Chapter Four #2
She wasn’t looking for romance! She had more important things to consider.
Mrs. Hillman had taken to her room. From the looks of it, this storm would not be ending any time soon.
A member of their party had just unexpectedly died.
They had a house full of guests who might be cooped up inside the manor house for days.
Somehow, Selena had to keep everyone in good spirits and entertained.
At the moment, it seemed like a Herculean task.
*
Over breakfast, the mood was somber. Colonel Blackwood kept sighing and shaking his head as if having difficulty accepting the morning’s dreadful turn of events.
Mrs. Whitlock said, “It is just like that Jack Clarke to die today of all days and ruin Christmas for us.” But her bitter tone was mitigated somewhat by her furrowed brow, and the manner in which she twisted her napkin in her hands.
The others spoke in hushed voices and, although they had only just met Mr. Clarke, they expressed their shock over what had happened. The entire party politely welcomed Dr. Scott, who focused his attention on his bacon and eggs and was even quieter than the rest.
Selena detected a hard, distant look in the doctor’s blue eyes and sensed that he was still distracted.
She could understand why. He had been on his way to Scotland, no doubt to enjoy a cheerful holiday with people of his acquaintance, and instead had been forced by foul weather to abandon his train, trudge miles through the freezing snow, and attend a death.
On top of that, he was now obliged to spend Christmas Eve, and perhaps Christmas Day and longer, confined to this house with people he did not know.
Anyone would be upset by the circumstances.
Once, she caught him studying her across the table, with an expression that seemed to reflect an awareness of her—a look that did strange things to Selena’s inner equilibrium.
The moment their gazes touched, however, he averted his eyes.
She was grateful to him for the help he had provided in a difficult situation—but he was an enigma as of yet.
And I am not interested in him, she sternly reminded herself.
As the meal proceeded, Selena’s mind returned to the cryptic message Mr. Clarke had given her before he’d died. Instinct told her not to share that information with anyone else, at least not yet.
Recalling Mrs. Hillman’s request, Selena cleared her throat and said, “As I mentioned, our hostess has taken to her room to deal with this unexpected loss. I know we are all shocked and grieved by what has happened. But Mrs. Hillman bade me to tell you that in spite of Mr. Clarke’s tragic demise, she believes he would want us all to celebrate the holidays as planned. ”
“I agree.” Mrs. Whitlock took a last sip of coffee. “We can’t let a foolish accident stop us from enjoying ourselves.”
What a callous remark, Selena thought. The accident had hardly been foolish.
But Colonel Blackwood seemed to agree with the assessment. He slapped the table and exclaimed, “You’re absolutely right. Clarke didn’t stand on ceremony, and he wasn’t prone to sentiment. I’ll bet he would say, ‘Why are you all so down in the dumps? Carry on! It’s Christmas! It’s a party!’”
An uncertain laugh went around the table. Selena seized on the tentative change in mood. “What do you all think? Shall we follow the colonel’s advice and Mrs. Hillman’s wishes and proceed with our holiday activities?”
A brief pause ensued as glances were exchanged around the table; then everyone nodded in response. The only outlier was Dr. Scott, who continued to be wrapped in his own thoughts.
“We might as well,” Miss Goodwin put in. “Judging by the weather, none of us are going anywhere.”
“You said last night that you have enough food and firewood to last ten days?” asked Mr. Davis.
“We do,” Selena assured everyone. “And now, I’d like the announce the first item on today’s agenda: we are decorating the Christmas tree in the great hall. When you have all finished with breakfast, let us adjourn there.”
*
The tall evergreen that stood at attention in the great hall, a stepladder positioned beside it, filled the chamber with its fresh scent.
The evening before, the servants had wrapped the tree with popcorn garlands and attached a great number of candles, secured in brass bobeches—candleholders that Mrs. Hillman had ordered from France, designed to keep the candles upright on the branches and catch dripping wax.
Baskets of ornaments and ribbons had been positioned near the tree.
The footmen, George and Sam, stood at attention nearby, ready to assist if required.
“I have never understood the point of bringing a fresh evergreen tree into the house,” Mrs. Whitlock complained. “Think how long it has taken this beautiful tree to reach this size, and now it will die in a matter of weeks.”
Although Selena thought Mrs. Whitlock to be a curmudgeon in many respects, she couldn’t disagree with her on this point. “That’s true, ma’am. It is sad, when you think of it that way. But it is a lovely and festive new tradition.”
“I had never heard of a ‘Christmas tree’ until four years ago, when that engraving of the Royal family appeared in the illustrated London News,” Colonel Blackwood noted.
Selena picked up an ornament from a basket. “Neither had I. But Mrs. Hillman has been making and collecting Christmas ornaments for over thirty years, ever since she took a trip to Germany and saw the tradition practiced there.”
“There are so many lovely decorations,” Miss Thompson softly enthused.
Miss Goodwin clasped her hands in excitement. “We should put up a Christmas tree at the inn next year, for all the guests to enjoy,” she told Mr. Davis.
Mr. Davis hesitated and darted her a look. “But the hotel closes in winter, dear. No one will see it but us.”
