A Christmas Guide to Family and Murder

Book 9: Countess of Harleigh Mystery

by Dianne Freeman

Genres: Historical Mysteries; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

A country Christmas in Victorian England takes a murderous turn in Agatha and Lefty Award winning author Dianne Freeman’s delightful mystery featuring Frances Hazelton, the former Countess of Harleigh, and her husband, George.

Frances and George are looking forward to a Christmas season enlivened by all the diversions London can provide. But family comes first, and George’s sister Fiona and her husband persuade everyone to gather at their Norfolk estate for the holiday. The weather will be chilly, but the prospect of snow delights the youngsters. And with blazing fires and invigorating country walks in store, Frances envisions a peaceful, jolly Christmas. 

Instead of a picturesque snowfall, however, Norfolk is hit by pounding rainfall and high winds. In the aftermath of the storm, Frances, Fiona, and the children make an unpleasant discovery in a nearby field—the body of their neighbor, dead in suspicious circumstances. Joshua Penhollow was the local doctor, though not a well-respected one. Indeed, most viewed him as a quack, and even his own stepdaughter held a grudge against him.

With the menfolk gone to help clear a blocked road, the investigation falls to Frances and Fiona, who must also curb the young people’s excitement at encountering a real-life murder. Combing through a village full of colorful characters and more than a few suspects, Frances feels any hope of a quiet Christmas slipping away. But more pressing is the need to stop a killer whose heart is as cold as the season . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

London, December 19, 1900

Is there any greater joy than a balmy day in December? In London, no less. The sun was out, the breeze light, and the temperature had to be at least fifty-five degrees. I had just arrived home, buoyant from both the weather and a successful shopping expedition, and handed over my coat to our butler. My purchases, gifts for the girls, would be delivered in a day or two, to be hidden away in the guest room, behind a locked door, until Father Christmas arrived—or Santa Claus, as the American in me still thought of him.

“Good afternoon, Jarvis. Is Mr. Hazelton at home?”

He tipped his dark head toward the drawing room and took a step closer to me. I’m convinced Jarvis had broken his nose at some point in his life and it had not healed properly. It had a sharp bump on the bridge and a slight twist to the right. It was the only thing that broke up the flat planes of the rest of his features. “Mr. Hazelton and the trio have assembled in the drawing room and await your arrival.”

A knot of dread landed in my stomach. Mr. Hazelton was my husband, George. The trio consisted of my nine-year-old daughter, Rose; Lissette Hazelton, George’s fifteen-year-old cousin and ward; and Christine Granger, her half sister, who would be twenty-one in ten days.

To be clear, I adored all three young ladies, but since Lissette and Christine moved in with us in July, they seemed to think our household was some sort of democracy. Perhaps it was their French upbringing. Rose had eagerly joined their sisterhood, and lately nearly every single family decision had been subject to collective negotiation.

It was exhausting.

“Have you any idea what they want?” I asked Jarvis.

He hung his head. “I’m afraid not, madam. This meeting has completely taken me by surprise, but I believe it was at the instigation of Mr. Hazelton.”

That was some relief. Anything George had to announce would be reasonable, though I did wonder why he had given me no warning. No matter. I removed my hat and handed it to Jarvis, who gave me an encouraging nod, then moved to the drawing room door.

“If they haven’t already ordered tea, would you have a tray sent up?” I asked him.

“Of course, madam,” he replied, opening the door.

George came to his feet as I swept into the room. Since I was as tall as most men, it was lovely that George was even taller. He also had wavy hair, dark like the beard that skimmed his chin and cheeks, and moss-green eyes, which never failed to distract me.

“Here you are at last, Frances.” In a few long strides he was at my side and placed my hand on his arm. Our drawing room, done up in shades of blue and green, was arranged with a table and chairs at the front of the room for cards or some other game, a cozy conversation area surrounding a tea table in the center, and two wingback chairs at the back framing a long window that looked out over the garden.

My eye would have been drawn to that window if the trio was not standing in front of it, lined up like soldiers. My own blue eyes gazed back at me from Rose’s face. The youngest and shortest, she stood to the left of her comrades, and her dark braids bounced as she hopped from one foot to the other with excitement. Christine stood beside her, fair and pretty and, perhaps because she was the oldest, much more relaxed. Next to her was Lissette, the tallest of the three, with dark hair and eyes and always crackling with nervous energy.

I felt a bit nervous myself.

“We’ve been awaiting your arrival since we didn’t want to make any decisions without you,” George continued. He led me to the conversation area and motioned for the girls to come forward.

“Decisions? What sort of decisions?” I took a seat in one of the armchairs at the short end of the tea table.

“For Christmas, of course,” Rose said, leaning into the arm of my chair. “It’s almost here.”

