A few moments later, while Cecily and Gertie were still trying to revive Phoebe, Pansy returned with the brandy.
Cecily took it from her, and tried to dribble a few drops in between Phoebe’s lips. Making things difficult was the wide brim of Phoebe’s hat, which kept getting in the way.
Cecily would have taken it off her head, except that Phoebe never removed her hat in public. Although she had never openly admitted it, it was generally believed by her peers that she was completely bald and wore a wig. Cecily wasn’t about to prove or disprove that theory.
Having no luck with the brandy, she decided to wait it out. Eventually Phoebe would recover. She looked at Pansy, who was hovering close to Gertie, her face creased with worry.
“I looked for the colonel, m’m,” she said, plucking at the folds of her skirt. “I couldn’t see him anywhere. I asked in the bar and no one’s seen him all afternoon.”
“Oh, bugger,” Gertie muttered. “That’s why Clive was so scared. He must have seen the Christmas Angel.”
Cecily carefully put the brandy down on the hallstand. “What are you talking about, Gertie?”
The housemaid shivered, and hugged her arms. “It were in the woods, m’m. Up on Putney Downs. We were looking for mistletoe when we found the walking stick, and then Clive thought he heard something and the next moment he was off and running with James back to the sleigh where we left Lillian and then he took off so fast like he was scared or something and we hit a bump and James was leaning out and he fell out of the sleigh and broke his arm and-”
“What!” Cecily halted the torrent of words with a sharp gesture of her hand. “James has broken his arm?”
“Yes, m’m. He fell out of the sleigh. But Clive bound his arm up and we took him to Dr. Prestwick and he put it in a cast.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Cecily considered for a moment taking a gulp of brandy, then thought better of it. “How is the child now?”
“Well, he’s hurting a bit but he was playing with his soldiers when I left him with Daisy. I think he’s going to be all right.”
Hearing a moan, Cecily turned her head. Phoebe’s eyes were open and she was struggling to sit up. Putting a hand under her friend’s elbow, Cecily asked, “Did Clive tell you what made him run from the woods?”
“No, m’m. We were too busy worrying about James.”
“I think we need to speak with Clive. Please find him, Gertie. He should still be on the grounds somewhere. Have the footmen help you look for him, and while they are about it, have them look for the colonel, too.”
“Yes, m’m, though if you ask me, Colonel Fortescue is somewhere out there in the woods.”
Phoebe moaned again and slumped back, eyes closed once more.
Gertie stomped off, leaving Pansy to tremble alone. Cecily was about to order the child to the kitchen when the front door opened, and Kevin Prestwick strode into the foyer.
Doffing his hat, he took one look at Phoebe and rushed over to her. “What happened here?”
“Phoebe just heard about the Christmas Angel. The shock made her faint.” Cecily watched anxiously as the doctor lifted one of Phoebe’s limp arms and took out his pocket watch.
“Pulse is normal,” he announced, after a tense moment or two of silence. “I wish I had smelling salts with me.” His glance fell on the glass. “Is that brandy?”
Cecily handed it to him. “I thought it might revive her.”
The doctor tilted Phoebe’s head back. Holding her nose, he tipped the glass to let the liquid run into her open mouth.
Phoebe coughed, spluttered, and sat up. “What are you doing?” She glared at the doctor. “Are you trying to choke me?”
Kevin handed the glass back to Cecily. “She’ll be all right. Now, where’s my wife? She said she’d be ready to come home by now.”
“I’m right here.” Madeline appeared as if by magic in the hallway entrance. “What’s this I hear about Colonel Fortescue missing?”
Cecily sighed. Apparently Pansy had not been discreet in her search. “We’re a little concerned, since no one has seen him all afternoon. Gertie found his walking stick in the woods on Putney Downs.”
Phoebe moaned again, but this time managed to hold on to her senses. “Poor, poor Freddie. Whatever am I going to do without him?”
