“We will be going to Caroline’s Blanchard house,” Cecily told Samuel the next morning. “My gown should be ready by now.”
Holding open the door of the carriage for her, Samuel’s face lit up. “I’ll be happy to take you there, m’m.”
Cecily hauled herself up into the carriage. “Well, I also have to do a little shopping in town, so we’ll go there first.”
“Yes, m’m. Where to, then?”
“To Willow’s shoe shop. But before we go, I need to talk to you about something.” Cecily leaned forward and patted the seat opposite her. “Come and sit here for a moment while I explain. We won’t be overheard in here.”
Samuel’s expression grew guarded. “We’re not going to do anything dangerous, are we, m’m?”
“No more than usual, Samuel.” Cecily patted the seat again. “Come, we have no time to waste.”
Samuel took his time climbing onto the seat opposite her. “You know what Mr. Baxter said about me letting you get yourself into trouble again?”
Cecily pulled a face. “No, but I can imagine.”
“He said he’d send me packing.” Samuel folded his arms. “That’s what he said.”
“Piffle. You know very well we could not manage without you.”
“He was very clear on that, m’m.”
“Well, he doesn’t do the hiring and firing in this establishment. I do, so don’t you worry about it.” She smiled at him. “Cheer up, Samuel. This is another adventure and you know you always enjoy our adventures.”
“I have a nasty feeling I’m not going to like this one.”
Cecily sighed. “Let me tell you what I have in mind. Then, if you decide you don’t want to come along, I’ll understand.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “All right.”
Cecily leaned forward and, in spite of the rattle of carriages and clip-clop of horses’ hooves passing by, lowered her voice. “I have reason to believe that Lester Salt is the Christmas Angel.”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “Go on! What makes you think so?”
“Well, Madeline told me that there’s a ritual involving the locks of hair belonging to the dead. It’s supposed to send their souls to the devil.”
“Blimey.” Samuel rubbed his arms as if he were cold. “But what makes you think it’s Lester Salt?”
“I noticed a book by the fireside when we were there. It was called Tales of a Mystic. I think Mr. Salt is practicing black magic.”
Samuel frowned. “But why? Why would he want to kill all those people?”
Cecily leaned back. “Well, I have to admit, I don’t think he killed Jimmy Taylor. I do believe, however, that he killed Thomas Willow. Lester was deeply in debt and being threatened. I think he had been trying to think of a way to get his hands on the shop for some time.”
“So he killed Thomas to get the shop?”
“Yes, so he’d have the money to pay back Sid Tippens. I think he saw who killed Jimmy Taylor, and saw a chance to kill Thomas and put the blame on Jimmy’s killer.”
Samuel’s frown deepened. “But if he saw who killed Jimmy, wouldn’t he have told the bobbies?”
“Not if he thought that Jimmy’s killer could prove he didn’t kill Thomas, then the constables would be looking for who did kill him.”
Samuel shook his head. “I don’t know how you worked all that out, m’m, but it’s clever. But what about all the other murders? Why did he do that?”
“I’m coming to that.” Cecily tightened her scarf about her neck. “Lady Marion mentioned that Thomas Willow was also deeply in debt. Apparently the shoe shop wasn’t making any money. When Lester found out, he was desperate. Perhaps the bookmaker threatened him again.”
“So he had to find the money from somewhere else to pay Sid back.”
“Mrs. Mackerbee told me that the farm had done very well, and they’d had the best year they’d ever had. She also said that her husband had visited the shoe shop. No doubt he told Lester Salt what a great year he’d had.”
“So good old Lester decides to take some of it for himself.”
Cecily nodded. “That’s what I think. I think Lester went to the farm to rob the Mackerbees, Colin Mackerbee caught him, and there was a fight.”
Samuel rubbed his chin. “He must not have got any of the money, though.”
“Very good, Samuel.” Pleased with her stable manager, Cecily beamed at him. “Lester must have come away empty-handed and decided to rob the Bellevue mansion instead. According to Lady Marion, he was well acquainted with both the gamekeeper and Lord Bellevue.”
“So you think Henry Farnsworth caught him trying to break into the mansion, and Lester shot him?”
“Precisely.”
Samuel stared at her. “But what about the Fox Hunters Club? What happened there?”
Cecily shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe Lester broke in to rob the place and accidentally set it on fire.” She turned her gaze to the street outside. “I have to admit, Samuel, this is all guesswork and theory. That’s why I have to visit Lester Salt today. I have to somehow make sure I’m right before I set off my plan.”
