Free Eleven Pipers Piping by C. C. Benison Page A

bedrooms, so you see …”
    Judith’s shoulders sagged. “Well …” Her voice trailed off as she cast her eyes around the warm, comfortable room.
    “I have an idea,” Tom found himself saying. “I know we’ve barely been introduced, but you would be welcome to come and stay at the vicarage, if you like. We have extra bedrooms, and there’s only my daughter and I … and the housekeeper.”
    Saying that, a panicked thought crossed his mind: How would Mrs. Prowse take to an unexpected guest? Were the extra beds made up? Would she have wanted to run a duster over the place? Or put in fresh flowers? God knew, there was enough food in that monstrous refrigerator to feed another mouth.
    “I was a stranger and you took me in.”
She beamed at him.
    Tom smiled back. “Then, in keeping with Matthew, have you eaten?”
    “I had a little something at Newton Abbot.”
    “We’re about to have pudding, aren’t we?” He glanced at Will for agreement and decided to ignore the faint irritation ghosting his features. “Would you care to join us?”
    “Are you sure?”
    “If you don’t mind being the only woman present as a guest.”
    “Oh!” Judith tilted her head in a way that was almost coquettish. “I shouldn’t want to put you out of your fun. My husband once belonged to the Stafford Rotary and often attended such dinners.”
    “Your husband isn’t with you on this adventure?” Tom asked as they passed into the brightness of the lobby. Judith removed her coat and added it, a burst of pink, to the crowded tree of green Barbours.
    “I’m afraid my husband passed away, in November.”
    “I’m very sorry.”
    “May I join you in a few moments? If you’ll tell me …”
    “The ladies’ is just there.” Will gestured down the hall to the right of the desk.
    “And we’re off to the left,” Tom added. “First door. Just follow the voices. I hope I haven’t been presumptuous,” he murmured to Will when she’d passed from earshot.
    “No, it’s … fine.” But Tom could hear the lie in the hesitation. “Anyway, thanks for taking her in. Staying here wouldn’t be …” He seemed to grope for the word. “… wise.”

    “Bless,” said Roger, grinning at Tom after Judith had been introduced to the assembled. “I do believe, Mrs. Ingley, that you’re the thirteenth at table.”
    “Oh, am I? Oh.” Judith’s expression turned to one of faint discomfit, though her appearance had undergone a recent refurbishment, the lipstick newly bright, the silver hair freshly combed. “Then I mustn’t be the first to rise. It’s bad luck to be the first when there’s thirteen, isn’t that right? Where shall I sit?”
    “We’ve had a place set here.” Roger pointed to the end of the table next to Will. “We wouldn’t want you to have to suffer the company of the rabble down that end.”
    Laughter followed Judith to her seat. “I’m sure I’ve suffered worse. This looks lovely,” she added, settling into the chair pulled out for her, indicating the tall fluted crystal glass with contents layered white, red, and gold, set on a crested china plate arranged with a plump berry pastry. “And you had an extra. What luck!”
    “Bless, it’s not luck, Mrs. Ingley,” Roger said. “We have cranachan for twenty-two, but the snow put a stop to half the band.Which reminds me—Lads!” He raised his voice. “There’s seconds of this, if anyone wants.”
    “You’ve got more pluck than some of our lot,” John said to her.
    “I think it was more fright that kept me going.” Judith plucked a raspberry from the top of the cream-and-oatmeal concoction. “When I left Newton Abbot, the snow had become quite startling. I simply clung to the steering wheel for dear life and didn’t stop the car until I saw the Thorn Court sign. I passed quite a few drivers who had skidded off the road.”
    “Did you manage to find anywhere to park?” John asked.
    “Oh, yes.” She gestured with her spoon as she