“I’m sure nothing dreadful has happened to him,” Cecily assured her, being sure of no such thing. “Perhaps he got tired of waiting for you and went home?”
Phoebe’s face turned red with indignation. “Frederick would never go home without me. Even if he had, which is ridiculous to even imagine, he certainly wouldn’t walk through the woods to get there. What on earth was he doing in the woods, anyway?”
“We don’t know that he was in the woods. We only know his walking stick was found there.” Cecily looked at Madeline for help. “Someone could have stolen it and taken it there.”
“He had it with him when we got here this afternoon.” Phoebe started crying. “I know he’s dead. That dreadful murderer has killed him.”
“He’s not dead.” Madeline’s voice echoed clearly across the foyer.
Everyone turned to look at her. Cecily caught her breath at the sight of Madeline’s face, eyes wide and glazed over, her expression completely blank.
Cecily stole a look at Kevin. He was staring at his wife as if he didn’t recognize her. Undoubtedly this was the first time he’d seen her in a trance. Up until now, Madeline had always been careful to conceal that element of her powers from him.
Cecily felt a warm rush of gratitude for her friend. Phoebe would never know the sacrifice Madeline had made to help her.
Madeline spoke again, her voice flat and unemotional. “He’s cold. Very cold. He’s frightened. All alone in the dark. Trees all around, bushes… cold and damp. He’s in the woods.”
“I told you so.” Gertie spoke from the hallway, startling them all.
Madeline blinked, and glanced at her husband.
Phoebe stopped crying and reached for the doctor’s hand. “Please, find him for me?”
Kevin seemed not to hear her. He was still staring at Madeline with a strange look on his face that made Cecily nervous. This latest revelation concerning his wife would not sit well with him.
Cecily had not seen Clive standing behind Gertie until he stepped forward. “I’ll be happy to search for the colonel, m’m.”
Kevin jumped, as if suddenly gathering his senses. “Good man. I have a carriage outside. We’ll take that.”
“On your way out, Clive, tell Samuel to take the footmen out to help.” Cecily held out her hand to Madeline. “Thank you,” she said quietly, hoping her friend understood how much she meant it.
Madeline grasped her hand and gave it a little shake. “I know they will find him,” she said to Phoebe, who sat rocking back and forth on her chair.
For once Phoebe didn’t retaliate with a scornful dismissal of Madeline’s powers. Instead, she looked up at her, tears once more trickling down her cheeks. “I hope so,” she whispered.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Kevin said, giving his wife a penetrating look before striding out the door with Clive right behind him.
Cecily watched them leave, praying they’d return with the colonel, safe and sound.
“Clive feels really awful,” Gertie said, when Cecily turned to face her. “He heard someone crashing around in the woods while we were out there. He said he thought it was the Christmas Angel and that’s why he rushed us out of there, but now he thinks it might have been the colonel. He’ll know where to look, so I’m sure he’ll find him.”
“Oh, my poor Freddie.” Phoebe sought for a handkerchief in her sleeve, produced a dainty lace-edged one, and dabbed at her nose.
Gertie dragged a man’s white handkerchief from her apron pocket and flapped it at Phoebe. “Here, you can’t blow your nose on that flipping thing. Use this and have a bloody good snort.”
Cecily winced, expecting the distraught woman to scream in outrage.
Phoebe surprised her, however. She took the handkerchief without a word, dangling it from the tips of her fingers to inspect it thoroughly. Having apparently deemed it suitable to use, she heartily blew her nose.
Gertie beamed. “There, now. Doesn’t that feel better?”
“Thank you,” Phoebe answered stiffly, and handed the handkerchief back to her.
Stuffing it back in her pocket, Gertie looked at Pansy. “Come on, mate. We’ve got to get back to the kitchen before Chubby starts bellowing for us.”
She stomped off with Pansy following meekly behind.
“We’ll go up to the suite to wait,” Cecily said, helping Phoebe up from her chair. She turned to Madeline. “Would you like to wait with us?”