I caressed her soft cheek. “So it is, but what decisions are left to make at this late date?” I turned from Rose to Lissette and Christine, who sat on the sofa. “The tree has been ordered and will be delivered on Christmas Eve. I’ve already discussed Christmas dinner with the chef, and”—I preened just a bit—“I have a surprise for all of you.”

George’s frown was unexpected. “A surprise?”

“I’ve reserved a box for us for the Christmas concert at Royal Albert Hall.”

“Is that on Christmas Day?” George asked.

“As always,” I replied. Glancing around me, I saw nothing but disappointed faces. Rose backed away to the sofa and plopped down next to Christine.

“What is wrong with everyone? George? Rose? You love the concert.”

“Then you wish to stay in town for the festive season?” George asked.

The knot of dread I’d felt upon entering the room tightened like a noose. “It’s what I expected we’d do.” I spoke the words haltingly. “It’s already the nineteenth of December, and none of you have suggested we do anything else.” Was I walking into a trap?

“Cousin Fiona has invited us all out to Hadley Grange for Christmas,” Lissette said. Though her late mother was English, Lissette was raised in France, and she spoke with the slightest French accent. When she was excited, her voice rose in pitch, as it had just done.

Fiona was George’s sister and my dear friend. “She has asked us to Hadley Grange for Christmas every year since I’ve known her,” I said, hoping Lissette wasn’t in favor of accepting. “She knows I always decline.”

“Why?” Rose asked.

“Why? At first, it was because Christmas was one of the few times we could rely on your father to be at home.” Rose’s father was my first husband, the late Earl of Harleigh. Womanizing, spending my money, and being home at Christmas were the sum of his reliability.

“After he passed, well, there were so many holiday activities to enjoy here in town, like the Christmas concert.” I gave Rose a close look. “At least I thought you enjoyed them?”

“I certainly enjoyed them last year.” George slipped around the sofa to stand behind Rose. “And I’m certain Rose did, too, but are we so set in our ways that we can’t try something different this year?”

“Something different being Hadley Grange? I love spending time with your sister and her family, but need I remind you that she almost always changes her mind about spending the holidays in the country and they ultimately stay in town?”

“Not this year.” Heavens, George was grinning from ear to ear. “She, Robert, and the children are there already and have urged us to join them. There is a forecast for snow in the next few days.”

The trio sent up a cheer. Fortunately, Jarvis chose that moment to bring in the tea tray, along with an assortment of mouthwatering cakes and sandwiches. When he left, everyone helped themselves to the latter while I poured the tea, trying to comprehend the fact that all my nearest and dearest had pooh-poohed my idea of the perfect Christmas.

“You cannot trust the forecast on the Norfolk coast, which is another reason I have declined Fiona’s invitations over the years. The weather is often unpleasant at Hadley Grange. At this time of year, the wind is blustery, the sky gray, and the temperatures can be fiendishly cold.”

“They are expecting snow!” Lissette sang out, as if that were a good thing.

“We always had snow at Christmas in Chartres,” Christine said wistfully.

“There’s never snow in London,” Rose muttered.

I could see where this was going. Clearly, I was the only one here enjoying our current wave of fine weather. The others were dreaming of a blizzard. Whatever was wrong with them? I caught George’s eye. “Are you also tantalized by the promise of snow? You know the weather on the coast is terribly unpredictable.”

“The village of Badenworth and Hadley Grange are at least twenty miles inland.” He smiled, knowing I was giving in. “I am happy to celebrate the season wherever you choose to be, my love. But I must admit I am warming up to the idea of a large, noisy gathering of family on Christmas Day.”

“The problem is I’ve already declined Fiona’s invitation.”

“She’s sent a second one, imploring us to come,” he said. “She noted that it would be good for the girls to spend time with their cousins. And she does mention snow.”

Fiona had a point. Not the snow, of course, but her son and daughter would likely enjoy the company of children their age, or at least nearer. So would Rose. And it sounded like Lissette and Christine were longing for more winterlike weather. “But it’s already the nineteenth. We will have to leave in a few days.”

George grimaced. “Actually, Fiona recommends we come as soon as possible to avoid being stuck in the snow halfway there.”

“If we are to stay until Epiphany, we’ll be there for more than two weeks.” My statement elicited a cheer from the two younger girls. “All right, then. Have all of you completed your shopping? I’ll warn you, some of your gifts will not be delivered in time to take them with us. Are you ready to depart right away?”

Everyone agreed that they were prepared to leave the next day.

“But wait,” I said. “What about Aunt Hetty?” Hetty Chesney, my aunt, lived next door to us, in my former house. She was as dear to me as my own mother, and far easier to get on with. We couldn’t leave her alone at Christmas.

“Why can’t Aunt Hetty come with us?” Rose asked.

