Free 05 - Mistletoe and Murder by Evelyn James

Mrs
James assured them, “Does Mr Sampford need anything? Is he hurt?”
    “Only his pride.” Andrews
grumbled, “What about you?”
    He pointed a finger at Flo.
    “I never leave my room at
night, just in case.” She said immediately.
    “And you?” The pointing finger
turned on Jane.
    The girl, a little younger
than Flo, was trembling slightly.
    “If someone went downstairs,”
She said in a quavering voice, “Would they be in a lot of trouble?”
    Before Andrews spoke, Clara
butted in.
    “Absolutely not. No one was banned
from going downstairs. We only want to know if what Mr Sampford heard was an
actual person. There is nothing to be concerned about.”
    “And,” Jane’s voice had almost
dropped to a squeaky whisper, “And, if that person accidentally forgot to not use the back stairs, would they be in trouble for that?”
    “No.” Clara said gently,
“Jane, did you go downstairs?”
    Jane gave a little sniff.
    “I wanted a drink of water,
that’s all. I remembered to use the main stairs to go down, but when I went to
come up I forgot myself and just ran up the back stairs. It was about an hour
ago, I suppose.”
    Andrews was about to explode
with indignation, so Clara shoved him firmly out of the room.
    “Thank you Jane, you did
nothing wrong. Go back to bed.” She said as she disappeared after him.
    She only just managed to get
Andrews onto the main stairs before his temper let loose.
    “That damn stupid child ruined
everything!” He snarled.
    “These things happen Mr
Andrews, at least we have explained the footprints.”
    “You are just delighted to be
right.” Andrews pointed that aggressive finger at her, “Hah, but I have the
last laugh Miss Fitzgerald, for what about the bell? Who rang that I ask you?”
    “Could not someone going up
the stairs have done it?” Clara suggested.
    “No, no, no. I have you there!
Something rang that bell and you can’t prove it was a person.” Andrews gave her
a smug smile and then trotted off down the stairs.
    Clara found herself screwing
up her hands into fists. Some people, she found herself thinking, were
completely unbearable.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Clara found Tommy in his bedroom
wrapped up to the chin in a thick coat and scarf and sniffling loudly. He
sneezed into a handkerchief as she entered.
    “How are you?” She asked.
    “Dying.” He snuffled miserably.
    “Jolly good. I was thinking
you could pay a call on the British library and see what material they have on
the history of Berkeley Square.” Clara said, having not listened to Tommy’s
answer.
    Her brother glared at her over
his scarf. Clara paused for a moment.
    “Unless you don’t feel up to
it?”
    “I did say I was dying.”
    “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
    Tommy sighed.
    “That fellow Andrews really
has you in a tizzy, doesn’t he?”
    “He is impossible!” Clara said
rather loudly, then she looked guiltily at the open door. She went and closed
it before, in a more subdued tone, she continued, “He refuses to listen to
rational thinking.”
    “I heard the commotion last
night. I feel quite left out down here.” Tommy sniffed morosely.
    “Quite frankly, you are better
off down here. He has turned the second floor hallway into a spider’s web of
wires and managed to give poor Elijah a mild concussion in the process. He has
bells and things that measure vibrations. You should have seen his face when he
thought he had caught ghostly footprints in the flour he left on the staircase.
He almost exploded when he learned one of the maids had accidentally made
them.”
    “So, no phantom last night?”
    “As far as I can tell…” Clara
hesitated, “Look, between you and me Tommy, I can account for everything that
went on up there except for the ringing of a bell. Mr Andrews is adamant the
bell would not have rung just because a maid ran up the back stairs. Naturally
I didn’t believe him, so I conducted an experiment while everyone was at
breakfast. I ran up and down