A Family Christmas Turns to Murder

Chapter One

Is there any greater joy than a balmy day in December?

In London, no less. The sun was out, the breeze light, and the temperature had to be at least fifty-five degrees.

I had just arrived home, buoyant from both the weather and a successful shopping expedition, and handed over my coat to our butler.

My purchases, gifts for the girls, would be delivered in a day or two, to be hidden away in the guest room, behind a locked door, until Father Christmas arrived—or Santa Claus, as the American in me still thought of him.

“Good afternoon, Jarvis. Is Mr. Hazelton at home?”

He tipped his dark head toward the drawing room and took a step closer to me.

I’m convinced Jarvis had broken his nose at some point in his life and it had not healed properly.

It had a sharp bump on the bridge and a slight twist to the right.

It was the only thing that broke up the flat planes of the rest of his features.

“Mr. Hazelton and the trio have assembled in the drawing room and await your arrival.”

A knot of dread landed in my stomach. Mr. Hazelton was my husband, George. The trio consisted of my nine-year-old daughter, Rose; Lissette Hazelton, George’s fifteen-year-old cousin and ward; and Christine Granger, her half sister, who would be twenty-one in ten days.

To be clear, I adored all three young ladies, but since Lissette and Christine moved in with us in July, they seemed to think our household was some sort of democracy.

Perhaps it was their French upbringing. Rose had eagerly joined their sisterhood, and lately nearly every single family decision had been subject to collective negotiation.

It was exhausting.

“Have you any idea what they want?” I asked Jarvis.

He hung his head. “I’m afraid not, madam. This meeting has completely taken me by surprise, but I believe it was at the instigation of Mr. Hazelton.”

That was some relief. Anything George had to announce would be reasonable, though I did wonder why he had given me no warning. No matter. I removed my hat and handed it to Jarvis, who gave me an encouraging nod, then moved to the drawing room door.

“If they haven’t already ordered tea, would you have a tray sent up?” I asked him.

“Of course, madam,” he replied, opening the door.

George came to his feet as I swept into the room. Since I was as tall as most men, it was lovely that George was even taller. He also had wavy hair, dark like the beard that skimmed his chin and cheeks, and moss-green eyes, which never failed to distract me.

“Here you are at last, Frances.” In a few long strides he was at my side and placed my hand on his arm.

Our drawing room, done up in shades of blue and green, was arranged with a table and chairs at the front of the room for cards or some other game, a cozy conversation area surrounding a tea table in the center, and two wingback chairs at the back framing a long window that looked out over the garden.

My eye would have been drawn to that window if the trio was not standing in front of it, lined up like soldiers.

My own blue eyes gazed back at me from Rose’s face.

The youngest and shortest, she stood to the left of her comrades, and her dark braids bounced as she hopped from one foot to the other with excitement.

Christine stood beside her, fair and pretty and, perhaps because she was the oldest, much more relaxed.

Next to her was Lissette, the tallest of the three, with dark hair and eyes and always crackling with nervous energy.

I felt a bit nervous myself.

“We’ve been awaiting your arrival since we didn’t want to make any decisions without you,” George continued. He led me to the conversation area and motioned for the girls to come forward.

“Decisions? What sort of decisions?” I took a seat in one of the armchairs at the short end of the tea table.

“For Christmas, of course,” Rose said, leaning into the arm of my chair. “It’s almost here.”

I caressed her soft cheek. “So it is, but what decisions are left to make at this late date?” I turned from Rose to Lissette and Christine, who sat on the sofa.

“The tree has been ordered and will be delivered on Christmas Eve. I’ve already discussed Christmas dinner with the chef, and”—I preened just a bit—“I have a surprise for all of you.”

George’s frown was unexpected. “A surprise?”

“I’ve reserved a box for us for the Christmas concert at Royal Albert Hall.”

“Is that on Christmas Day?” George asked.

“As always,” I replied. Glancing around me, I saw nothing but disappointed faces. Rose backed away to the sofa and plopped down next to Christine.

“What is wrong with everyone? George? Rose? You love the concert.”

“Then you wish to stay in town for the festive season?” George asked.

The knot of dread I’d felt upon entering the room tightened like a noose. “It’s what I expected we’d do.” I spoke the words haltingly. “It’s already the nineteenth of December, and none of you have suggested we do anything else.” Was I walking into a trap?

