Free A New York Christmas by Anne Perry

The last thing she wanted was to cause inconvenience by being either early or late. Everyone else was present. They all looked up as she came into the room and took the same chair as she had previously, the only one currently unoccupied.
    “Good morning,” she said quietly.
    Mr. Albright looked up from his plate and replied politely but without expression.
    “Good morning, Miss Pitt,” Brent answered. He looked at her guardedly, his light eyes distant, as though she were the merest acquaintance. Perhaps he was withholding judgment, but certainly he had not acquitted her in his mind.
    Harley glanced at her without speaking at all, and continued with his meal.
    Phinnie was very smartly dressed in clothes Jemima knew she had not brought with her. They were the height of fashion, big-sleeved and wide-skirted, actually rather too old for her, dominating her youthful beauty.
    “Good morning, Jemima,” Phinnie said coolly, then searched for something else to say, and found nothing.
    Only Celia addressed Jemima with warmth. “Good morning, Miss Pitt. I hope you slept well?”
    Harley glared at her but she ignored him, continuing to speak to Jemima.
    “I am going shopping in the middle of the day, and will take luncheon in town. Perhaps you would like to accompany me?”
    “Is that wise, Aunt Celia?” Brent asked, frowning at her.
    Celia’s temper was raw and she clearly held it in with difficulty. “What are you suggesting, Brent? That we require Miss Pitt to spend the rest of her time as our guest sitting in her room? It is still nine days until Christmas, and two weeks until the wedding.”
    “I am aware what day it is,” Brent replied. “It is the middle of winter and everything is covered with snow. It is not a great hardship to stay in a well-heated house with a library and a music room, and servants to bring you anything you might wish. Most people would count themselves very fortunate to enjoy such a life.”
    Phinnie looked at him, her eyes soft and bright, then back at Celia. “Brent is right. I’m sure Jemima will be very comfortable, and grateful for your hospitality.” Her voice quivered a little on the last sentence, but it was impossible to tell what emotion moved her. It could have been pity, fear of the future, an ever-increasing devotion to Brent, or anxiety that he thought Jemima guilty of some kind of complicity in Maria’s death. It might even have been grief. Even so, Jemima did not care for being spoken around, as if she were not present to answer for herself.
    Harley looked at them one by one, and said nothing. He seemed to be watching, waiting for something.
    Jemima looked at Celia. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I would be delighted to come with you. To walk a little would be very pleasant, and I should enjoy your company.”

J emima was in the hall, with her overcoat on, waiting for Celia, when Phinnie came over to her. Her brows were drawn down and her expression was one of annoyance.
    “Jemima, are you deliberately trying to spoil my wedding?” She said it quietly, so no nearby servant could overhear her, but with an edge of real anger in her tone. “Celia was just being pleasant to you! Can’t you see that? The last thing she wants is to be seen with you in public. Mr. Albright paid to have you released because he is a good man. That doesn’t mean anyone here thinks you are innocent!”
    Jemima felt as if she had been slapped. No wonder Celia did not wish the rest of the family to know that it was she who had paid Jemima’s bail, presumably with her own money!
    “Indeed?” Jemima said coldly. “And does that include you?”
    “What can I think?” Phinnie demanded. “That it was some lunatic off the street? Why? From what Harley said, she had nothing to steal. She was found in her own bed, stabbed to death.”
    “I know that!” Jemima snapped. “I was the one who found her, poor woman.”
    “She wasn’t a ‘poor woman,’ ” Phinnie said bitterly. “She had