“But I do hope the other guests won’t prove so . . . different.”
We went to bed. For some reason I couldn’t sleep, but lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the hoot of an owl in the stillness. Random thoughts flew around my head concerning the three mysterious deaths, escaped convicts, the village idiot, the wild girl and the assertion that they were “all crackers” around here. After a while I realized how still it was. The complete silence of the world indicated to me that it must still be snowing and I thought how jolly it would be to have a white Christmas. My dear ones were nearby. There was loads of lovely food and drink and a house that wasn’t freezing. And no Fig for miles and miles. I wasn’t going to let those three deaths, the escaped convicts or difficult Americans spoil it for me.
Chapter 11
G ORZLEY H ALL
D ECEMBER 23
Other guests arrive today. Hoping they won’t be as difficult as the Wexlers. Not sure I’m cut out for the role of social hostess!
I was awakened early the next morning by the Wexlers tramping down the corridor talking loudly. I didn’t wait for Queenie and morning tea, but went down the hall to the bathroom, then came back and dressed, this time in the skirt from my tweed suit plus a blouse and cardigan—not exactly smart but at least different from the day before. As I came downstairs the butler was standing in the entrance hall. “It’s still not working, my lady,” he called.
He heard my feet on the stairs and looked up at me, then continued. “The telephone line appears to be down. Maybe it snowed during the night, but there is certainly no connection this morning.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley came through from the breakfast room looking harassed. “It’s too bad,” she said. “Now I’ll have to send the motor into town to deliver the message, I suppose.”
“Is there something I could do?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose you could go to the police station and ask to use their telephone,” she said. “It is an emergency, after all.”
“Emergency?” I felt my pulse rate quicken.
“Yes, I need to let the butcher know that I changed my mind. I do want the geese to go with the turkeys. I’m not a big fan of goose myself—so rich and fatty, isn’t it? But Oswald reminded me that it is the traditional Christmas fowl, so I’m afraid we must serve some. The guests will be expecting it.”
“So you’d like me to put in a telephone call to the butcher?”
“Yes. Skaggs, the butcher. The girl on the switchboard will connect you. Tell him that Lady Hawse-Gorzley changed her mind and she does want the geese delivered early tomorrow morning to go with the turkeys.”
“I can certainly do that for you,” I said.
“Go and have your breakfast first, dear,” she said. “The Wexlers have already finished theirs. It appears they only take some kind of cereal that resembles twigs at home, and they absolutely refused to try the kidneys.” She shook her head as if they were already a lost cause. “There is no huge hurry, although I’m sure the butcher will be busy all day today. And we don’t exactly know when the other guests will arrive so I will be tied to the house all day. And the Wexlers asked about stockings. What exactly do people do with stockings at Christmas?”
“Hang them up for Father Christmas, I believe.”
“Hang them where?”
“Over the fireplace.”
“My dear, with this many people it would look like a Chinese laundry, wouldn’t it? No, I think we’ll dispense with stockings. I’ll have a present for everybody inside a snow house and those who want to can exchange gifts privately or put them under the tree.”
“Oh,” I said, staring at her as the thought struck me. “Are we supposed to give presents?”
“Not you, my dear. Absolutely not necessary.”
I nodded, my brain still racing. We didn’t go in for presents much at Castle Rannoch. I always gave my nephew, Podge, a little something. Binky and Fig occasionally
We went to bed. For some reason I couldn’t sleep, but lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the hoot of an owl in the stillness. Random thoughts flew around my head concerning the three mysterious deaths, escaped convicts, the village idiot, the wild girl and the assertion that they were “all crackers” around here. After a while I realized how still it was. The complete silence of the world indicated to me that it must still be snowing and I thought how jolly it would be to have a white Christmas. My dear ones were nearby. There was loads of lovely food and drink and a house that wasn’t freezing. And no Fig for miles and miles. I wasn’t going to let those three deaths, the escaped convicts or difficult Americans spoil it for me.
Chapter 11
G ORZLEY H ALL
D ECEMBER 23
Other guests arrive today. Hoping they won’t be as difficult as the Wexlers. Not sure I’m cut out for the role of social hostess!
I was awakened early the next morning by the Wexlers tramping down the corridor talking loudly. I didn’t wait for Queenie and morning tea, but went down the hall to the bathroom, then came back and dressed, this time in the skirt from my tweed suit plus a blouse and cardigan—not exactly smart but at least different from the day before. As I came downstairs the butler was standing in the entrance hall. “It’s still not working, my lady,” he called.
He heard my feet on the stairs and looked up at me, then continued. “The telephone line appears to be down. Maybe it snowed during the night, but there is certainly no connection this morning.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley came through from the breakfast room looking harassed. “It’s too bad,” she said. “Now I’ll have to send the motor into town to deliver the message, I suppose.”
“Is there something I could do?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose you could go to the police station and ask to use their telephone,” she said. “It is an emergency, after all.”
“Emergency?” I felt my pulse rate quicken.
“Yes, I need to let the butcher know that I changed my mind. I do want the geese to go with the turkeys. I’m not a big fan of goose myself—so rich and fatty, isn’t it? But Oswald reminded me that it is the traditional Christmas fowl, so I’m afraid we must serve some. The guests will be expecting it.”
“So you’d like me to put in a telephone call to the butcher?”
“Yes. Skaggs, the butcher. The girl on the switchboard will connect you. Tell him that Lady Hawse-Gorzley changed her mind and she does want the geese delivered early tomorrow morning to go with the turkeys.”
“I can certainly do that for you,” I said.
“Go and have your breakfast first, dear,” she said. “The Wexlers have already finished theirs. It appears they only take some kind of cereal that resembles twigs at home, and they absolutely refused to try the kidneys.” She shook her head as if they were already a lost cause. “There is no huge hurry, although I’m sure the butcher will be busy all day today. And we don’t exactly know when the other guests will arrive so I will be tied to the house all day. And the Wexlers asked about stockings. What exactly do people do with stockings at Christmas?”
“Hang them up for Father Christmas, I believe.”
“Hang them where?”
“Over the fireplace.”
“My dear, with this many people it would look like a Chinese laundry, wouldn’t it? No, I think we’ll dispense with stockings. I’ll have a present for everybody inside a snow house and those who want to can exchange gifts privately or put them under the tree.”
“Oh,” I said, staring at her as the thought struck me. “Are we supposed to give presents?”
“Not you, my dear. Absolutely not necessary.”
I nodded, my brain still racing. We didn’t go in for presents much at Castle Rannoch. I always gave my nephew, Podge, a little something. Binky and Fig occasionally
Similar Books