Samuel sat up. “What plan?”
Quickly, Cecily outlined it for him.
Samuel immediately shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t believe Mrs. Prestwick agreed to help you with this.”
“Actually,” Cecily said, feeling guilty, “Mrs. Prestwick hasn’t agreed. I haven’t discussed it with her yet. But once I do, I’m certain she will want to help me stop this madman before he kills anyone else.”
“Well, I hope she refuses to help you. If anything happened to you, m’m, I’d never forgive myself. I just can’t let you do this.”
“You really don’t have any choice, Samuel. With or without you, with Madeline’s help I intend to trap our killer.”
She could see the struggle going on in his head. Finally, he let out his breath on a puff of frustration. “All right. If I can’t stop you, then I’m coming with you.”
She smiled. “I thought you would, Samuel. Now, let’s be on our way. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“Yes, m’m.” His face creased in worry, he climbed out, closed the door, and jumped up to his seat. With a flick of the reins they were off, and Cecily sat back with a sigh of relief.
She had expected Samuel to put up a fight, but she knew her stable manager. He’d die first before allowing her to face danger without him. She could only hope and pray it wouldn’t come to that.
Gertie had spent a fitful night, waking up at intervals with an ache that had nothing to do with the bread and cheese she’d consumed just before retiring.
She kept hearing her own words over and over in her head. I would have done it for anyone. How ungracious that sounded now. She’d blurted it out without thinking, anxious to get away from the temptation to take that step that would bring her closer to Clive.
All through the breakfast rush she kept thinking about it, until Pansy declared with more than a hint of impatience, “What is the matter with you this morning? Get out of the wrong side of the bed?”
Gertie scowled at her. “Very funny.” She hesitated, her tray of dirty dishes balanced on her hip. Maybe if she talked about it she wouldn’t feel so guilty. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d said anything nasty.
Pansy was about to turn away when Gertie added, “If you must bloody know, I said something I shouldn’t have yesterday and I’m wondering if I should apologize.”
Pansy looked over her shoulder at her. “That’s nothing new. Who did you say it to?”
Gertie paused again, then said sheepishly, “Clive.”
Pansy’s cry of dismay took her by surprise. “What? You didn’t! What did you say to him?”
Thankful they were alone in the dining room, Gertie wished she’d never said anything. “Oh, it was nothing.”
Pansy dug her hands into her hips. “If it was nothing, why are you worrying about apologizing?”
“No, twerp. I mean, that’s what I said.” Gertie sighed. “I was in the ballroom with Clive and-”
Pansy’s gasp interrupted her. “What were you doing in the ballroom with him?”
Gertie could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Nothing we shouldn’t be doing. I heard a noise, and thought it was someone breaking in and Clive went to see and I went with him and yelled at the burglar only it wasn’t a burglar and Clive thanked me anyway and I said it was nothing.”
Pansy’s face had expressed a number of emotions, from shock and concern to puzzlement. “Is that all?”
Gertie had to agree that, told like that without any of the charged emotions she’d felt when it happened, it did seem a bit tame. “Yeah, that’s all. Never mind. I’m just tired. I didn’t get much flipping sleep last night.”
“Well, you’d better get some sleep tonight. The Christmas guests will be here tomorrow.” Pansy dragged a white lace-edged cloth from a table and dropped it in the laundry basket. “I can’t wait to see who our special guests are, can you?”
Gertie shrugged. “Unless it’s the flipping king, I don’t suppose we’ll even know who they are.”
Pansy breathed a sigh. “Oh, wouldn’t that be something! To wait on the king!”
“Yeah, well, I did it once and it’s not all that much fun. His valet wouldn’t let me get near him. Took everything out of my hands before I even got to the door.”
Pansy turned away with a grunt of disappointment. “Oh, well, it’s probably not him anyway.”
Gertie had stopped paying attention. She had just seen Clive pass by the dining room doors. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, causing Pansy to spin back again. “There’s something I’ve got to do.” Leaving the tray of dishes on the table, she dashed out of the room and into the corridor.
Clive had disappeared, and she raced for the stairs. She reached the top just in time to see the front door close behind him.
Heedless of the cold wind, she dived through the door and down the steps, calling out, “Clive! Wait!”
Clive had reached the corner of the building. He stopped and looked back, the wind whipping his dark hair back from his face.
