Free God Rob Ye Merry Gentleman by Andrea Frazer Page B

so?’
    â€˜Yer gotter get in early like in everyfink else in society,’ came the reply from the diminutive head honcho, then his eyes widened as she handed him a ten-pound note. ‘Coo! Fanks, Missus. We only usually gets a ’andful of change. Yer a real toff, you are.’
    Beauchamp Minor had silently re-joined the group, and Lady Amanda suddenly began to wonder where on earth the little boy who had been caught short had got to. ‘Didn’t you supervise his, er, visit?’ she hissed to her footman.
    â€˜I didn’t realise that was necessary,’ he whispered back.
    â€˜Well, go and find him. He could be lost anywhere. This place can be a real maze to strangers.’
    It was a further five or six minutes, before the little boy was located at the foot of the main staircase, looking very forlorn. ‘Sorry, missus. Must’ve taken a wrong turning,’ he offered by way of apology. ‘Fank Gawd you found me. I coulda been wanderin’ for days. Right rats’ maze this place is. I don’t know ’ow yer do it, find yer way around, like.’ He really did look relieved to have been thus located and guided back to the front door.
    â€˜Come on, you lot. We’ve got loads of uvver ’ouses to go to before we’ve finished. Ta for the cash, missus,’ spake their little leader, and suddenly they were all gone, trotting down the drive as if they were genuinely late for an appointment.
    As Beauchamp Minor closed the door, Lady Amanda commented ‘What a bizarre little incident, and what forward-thinking children, to come right at the beginning of the month. Charming bunch, if a little rough around the edges. It really restores one’s faith in human nature and young people in general, especially at this time of year.’
    â€˜Proper carols, too,’ added Hugo. ‘Really took me back.’

THE FIRST SUNDAY IN DECEMBER
    â€˜Come along, everyone, or they’ll be starting without us.’ It was the night of the annual carol service in Belchester Cathedral, and Hugo was making a great fuss of having mislaid his leather gloves. It was bitterly cold outside.
    â€˜Put your hands in your pockets if you’re cold. You’ll only be in the car for a few minutes.’
    â€˜But it’s as cold as the grave in that draughty old cathedral, Manda, especially with the weather like this.’
    â€˜Then wear your woollen mittens.’ Lady Amanda was getting quite testy with him.
    â€˜Woollen mittens in a cathedral? That’s most unseemly.’
    â€˜Then put your mittened hands in your pockets. And where’s Beauchamp got to with that dratted Rolls?’
    The beep of a horn soon provided the answer to that question, and they all went out to get aboard, the mood not quite one of the seasonal goodwill they had hoped would be infusing them. Hugo had found his gloves at the last moment in his mackintosh pocket, so at least he didn’t have to worry about appearing in one of the superior houses of God with woollen hand coverings.
    The cathedral was cold, but not as icy as they had expected, and their breath rose to the ceiling as they sang their hearts out, as if indeed it was ascending to heaven in praise of the season.

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS …
    â€˜Beauchamp! Sorry, sorry, sorry – Major,’ Lady Amanda called from the music room. As the soundless form appeared, she said, somewhat testily, ‘Have you seen Great-Aunt Jemima’s silver baton anywhere? I’m sure I left it on the piano, and I’m going to help with choir practice in the New Year. I’ll need to get used to beating in pattern again, especially if they’re going to tackle anything very modern with, say, five beats in a bar.’
    â€˜I’m afraid not, your ladyship. I shall institute a search for it immediately. It can’t have gone far.’ Beauchamp Major’s tone was soothing, as he knew his mistress had a habit of