A Christmas Conspiracy Page 9
“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.