“Cousin Fiona has invited us all out to Hadley Grange for Christmas,” Lissette said. Though her late mother was English, Lissette was raised in France, and she spoke with the slightest French accent. When she was excited, her voice rose in pitch, as it had just done.

Fiona was George’s sister and my dear friend. “She has asked us to Hadley Grange for Christmas every year since I’ve known her,” I said, hoping Lissette wasn’t in favor of accepting. “She knows I always decline.”

“Why?” Rose asked.

“Why? At first, it was because Christmas was one of the few times we could rely on your father to be at home.” Rose’s father was my first husband, the late Earl of Harleigh. Womanizing, spending my money, and being home at Christmas were the sum of his reliability.

“After he passed, well, there were so many holiday activities to enjoy here in town, like the Christmas concert.” I gave Rose a close look. “At least I thought you enjoyed them?”

“I certainly enjoyed them last year.” George slipped around the sofa to stand behind Rose. “And I’m certain Rose did, too, but are we so set in our ways that we can’t try something different this year?”

“Something different being Hadley Grange? I love spending time with your sister and her family, but need I remind you that she almost always changes her mind about spending the holidays in the country and they ultimately stay in town?”

“Not this year.” Heavens, George was grinning from ear to ear. “She, Robert, and the children are there already and have urged us to join them. There is a forecast for snow in the next few days.”

The trio sent up a cheer. Fortunately, Jarvis chose that moment to bring in the tea tray, along with an assortment of mouthwatering cakes and sandwiches.

When he left, everyone helped themselves to the latter while I poured the tea, trying to comprehend the fact that all my nearest and dearest had pooh-poohed my idea of the perfect Christmas.

“You cannot trust the forecast on the Norfolk coast, which is another reason I have declined Fiona’s invitations over the years. The weather is often unpleasant at Hadley Grange. At this time of year, the wind is blustery, the sky gray, and the temperatures can be fiendishly cold.”

“They are expecting snow!” Lissette sang out, as if that were a good thing.

“We always had snow at Christmas in Chartres,” Christine said wistfully.

“There’s never snow in London,” Rose muttered.

I could see where this was going. Clearly, I was the only one here enjoying our current wave of fine weather.

The others were dreaming of a blizzard. Whatever was wrong with them?

I caught George’s eye. “Are you also tantalized by the promise of snow? You know the weather on the coast is terribly unpredictable.”

“The village of Badenworth and Hadley Grange are at least twenty miles inland.” He smiled, knowing I was giving in. “I am happy to celebrate the season wherever you choose to be, my love. But I must admit I am warming up to the idea of a large, noisy gathering of family on Christmas Day.”

“The problem is I’ve already declined Fiona’s invitation.”

“She’s sent a second one, imploring us to come,” he said. “She noted that it would be good for the girls to spend time with their cousins. And she does mention snow.”

Fiona had a point. Not the snow, of course, but her son and daughter would likely enjoy the company of children their age, or at least nearer.

So would Rose. And it sounded like Lissette and Christine were longing for more winterlike weather.

“But it’s already the nineteenth. We will have to leave in a few days. ”

George grimaced. “Actually, Fiona recommends we come as soon as possible to avoid being stuck in the snow halfway there.”

“If we are to stay until Epiphany, we’ll be there for more than two weeks.

” My statement elicited a cheer from the two younger girls.

“All right, then. Have all of you completed your shopping? I’ll warn you, some of your gifts will not be delivered in time to take them with us. Are you ready to depart right away?”

Everyone agreed that they were prepared to leave the next day.

“But wait,” I said. “What about Aunt Hetty?” Hetty Chesney, my aunt, lived next door to us, in my former house. She was as dear to me as my own mother, and far easier to get on with. We couldn’t leave her alone at Christmas.

“Why can’t Aunt Hetty come with us?” Rose asked.

“Because she wouldn’t want to leave Mr. Gilliam alone,” Christine replied, a frown furrowing her brow. “It wouldn’t be right to go without her.”

Mr. Herbert Gilliam was Hetty’s beau, and Christine was correct. Hetty was likely eager to celebrate Christmas with him.

“Hadley Grange is quite large enough for all of us,” George said. Indeed, the place was enormous. “Gilliam would be as welcome as Hetty. I say they both join us.”