Chapter Two #2
The bell rang, announcing dinner. Mrs. Hillman took Mr. Clarke’s arm as the rest of the party assembled in pairs to make their way to the dining room, a splendid chamber where the candles in the gilt-brass chandelier and wall sconces cast shimmering beams of light upon the gold-flecked wallpaper and the white Wedgewood ceiling.
A bevy of servants, attired in their best uniforms and livery, stood at the ready to assist the diners to their seats around the linen-draped table, which was set with one of Mrs. Hillman’s many sets of bone china dishware, crystal glassware, and silver cutlery.
A holiday centerpiece of blazing candles, fragrant evergreens, holly, ivy, and apples added a festive look.
Mrs. Hillman sat down at the head of the table, placing Mr. Clarke to her right, and Colonel Blackwood to her left.
Selena took the chair at the foot of the table, and the other guests filled in on the sides.
“Oh, look, Graham!” Miss Goodwin exclaimed happily when they had all sat down, and the oyster soup had been served. “It’s snowing.”
All eyes turned to the tall casement windows. Although it was dark, Selena perceived a steady fall of snow without. Her stomach clenched. This was exactly what she’d been worried about.
“Looks like we got here just in time.” Mr. Davis opened his white, linen napkin on his lap.
“And the snow is just in time for Christmas,” remarked Colonel Blackwood, picking up his soup spoon.
“I love the snow,” breathed Miss Thompson. It was one of the few times she had spoken all evening.
“That’s because you have no sense,” retorted Mrs. Whitlock, her tone disparaging. “None of you do. Snow clogs the roads and rails. It has to be shoveled. It becomes impossible to go out. And when it melts, it turns the roads and lanes to mud, and everything is mired in filth.”
Miss Thompson’s smile fled, and she turned her attention to her soup.
“Don’t listen to the woman, Miss Thompson,” Mr. Clarke said firmly. “There’s nothing so charming as a white Christmas.”
On the one hand, Selena agreed with Mr. Clarke.
She loved the snow, and the way it changed the landscape into a wintry wonderland.
On the other hand, although she felt that Mrs. Whitlock’s words had been too harsh, Selena was concerned about what the change in weather might mean for their holiday plans.
If this turned into a full-blown snowstorm, they could all be trapped inside the house for days.
“Thank goodness the food has all been delivered,” Mrs. Hillman said, as if reading Selena’s mind. “If perchance we should be snowed in, there is no cause for alarm. We have enough supplies to feed us all for a good ten days.”
“Good to know. I say, what is on the agenda?” Colonel Blackwood took a spoonful of soup.
“That is Selena’s department,” Mrs. Hillman replied.
Selena sat up straighter in her chair, determined not to let the weather dampen her spirits.
“Well, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so we’ll begin in the morning by trimming the tree.
There will be Christmas carol singing and a festive dinner on Christmas day.
We can take walks on the grounds—weather permitting—and I have several parlor games planned. ”
“I love parlor games.” Mrs. Whitlock nodded with approval.
“I like the ‘walks’ idea.” Mr. Clarke turned to their hostess. “Speaking of which, Mrs. H. I rise early every morning and like to take a good, long walk myself. Will breakfast be ready at six o’clock?”
Mrs. Hillman pursed her lips. “I recall your early-morning habits at the Worthing Seaside Hotel, Mr. Clarke. They are the opposite of mine. At Darkmoor Park, breakfast will be available in the morning room from nine A.M. to eleven A.M. And you will not see me any time before ten.”
Mr. Clarke laughed. “Duly noted.”
“However,” Mrs. Hillman went on, “feel free to rise whenever you wish. Bread and butter, jam, and nuts will be available in the morning room all day and night, should any of you feel in need of an impromptu snack. And I will ask Mrs. Middleton to have hot coffee and tea available in the morning room at six.”
“That would be lovely,” Mr. Clarke replied. “Thank you.”
Selena glanced out the window, where, as she’d feared, the wind had picked up and the flurries were growing stronger. “If it keeps snowing like this, tomorrow may not be the best day for a walk.”
“It will be glorious,” Mr. Clarke insisted. “Nothing beats a morning walk in freshly fallen snow.” Raising his glass of wine to all assembled, he cried, “May the festivities begin!”
“Hear, hear!” proclaimed the others, and everyone took a drink.
As the footmen served the next course of boiled ham with mashed potatoes, Colonel Blackwood said, “Mrs. Hillman, didn’t you tell me that Darkmoor Park used to be a friary?”
“It was,” replied their hostess. “The original part of the building dates to 1170, when it served as a Cistercian abbey. During the reign of Henry VIII, the property was taken over by a nobleman who took the church and cloisters apart stone by stone and built this residence, which has been expanded over the centuries into what you see now.”
“How did this place come to you?” asked Mr. Davis as he speared a slice of ham.
“I can answer that,” Selena said. “The estate was not entailed to the male line. In time, it came to an earl’s daughter who married a man named Hillman, and the title became extinct.”
“I met that gentleman’s grandson, Mr. Roger Hillman.
” Mrs. Hillman’s eyes went misty. “We fell in love and were married. Do you see this brooch?” She gestured affectionately to the ornament pinned at the neckline of her midnight-blue satin gown.
The gold brooch was in the shape of an iris and fitted with diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and pearls.
