A Christmas Conspiracy (11 page)
“Do you not think,” Sally interrupted them, “you had best avoid further tangles?”
While the maid’s monition presented quite a novel idea, the twins, who were beginning to find this particular intrigue tedious, now it had gone awry, merely shrugged.
* * * *
When Giles and Fanny, hand in hand, entered the breakfast parlor later that morning, they found their daughters sitting, quietly waiting for them. At each of their plates lay a package. Fanny’s was resplendent in gold tissue; their father’s, in somewhat less glory, was wrapped in a twist of stationery.
“Good morning,” their mother greeted them with an ingenuous smile. “Did you sleep well?”
The twins nodded, speechless.
Do
you not think they look somewhat flushed, Genie?
Doubtless they have been huddled in front of the fire. Pray, Tavie, do not remark on it!
Pray, do not treat me as if I were the sheerest sapskull! I would no more—
“Well,” their father said as he took his place and examined the parcel, “what have we here?”
“Our Christmas Eve packages, it would seem,” his wife said. She picked up her lovely package and read the inscription, “Why, Giles!” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him, “you shouldn’t have.”
“I don’t believe I did,” he said in an amused undertone.
She tore away the paper and opened the box before her. Stunned for several seconds beyond lucid speech, she at last managed, “How very original, Giles. I do not believe I have ever seen the like! Why there are so many colors—and such brilliant ones, at that—I shall be able to wear it with any costume.”
As she clasped the enormous jewelled peacock about her neck, Giles choked violently on his coffee.
“It quite takes your breath away, I can see,” she told him sweetly.
“Indeed,” he said when he had recovered himself. “I cannot wait to see what I have here.”
He undid the twist of paper before him. In a moment, he, too, was at a loss for words.
“Do hold it up—for the girls to see,” Fanny requested.
As he did so, Fanny could see he held before him a somewhat tarnished silver toothpick.
“My dearest Giles! I wish you will always think of me when you use it,” his wife said lovingly.
All seems to be well!
Tavie thought in amazement.
They have not even mentioned our misdeeds. It is almost as if they do not suspect us. I haven’t the least idea how that came about—
Why, through our genius, of course,
her sister returned smugly.
But, what about. . . ?
Never mind! All is well.
“Your mother and I have a question for you,” their father broke in. “Who is Belinda?”
The twins immediately assumed expressions of such innocence as set their parents’ already much abused nerves to twitching.
“Belinda? Tavie, do you know of a Belinda?”
“I cannot for the world think of one,” the other innocent returned.
“You must forgive our repressive inquisitiveness,” their mother said, “but, valuing the soundness of our minds and bodies, we really must know.”
Do not say a word, Tavie. We may need to use that scheme another time.
You are quite right—but if they should insist?
At that moment, they were saved from further interrogation by the entrance of Bently. “Forgive the intrusion, Sir Giles, but there is a Miss Walleye just arrived.”
Escape!
Out of the coal hod into the—
Do not get yourself into a fidget, Tavie. I have not the least doubt we can dispatch her in a moment or two.
“Miss Walleye!” Genie cried, springing from her place. “Come, Tavie, we must welcome dear Miss Walleye and see her situated.”
“Indeed we must!” Tavie agreed with alacrity. “How shocking if we should be remiss.”
As they fled the room, Giles reached across the table to his wife and squeezed her hand. “I cannot guess what is to come next in this little comedy, but I fear our performance in the Christmas masque must pale in comparison.”
“Little doubt of that!” his wife allowed. Suddenly, there issued from the front hallway such a clamor that even Fanny’s equanimity was jarred. A woman screamed. Flops set up a doleful wail, the twins giggled. Even Bently raised a cry of wounded protest.
“Our daughters would appear to be occupied,” Giles said equably.
“Ought we not see what is amiss?” she asked, startled at her husband’s composure in the face of such a to-do. “Why, surely it is unlike Bently to evidence signs of life. And Miss Walleye screamed!”
He patted her hand. “I shall, of course, glance out if only to assure myself the girls have not welcomed the old soul with cleavers.”
He kissed her cheek and rose from the table. When he reached the door, he opened it cautiously, a mere inch. After a moment, he turned and said, “No one seems grievously injured.”
“Injured?!”
“Well, Miss Walleye seems to have had a valise dropped on her toe.”
“Ah,” the doting mother sighed, “our helpful darlings are already hard at work. And what has produced such a squawk from Bently?”
“Do not fear. I do not think he will have any lasting scars.”
“Do not tease me so, Giles! Whatever can they have done to the poor man?”
“Do not blame the girls. That incorrigible Miss Walleye seems to have bludgeoned Bently with her ear trumpet. The girls were quite right. She really does seem to be the most shocking old quiz.”
“I am surprised at you, Giles! Never tell me you finished that bottle of brandy while I slept?”
“Do not be absurd. It had formed ice crystals. Come,” he whispered conspiratorially, “let us escape this madness while we still may. Can you think of anything you would like to do?”
“It is a very odd thing,” she returned, gazing into his laughing eyes, “but I find even this short visit to the country has affected my sensibilities. I seem to have developed an aversion to such commotion. In fact, I feel an untoward urge to visit the attic again.”
“What a coincidence. I
am
feeling uncommon warm all of sudden,” he said thoughtfully. “Would you mind if I accompanied you into its frozen reaches?”
“My dear,” she whispered as she rose, “I would not have it any other way.”
Copyright © 1994 by Mary Chase Comstock
Originally published by Zebra as "A Christmas Conspiracy" in A Christmas Wish (ISBN 0821747622)
Electronically published in 2008 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
