Sam’s nod was skeptical, and he frowned as he reached for his helmet. “If we have to do that,” he muttered, as he made his way to the door, “it will be a miserable Christmas for everyone.”
“He’s right,” Baxter said gruffly, as the door closed behind him. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but we received another telegram this morning.”
Cecily looked up at him. “Who from? Not…?”
“No. As far as I know, our important guest is still coming. It’s unlikely he’s heard the news, or Badgers End would be swarming with bobbies from the Yard.”
“Then who?”
“It was from the Windermeres. They must be friends of Lord Chattenham.”
“Canceling their reservation?”
“I’m sorry, m’dear. It looks as if news of our infamous murderer is spreading.”
Cecily got up from her chair. “Two days. That’s all I have. Let us pray it’s enough.”
“Amen.” Baxter opened the door for her and followed her outside into the dimly lit hallway.
Cecily slept badly that night, haunted by dreams of golden angels buzzing around her head while she followed a shadowy figure through a dark forest of trees.
She awoke with a start to find her husband gone and daylight streaming through the window. Annoyed at herself for sleeping late, she hurriedly dressed and went in search of Baxter.
She found him in her office, working on the stack of papers he’d brought home from the city. He looked up when she opened the door.
“Ah there you are.” He shuffled the papers and piled them on the side of the desk. “I let you sleep. You had a restless night.”
“Yes, I did. Have you had breakfast?”
“An hour ago.” He got up and walked around the desk to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Would you like something sent up to the suite?”
“No.” She patted him on the arm. “I should look in on the kitchen, so I’ll find something there to eat. I was going shopping this morning but I think I’ll wait until tomorrow. Go back to work.”
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her with a frown. “You look tired, Cecily. This Angel business is getting you down.”
“I’m all right.” She managed a smile. “One way or another, this will all be over in two days. Once Inspector Cranshaw takes over I shall leave him to it.”
Baxter raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t like you to give up.”
“Maybe I’m just getting too old to do this anymore.”
“Now I am worried.” He raised her chin with his finger. “You will never be too old for anything, my love. You have a young heart and soul, and age can’t take that away from you.”
Touched, she went up on her toes to kiss him. “It is you who keeps me young. But thank you. Now go back to work. I’ve distracted you enough.”
Feeling a little less downhearted, she left him and made her way down to the kitchen. The wonderful spicy aroma of steamed puddings greeted her when she pushed open the door.
Michel caught sight of her first and called out a greeting. Mrs. Chubb looked up from the bowl of eggs she was beating and waved the whisk at her.
“Madam! We were wondering what happened to you. You haven’t had any breakfast. What can we get for you?”
“Just two scones and a cup of tea, Althea.” Cecily glanced at the two maids washing dishes at the sink. “How are things coming along?”
“We’re catching up.” The housekeeper nodded at Michel. “The last of the Christmas puddings are boiling on the stove, and the mince pies are in the pantry. I’ll start icing the Christmas cakes this afternoon.”
“Wonderful.” Cecily sat at the table to wait for her tea and scones. “The guests will be arriving the day after tomorrow. We should be ready for them by then.”
“We’ll be ready.” Mrs. Chubb drew closer and lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose there’s any word about this Christmas Angel, m’m?”
Cecily hesitated, wondering how much they all knew. “Not yet, but there’s really no need to worry, Althea. It won’t affect anyone here in the Pennyfoot.”
Mrs. Chubb nodded. “I only asked because of all the rumors floating around. Lizzie was convinced he was running around chopping off people’s heads.”
“I can assure you, that’s not happening.” Cecily smiled as one of the maids brought her a steaming cup with saucer and a plate of scones. “We must stop these ridiculous rumors from making the rounds. We don’t want to frighten the guests when they arrive.”
“Yes, m’m. We’ll do our best. Though, I’ll be surprised if they haven’t heard about it. Such terrible things going on out there.”
“Yes, well, hopefully it will all end soon and we can all stop worrying about it.” Determined to change the subject, she asked the housekeeper about her daughter and managed to enjoy her breakfast while Mrs. Chubb happily gave her the latest news.
After leaving the kitchen, Cecily headed for the library. Madeline had planned to decorate the tree in there that morning and Cecily wanted some time alone to talk to her.
Madeline was over by the window, putting the finishing touches on the magnificent fir that had taken three footmen to set up in the corner.
Cecily took a moment to drink in and enjoy the sight. As always, Madeline had created a breathtaking vision of color and design. Balls of frosted glass spun slowly on silver strings, pomander spice balls dangled from red ribbons, and a cascade of crocheted snowflakes clung to every branch.
In between hung tiny bags of bright green and red cotton, filled with candied fruit and almond sticks for the children. There were even glistening sugar fondants nestled among the branches in various shapes and sizes.
“Madeline! It looks absolutely beautiful! I don’t know how you do it.”
Madeline stood back to inspect her work. “Really? I was thinking it looked a little insipid. It needs more color, don’t you think?” She dug into a box and pulled out a handful of bright red velvet birds. “How about these scattered about? Like so.” She perched one of the birds on a branch and stood back again, her head tilted so that her shiny black hair swung about her hip.
“They are adorable!” Cecily moved closer to examine the colorful ornament. “Wherever did you find them?”
“In a curiosity shop in Wellercombe.” She darted about the tree, poking the birds in between the branches. “They had all kinds of new ornaments there. Most of them are made by the villagers. You should go with me next time. We’d have fun picking out pieces we like.”
“I’d love that.” Cecily walked over to the window. “The snow has almost all gone now. At least I don’t have that to worry about now.”
“You have nothing new on the murders?”
Cecily wandered back to the tree. “Nothing, unless news of the fire at the Fox Hunters Club didn’t reach you yet.”
Madeline looked at her, her eyes troubled. “Kevin was called out to the scene yesterday. That was the work of the Christmas Angel?”
“We think so. Though the only clue they found were the gold angels scattered about. Those stamps are easy enough to come by and could have been left by anyone. It was fortunate that all but one survived, though that won’t be any comfort to the family of the victim.”
Madeline placed another bird on a branch. “Well, this might sound uncharitable, but that’s at least one hunter who won’t be chasing an innocent fox.”
Knowing how her friend felt about hunting, Cecily merely nodded.
“Not that I wish death on any of them,” Madeline added, “but I do wish the destruction of their clubhouse and the loss of a member would put an end to their diabolical practices. Foxhunting is particularly cruel and inhumane. It should be banned.”
Something inside Cecily’s mind ticked over. “I wonder if that could be a motive for the fire,” she murmured. “Maybe someone else feels as strongly as you do about foxhunting and decided to take advantage of the search for the killer to get rid of a few hunters and put the blame on the Christmas Angel.”