No Clue at the Inn (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery Book 13) (19 page)

"Will Father Christmas be here?" Lillian wanted to know.

Madeline laughed. "Father Christmas won't come until everyone is asleep. So you must be sure to go to sleep really quickly that night."

"Will the candles be burning when he comes?"

"No, we have to blow them all out," Daisy explained. "It would be much too dangerous to leave them burning on the tree. It could catch fire."

"Then how will he see to come down the chimney?" James demanded.

"We'll leave a lamp lit for him," Madeline promised. She reached up to fasten a candle holder onto a branch. "Don't worry, Father Christmas is accustomed to moving around . . . in the dark. He—"

Her voice stopped abruptly, and she seemed to freeze, her hands so still that Daisy thought she could have been a statue. Even the twins were silent, staring at Madeline's still figure as if they had seen a ghost.

The eerie silence that settled over the room made Daisy's blood run cold, then Madeline spoke, and her soft words sent chills all the way down Daisy's spine.

"There is evil in this room," she said, her voice close to a whisper. "Danger lurking everywhere. You must beware.
You must beware."

The warning seemed to float in the air, cold and menacing. Frightened now, Daisy drew the children close to her. She stared at Madeline, wondering frantically for whom the words were meant. Was it her? Was she in danger? The twins?

Madeline dropped her hands and turned to face her. "You can start putting the candles on the other side of the tree," she said, her voice perfectly normal again.

Daisy blinked. It was over so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it, but the twins still stared at the other woman as if afraid of her.

Daisy pulled them around the other side of the tree with her and started talking very fast about all the things the children had to look forward to during Christmas. Before long they were chattering and laughing with her, and even Madeline joined in their silliness.

Daisy gradually relaxed, though she knew that it would be a very long time before she forgot the strange
moment when Madeline saw something that no one else could see. Something evil and frightening, and perhaps still lurking in the shadows of the quiet library.

By the end of the day Cecily had to accept the fact that Jeanette was probably not going to return to the Pennyfoot. Miss Bunkle expressed her displeasure by announcing that she couldn't possibly cope with the Christmas Season unless she had another pair of hands.

Cecily promised to see what she could do about hiring another maid, but when Miss Bunkle insisted that she report to the constables that Jeanette had stolen her pearls, Cecily put her foot down.

"You cannot accuse someone of a crime without good cause," she told the infuriated woman. "Just because Jeanette has apparently left our employ does not mean she's a thief."

"Why else would she run away?" Miss Bunkle demanded. "It looks awfully suspicious to me. If she didn't steal my pearls, then where are they? They didn't just simply walk off on their own."

"Well, perhaps I can find out what happened to them. Just give me a little time."

Miss Bunkle tightened her lips. "Very well, madam. But if they don't turn up in the next day or two, I'm going to tell the constables everything."

"If I can't find out what happened to them, I'll call the constables myself," Cecily promised rashly. The last thing she wanted right now was a full-scale investigation going on in the club. Edward would never forgive her if she allowed the Christmas Season to be spoiled by a petty thief.

On a hunch she stopped by Moira's room and tapped on the door. Luckily the girl hadn't yet gone to bed, though she seemed extremely disturbed by Cecily's visit.

"I don't know nothing more about where Jeanette is, honest," she said when Cecily invited herself into the room.

"Actually, I came to ask if you had any idea where Miss Bunkle's pearls might be," Cecily said, seating herself on the edge of Jeanette's bed.

Moira looked frightened. "I told you, m'm, I had nothing to do with the pearls."

"Miss Bunkle thinks Jeanette might have taken them and that's why she ran away. What do you think about that?"

Moira's cheeks grew red, and she stared down at her feet. "I don't know nothing about that, m'm. But I got to thinking about things and I think I might know who Jeannette was meeting last night."

Taken by surprise, Cecily said sharply, "Then I think you had better tell me."

Moira fidgeted with the strings of her apron, winding them around her fingers so tightly they turned white. "I don't want to get no one in trouble, m'm, but if something bad has happened to Jeanette . . ." Her voice trailed off miserably.