“I might as well.” Madeline glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I could walk home, I suppose, but by the time I arrived there, Kevin will probably be back here with the carriage.”
“Oh, I hope so.” Phoebe clung to Cecily’s arm and looked down her nose at Madeline. “I hope for once your ridiculous hocus-pocus works.”
Madeline seemed not to take offense. “So do I.” She started climbing the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “The colonel may be as daffy as a duck but he turned you into an almost normal, decent human being. I dread to think what you’d become without him.”
Phoebe sniffed. “How in heaven’s name would you know what constitutes a normal human being?”
Cecily smiled. Phoebe was once more feuding with Madeline. Her friend was feeling better. Now, if only the colonel were to return with Kevin and Clive, everything would be almost normal again. Almost.
“What?” Mrs. Chubb dropped her rolling pin onto the table and slapped a floury hand across her mouth. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about all these killings?”
“Because no one was supposed to know,” Pansy said in a small voice.
Across the room, Michel slammed a saucepan down with a mighty crash. “Sacre bleu! What ees this world coming to, eh? Murderers running around willy-nilly, chopping off ze heads like chickens?”
Gertie gave him a scathing look. “Well, you needn’t worry. He only kills men.”
The chef’s tall hat wobbled back and forth as he shook a finger at her. “None of your sauce, cochon. I will not stand for it.”
“Who cares where you bloody stand, as long as it’s not next to me.”
“Gertie!” Mrs. Chubb removed her hand, leaving a white mustache and beard of flour on her face. “That’s enough!”
“All right, all right, keep your bloody socks on.” Gertie walked over to the sink and picked up a potato from the pile on the draining board.
“So how long ago did Clive and Dr. Prestwick leave to look for the colonel?” Mrs. Chubb demanded. “How will they know where to look? He could be anywhere.”
“The man is an idiot.” Michel slapped a lid on the saucepan so hard it bounced off and clattered to the floor. Cursing, he bent to retrieve it. “If you ask me, he should be locked up where he does no harm, oui?”
“Well, you should know,” Gertie muttered.
The housekeeper banged her rolling pin on the table, making Gertie jump. “Stop this bickering at once. Answer my question, Gertie.”
Opening the drawer next to the sink, Gertie hunted for a sharp knife. Finding one, she pulled it out and began peeling the potato. “Clive thinks he heard the colonel crashing around in the woods this afternoon while we were out there.”
“Why didn’t you stop to look for him, then?”
“Because at the time Clive thought it was the bloody Christmas Angel, didn’t he.” Gertie sliced one end off the potato.
“It might have been him,” Pansy said, her voice shaking. “The colonel could be dead, and Clive and Dr. Prestwick might run into him in the woods. They could be killed, too!”
Gertie turned on her swiftly. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that!”
“Ooh, la la!” Michel swayed his hips from side to side. “Our Gertie has ze amoureux, non?”
“No! So shut your bleeding mouth!” Gertie slung the potato across the room at Michel, who ducked. The potato hit a cupboard door and fell with a thud to the floor.
Pansy giggled, then pinched her lips together when Mrs. Chubb glared at her.
The housekeeper turned on her chief housemaid. “Whatever’s the matter with you?”
Gertie shrugged. “I’m just worried, that’s all. About the colonel,” she added, as Michel snickered. “He’s an old man. He must be so cold and lost out there all alone.”
“Especially with a murderer running around out there,” Pansy said, joining her at the sink.
Mrs. Chubb slapped a slab of pastry with her rolling pin. “That’s quite enough talk about a murderer. What I want to know is how all those women in the pantomime heard about it. I could hear them screaming from down here. I thought it was part of the presentation, until Pansy told me what it was all about.”
Pansy looked at Gertie for help.
“Lizzie told them,” Gertie said, splashing her knife into the cold water in the sink. “At least, one of the performers heard Lizzie telling another maid and she told the rest of them.”
