in the world
happy together. What she had told Matt was true. They were her family and the
only people she could truly trust not to hurt her.

Perhaps, she thought idly, as she lay awake through to the
dawn, she could introduce Matt to one of her other female friends. Puck’s
sister, for example. He would most certainly fancy Rachel Jenson. She was a
very beautiful young woman and she was due to visit Bedlington Hall that very
weekend. Yes, that might solve things. So why did the thought of Matt falling
instantly in love with Puck’s sister feel like a second dagger twisting in her
heart?

The problem occupied her mind until she got up out of bed at
dawn, having given up any idea of sleeping, and crawled bleary eyed down to the
kitchen to prepare breakfast.

“Morning!” she said breezily when Matt arrived in the
kitchen ten minutes later. “Did you sleep well?” Keep it calm and friendly,
Philly, she told herself. She fiddled with the coffee maker, suddenly
forgetting how to use it.

“Yeah, great thanks. Once I got used to the sounds in the
house.”

“Yes, it does rather moan and murmur at night, doesn’t it?
Would you like some coffee? Breakfast? I think we’ve got some real Shropshire
bacon in the fridge. It’s delicious. With some scrambled eggs perhaps? And
toast? Or would you just prefer cereal? Sit down and I’ll sort something out.”
She could hear her voice waffling on, trying hard to fill what would otherwise
be an awkward silence.

“Could we start with a kiss?”

Philly had not realised how close to her he was. He spun her
around and before she could argue, covered her mouth with his. She wanted to
protest. To tell him that she was far too busy for that, but the warmth of his
arms around her and the feel of his lips on hers forestalled any argument. Why
was she thinking of sending him away when he made her feel this way? Oh God,
what if he did fall in love with Rachel Jenson? She pulled away abruptly.

“I have important things to do,” she said, trying to sound
far more light-hearted than she felt. “And you’re in my way, young man.”

“What’s more important than kissing?”

“Right at this moment I can’t think of anything, but I’m
sure it will come to me.”

“Are you okay, Philly?” Matt stroked her cheek. He also kept
his arms around her, neither of which did anything for her equilibrium. She
reached out and held onto the worktop, as if suddenly adrift on a very choppy
sea.

“Yes, of course, why?”

“I don’t know. You seem a bit jumpy. Are you regretting
inviting me down? Is that it? Because I could go and stay in a hotel. I know
things have happened quickly…”

“No, please don’t leave.”A few minutes before, she could
have sworn she would be delighted if he just up and left. Her need for him to
stay hit her like a lightning bolt. “I’m just … I’m not used to things
happening this rapidly, and I need to get my breath back, that’s all.” It was a
pity he had just kissed it all away. “Don’t you know I’m Ms Organised? And
you’ve thrown my schedule right out of the window.”

Matt smiled. “What schedule was that? Get married at
twenty-eight, have a baby at thirty?”

“Actually I was thinking of the present. Prepare breakfast.
Eat said breakfast. Get the house ready for Rachel Jenson and the film crew.
You’re very distracting, you know.”

“I’m glad to hear it. The feeling is mutual, by the way.”

“Go and sit down and I’ll bring your coffee. Do you want
bacon?”

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know? You make
the coffee, I’ll do the bacon and eggs.”

“No, I can’t. You’re a guest.”

“And you’re going to wear yourself to a frazzle, trying to
get everything done. Where’s the refrigerator?”

“It’s that big white thing next to the door. And it’s called
a fridge.”

“Really?” Matt grinned. “No wonder I didn’t recognise it.
Make the coffee woman, and let me do the breakfast. Will Puck and Meg want
anything?”

“Not yet. They tend to sleep in a bit when we don’t have
guests.”

“So it’s just you and me…”

“It seems like it.”

Matt went to the fridge and took out the bacon and eggs.
“How do you like your eggs? Over easy? Sunny side up?”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” said Philly. “So
just scramble them. When the coffee is done, I’ll make toast.”

As they prepared breakfast, Philly had that feeling of
inevitability again. They worked together well, and as if they had been eating
breakfast together every day for years. Her anxieties of the night before began
to disappear. Any chance of being alone also disappeared. Within a few minutes
of smelling the bacon frying, Meg and Puck appeared.

“That smells good,” said Puck.

“It certainly does,” said Meg.

“I’ll throw in some more,” said Matt. “As you can see,
Philly has enslaved me already.”

“Oy! You offered. He offered,” she said to Puck, as she
buttered the toast.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, Philly. Careful, Matt, she’s a bit
keen with that whip.”

“We still have the scars,” said Meg, pouring out a cup of
coffee.

“Did I mention I’d poisoned the coffee?” said Philly.

“What? Again?” Meg went into her best ‘Lucy Crystal’
impression, pretending to choke after she sipped the coffee.

Breakfast turned out to be just as lively an affair as
dinner the night before. Once again Philly was impressed by just how easily
Matt fit in with her friends. With her life in fact. He inhabited Bedlington
Hall as if he were used to living in such a place. She supposed, if his family
were rich, that he had an even better house somewhere.

“I never though to ask, Matt. Do you live in Britain? Or
America?” she asked, as they ate.

“A bit of both, depending on where the business needs me. I
have an apartment at Canary Wharf, and another one in New York.”

“Is that where you were born? You don’t sound like a New
Yorker.”

“You mean like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas? I was born in New
England. My mom and dad still live there.”

“Ever been married?” asked Meg. Philly was surprised, but
secretly glad. It was something she wondered, but was afraid to ask.