He seemed uneasy as she drew nearer, looking around as if worried somebody might see them together. “Is something wrong?”
She almost laughed. Everything was wrong. If she said the wrong words now, she could break up a friendship that meant more to her than she’d realized. Now that she was in danger of losing him, she wanted to hang on to him with both hands and never let go. “I want to talk to you.”
He searched her face, then nodded. “Come around here, out of the cold.”
She followed him through the gate into the courtyard, where they were sheltered by the kitchen wall. She noticed that he stood between her and the beach, protecting her even more from the brisk ocean wind. That was Clive, always protecting her. Always making her feel safe.
She smiled at him. “I was scared last night.”
“I know you were.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
A frown flicked across his face. “Gertie, it’s all right. You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t.” She paused, struggling for the right words. “I like you, Clive. Really I do. You’ve been a wonderful friend to me and the twins and we all think the world of you.”
He started to speak and she held up her hand. “No, wait. If I don’t get this out now I’ll never bloody say it at all.”
His mouth twitched in a smile, then he looked serious again. “All right.”
“It’s like this.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I don’t have much luck with blokes. First there was Ian, and, well, you know about him. He was the father of my twins, and never bothered to tell me he was married to someone else. Then there was Ross McBride. He was a lot older than me but he was good to me and my children. When he died I thought that was the end of it for me. But then I met Dan.”
Her voice had wobbled. Cross with herself, she paused to get it under control again.
“Gertie, you don’t have to do this-”
“Yes, I do. Let me finish.” She struggled on. “I really, really loved Dan, even though I knew he wasn’t the right one for me. I kept hoping we-” She took another deep breath. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that after all that hurting, I don’t think I can ever do it again.”
“Gertie-”
Again she held up her hand. “But if things had been different, if I could have felt that way again, it would have been with you.”
Her fingers were clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She didn’t know if she’d said it right, or if he’d ever understand what she’d meant. She watched his face, and for a moment felt panic at his grave expression.
Then he smiled. “Gertie, I have never met a woman like you. You have a heart as big as the sky, and I know that one day-maybe not soon, but one day-you’ll be able to trust it to someone again. I want to be around when that happens, just in case you decide to give it to me. So I’ll wait. For as long as it takes. Until then, I hope we can still remain friends.”
She never cried. So that moisture in her eyes had to be caused by the wind. “You’re the best friend anyone could ask for, and my twins would kill me if I didn’t stay friends with you.”
He laughed, that deep rich sound that always made her feel warm inside. “Then we can’t disappoint the twins, can we. By the way, I’ve finished the rocking horse I made for their Christmas present. Come and see it and tell me what you think.”
She grinned at him. “I’d love to, but it’ll have to be later. I’ve left dirty dishes on the table and Chubby will have my guts for flipping garters if I don’t get back there.”
“Later, then.” He lifted his hand at her, then strode off around the corner.
She kept the grin on her face all the way back to the dining room.
People packed the High Street as Samuel guided the chestnut to a stop a few yards from Willow’s shoe shop. “I want you to stay here and wait for me,” Cecily told him as he helped her alight from the carriage.
“I’m not going to let you go in there by yourself.” Samuel took her arm in a firm hold. “I’m here to protect you, and I can’t do that sitting out here on the street.”
“Nonsense, Samuel.” Cecily gently pried his fingers from her arm. “Nothing is going to happen to me in a shop full of customers.”
“If this bloke is as evil as you say, anything could happen to you.”
“Piffle. I will be quite all right. Just wait here for me. I find that people are more forthcoming when alone with someone. If I’m to trick Mr. Salt into incriminating himself I need his full confidence.”
Samuel still looked defiant. “If he’s that clever, he’s not going to say anything that will give him away.”
Cecily smiled. “Quite the contrary, Samuel. People such as Lester Salt are full of their own importance. Sooner or later he will say something that will give me the answers I need.”
“Well, if you say so, m’m. I don’t have to like it, though.”
She patted his shoulder. “I shan’t be long.”
Fighting down her own doubts, she hurried into the shop, where one of Lester’s assistants bounded forward to greet her. Before she could make her request, however, the abrasive voice of Lester Salt silenced her.
“Mrs. Baxter! How good to see you. How can we help you today?”
He stood in front of the curtain that led to the parlor, impeccably dressed as always, though a persistent lock of hair hung over his forehead, and his mustache looked somewhat bedraggled.
