Chapter Six #3
Her thoughts drifted, imaging the scenario.
She and Dr. Scott would be walking along in the crisp, clean air, surrounded by snowdrifts.
He would offer his arm to her. She would take it.
Her heart began to pound as she envisioned that contact.
He would turn to her with a warm smile, his lips full and his vivid, blue eyes gleaming, and he would say—
“That’s the last piece of Christmas music,” said Miss Thompson, looking up from the piano bench.
The remark drew Selena abruptly from her thoughts. What are you doing, daydreaming about the doctor’s eyes … and lips? You just warned yourself to be wary of him, she silently scolded herself.
“You are quite the proficient, my dear,” Mrs. Hillman told Miss Thompson. “Do you know any Christmas carols by heart?”
“I do,” Miss Thompson admitted. “Shall I go on?”
“Please!” exclaimed Colonel Blackwood.
Miss Thompson launched into “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” followed by several more songs of the season.
When they had gone through all the Christmas carols that Miss Thompson knew, Colonel Blackwood gently woke Mrs. Whitlock, who sat up in her chair with a start.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she declared, blinking rapidly. “I was just deep in thought.”
Selena announced that it was time for a parlor game called “Snapdragon.”
“The staff has set up the game in the drawing room,” she explained. “Mrs. Hillman has small prizes for all the games.”
“I always enjoy Snapdragon.” Mr. Davis rubbed his hands together as everyone moved in that direction.
The chandeliers and candelabras had been extinguished in the drawing room, and the only light came from the fire in the hearth.
The party assembled around a table that housed a large, shallow bowl containing a pile of raisins.
Beside it stood a bottle of brandy, a small bowl of salt, and a lit candle.
Once again, Dr. Scott stood beside Selena. Her heart raced at his nearness, a development she was determined to ignore as she poured brandy into the bowl until it soaked the raisins. “Who would like to set the bowl on fire?”
“I’ll do it.” Colonel Blackwood dipped a lit taper into the brandy, which came to life in a fiery blast.
Selena stepped back from the table, perspiration breaking out on her brow as another and very different quiver of emotion rippled through her—fear.
She had enjoyed playing Snapdragon until two years ago, when she and Athena had been trapped inside Darkmoor Park’s dower house when it had burned to the ground and they had barely escaped with their lives.
Although the house on the far edge of the estate had been rebuilt, Selena had been leery of open flames ever since.
She knew the reaction was irrational, but she couldn’t help it.
Snapdragon, however, was a traditional favorite on Christmas Eve, and Mrs. Hillman had insisted that they play it.
As the flames shot up, Selena’s stomach clenched, and she swallowed hard to quell her anxiety. Everyone applauded except Dr. Scott and Miss Thompson.
“I have never played,” Miss Thompson said hesitantly. “How does it work?”
“The point is to grab as many raisins as you can and eat them,” Mrs. Hillman explained.
“Whoever plucks the most raisins from the bowl wins,” added Mr. Davis, “so keep a running count of your total.”
Dr. Scott cleared his throat. “I don’t wish to spoil the fun, but I would feel remiss if I did not point out that this can be a dangerous game. The raisins are very hot—indeed they are on fire—so please be careful not to burn your fingers or your tongue.”
Miss Thompson’s forehead creased. “I see.”
“Don’t be such a ninny!” Mrs. Whitlock glared at her. “It’s quite safe.”
“The instant the raisins reach your mouth, the fire goes out,” Mr. Davis assured her.
Miss Thompson didn’t look reassured.
“There’s an old tradition that goes with this game,” Mrs. Hillman professed. “Whoever snatches the most raisins out of the flaming brandy will marry their true love within a year.”
A chorus of “awws” went around the table.
Mr. Davis glanced at Miss Goodwin. “I warn you—I am determined to win.”
Scattered laughter met this declaration. Everyone waited until the yellow flames had died down to blue, reflecting upon the faces of the onlookers in an otherworldly glow.
“Take turns as we go clockwise around the table,” Mrs. Hillman announced. “Mr. Davis, since you are so eager, let’s begin with you.”
In unison, the group began to recite the well-known chant.
“Dragon! Take care you don’t take too much. Be not greedy in your clutch. Snip! Snap! Dragon!”
Mr. Davis reached into the bowl, grabbed a flaming raisin, and popped it into his mouth. “Ha ha!” he cried, the brief blue flame making him appear to be breathing fire, like a dragon, until he huffed it out.
Mrs. Whitlock, Colonel Blackwood, and Dr. Scott successfully took their turns at the game while the chant continued.
“With his blue and lapping tongue, many of you will be stung. Snip! Snap! Dragon!”
“For he snaps at all that comes, snatching at his feast of plums. Snip! Snap! Dragon!”
“But Old Christmas makes him come, though he looks so fee! fa! fum! Snip! Snap! Dragon!”
As Selena watched the players devouring flaming raisins, the dragon-like effect suddenly brought to mind the words that Mr. Clarke had spoken during his final hours. “I hid it … under … the dragon.” It seemed uncanny that he had mentioned a dragon. What had he meant?
Mrs. Hillman tossed in a pinch of salt, which created sparks. Everyone exclaimed with delight. Miss Thompson snagged a raisin and hesitantly ate it, which brought forth applause.
It was Selena’s turn. Her heart began to race with trepidation, but she didn’t want to spoil the mood. As she struggled anxiously to seize a piece of fruit from the flaming bowl, she must have taken longer than was prudent, for a sudden shriek came from Mrs. Hillman. “Selena! Your sleeve!”
Selena gasped. One of her gown’s long sleeves was on fire.