“No, never married. I was engaged once, but it fell
through.”

Philly could not help thinking that he made his engagement
sound like a business deal. “What happened?” she asked before she could stop
herself.

“We weren’t suited.” Matt clamped his lips together, from
which Philly got the idea that the conversation was well and truly over.

“Oh.” She drank down the last bit of coffee from her cup.
“Well, I suppose I ought to go and change out of my jim-jams and try to look
presentable for the telly.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” said Puck.

“What is it? Get on to Philly day?”

“Yep. Especially now there are three of us to gang up on
you.”

“Hmm,” said Philly, with a wry grin. “I do hope you all
enjoy sleeping out in the stables tonight.”

“Oh please, Philly, not again,” said Meg, winking at Matt
and Puck.

“I didn’t realise you had stables,” said Matt. “Do you have
horses too?”

“No, I can’t afford to keep them,” said Philly. “In fact, I
don’t think there have been horses there since the Hall was a school.”

“I’d like to see them. In fact I’d like to see all the
grounds. Maybe we could go for a walk after breakfast.”

It was a bright winter morning, and the sky overhead was
clear. Philly showed Matt around the grounds of Bedlington Hall as he
requested. “I haven’t even had a chance to look all around the place since I
inherited it,” she explained to him. “I know I’m going to have to get a
landscape gardener eventually, but that will have to wait.”

Parts of the garden were overgrown. There was a walled area,
inside which were several greenhouses, but most of the glass had been smashed
at some point. There were also what seemed to be vegetable plots in front of
the greenhouses, but they too were overgrown.

“Maybe we could grow our own veg,” she said to Matt. “It
would cut down on costs.” He had been very quiet since they left the house.
“Matt?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry if our questions seemed a bit intrusive. About
your ex, I mean. It’s just that we’re used to telling each other everything and
we forget sometimes that others have different barriers. We didn’t mean to step
over the mark.”

“You didn’t. It’s just a subject I hate talking about.”

“She must have hurt you badly.”

“Hey, it’s a beautiful autumn morning and I’m with the most
beautiful girl in the world. I don’t need or want to think about the past.”

“Okay, I suppose that means I’ve done it again. Stepped over
the mark, I mean.”

“You didn’t. And you’ve every right to know about me. It’s just
that there are some things I’m not ready to share yet.” Matt took her hand in
his.

“Fair enough. Let’s go and look down near the lake. If I
remember rightly, there are some old follies down there .Temples and things.”

“Things?”

“Yes, things! I don’t know what you call them. I did buy a
book on architecture, to try to work out how to describe Bedlington in
brochures. I got confused just by all the different types of columns, though I
think the ones in the hallway are ironic.”

“Ionic.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You really don’t know much about art and architecture, do
you?” Matt seemed strangely puzzled.

“Not a thing. Oh I can tell a Da Vinci when I see one. Maybe
even a Pre-Raphaelite. But otherwise it’s not really my subject. I suppose you
know loads, working for the family business.”

“I know enough.”

Philly did not know or understand why, but she sensed that
once again Matt closed the shutters on her.

The lake looked extraordinarily pretty with the winter
sunshine upon it, surrounded by trees glowing russet and yellow in the
sunlight; a pre-Raphaelite landscape come to life. As Philly had promised,
various follies were dotted around the bank of the lake. Arbours hidden away
amongst the trees so that one could sit in the shade but still have a full view
of the house and lake; small temples dedicated to various gods, mostly of the
female variety, such as Aphrodite and Diana. They had walked several hundred
yards when Philly stopped suddenly.

“It’s the tower,” she said. “The one from Robespierre’s
painting.”

Sure enough a stone tower, no more than seven feet in height
stood at the side of the lake, with a path running from it to the water. 
 Behind it was not the forest that Philly had seen in the picture, but a
low hedge, with a gap in the centre.

Philly let go of Matt’s hand and walked around the tower,
looking for the right perspective. Finally she found it.

“The artist, Robespierre, must have stood about here,” she
said.

Matt went to stand next to her. “Yeah, I guess he did.” He
had that puzzled look on his face again. “So I guess the painting does belong
to this house.”

“What do you mean? Of course it belongs to this house. I
found it in the attic.”

“Sorry,” said Matt, “what I mean is that it was painted
here, probably on commission. It wasn’t bought from a gallery.”

Philly had the strong suspicion that it was not what he
meant at all. She left him standing on the path and walked around to the back
of the tower and found that it had an alcove with a stone seat built into it.
Except that where all the other seats faced the lake, this one faced the house,
looking through the gap in the hedge and across the lawns to the long Gothic
façade of the house.

Inside the alcove, the walls were scratched with graffiti;
mostly the names of girls whom Philly assumed had attended the school. One
piece of graffiti was a heart and written inside was a time and partial date,
leaving out the year. Philly assumed it was a secret assignation between one of
the girls and a boy she should not have been meeting. She scoured the walls and
found there were several other hearts, all with a different time and date,
usually a month or so apart. One heart was etched on the wall under the
seat.  She idly hoped that the young lovers had managed to run away
together and get married.

Turning to look at the house, Philly had a fantasy of a
teenage girl, running across those lawns to meet her boyfriend. That was when
it occurred to her. What if that teenage girl had been Dominique DuPont? What
if all she had done was run away with the boy she loved? It did not explain why
her family also seemed to disappear, but they might have been ashamed if she
had run away with a lower class boy. Things were different in those days, and
the lines between the classes were more pronounced.