“I’m here to purchase slippers for my husband.” Cecily looked around at the shelves. “I’d also like a pair for my stable manager.”
Lester rubbed his hands together. He seemed in a particularly good mood as he marched forward. “Yes, yes, of course. No need to stand about here, however. Come back into my parlor and I’ll show you our incredible selection of slippers. I’m sure we can find exactly what you want.”
Now that the moment was at hand, the last thing Cecily wanted was to be alone in the parlor with this man. There didn’t seem to be any other way, however, to have the conversation she needed to have with him.
Swallowing her fear, she managed a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Baxter.” He turned to the hovering assistant. “Nathan! Fetch the lady all the slippers you can find and bring them to the parlor.” With that, he grasped Cecily’s arm with firm fingers and propelled her through the curtain and down the hallway to the parlor.
“Can I offer you some tea?” he asked, as she reluctantly seated herself by the fire.
“Thank you, no.” She glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “I have another appointment shortly so I really can’t linger too long.”
“Ah, I understand.” He took the chair opposite her and sat down, leaning forward to ask, “I suppose the Pennyfoot will be filled with guests for Christmas?”
“Yes, indeed. We usually have a full house for the season.” She glanced at the table next to her. The book was still there and she picked it up. “Tales of a Mystic! I don’t think I’ve heard of this. Is it a good book?”
Lester smiled. “An excellent book. I highly recommend it. It’s the story of a poor lad who stowed away on a ship in search of the true meaning of religion. Very enlightening and provocative.”
Cecily stared at him. “Religion?”
He seemed puzzled by her reaction. “Ah… yes. It’s an interest of mine.”
She put the book down, her mind in a whirl. Of course. Mysticism. It could mean so many things. She had jumped to the wrong conclusion and her main theory had just flown out the window.
Obviously unsettled by her silence, Lester leaned forward. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Baxter? You’re not feeling ill, I trust?”
Shaking her head, she struggled to get her thoughts together. “I’m feeling quite well, thank you.” For want of a way to change the subject, she gestured at the empty corner of the room. “I don’t see Rex anywhere. I hope he’s in good health?”
Lester seemed preoccupied. “Rex? Oh, he was getting to be a nuisance. He was always in the way, wanting to be stroked or to be let out on the street. I took him over to Caroline Blanchard’s house. She collects strays, you know.”
So that was why the dog in Caroline’s home had seemed familiar. “Yes,” she murmured, “I know Caroline quite well.”
Lester pulled a face. “Well, forgive me for saying so, but that woman is the most unsociable snob I have ever come across. She treats animals like people and people like animals.”
If he hadn’t been so vehement in his disgust, Cecily would have smiled at the rather apt description of her seamstress.
“Still, she’s very good at handling the dogs. Caroline is quite the fanatic when it comes to her animals. She can’t bear to see them in pain. It’s almost as if she feels their agony herself.”
He gazed at the corner with a soulful expression, as if he missed the dog. “Yes, indeed. Rex will be well taken care of there. Funny thing about dogs. Old Thomas was cruel in his treatment of Rex, but Caroline told me the dog refused to leave the old man’s side when he died. Just sat there and howled. Sad, really.”
Cecily’s throat closed up, forcing her to cough. For a moment she fought to get her breath while Lester Salt watched her in concern.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, dragging a handkerchief out of his pocket to offer her.
She shook her head. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “It’s just a tickle in my throat.” She glanced at the door, wishing Nathan would get there with the slippers.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lester leaned back. “I don’t suppose you have any news of the Christmas Angel? I would dearly love to see the brute who killed dear Thomas brought to justice and punished.”
Cecily swallowed hard. “No news yet, but we are getting close.”
“Oh? You have a suspect?”
“Perhaps.” She shifted on her chair, uncomfortable with the intense look on his face.
“Is it someone in the village?”
“I can’t be sure at this point, but I hope to bring the case to a close very soon.” To her relief, Nathan appeared just then, his arms clutching what looked like dozens of slippers.
Cecily pretended to study the styles, then hurriedly picked out the pairs she thought would fit and gave them to Nathan to wrap. After paying for her purchases, she bid a hasty farewell to a confused Lester Salt and walked briskly over to the carriage.
Samuel just about leapt on her as she approached. “I was worried,” he said, as he helped her into the carriage. “You were gone so long.”
She dumped her packages onto the seat. “We have a change of plan, Samuel. Take me to Mrs. Prestwick’s house and please hurry.”