"I'm sure nothing bad has happened to your friend," Cecily assured her. "And I promise you that you won't be getting anyone into any more trouble than they are already in, so why don't you just tell me who you think Jeannette was meeting and we'll see what we can do."

Moira sank onto her bed. "Well, I do know that Jeanette was sweet on someone. She was always talking about
him, and once I saw her talking to him in the corridor."

"Did she tell you she was fond of this person? She could have simply been having a friendly conversation."

"Well, the other night Jeannette had a terrible row with Wally over him. I heard them arguing about it in the kitchen yard. Wally told her that if he wasn't good enough for her, she could run right back to her pretty boy lover."

"I see," Cecily said slowly. "And what did she say to that?"

"She said that's just what she was planning to do, and that if Wally didn't like it, it was just too bad. Wally laughed at her, and said that no toff would ever be caught dead with her."

Cecily stared at her. "A toff? Are you saying Jeanette was romantically involved with one of the guests?"

"I think so, m'm."

"Do you know who he is?"

Moira pressed her lips together, then blurted out, "You won't tell anyone I said anything, will you? I don't want to get no one in trouble. I just thought he might know where Jeanette went."

"I won't tell anyone you told me," Cecily promised. "But I must know who it is, Moira. It could be extremely important."

"All right." Moira carefully unwound the string from her fingers. "It were one of them barristers from London. The good-looking one. His name is Roger. Roger Peebles."

Cecily gaped at her. "Roger Peebles? Are you sure?"

Moira nodded. "Yes, that's him. Roger Peebles. He's the one. I think Jeanette was going to see him last night."

Cecily made an effort to collect her thoughts. The whole idea was so ludicrous. Jeannette was a nice young girl, but she was not exactly what one would call a
beauty. She was certainly no match for Peebles's wife, Gretchen. Then again, there was no accounting for taste. Peebles wouldn't be the only one to turn to a serving girl to add a little spice to his life.

Making a mental note to talk to Peebles at the first opportunity, Cecily rose to leave. "Well, thank you, Moira. I appreciate you being so candid with me. You did the right thing by telling me what you know."

"Please don't be too angry with Jeanette, m'm," Moira pleaded. "After all, she's not the only one. I reckon all them barristers are the same. I saw the fat one, Mr. Fitzhammer, going into his room with a lady what wasn't his wife. I know that 'cos I saw his wife downstairs in the library right after I went downstairs again so it couldn't have been her I saw in his room."

What was the matter with these men, Cecily fumed inwardly. They had everything they could possibly want . . . money, prestige, a beautiful wife, and one would assume, a gorgeous home, and still it wasn't enough. As long as she lived, she would never understand the mentality of the human male species.

"I hope you won't repeat any of this to anyone else," she told Moira. "What goes on inside these walls must never be divulged to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Oh, I know, m'm." Moira nodded solemnly. "Me lips are sealed. I only told you 'cos I thought it might help find out what happened to Jeanette."

Cecily nodded. "Well, we'll have to see. Now get some sleep, Moira. You'll have a long day tomorrow if Jeanette doesn't return."

Moira's voice wavered when she asked, "What do you think happened to her, m'm?"

"I think she probably went off looking for adventure somewhere, and is probably wishing right now that she hadn't been so silly."

She closed the door behind her and headed back to the stairs. The answer she'd given to Moira's question had been deliberately vague. The truth was, she was far more concerned about the missing maid than she was willing to admit. She could only hope that Jeanette wasn't in more trouble than she could handle. The sense of urgency that had bothered her earlier was even more intense now. It was imperative they find the girl as soon as possible. She could only hope it wasn't too late.

CHAPTER

14

"These two are driving me blinking bonkers," Gertie announced the next morning. She and Mrs. Chubb had taken the twins for a stroll along the sands after breakfast, hoping to wear down some of the boundless energy that kept the children ceaselessly on the move.

The cold wind from the sea had whipped their faces, turning their little cheeks bright red by the time they'd returned to the Pennyfoot. Gertie was now huddled in Mrs. Chubb's room, trying to thaw out her frozen bones, while Mrs. Chubb did her best to prevent the twins from ruining the bedsprings as they bounced up and down with a little too much exuberance.

