Chapter Five #2
What would be the harm if she stayed? Yes, Lord Kemble was likely to be upset by her absence—or not so much her absence as what it said about her knowledge of the tower’s secrets.
But she had already decided to explain her true purpose and to offer an alliance. She could stay with her sister and daughter for Christmas Day and return tomorrow night, ready to go with the brothers to the club on Boxing Day, as she had promised Winifred.
Surely, with what she had learned about the marquess and what the brothers must know, they could figure out a way to defeat the wicked man?
“Go home,” she said to the jarvey, giving him two silver crowns—the bonus being only fair for keeping his promise in the terrible weather. “Rest yourself and your horse. Happy Christmas to you.”
She had a key, and she let herself inside.
Almost immediately, she realized that someone was up.
Light showed under the door that led to the kitchen.
Harmony was sitting at the table, sipping from a cup.
She leapt up when Mel entered the room and rushed to give Mel an embrace.
“Mel! Darling! What are you doing here so late? Or is it early? It must be after midnight. Merry Christmas, dearest. Have you finished your investigation? Or… oh no! Have you been dismissed? Come and sit down. Would you like a chocolate? I think there is still some in the jug. Sit down and I shall pour one for you. Harriet will be so pleased to see you! You shall stay, of course, and we shall have such a lovely Christmas. What did happen with the investigation? And how did you get here on this dreadful night?”
Harmony tended to chatter when she was excited.
Mel laughed. “Sit down and sip your chocolate, Harmony, and I shall try to remember your questions and answer them. No, I have not finished the investigation or been dismissed. Yes, I should like a chocolate and shall pour my own.”
She was suiting words to action even as she spoke, and she took the warm cup to the table and sat down.
“I came in a hackney with a dear man who was anxious to get home to his family, and I’m here to spend Christmas with you, Harriet, and Benjie.
” Benjamin was Harmony’s son, who was two years younger than Mel’s daughter Harriet.
“Tell me, darling, how are you? How are the children?”
She relaxed as she sipped her hot chocolate and listened as her sister talked about the children’s lessons—Benjamin was a great reader and Harriet was already reaching beyond Benjamin and even Harmony in mathematics.
“I am very grateful to the upstairs neighbor,” Harmony said. “He has allowed Harriet to join his ward for lessons. The two girls are the same age, and Mr. Eastwood is very clever.”
To house her sister and the children, Mel rented the downstairs of what had once been an elegant townhouse for a single family.
This area on the western edges of Marylebone had been abandoned by the rich and fashionable, and was now home to families of the middle sort—office workers, comfortably placed tradesmen and shop owners, attorneys, and secretaries.
Like most of the other houses in the street, the house had been converted to two dwellings with a dividing wall through the front hall and two doors with locks, one opening to the ground floor and one to the stairs that led to the second dwelling.
Harmony rattled on about visits to the park, the price of eggs, the essay her son had written on the manners required of a gentleman, Harriet’s insistence that the vicar was not a good Christian, because he was only interested in the souls of the wealthy, and other topics.
“Of course, she is quite right, but it is not proper for children to express such opinions, but at least she only told me, and Mr. Eastwood said that, rather than discipline her for saying something that is, after all, the truth, I should praise her for her discretion in not making the statement in front of the vicar or other people.”
Mr. Eastwood seems to enter your conversation quite often, Harmony.
Her sister’s interest in the man was confirmed a moment later when she blushed as she said, “You will meet Mr. Eastwood tomorrow, when he joins us for Christmas dinner. He and his ward, of course. But Mel, why are you letting me prattle at you like this? It is the middle of the night! I shall just go and put sheets on your bed while you help yourself to some hot water from the kettle and have a wash.” Harmony yawned.
“I need to go to bed myself after that. It will be a busy morning tomorrow, what with cooking Christmas dinner and going to church.”
She continued talking while Melody washed her face and hands. Then they made the bed together—trying to be as quiet as possible, since Melody shared Harriet’s bed chamber when she was in residence—hugged silently, and parted, each to their own bed.
As it transpired, church was impossible. The weather had only worsened in the night. Mel woke to Harriet’s shriek of delight on seeing her mother, and the sound of the rain, wind and sleet driving against the window.
After collecting a jug of water, they washed and dressed while Harriet shared news about the month since they’d spent time together—Mel had visited only briefly between finishing her most recent case and beginning the investigation of the brothers and the marquess.
Lydia Eastwood featured frequently in Harriet’s stories. She was, according to Harriet, the best, prettiest, cleverest, and most loyal friend. “But you shall see for yourself, Mama, for Aunt Harmony has invited her and her uncle to spend Christmas with us.”
Sure enough, there was a knock on the door partway through the morning, and it proved to be the neighbors from upstairs.
Mr. Eastwood was a tall, thin gentleman with a pleasant countenance.
He carried a double armful of greenery—fir branches as well as hawthorn, rosemary, ivy, holly and hellebore.
Lydia, his niece, did not look much like him.
She had a familiar look about her, but Mel could not quite put her finger on whom she resembled.
“Mel, allow me to present Mr. Eastwood,” said Harmony, “and his niece Lydia. Mr. Eastwood and Lydia? My sister, Mrs. Blackmore.”
After greeting her politely, Mr. Eastwood spoke to Harmony. “Mrs. Little, since you are giving us Christmas, we have brought our greenery to add to your decorations. Lydia, show your friends the ribbons and charms in your basket.”
The girl obliged with a merry smile, pulling back the cover on her basket to show ribbons of all shades and assorted shapes cut out of tin—bells, harps, angels, and more.
Soon, the three children were busily at work using the ribbons to tie the greenery into wreaths and swathes, adding the charms to dangle from the ties.
Mr. Eastwood had donned an apron and armed himself with a knife to scrape the carrots and parsnips, Mel was peeling potatoes, and Harmony was putting the finishing touches to a capon pie that was to join the goose already roasting in the oven.
“How festive,” Mel said.
“How magnificent,” said Mr. Eastwood, but he was looking at Harmony.
Lydia began singing, “The holly and the ivy,” and they all joined in. One carol followed another, while the minutes flew by, they completed their respective tasks, and delicious smells filled the kitchen.
Yes, whatever Lord Kemble might think about it, Mel had made the right decision to stay.