Free The Twelve Clues of Christmas by Rhys Bowen Page B

what ghastly things she wants to do with the decorations. And the vicar only wants the good old hymns. He shot down my version of ‘
In Dulci Jubilo
.’ Positively shot it down—after the choirboys have been practicing it, too. Oh, well, if he wants a boring midnight mass, he shall have one.”
    And he swept away with small mincing steps before I could be introduced. Bunty and I exchanged a smile. “He’s always upset about something,” she said. “Always complaining to the parish council and seething with indignation.” We approached the gates leading to Gorzley Hall. “So now you’ve seen what a strange lot we are. Hopelessly inbred, all crackers.” And she laughed.

Chapter 9
    G ORZLEY H ALL
    D ECEMBER 21 AND THEN 22
    As we were about to turn in to the drive an ancient motorcar drew up across the street and three birdlike old ladies were helped out by an equally ancient chauffeur.
    “We’ve been shopping, Miss Hawse-Gorzley,” one of them called excitedly. “Such fun. Almost forgot the crackers, and we were afraid that Hanleys would have sold out, but they hadn’t.”
    “And your dear mother invited us again to join you for Christmas luncheon,” the second old lady called to us. “We look forward to it all year.” She turned for affirmation to her two companions, who were handing packages to the chauffeur. “And I hope you won’t forget to come caroling at our house. Cook has made enough mince pies to feed an army.”
    With that they tottered like a line of ducklings into their house. I knew, of course, they could only be the Ffrench-Finch sisters.
    “They are rather sweet, really,” Bunty said. “Never married. Lived here all their lives. How boring, don’t you agree? But they seem content enough. Of course, Effie, the oldest, bosses the other two around. They have a really good cook. Mummy’s tried to lure her away several times, but she won’t leave them.”
    With that we continued up the drive toward the house. We spent a pleasant afternoon putting up holly and mistletoe. I thought that Bunty made a big fuss about the correct situation of the mistletoe sprig, as the only younger males were to be her brother and her cousin. I also made note of where it was so that I could avoid standing there. I really dislike being grabbed and kissed by aged colonels.
    * * *
    T HE DECORATIONS WERE complete, apart from the tree, which would be decorated by the guests on Christmas Eve. Then after a fairly simple dinner, by their standards, during which Lady Hawse-Gorzley got through rather a lot of wine, I went to bed early. I must have slept in rather late and I woke with a start to see Queenie looming over me.
    “Morning tea, my lady,” she said. “Guess what? It’s been snowing all night. It looks lovely out there.”
    I sat up and examined the scene with pleasure. The pine trees beyond the orchard and then on Lovey Tor made the scene look almost alpine. To the left smoke was curling up from the chimney of my mother’s cottage. “It does look lovely,” I agreed. “Perfect for Christmas.”
    “Good food here, eh, miss?” she said, setting down the tray. “Will you be wearing your tartan skirt and the jumper again?”
    “No, I think the gray jersey dress and my pearls. The Americans will expect me to look like royalty.”
    “Yer gray dress and pearls?” Queenie said. “Won’t you be a bit cold in that?”
    “No, the house is actually quite warm,” I said. “You can put them out while I go and have a bath. Let’s hope the bathroom is free at this hour.”
    “I thought I might pop down and visit my auntie ’ettie after breakfast, if that’s all right with you,” she said, handing me my robe.
    “Of course. She asked after you.”
    Reluctantly leaving the warmth of my bed and taking a good swig of tea, I slipped on my robe. I had just assembled my sponge bag and towel and was halfway down the hall when I heard a violent hammering at the front door. I paused, looking down from the gallery