"Why don't you take Ross into the town and enjoy some of Dolly's baking?" Mrs. Chubb suggested. "You
two haven't spent more than an hour or two together since he arrived."

"We've spent all night together," Gertie said, reaching out to break James's grasp on his sister's hair. She gave his hand a light slap. "Leave your sister alone or I'll tell your papa what a bad boy you are."

"I meant doing something outside the hotel. Go for a walk with him, or stop by the George and Dragon. Go and watch the ice-skating on Deep Willow Pond."

Gertie sighed. "I just been for a walk and my toes are ready to bleeding drop off with the cold. Besides, Ross is lying down. He don't feel very well."

Mrs. Chubb's eyes were full of concern when she looked at her. "He's not ill, is he?"

"I hope not." Gertie did her best to dismiss her pang of fear. "I think he's just tired, that's all. And fed up. I wasn't going to tell you this 'til after Christmas, but he's sold the business."

"Oh, my." Mrs. Chubb clutched her chest. "What is he going to do now?"

Gertie shrugged. "Oh, he'll find something, I know he will. It's just . . . it's not like him to give up like that."

Mrs. Chubb nodded. "He's not a young man anymore, Gertie. You have to remember that he's a lot older than you. He's ready to slow down a bit. And the business was taking its toll on him. I could tell that."

"Yeah, well, he'll be able to have a bit of a rest now, until he finds a job. The money he made on the business will keep us going for a bit. And I can always go back to work if needs be."

Mrs. Chubb grabbed Lillian's hand, just as she was
about to pull the washbowl and basin off its stand. "It would be hard on you, Gertie, after all this time."

"I don't think so." Gertie winced as James fell off the bed. He started wailing and she scooped him up and sat him on her lap. "I've sort of missed working since I've been married to Ross. I know I have plenty to do in the house, and Gawd knows the twins take up enough time, but they're getting older and I miss the company of the other girls. Being back here has reminded me of all the laughs we used to have, and all the adventures."

"We tend to remember the best of times and forget the worst."

"I know. Still, I do miss it." Her gaze met Mrs. Chubb's, and the older woman's wistful expression made her smile.

"I miss it, too," Mrs. Chubb confessed. "I mean, I love helping you take care of the children, but soon now they'll be going to school. What will two grown women do all day long in the house together without the little ones to worry about?"

Gertie shrugged. "Housework, I s'pose. Like we do now."

"Not very exciting, is it."

"No, it's not." She grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Mrs. Chubb sighed. "It would be very nice to go back to work again, Gertie, but you know very well Ross would never allow you to go back to work and I'm getting too old for it now. Maybe we could take in some sewing or something, just to give us a little extra and keep us busy."

"Yeah, maybe." James wriggled off Gertie's lap and
promptly ran up to his sister and tugged on her hair again. "All right, that's bleeding it." She sprang up and slapped James on his rump.

He opened his mouth and howled, still holding on to Lillian's hair. By the time Gertie had untangled the long curls from his fist, Lillian was howling as well.

"We've got to get them out of here," Mrs. Chubb exclaimed as she gathered Lillian in her arms and hugged her to her generous bosom. "The other guests will be complaining about the noise."

"Let's take them for a walk around the grounds. They can throw stones in the fish pond or something. With the trees sheltering us, it might not be as bloody cold as it was on the beach."

"Good idea." Mrs. Chubb reached for Lillian's tam-o'-shanter and pulled it down over her ears. Then she wound a scarf around the little girl's neck and buttoned her into a warm coat. The boots were next, and it took her several minutes to fasten all the buttons with a button hook. Meanwhile Gertie struggled with James, who was still sniffling.

Several minutes later they were ready, and holding each child by the hand, Gertie and Mrs. Chubb emerged into the hallway and headed for the stairs.

Snowflakes floated down like soft white feathers as they stepped outside. Gertie had elected to go through the French doors in the library and out through the rose garden. There were no roses in bloom this late in the year, so there was no risk of the children trying to pick the blossoms off the bushes.

The wind from the ocean barely penetrated the thick hedges in the garden, and the twins spent a pleasant few
minutes exploring the new territory and throwing snowballs at each other, while Mrs. Chubb and Gertie sat on the wooden bench, enjoying the tranquil scene.