Mistletoe and Murder by Carola Dunn

listened with half an ear, more interested in what was going on behind her.
    â€œSecular songs!” Calloway exclaimed.
    â€œCelebrating the season,” pleaded Captain Norville.
    â€œCelebrating strong drink and heathen nature-worship.”

    â€œChristian charity and the hope of eternal life. Joy at Christ’s nativity,” the captain urged.
    â€œSecular songs,” Calloway repeated obdurately, “in a consecrated chapel decorated with greenery. I cannot be expected to hold a sacred service surrounded by symbols of pagan polytheism.”
    â€œI’ll go and take the holly and the ivy down myself immediately,” promised the captain, but Daisy thought she heard as much resentment in his voice as appeasement.
    The children had run ahead into the Hall. Following, Daisy saw that someone had lit all the candles on the tree and extinguished the lamps. Derek and Belinda stood gazing at it, the yearly miracle forever fresh. Then Bel began to sing.

    â€œAway in a manger, no crib for a bed …”

    Derek joined in:

    â€œThe little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.”

    â€œIsn’t it beautiful, Mummy? Like the stars in the bright sky for baby Jesus.”
    â€œIt is beautiful,” said someone softly, and Daisy was astonished to find the Reverend nearby. “A beacon of light in a dark world, like our Lord. I cannot see my way clearly. I must pray. Mr. Norville, is the chapel in the woods locked?”
    â€œNo,” said Godfrey Norville mistrustfully, “it’s kept open.”

    â€œI shall pray there tonight. I must be alone, away from the conflict I feel in this house.”
    â€œWhat, now?”
    â€œNo, later. As the hour of the birth of our Lord approaches, I shall pray for guidance.” He laid his hand on Belinda’s head. “Thank you, my child, for helping me to see the meaning.” He moved away.
    â€œMy word!” marvelled Felicity. “Perhaps he’s human after all. I wonder which way he’s going to jump.”
    â€œJump?” Daisy queried, hoping for enlightenment.
    Felicity shook her head, a touch of mockery in her smile. “Sorry, Daisy, my lips are sealed.”
    Daisy decided to be frank. “I wish I knew what’s going on. There are so many undercurrents, it’s quite unsettling. The conflict Mr. Calloway feels, I suppose.”
    â€œI said he’d ruin Christmas,” Jemima butted in malevolently. “I wish he’d never come. I wish Uncle Vic never found him. I wish he was dead!”
    â€œOh, stow it, Jemmie. It’s you who’ll be spoiling Christmas if you don’t look out.”
    â€œBuck up, Jem.” Miles joined them. “You look like the end of a wet week. Think of presents and turkey and flaming Christmas pud.”
    â€œI don’t like Christmas pudding.”
    â€œI’ll let you in on a secret: Cook’s made a trifle in honour of our distinguished guests.”
    â€œI wish they’ d never come, too!” said the impossible girl, and flounced off.
    Her brother and sister sighed in union. “Sorry, Daisy,” said Miles. “She’s rather too much for Mother, I’m afraid.”
    â€œHer manners are simply dire,” Felicity agreed. “I wonder
if Uncle Vic or Grandfather could stump up for a couple of years of school for her.”
    â€œA good idea. It’s worth putting out a few feelers.” Miles paused. “But not until this business is over. There’s no knowing what may come of it. Ah, the candles are sputtering. Light a couple of lamps, Flick, while I snuff them before the tree goes up in flames.”
    Her curiosity burning, with no prospect of satisfaction, Daisy went to send the children to bed.
    Â 
    â€œ … And I don’t think I’ve ever been so utterly clueless as to what’s going