She couldn’t see any movement ahead, and above her the thick branches of the evergreens shut out the light, so everything around her was clothed in murky shadows. Even Tess had stopped her whining, and only the rustling of the wind in the trees competed with the thump of her heart.
Pansy halted, clutching her thin scarf to her throat. “Samuel?” Her voice sounded thin and high. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Samuel? Tess? Where are you? I can’t see you.”
No one answered. Frightened now, she took a few steps deeper into the woods. “Samuel? Samuel!”
“I’m here.”
The harsh voice had drifted out to her from the dense thicket of trees. She took a nervous step in that direction, then all at once Samuel appeared from behind the thick trunk of a gnarled old oak tree.
Relief swamped her, until she saw his face. His skin had turned as pale as a bleached sheet. His eyes looked huge and stared back at her as if she were some wild animal getting ready to attack him.
“Samuel?”
She took a step toward him and his hand shot up, freezing her to the spot. When he spoke his voice sounded so different she hardly recognized it.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Her own voice barely above a whisper, she answered him. “What? Why not?”
Samuel clutched his stomach and leaned the other hand against the oak’s trunk. His next words chilled her to the bone. “Because I just found Ellie, and it’s not a pretty sight.”
CHAPTER 9
Gertie stacked the last dish on the draining board and reached for the soggy tea towel. It had taken her twice as long without Pansy, but she knew, only too well, what it was like to be late on a day off. When you only got one afternoon a week, every minute was precious. Especially if you were spending it with someone you really liked.
Gertie sighed. She used to long for her afternoon off so she could spend it with Dan. That was when they were first getting to know each other and every moment with him was exciting.
Nowadays, all they seemed to do was argue with each other. She knew that Dan missed living in the city, and was getting bored with the sleepy little village of Badgers End. He kept telling her there was nothing to do down there, and the winters were too long.
Twice he’d asked her if she’d move to London with him, and both times she’d refused to consider it. She didn’t want her twins growing up in London. She’d seen what the city could do to people, and she wanted none of that for her children.
Besides, everyone she knew and loved lived in Badgers End. She’d miss them all, and her job. She loved working at the Pennyfoot, meeting new people every week or so.
She loved living across the street from the ocean and all that fresh air. Not like the black fog from the coal fires that choked the streets of London. They didn’t call it The Smoke for nothing.
No, she wouldn’t give up her life again for a man. She’d done it once, moving to Scotland to be with Ross. How she’d hated it up there. The bitterly cold winters, the strange customs and accents that were impossible to understand. Much as she loved Dan, and she loved him far more than she’d loved Ross, she wouldn’t do it again. She and her twins belonged in Badgers End and that’s where they’d stay.
“I want to give Harriet a bath.”
The high-pitched voice piping behind her startled her out of her wits. She spun around, the bone china plate slipping through her fingers. It landed with a splintering crash on the floor, making the little girl in front of her jump back in horror.
“You dropped the plate!”
Gertie scowled. “Now how on earth did you find out about that?”
Adelaide drew her brows together. “I didn’t find out. I saw it.”
Obviously sarcasm was wasted on the child. Gertie stooped to pick up the pieces. “What are you doing in the kitchen anyway? You’re not supposed to be in here. Does your mummy know where you are?”
Adelaide shrugged. “She’s sleeping.”
“What about your nanny?”
“She’s reading in the library. I crept out when she wasn’t looking.”
“And your brother?”
“He crept out, too. I don’t know where he went.”
Some other lucky blighter being bothered by him, no doubt, Gertie thought darkly. “Well, you’d better go back to the library before your nanny sees you missing and decides to raise the alarm.”
Adelaide ran her finger down the edge of the table then licked it. She pulled a face, and stuck the offending finger into the pocket of her apron. “What’s an alarm?”
“It’s a loud bell that tells people something is wrong so they come running.”
“The bell can talk?”
Gertie muttered a word under her breath so the child wouldn’t hear it. “No, it can’t talk.”
“Harriet can talk.” The little girl held the doll’s face up to her ear, frowned in concentration, then announced, “Harriet wants a bath.”
“Then you’ll have to take her to the lavatory. There’s no bath in here.”
“She wants a bath in there.” Adelaide pointed to the sink and held the doll over it as if about to drop it in.
Abandoning the scattered pieces of china, Gertie surged to her feet and grabbed the doll. “No! You’ll spoil all its clothes. They’ll get all wet and stained.” She fingered the delicate silk and lace in awe. “She has such beautiful clothes. Better than I’ve ever seen. I wish I had clothes like this to wear.”
“Mommy will buy me more clothes for her. She buys me anything I want.” Adelaide stretched out her hand for the doll but Gertie held it up out of reach.
“You’re not getting her back until you promise not to give her a bath. Or at least, take her clothes off before you get her wet.”
Adelaide pouted, and just then the door opened and Mrs. Chubb bustled in. She took one look at Adelaide and her eyes widened in dismay. “What on earth is that child doing in the kitchen?”
“Causing a lot more trouble than she’s worth,” Gertie muttered.
Mrs. Chubb gasped. “Don’t tell me that’s one of our best china plates all over the floor. Who did that? Did she do that?”
Adelaide promptly opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream. “No, I didn’t! She broke it, and she’s hurting Harriet! She’s going to drown her in the sink!”
“Don’t be daft.” Gertie thrust the doll at her. “You was the one that wanted to drop her in there. Besides, you can’t drown a doll. She’s not alive like a real baby.”
“She is, she is!” Adelaide hugged the doll to her chest, her cries drowning out Mrs. Chubb’s next words.
The housekeeper sent Gertie a murderous look, then ushered the sobbing child out of the kitchen, muttering, “There, there, precious.”
Gertie rolled her eyes as the door closed behind them. As if she didn’t have enough to put up with, what with all the extra work that Christmas brought.
She stooped again to pick up the pieces of the shattered plate. Fine bloody Christmas this was. She missed the twins. It wasn’t Christmas without them. Sighing, she dropped the broken china into the lap of her apron. Soon they’d be home, and then maybe she’d feel better about things.
She climbed to her feet, then holding the corners of her apron up, walked over to the back door. Stepping outside, she looked up at the sky. Dark clouds scurried overhead, driven by the brisk winds from the sea.
Shivering, she trudged over to the dustbin and opened the lid. The broken pieces of china clattered as she dropped them in, and she closed the lid with a bang. As she turned around to hurry back inside, a man appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and stepped in front of her.
Startled, she drew back with a gasp. “Lenny! You made me jump. Where did you come from?”