Mistletoe and Murder by Carola Dunn Page B

eliciting a great deal of hilarity.
    Everyone tasted, including Nana, even Lady Dalrymple, but when Belinda and Derek went on crunching, she said, “Daisy, stop them. They’ll ruin their meal.”
    â€œNo, no,” said Mr. Tremayne, “they’re nothing but air, my lady. And there’s the service in the Chapel for the kiddies to sit through before we get to Christmas dinner.”
    A pall fell over the company. Alec had been aware that Calloway had not joined them at breakfast nor afterwards,
but more as a lifting of spirits than a conscious noting of his absence. He was off duty. He didn’t care where anyone happened to be at any particular time.
    â€œThe Rev must be sleeping in after wrestling with his demons in the wood all night,” Miles said lightly.
    â€œDon’t speak so disrespectfully of Mr. Calloway,” the captain snapped.
    â€œEspecially on Christmas Day.” For once Godfrey supported his brother, though his zeal seemed to Alec less a change of heart than a rather forced and unconvincing tribute to the season of goodwill to all men. “We’d better get along to the Chapel. It’s nearly eleven. He’ll be upset if we’re late.”
    The ancient clock began to chime the hour as Alec followed Daisy down the steps into the Chapel. A few servants sat at the back, though not nearly as many as had come to the carol singing. By daylight the Chapel had lost some of its charm, but several beautiful old paintings were visible and sun slanting through stained glass cast patches of colour on the white walls. There was no sign of Calloway. No doubt he was hanging behind to make a grand entrance.
    The congregation settled down into an expectant hush. Still no Calloway. The children began to fidget. Daisy put her arm around Belinda, and Lady Dalrymple confiscated the rubber band Derek had taken from his pocket.
    Still no Calloway. Captain Norville got up and went out. A couple of minutes later he returned, without Calloway. He went to speak to the housekeeper at the back.
    In the quiet, their whispered exchange was audible.
    â€œWho took the Reverend his morning tea?” asked the captain.

    â€œNo one, sir,” the woman said unabashed. “Mr. Calloway is not a guest of his lordship.”
    Captain Norville let out a gusty, exasperated sigh. Miles jumped up and joined him. “I’ll go and see if he’s still asleep, sir,” he offered.
    â€œThank you, my boy.” The captain raised his voice. “In the meantime, while Miles fetches Mr. Calloway, I suggest that anyone who wishes should go out to the Hall and make themselves comfortable.”
    Daisy immediately shepherded the children out. Alec paused to let Lady Dalrymple go ahead, but she stayed behind for a moment of private prayer. When she caught up with them, she made straight for his side and started to complain about the ill-breeding of modern churchmen in general and the Reverend Calloway in particular.
    Alec supposed it was better to be the recipient of her complaints than their subject.
    He did not have to suffer long before Miles came into the Hall from the East Wing. “Mr. Calloway’s bed hasn’t been slept in,” he announced.
    â€œHe’s hooked it,” Felicity said at once.
    â€œDon’t be vulgar, dear,” said her mother automatically, but she looked relieved.
    The captain stared at Miles, seemingly silenced by shock, while Jemima muttered, “Good riddance!” and old Mrs. Norville murmured, “Oh dear!”
    â€œPiffle!” cried Godfrey Norville, much perturbed. “Why should he leave so unceremoniously? As Victor’s guest, he was welcome at Brockdene. We did our poor best to make him welcome, didn’t we?”
    â€œDon’t worry, Father, he hasn’t gone off,” said Miles. “At any rate, as far as I can tell only his outdoor clothes
are missing. Perhaps he decided to walk into Calstock to go to