“Who told Lizzie, then?”
Pansy swallowed. Still with her back to the housekeeper, she muttered, “It was my fault. I was telling Gertie about it and Lizzie heard me.”
Mrs. Chubb paused, both hands still on the rolling pin. “And who was it told you?”
“Samuel did.”
“Ah.” Mrs. Chubb wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “So what about the Pennyfoot rules that say not to repeat gossip to anyone? Did you all forget that?”
Gertie put down her knife. “It wasn’t gossip. It was news, and we didn’t tell anyone except ourselves and it wasn’t our fault that some people have bloody big ears and were flipping listening to what they shouldn’t have been.”
For a long moment Mrs. Chubb’s fierce gaze bored into Gertie, then she sighed. “Well, all right. I’ll let it go this time.”
“Speaking of gossip,” Gertie said, wiping her hands on a tea towel, “who are the special guests what’s supposed to be coming for Christmas? And why didn’t you tell me about them?”
“You don’t have to know everything, non?” Michel muttered.
Gertie ignored him. “Who are they, Chubby?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Mrs. Chubb waved her rolling pin at her. “And don’t call me Chubby! I’ll take your afternoon off away if you don’t stop calling me that.”
“Aw, go on with you. You like it, really.” Gertie dug in her pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose. “Anyhow, we’ll know soon enough when they get here. So you might as well tell us now.”
“My lips are sealed.” Mrs. Chubb drew a finger across her mouth. “And in future, you both better be extra careful of who might be listening when you’re having a private conversation. It can cause all sorts of trouble, like today. Are you hearing me?”
Gertie and Pansy answered together. “Yes, Mrs. Chubb.”
Michel echoed with a high-pitched mimic, “Yes, Mrs. Chubb.”
The housekeeper glared at him, then picked up a lump of pastry and threw it at his head. He didn’t duck quite fast enough and the lump of dough knocked off his hat.
In spite of her worry, Gertie laughed. It wasn’t often anyone got the best of Michel, but oh, how she loved it when someone did.
“So can I help Doris with her costumes?” Pansy asked, her voice full of hope.
Mrs. Chubb frowned. “I don’t know that we can spare the time. We have only two more days left before the Christmas guests arrive.”
“I can manage without her,” Gertie said, giving her friend a nudge. “She can help me later when she’s done with rehearsals.”
“Yes, I can do that!” Pansy was practically jumping up and down with anticipation.
Mrs. Chubb looked doubtful. “Well, I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on, Chubby. What will it hurt?” Gertie wiped her hands on her apron. “Doris needs someone to help her and she doesn’t trust no one else. You don’t want to make Doris look like a fool up there because she doesn’t have the right costume on, do you?”
“Well, no, of course not, but-”
“I’ll work twice as hard afterward.” Pansy held out her hands. “Please?”
Mrs. Chubb shook her head. “Oh, all right. But you’ll have to make up for it later, young lady.”
“Oh, I will! I will!” Pansy threw her arms around Gertie’s waist. “Thank you, thank you! You’re the best friend anyone could have. You really are.”
Gertie cleared her throat. “Go on with you. Get off me before I choke.”
Pansy grinned. “I’m going to get you the best present you ever saw for Christmas. You’ll see.”
“You don’t have to get me nothing.” Gertie turned back to the sink. Just get Clive back alive, she silently prayed. Oh, and Dr. Prestwick and the colonel. That was all she asked. All she wanted.
Baxter’s expression spoke volumes as Cecily led Phoebe and Madeline into the sitting room. Only then did she remember his last words. Just don’t bring her up to the suite. Ah well, it was too late now.
Smiling brightly at him, she said, “Clive and Dr. Prestwick have gone to look for the colonel. We are going to wait here until they all return.”
Baxter raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose they happened to look in the bar, by any chance?”
Cecily gave him what she hoped was a meaningful look. “The colonel is not in the bar, or anywhere else in the Pennyfoot. The men are looking for him in the woods on Putney Downs.”