“Roger knew how much I love flowers, blue irises in particular, and he gave this to me as a wedding gift.”
“It is stunning,” observed Miss Goodwin.
“It reminds me of an antique jewelry collection I saw recently at an estate sale,” commented Mrs. Whitlock with a wistful look.
“I fell in love with it at first sight. There’s a necklace, earrings, bracelet, ring, and the most stunning brooch set in gold and depicting pansies with diamonds and amethysts, and marquis-shaped emeralds for the leaves. ”
“My mother always says, ‘If you love something as much as that, you should snap it up the moment you see it,’” remarked Colonel Blackwood. “You may not get a second chance.”
“I’m afraid it’s out of my reach, Colonel.” Mrs. Whitlock shrugged and turned to admire Mrs. Hillman’s brooch again, adding, “Your husband had excellent taste in jewelry.”
“Yes, he did,” Mrs. Hillman agreed.
“Where does your mother live, Colonel?” Selena asked.
“She’s spent the past twenty years in London, ever since my father died,” the colonel replied.
“She’s seventy-five now and I keep trying to persuade her to come back to our family seat in Warwickshire.
A Blackwood has been in residence at Waverley House for over two hundred years.
It’s a lovely old place, if a bit moldy and desperately in need of repair.
But Mother insists that she spent enough of her life ‘buried in the countryside,’ as she puts it.
She prefers the excitement of Town—the theater, museums, galleries, and shops.
That woman runs up such bills, she will drive me to the poorhouse.
” He chuckled and gave Mrs. Whitlock a hooded glance.
“My mother’s a magpie, Mrs. Whitlock. Last month, she bought a diamond pendant with her initial ‘E’ for Evelyn.
I bet she’d buy that jewelry set you mentioned and not think twice about it. ”
“If she did, I’d be green with envy, Colonel.” Mrs. Whitlock sighed.
“My mother was the opposite of yours, Colonel,” Miss Goodwin said with a sniff.
“She pinched every penny and didn’t even like spending money on the hotel.
I had to make over all my dresses year after year.
” She laid one hand over the simple bodice of her dress.
“This is my first new gown in ages, and of course it had to be black.”
“You are dressed with such dignity,” Mrs. Hillman noted.
“Thank you.” Miss Goodwin responded.
Conversation flowed smoothly throughout the rest of the meal, which ended with a sponge cake topped with whipped cream and preserved strawberries, reportedly a new favorite of Queen Victoria’s.
The group returned to the drawing room afterwards for coffee and tea. When the clock struck eleven, Mrs. Hillman announced that it had been a long day for all, and they ought to turn in.
“You promised us a tour of the premises tomorrow,” Mr. Clarke reminded her. “Can we put that on the schedule?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Hillman assured him.
Selena asked everyone if they had what they needed and received affirmative replies from everyone except Mrs. Whitlock, who demanded that a hot toddy be sent up to her room.
“I cannot fall asleep without one,” Mrs. Whitlock insisted.
“Certainly.” Selena rang a bell to call the housekeeper. “Thank you so much everyone for coming. I wish you all a good night.”
As the guests began exiting the room, Selena saw Mr. Clarke draw Mrs. Hillman to a quiet corner, where he unobtrusively handed her an envelope.
Mrs. Hillman’s smile upon receiving it was incandescent.
Selena wondered what he had given her. She wondered, too, if he would indeed propose to Mrs. Hillman again over the coming days. Only time would tell.
It suddenly occurred to Selena that if Mrs. Hillman did remarry, all her property would come under her husband’s control, which might well put an end to Selena’s incumbency as heir to Darkmoor Park.
But c’est la vie, Selena thought. She didn’t truly consider herself worthy of inheriting this estate, anyway.
The most important thing was for Mrs. Hillman to be happy.
And if need be, Selena and Athena could always move the school back to Thorndale Manor.
Selena retired to her chamber, the first room off the central stairway in the first floor’s north wing, where she undressed and fell into bed with relief.
After all the stress of preparations for the house party and the excitement of the newly arrived guests, she was so tired that she fell asleep minutes after her head had hit the pillow.
She was wrapped in a dream in which she desperately needed to write down a lesson plan for her students, but there was no paper to be had anywhere, and not a single pen, when she was yanked from the depths of slumber by an earsplitting scream.
Selena lurched up in bed. What on Earth was that? It was dark as pitch, except for the embers that burned low and red in the hearth.
The shriek stopped, returning the house to silence except for the howl of the wind. Selena threw on her dressing gown and slippers, lit her bedside candle, and glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was five minutes past six.
Selena shivered as she left her room, heading for the main staircase, the direction from which the scream had seemed to come. Gladys, a freckled, red-haired chambermaid who had started at Darkmoor Park just a few months ago, barreled up the stairs with a look of horror on her face.
“Gladys! I heard a scream. Was that you?”
“Yes!” Gladys was trembling. “I’m so sorry, miss. I know I’m not supposed to use the main stairs, but I were coming up from the morning room with the firewood and it is so much quicker than the servants’ stairs and I didn’t think anybody would ever know!”
Selena’s heart thudded with dread. “Never mind that, Gladys. What’s wrong?”
“Oh miss! It’s a gentleman, miss! Mr. Clarke, I think his name is? He’s on the half-landing below, lying in a pool of blood!” Gladys wrung her hands. “I think he’s dead!”