Samuel’s face creased in worry. “You found out Lester Salt is the Christmas Angel.”
“Not exactly. I will explain once we get to Mrs. Prestwick’s house. Hurry, Samuel. We don’t have much time.”
“Yes, m’m.”
Samuel hurriedly slammed the door shut before she was properly settled. Her thoughts in a turmoil, she leaned back, her mind working feverishly. How could she have missed it? It was right there in front of her all the time.
There was only one way to resolve this. It would mean putting them all in danger, but if her plan worked out, it should all be well in the end.
Now all she needed was for Madeline to help her. It would be asking a lot of her friend, but with everything that was at stake, she was sure Madeline would agree.
“Where did you go?” Pansy demanded when Gertie dashed into the dining room. “Mrs. Chubb will have a fit if we don’t get all these dishes down to the kitchen. We won’t have time to get them washed and dried in time for the next meal at this rate.”
“Sorry. I had to talk to Clive for a moment.”
Pansy immediately brightened. “What for?”
“Never you mind.”
“Did you give him the wicks last night?”
“Yes,” Gertie said, as she hauled the pile of tablecloths into a basket. “I gave them to him.”
Pansy waited in vain for the rest of the story. When Gertie didn’t elaborate, she prompted her with an impatient, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“And?”
“And, what?” Gertie nodded at the cupboard. “We need those serviettes, too.”
Frustrated, Pansy pulled the serviettes down from the shelf. “Didn’t he say anything?”
“Who?”
Now she was getting annoyed. “You know who. Clive.”
“Oh, him. Yeah. He said thank you.”
Pansy uttered a sigh of exasperation. “Is that all?”
Gertie frowned. “What was he supposed to say?”
Throwing caution to the wind, Pansy flung the serviettes in the basket. “Don’t you even know he likes you?”
Gertie picked up the basket and settled it on her hip. “Yeah, I know. I like him, too. So bloody what?”
“No, I mean like you. Like he’s in love with you.”
Gertie uttered a scornful laugh. “You’ve got your head too bloody full of Samuel, that’s what. Clive and I are just friends, that’s all. That’s all we want to be, so don’t go thinking there’s anything else to it, all right?”
She barged out of the room, shoving the door open with her elbow. Pansy followed, shaking her head. She knew Gertie. She knew all that blustering was to cover up what she was truly feeling and thinking.
It was going to take a lot longer than she’d thought to get those two together, but if Gertie thought she was going to give up this easily, then her friend was mistaken. Clive and Gertie were perfect for each other, and if it took Pansy Watson to prove it to them, then so be it.
Someday she would think of the right plan. A foolproof plan. Maybe she’d ask Samuel to help her. The thought brightened her considerably, and her step was light as she made her way back to the kitchen.
Cecily was relieved to find Madeline alone with her baby when she and Samuel arrived there. The doctor, it seemed, was on his rounds.
“He won’t be home until suppertime,” Madeline said, laying Angelina down in her cot. “I’m putting a joint of roast beef in the oven. That man has a voracious appetite for someone so slender.”
Cecily offered the baby her thumb, and smiled when Angelina grasped it with tiny fingers. “Kevin works a long day.”
“Yes, he does.” Madeline walked over to the settee and sat down.
Cecily sat down next to her, and beckoned Samuel to take one of the armchairs. “I’m glad he’s not here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and…”
“It’s something he shouldn’t hear.”
Cecily sighed. “I know he doesn’t believe in your powers, or agree with your methods of healing. It must be so hard to keep such an important part of your life separate from him.”
Madeline tilted her head on one side. “You came here to talk about my husband?”
“No, of course not.” Cecily hesitated, then added, “It was the way he looked at you when you left the other night. After you told us that Colonel Fortescue was in the woods. I worried there might be repercussions from that.”
Madeline smiled. “No, Kevin didn’t say a word. Would it have made a difference if he had?”
“Perhaps. I sometimes feel that I cause contention between the two of you by relying on your powers so much.”
“Oh, bosh!” Madeline flapped a hand at her. “Kevin knew about my interest in healing herbs and potions long before he asked me to marry him. We may not always see eye to eye on matters of medicine, but it’s not a huge conflict between us.”
“But what about… you know… the trances and other things like that?”
Madeline pursed her lips. “Ah well, the less he knows about that, the better. So far he has seen only glimpses of what I can do, and that’s the way I hope to keep it.”