At her words, Phoebe uttered a little moan.
Baxter raised both eyebrows. “In the woods? What in blazes is he doing up there?”
“We don’t exactly know, darling.” Cecily seated Phoebe next to the fireplace and motioned Madeline to sit across from her. “All we know is that Gertie found his walking stick up there and Madeline thinks he’s still there somewhere.”
“Good Lord.” Baxter rubbed his brow. “I hope the poor blighter is all right.”
Phoebe whimpered and dug out her handkerchief again.
“I’m quite sure he is,” Madeline said firmly.
“Darling, why don’t you go down to the library and take your newspaper with you.” Cecily smiled sweetly at her husband. “I’m sure you will be more comfortable down there.”
To her relief, Baxter picked up his newspaper, nodded at the ladies, and strode to the door. “Please inform me of any news,” he said, and closed the door with a firm snap behind him.
“I think he’s upset about something,” Phoebe said, tucking her handkerchief back in her sleeve. “Sometimes it’s hard to know what Mr. Baxter is thinking.”
Madeline smiled. “I always know what he’s thinking. Right now he’s very happy to escape a room that contains three ladies, all of whom are quite capable of taking him down a peg or two.”
Cecily laughed. “You may be right. As long as we have this time for ourselves, let’s discuss the pantomime.” Hoping to take Phoebe’s mind off the missing colonel, she turned to her. “How are things with your presentation, Phoebe?”
Phoebe drew a shuddering breath. “As well as can be expected. Doris is an absolute gem, of course. We are so lucky to have her in the pantomime. She is wonderful as Wendy, and the children adore her. She has a way with them, you know.”
Cecily nodded. “Yes, I can imagine that. How are my godchildren doing? Are they enjoying their first experience as performers?”
Phoebe actually smiled. “They are wonderful, Cecily. Wait until you see them! James is quite masterful onstage, and little Lillian follows directions beautifully. In fact, all the children are doing extremely well.”
Cecily hesitated, then decided she might as well break the news. “Speaking of the children, I don’t know if you heard Gertie mention that James has broken his arm?”
Phoebe uttered a cry of dismay. “Oh, no! Does that mean he won’t be in the pantomime?”
Madeline uttered a scornful laugh. “Dear Phoebe, always putting her own concerns in front of everything else.”
Phoebe scowled. “What exactly does that mean?”
Madeline shrugged. “You could have asked how the child was feeling.”
Phoebe looked offended. “I was coming to that.” She turned back to Cecily. “I do hope he is feeling well enough to participate in the pantomime.”
Madeline rolled her eyes but mercifully said nothing.
“I think that will be up to Gertie to decide,” Cecily said.
Phoebe sighed. “It’s always something. If we have to do without him, then so be it. We’ll manage. I really think this will be the very best event I have ever produced.”
“That shouldn’t be so hard to do,” Madeline murmured.
Cecily spoke quickly, before Phoebe had time to realize the sting in that remark. “Splendid! I am really looking forward to seeing the production. I understand Clive put up the wiring for you.”
“Yes, he did. He really is a remarkable man. He built the most amazing pirate ship and it’s on wheels and actually moves.” Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t know how he does it. I-” She broke off, her eyes wide as she stared at Madeline’s face.
Cecily followed her gaze, and caught her breath. Madeline was in one of her trances, her eyes glazed and staring, her body stiff and motionless.
Phoebe hunched closer to the fire. “I wish she wouldn’t do that,” she whispered. “It’s so unsettling.”
Cecily hushed her with a finger over her lips.
Madeline sat like a stone. Her lips moved, though no sound emerged.
Phoebe gulped and drew back on her chair.
The silence in the room was almost painful. Cecily waited, heart pounding, for what seemed like minutes until Madeline stirred.
She opened her eyes and looked straight at Phoebe. Her next words sent a cold chill through Cecily’s bones.
“They have found the colonel.”