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.
Phoebe moaned, and her eyes fluttered open. “Oh, my goodness. What happened?”
“You had rather a nasty shock,” Cecily said, seating her on the chair. “Pansy, fetch a glass of brandy from the bar, and while you’re there look for Colonel Fortescue and ask him to come to the foyer right away. If he’s not in the bar, look in the library on your way back.”
“Yes, m’m.” Pansy sped off, leaving Gertie standing there with a sick look on her face.
Looking at her, Cecily felt a sense of impending doom. “What is it?”
“I just remembered something, m’m.”
“What is it?”
Gertie sent a worried glance at Phoebe, then said quickly, “We found a walking stick stuck in a holly bush in the woods this afternoon. I think it belonged to the colonel, m’m.”
Phoebe uttered a little cry, while Cecily asked sharply, “Are you sure?”
“Well, it had his initials on it, F.G.F., and what looked like a military cross. Didn’t see the colonel anywhere, though.”
Phoebe uttered a shrill scream. “The Christmas Angel! He’s killed my Freddie!” With that she slumped into a dead faint.
CHAPTER 13
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?”