“Well, I certainly shan’t enlighten him.” Cecily stretched out her feet and studied her boots.
“Is that what you want from me now? I told you I can’t see much beyond the darkness when I try to see the Christmas Angel.”
“No, it’s not that.” Cecily looked up. “I think I have found the link between the murders.” She paused, then added, “Madeline, you mentioned the other day that there are certain spells associated with locks of hair from the deceased.”
Madeline sent a swift look at Samuel before answering. “I did.”
“It’s all right,” Cecily said. “Samuel knows all about this. He’s here to help.”
“I don’t know everything,” Samuel said, looking worried.
“I’m coming to that.” Cecily turned back to her friend. “Is there, by any chance, a ritual that involves burning the hair?”
The loud tick of a clock was the only sound in the room for several moments. Then Angelina stirred and whimpered, and Madeline got up. She bent over the cot, settling her daughter again before returning to the couch.
“Yes, there is. The hair is burned to ensure that the soul goes to hell.”
Cecily drew in a sharp breath. “Ah, I thought it might be something like that. One more thing. I saw a strange carving the other day. It looked like a wagon wheel, with gems at the end of each spoke. The jewels were in the shape of cats. Does that sound significant to you?”
Madeline raised her eyebrows. “Where did you see this?”
“In my suspect’s house.”
“Then I’d say your suspect is engaged in some kind of occult activity. The wheel, or ring, is the major symbol. It protects everything inside it and can represent many things-woman, the circle of life, the wheel of fortune among others. The cat jewels are also protection, and can also represent prophecy, and the granting of wishes.”
“As I expected.” Cecily shook her head. “I don’t know how I could have been so blind.” She leaned forward. “Madeline, I have something to ask of you. I would not involve you unless it were imperative that I do so. We need your help to bring to justice a particularly dangerous adversary. This is what we have to do.” Quickly she outlined her plan.
Madeline’s gaze probed her face. “You know who is behind the murders.”
“I think I do. I hope to know for certain in a short while. Will you help us?”
Madeline’s gaze strayed to her baby. “If it were anyone else asking me, I would most likely have to decline. I know, however, that you would not ask if there was any other way. Don’t worry, Cecily. Together we will defeat the Christmas Angel.”
“It is a risky venture,” Cecily admitted, “but if we are all alert and on our toes I think we can bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“It would seem so.” Again Madeline glanced at the cot. “I will have her nanny take Angelina over to her mother’s house until it is safe to bring her home.”
“That’s a good idea.” Cecily rose, prompting Samuel to jump to his feet. “Let us hope that this will soon be over.”
“I certainly hope so.” Madeline led them to the door. “We must be very careful, Cecily. This is a devious killer and a desperate one. There is nothing more dangerous.”
Cecily hugged her friend. “If all goes well, if we do this right, the villagers will sleep easier in their beds tonight.”
“Then let’s pray all goes well.”
That was all she was praying for, Cecily thought, as she stepped out into cold wind. For if things went badly, who knew what might happen.
Samuel followed her to the carriage, saying nothing until he handed her up onto her seat. “You think Caroline Blanchard is the Christmas Angel?”
Watching his face, Cecily felt sorry for him. “I’m afraid I do, Samuel. We will know for certain later this afternoon, but first we have to set the trap. Fetching my gown will give me the perfect excuse.”
“But how… why… I don’t understand.”
Cecily nodded. “Neither did I until this morning. Let’s hurry, Samuel. If this is going to work, we have to time it just right.”
“Yes, m’m.” Looking shaken, Samuel slammed the door shut and climbed up onto his seat.
Cecily leaned back, feeling worried. Everything depended on Samuel behaving as naturally as possible. Knowing how her manager had felt about Caroline, she hoped he was able to control his emotions.
Caroline seemed flustered when she opened the door. “Oh, Mrs. Baxter! Your gown is not quite ready! I have been quite busy lately. I was hoping to bring it over to you tomorrow.”
“Oh, dear.” Cecily stepped over the threshold, forcing the other woman to back away. “I was under the impression it would be ready today. Since I was passing by, I thought I would save you a journey to the Pennyfoot and pick it up myself.”
“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but-”
Cecily motioned to Samuel to follow her, though it was hardly necessary since her stable manager was practically falling over himself to get inside the door. “I’m sure there can’t be much more to do with the gown. We don’t mind waiting while you finish up on it, do we, Samuel.”