“Oh … yes.” Color rose to Miss Goodwin’s cheeks. “Silly me, I’d forgotten.” To the room at large, she added quickly, “Hotel management is still new to me, you understand. It is only a few months since my mother …” She broke off.
“Your mother was a dear soul.” Mrs. Whitlock heaved a sigh. “It will be difficult to fill her shoes.”
Miss Goodwin’s blush deepened at this remark. “I know it will.”
Mr. Davis put his arm around Miss Goodwin and said testily, “I assure you, Mrs. Whitlock, that Nancy and I will do our best to run the hotel as her mother would have done.”
“It takes time to learn a new trade.” Dr. Scott pressed his lips together and gave the young couple a compassionate glance. “You’ll get there.”
It was one of the few times the doctor had spoken since breakfast.
“And I’m sure you’ll both do a fine job,” Selena put in, touched by the doctor’s kind words, and her heart going out to the beleaguered Miss Goodwin.
A familiar voice rang out. “I hope I’m not too late?”
Selena turned with delight to find Mrs. Hillman entering the great hall. “You’ve come!”
“Decorating the tree is my favorite part of the Christmas tradition. I didn’t want to miss it,” Mrs. Hillman said as she crossed the chamber, accompanied by her cane.
Selena always thought of that lady’s cane as an “accompaniment”—a show of grandness and authority, perhaps—rather than as a necessity, for as far as she could tell, Mrs. Hillman was able to walk perfectly well without it.
“I’m so glad,” Selena said. “It felt wrong to do this without you.”
Colonel Blackwood took Mrs. Hillman’s hand and greeted her with a grave expression. “Madam. May I say on behalf of the entire party, how good it is to see you. We are all brokenhearted by what happened to Mr. Clarke.”
“As am I.” Mrs. Hillman gave a deep, sad sigh.
“Under any other circumstances, I might have taken to my bed for a week. But it’s Christmas.
You have all come a long way to celebrate the season.
I decided it would be wrong to hide away in my chamber and miss out on any Christmas fun. Mr. Clarke was very big on having fun.”
“He was, indeed,” the colonel agreed.
The other guests voiced their pleasure at their hostess’s appearance, at which point Mrs. Hillman said, “Shall we get started, then?”
The party sprang into action, tying the handblown glass ornaments, porcelain animals and birds, pewter angels, and objects made from pinecones and straw to the tree. The footmen moved the ladder into position and held it whenever the gentlemen required it to hang ornaments at the highest places.
“This one is so sweet.” From the basket, Miss Thompson pulled out a handblown glass ornament shaped like a sprig of bluebell. “It reminds me of your iris brooch, Mrs. Hillman.”
“It does a bit.” Mrs. Hillman smiled.
“I love flowers,” Miss Thompson commented as she hung the ornament on the tree. “I’ve always longed to own a flower shop.”
Selena smiled at her. “Maybe you shall, one day.”
Mrs. Whitlock made a scoffing sound. “Don’t go putting ideas into her head, Miss Taylor. It takes brains to run a flower shop and skills which that one does not possess.”
Miss Thompson colored and ducked her head.
Selena winced at Mrs. Whitlock’s harsh tone and cruel words.
It’s a wonder, she thought, that Miss Thompson continues to work for this woman.
But then, it wasn’t all that many years ago that Selena herself had been dependent on the meager income and housing provided by her governess positions, where she’d sometimes suffered similar verbal abuse from her employers.
“Where would I get the money, in any case?” Miss Thompson said quietly. “It’s just a dream.”
“Dreams can be achieved through hard work and determination,” Mrs. Hillman assured the young lady.
She shot a withering look at Mrs. Whitlock, who shrugged as if unconcerned by what she’d just said.
“Just look at what Mr. Clarke achieved during his lifetime. Many of his business ventures were quite successful.”
Dr. Scott paused, an ornament in hand. His scarred eyebrow arched. “What kinds of business ventures?”
“As I recall,” Mrs. Hillman answered, “he once owned a hat factory in Bristol that gave employment to a great many people and made him a fortune. He said he had built an orphanage in Dublin—he was very proud of that. And there were several other things. I’ve forgotten what now.”
Dr. Scott’s jaw tightened as he took this in. Selena wondered why.
“It’s strange to think that I only met Mr. Clarke less than twenty-four hours ago,” Selena observed.
“It’s hard to believe he’s gone.” Colonel Blackwood sighed. “I have such fond memories of the man.”
“He was such a good fellow,” Mrs. Hillman agreed, moisture gathering in her eyes.
“I’m sorry the man passed away,” remarked Miss Goodwin. “And perhaps this isn’t the right time to bring this up, but … now that he’s gone, what will happen to all the money he had with him?”
A hush descended on the room. Seven pairs of questioning eyes turned to her.
“What money?” Selena asked.
“Why, the fifty-two hundred pounds that he claimed to have in his coat pocket,” said Miss Goodwin.
Selena choked in surprise at this revelation and nearly dropped the ornament she was holding. Fifty-two hundred pounds? It would take most men more than a lifetime to earn that sum. Why had Mr. Clarke been carrying so much money?