Chapter Twenty-two #2
This was the first chance George and Robert had to finally meet Dr. Bertram. “I’d like to express my gratitude that you sacrificed your family celebrations to this investigation,” George said, offering the man his hand.
Bertram gave George’s hand a shake. “I can say with certainty that it’s been the most unusual Christmas I’ve spent so far.”
Robert laughed. “So far? Well, I hope you don’t top it too soon.
” He clapped the doctor on the back, and Fiona ordered us all to our seats.
I noticed she put Dr. Bertram next to Christine, while Lissette sat at the other end of the table, next to George.
Surprisingly, neither sister seemed to mind.
Perhaps the doctor was growing on Christine, and Lissette was losing interest. Time would tell.
Once the soup was served, Gregory asked about our progress on the investigation. “The last we heard, Auntie Frances, was that it was either one of the Rallisons or Mrs. Penhollow.”
Robert cleared his throat. “I don’t think a murder investigation is an appropriate topic for dinner table conversation.”
“Come now, dear,” Fiona protested, surprising all of us. “It’s Christmas.”
Robert gazed at her in bewilderment. “Fine. Then I don’t think it’s a topic for Christmas dinner conversation.”
“Isn’t this Christmas Eve dinner?” Lissette asked. I judged her query to be not quite innocent, but I approved.
“Exactly,” Fiona said, casting a glare at her husband. “All subjects are acceptable for Christmas Eve dinner.”
I didn’t expect Robert to chastise me, so I answered Gregory.
“The Rallisons are no longer suspects, in my opinion, but our work is done. Your footman James delivered all our notes, your mother’s drawings, and Dr. Penhollow’s journal to Sergeant Hewitt’s home and told him that he is welcome to contact us at his convenience. ”
“It should always have been handled by the police,” Robert said. “Hewitt told us he brought Ellis in for just this sort of instance. Maybe he’s getting too old for police work.”
“He is retired,” Fiona said. “It was kind of him to step up, and I’m sure murder wasn’t the sort of instance he was expecting.”
“Regardless, he ought to have managed the investigation.”
“I doubt he would have done any better.” Fiona’s words were clipped.
George gave his sister a nod of approval.
“Had the sergeant been here, I’m sure everything would have been managed by the book.
But had our family done nothing in his absence, the evidence might well have vanished and the culprit gone undetected.
As it is, we have handed over a case file with physical evidence and witness statements.
” He gestured to Dr. Bertram. “And an expert medical opinion. Robert, you ought to be very proud of our family, as I am, for stepping into the void and collecting all this information for him.”
George lifted his glass of wine. “To everyone at this table. You are the people I want at my side in any sort of scrape.”
His declaration delighted those of us who had done the detecting, and after only the slightest embarrassment, Robert lifted his glass and joined in the toast. “I never meant to say that you did a poor job,” he said, with a glance at Fiona and a squeeze of her hand. “My hat’s off to all of you.”
That said, everyone seemed to be in agreement that even though we didn’t solve the case, we were all rather wonderful.
The rest of the meal proceeded congenially. Fiona announced, with Hetty’s permission, that we would have additional company tomorrow. “Mr. Gilliam will be coming with his son, Daniel.”
George quickly covered his surprise to lean around me with a smile for Hetty, who was seated on my other side. “I was unaware Gilliam had a son,” he said. “Will this be your first meeting?”
“It will,” she said. “I know only what Gilliam has told me of him, but he sounds like an energetic young person, eager to take on the world.”
“As we all once were,” George replied. When the children took up another topic, he lowered his voice and spoke to her. “If you have any concerns about becoming a stepparent, I will be delighted to tell you as much as you care to hear about my own happy experience.”
Hetty darted a troubled glance at me, but I shook my head and pressed a finger against my lips, hopefully assuring her that I hadn’t breathed a word of Gilliam’s proposal. Her secret was safe with me.
“I believe Aunt Hetty has witnessed your happiness for herself,” I said to George. “But I don’t know if she’s aware of how nervous you were to begin with.”
That caught her attention. “Were you indeed, George? You have always seemed so confident and sure of yourself.”
George let the footman collect his plate, then leaned closer to me once more.
“Just between the three of us, my confidence is sometimes a false front. In the matter of becoming a stepfather to Rose, I was terrified.” He heaved a sigh.
“And I am heartily embarrassed that I hesitated to make the first overture of friendship.”
I placed my hand over George’s. “Was that when she asked if she could call you Georgie?”
A smile crossed his lips. “I already cared about Rose, but from that point on, she has owned a piece of my heart, and I hope she never gives it back.”
I turned slightly to whisper to my aunt. “Things might be different with Gilliam and Daniel. We already know Gilliam wants you to be a part of his life. It’s up to you how much you want to be a part of Daniel’s. But don’t let fear make that decision for you.”
Unable to hear our conversation, George glanced at me, clearly suspicious, but then commented to Hetty, “I am eager to meet the young man tomorrow.”
“As am I,” Hetty said. I was pleased to note she looked just a bit more relaxed.
Ting, ting, ting!
My attention was directed to Robert as he tapped his spoon against his water glass.
“Since it is Christmas Eve, and we are honored by the presence of our delightful children, I suggest we adjourn to the drawing room, where we can light the candles on the tree, have our dessert, and toast to the holiday with a cup of Norfolk nog.” He glanced up and down the table. “What say all of you?”
The younger children sent up a cheer and dashed off to the drawing room.
The rest of us, while almost as enthusiastic, followed more slowly.
The Christmas tree was tall and full, smelled like a forest, and took up an enormous space in the corner of the room.
I couldn’t wait to see it alight with glowing candles.
Fiona gave the instructions to the butler to serve dessert and nog in the drawing room, while the rest of us made ourselves comfortable.
George and Robert lit the candles at the top of the tree from a taper.
Each candle was seated in a dish to collect the wax and nestled firmly on a strong branch.
Nevertheless, two buckets stood behind the tree, one full of water, the other with sand.
Robert promised the children that they could each light one candle near the bottom of the tree if they kept their distance while he and George lit the higher ones. Each child stood with one toe on an imaginary line while they leaned forward to get a better view.
Finally, the tree was illuminated. It was fully dark outside, so when Robert turned down the gas in the chandeliers and sconces, the tree showed off its magical glow. We all grew quiet as we gazed at its magnificence.
“And now for the nog,” Robert said.
Carter and a footman had brought in a tray with a large jug of the nog and short copper cups for each of us. Fiona helped Robert pour, and Lissette and Christine volunteered to distribute the cups.
“No tasting until we are all ready for the toast,” Robert called out as the cups were handed out.
George and I stood beside the sofa, where Rose and Gregory sat holding their cups of nog, waiting for the signal to drink. Lissette returned with two more cups and handed them to George and me.
“This is Dr. Penhollow’s nog,” Rose said. “We should make a toast to him.”
“It’s not,” Gregory said, bumping her shoulder with his own. “It’s our cook’s. She makes excellent nog.”
“Mrs. Penhollow took her nog back, Rose,” Fiona said.
Rose frowned, gazing at the serving tray. “But that’s the same jug.”
Grace, who stood near the glowing tree, lowered her head until her eyes were about an inch away from the rim of her cup and gazed at the contents. “Why is it so shiny?”
Shiny?
I glanced at Dr. Bertram, who directed his gaze into the cup he had just been handed. When he looked back up, his brow was furrowed with concern. That was enough for me. I stepped over to the closest lamp and turned up the gas. Grace was right. The nog was luminous.
“Don’t anyone drink this,” I said. “It’s poisoned.”