Samuel cleared his throat and in an unnaturally loud voice, said, “No, no, not at all.”
Caroline shot a look over her shoulder. “Well, I really wasn’t expecting company. The animals, you know. They’re all in the sitting room and I haven’t really had time to look in on them and make sure they’ve been behaving themselves, if you know what I mean.”
Cecily did know, and didn’t relish the prospect of walking in on a room reeking of cat urine. She made an effort to sound indifferent, however, when she answered. “Please, don’t fuss. We understand and we’ll be quite comfortable.”
Samuel’s expression contradicted her words, but she signaled him with a quick frown that she hoped he’d interpret.
Caroline looked none too pleased, but she led them to the sitting room and opened the door. “Can I fetch you a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, no.” Cecily smiled at her. “If you would finish the gown right away, I’ll be happy to pay you a little extra for your effort.”
“Then I shall see to it right away.” After one more doubtful look at both of them, she sped off in the direction of her sewing room.
“Better let me go first.” Samuel stepped into the room and looked around. He sounded relieved when he added, “Looks clean enough to me, m’m, though it smells a bit.”
Cecily followed him in and shooed a cat off the nearest chair. Several more stalked around the room, and a couple of dogs lifted their heads to scrutinize the visitors, then went back to snoozing by the fire.
“She likes her animals, doesn’t she,” Samuel observed, looking around the room. “I’ve never seen this many cats and dogs in one person’s house.” He bent over to stroke the nearest dog-a large black animal with only one ear. “She must love animals a lot.”
“Yes,” Cecily said quietly. “I’m sure she does.”
“I just can’t believe she-”
“Shshh!” Cecily put a finger over her lips.
Samuel snapped his mouth shut.
Giving him a warning look, Cecily said loudly, “It must be comforting to have so many animals around when one lives on her own, like Miss Blanchard.”
Taking his cue from her, Samuel straightened. “I’m sure it is.”
Still talking, Cecily moved over to the sideboard and pulled out one of the drawers. She shuffled through the contents and, finding nothing, she closed the drawer and opened another.
She found what she was looking for in the third drawer. Moving a stack of envelopes aside, she caught a glimpse of glittering gold. Carefully, she picked up one of the small gold stamps and held it out to Samuel. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “The signature of the Christmas Angel.”
Samuel stared at her. “I just can’t believe it!”
“Shshh!” Cecily held up a warning finger. Crossing the room to the empty chair, she sat down. “She can’t know we suspect her. Be very careful what you say and how you say it.”
Samuel looked as if he wanted to cry, but he nodded and bent down again to stroke the dog.
The sound of a door closing alerted Cecily. “Samuel, just listen to everything I say, and don’t interrupt or contradict.” She had no time to say more, as the door opened and Caroline entered, carrying the gown over her arm.
“Here it is, Mrs. Baxter.” She held up the shimmering gown. “I hope it is satisfactory.”
“I’m quite sure it will be.” Cecily bent down to pat the black dog on the head. “This is a fine animal.”
Caroline handed the gown to Samuel, who now sat poker-faced and silent. “Yes, he is. I found him wandering around the streets in Wellercombe. Poor thing was nothing but skin and bones when I found him.”
“Well, he certainly looks healthy enough now.” Cecily stood, and Samuel jumped to his feet. “We must be off. We have a very important appointment this afternoon.”
Caroline looked as if she was unsure how to answer that.
Ignoring her, Cecily continued, “I noticed the other day that wheel on the wall in your dressing room. I assume you are interested in the occult?”
Caroline shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I have a passing interest, that’s all.”
“Ah, I see.” Cecily moved closer to the door. “Then you must have heard of my friend Mrs. Madeline Prestwick?”
The seamstress seemed unsettled by the question. “I have heard talk of her, yes.”
“Most people consider her a witch, you know.”
Samuel had his back to Caroline, which was fortunate, since an agonized look crossed his face.
Cecily ignored him and smiled at Caroline, who looked just as aghast. “I’m sure-” she began, but Cecily interrupted her.
“She does have remarkable powers. In fact, she has promised to use them to help me find the Christmas Angel.”
Caroline’s face turned ashen. She seemed unable to turn her gaze from Cecily’s face, but felt behind her for the arm of a chair before falling down on it.
Cecily avoided looking at Samuel, who was now staring in dismay at the hapless seamstress. “Madeline is going up to Putney Downs today to the woods nearby the spot where Thomas Willow was killed. There she will conduct a private séance, some sort of ritual that will give her the name of the Christmas Angel. Once she has it, she will bring it to me at the Pennyfoot where P.C. Northcott will be waiting for the news.”
Caroline opened and closed her mouth, as if seeking words that wouldn’t come.
Samuel cleared his throat, and Cecily gave him a sharp nudge. “Come, Samuel. We must get back to the club with as much speed as possible, so that we can be there when Madeline returns with the name of our infamous killer.”
She headed for the door, saying, “Thank you for finishing my gown today. I shall enjoy wearing it at the Welcome Ball.”
Caroline seemed in a daze as she followed them out to the hallway. She barely managed to acknowledge Cecily’s farewell before shutting the front door in her face.
“How terribly rude,” Cecily murmured, as she walked down the path to the gate.
Samuel leapt ahead of her to open it. When he spoke his voice was full of despair. “She just doesn’t look like a dangerous killer.”
“Most people don’t.” Cecily paused at the carriage, waiting for him to open the door. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I know you like her but-”
Samuel shook his head. “You know, lots of people buy those stamps. I saw them in the toy store the other day. A whole pile of them. Anyone could buy them.”
“It isn’t just the stamps, Samuel. On our first visit I smelled something awful burning in the sewing room, like human hair. Also, Lady Marion told me that Miss Blanchard was at the Bellevue estate delivering her gown the morning Henry Farnsworth died.” She swept an arm toward the house. “It’s because of those animals, Samuel. She rescues them, and punishes those who ill-treat them.”
Samuel jutted out his jaw. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe she’s capable of killing all those men.”
Cecily climbed aboard the carriage and settled her skirt around her ankles. “Given enough reason and the right circumstances, everyone is capable of killing. We all have our dark side. Thankfully the vast majority of us know how to control it. Anyway, it’s out of our hands now. The plan has been set in motion and we shall soon see if I am right.”
Samuel looked far from happy as he closed the door. Cecily leaned back and braced herself for the jerk of the carriage as he urged the chestnut forward.
They had barely reached the edge of the lane before a horse and cloaked rider passed them at lightning speed. Cecily watched them disappear around the bend ahead and slowly let out her breath.
Now that everything was set, she could think of all sorts of reasons why it could go wrong. The bait could be ignored, or dealt with in a way she hadn’t thought about, or, in the worst-case scenario, Madeline could be killed before help could get to her.
Cecily deliberately shut off her thoughts along that line. She had learned from experience never to try to second-guess an adversary. She knew what she had to do now, and the rest was up to providence.
Thanks to Gertie’s help with the dishes, Pansy arrived at the final dress rehearsal with plenty of time to spare. She was thankful she had no lines to speak, since she was certain she would forget every word in her excitement.
Standing in the wings, she watched Doris perform, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she would never be as good as her. She would just have to do the best she could and hope she didn’t mess things up too much.
Now that she could fly, she could really get into the part of Tinker Bell. She remembered something Mrs. Fortescue had told her. Believe you really are the person you are playing.
Pansy closed her eyes. She was Tinker Bell-Peter Pan’s protector and friend. A beloved fairy, capable of magic. Soon the ballroom would be full of toffs, all watching her fly. All watching her big dying scene.
She heard her cue and floated forward, ready to take on the world. This was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She wanted to be an actress, performing in front of huge appreciative audiences. She wanted to hear applause and know it was for her. She wanted to travel to exciting places, and she wanted to be really famous, with people clamoring for her autograph.
“Tinker Bell!”
The thunderous roar snatched Pansy out of her daydream. A smattering of giggles dragged her focus back to the stage. Peter Pan stood in front of her, hands on hips, glaring at her with a ferocious scowl.
Mrs. Fortescue hovered in front of the stage, staring up at her. “We are all waiting for you, Tinker Bell, to fly onto the ship. I suggest you attach your wings, however, before you fall flat on your face.”
Several of the children started giggling again, and were immediately hushed by a fierce stare and a sharp flap of Phoebe’s hand.
Pansy’s face grew warm as she realized she’d forgotten to have her wires attached before she came out onstage. The footman who was supposed to help her with it stood in the wings, waving the contraption at her.
“Sorry, Mrs. Fortescue.” She skipped back to the wings and waited for the footman to attach the wires. From now on, she promised herself, she’d concentrate on the performance. The daydreams would have to wait for another time.