“Because she wouldn’t want to leave Mr. Gilliam alone,” Christine replied, a frown furrowing her brow. “It wouldn’t be right to go without her.”

Mr. Herbert Gilliam was Hetty’s beau, and Christine was correct. Hetty was likely eager to celebrate Christmas with him.

“Hadley Grange is quite large enough for all of us,” George said. Indeed, the place was enormous. “Gilliam would be as welcome as Hetty. I say they both join us.”

I took to my feet. “With such short notice, I can only hope that is possible. I’ll call on her right now and see what she has to say on the matter.”

“Tell her we really want her to come,” Rose pleaded.

I agreed to do just that and headed for the front door. Of course Jarvis was there to open it for me. “Would you like me or your maid to accompany you, madam?”

“I’m only stopping next door for a few minutes, Jarvis. There’s no need.” I didn’t even bother with a hat or coat as I skipped down the stairs and took the few steps to my aunt’s door. It was still lovely outside. I would never understand the attraction of snow, but then I’d had enough of it when I lived in New York. That thought brought some images to mind, and I had to admit that a blanket of snow made anyplace magical for a short time, while it sparkled quietly under the sun or even in the moonlight. But the effect lasted for a day at most. Once people began to go out and about again, the fluffy white stuff turned to slush, and the streets to mud.

I applied the knocker, surrounded by a festive wreath, to Hetty’s door and allowed my thoughts to drift back farther in time. Back to Ohio, where I grew up. My brother, Alonzo, and I would play in the snow all day if Mother let us. I smiled at the memory. I suppose I could understand the attraction, after all.

The door was opened by my aunt herself. “Frances,” she said, gesturing for me to come in. “Your timing couldn’t be better. I was just on my way to call on you.”

She drew me into the drawing room, where we settled into the sofa. Hetty was my father’s younger sister, and she had many of his traits—a mass of dark hair, deep brown eyes—and while she wasn’t quite as tall as me, she definitely had stature. She was just past her fiftieth year. Strands of gray were beginning to show in her hair, and faint lines framed her eyes. They deepened as she smiled.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked.

“I’ve come to discuss our plans for the Christmas season.”

Hetty clapped her hands together. “I’m quite excited for it this year. I believe I have the perfect gifts for the trio. Were you able to secure tickets for the carols at Albert Hall?”

“I was, but now there’s a chance we won’t use them.” I sighed. “George and the trio want to accept Fiona’s invitation to Hadley Grange.”

Hetty frowned. “They wish to spend Christmas in Norfolk? When it is warm, sunny, and dry right here?”

“I tried to explain that to everyone, but for the girls, the Norfolk weather is part of the attraction,” I said. “They would like to have snow for Christmas.”

“Are those plans fixed, then? You mentioned there was a ‘chance’ you wouldn’t use the tickets.”

I waved a hand. “That was self-deception. We are certainly going, that is, if you will come with us. It would not be the same without you.”

“Dear me, Christmas won’t be the same without all of you, either, but there is the problem of Gilliam.”

“He is more than welcome to join us,” I was quick to assure her.

“Thank you, but that is unlikely. He has holiday programs right up to Christmas Day.”

Gilliam owned a theater and produced plays. I had forgotten how popular Christmas pantomimes were and that he would be working at this time. “Is it possible for Gilliam to join us on Christmas Day? Hadley Grange is not so far away by train. Do the two of you have plans prior to Christmas?”

Hetty rested a knuckle against her lips and seemed to ponder much more than the question warranted, in my opinion. I watched her silently until her gaze met mine, and with a start, she collected herself. “Apologies, Frances. I’ve been having some concerns about Gilliam lately, and I wonder if inviting him for a family holiday would be wise.”

“Concerns?” I echoed. “Do you mean for his health? Has he been unwell?” Gilliam was ten years younger than my aunt and had appeared quite fit the last time I saw him.

“No, nothing like that.” She looked flustered, her hands fluttering around her. “It’s silly, really. Please forget I mentioned it. I gratefully accept your invitation and shall extend one to Gilliam, asking him to join us on Christmas Day.” Her hands finally settled in her lap. “It’s a fine idea, now that I’ve thought it through. A fine idea indeed. When do you plan to leave?”

“We have yet to consult the train schedule, but I believe we are prepared to leave tomorrow. Can you be organized that quickly?”

“Of course. Let me know the time, and I shall be ready and waiting.”

Her smile had me rather disconcerted, and I longed to ask her to elaborate on her concerns about Gilliam. If his health wasn’t the issue, what was? He had brought such happiness to my aunt’s life. I hated to think that something might put an end to their relationship. But Hetty was a grown woman, not one of the trio. She knew how to handle her own affairs. In addition, she had the right to privacy. She had asked me to forget she mentioned anything, and I would endeavor to do just that.

At least for the time being. Perhaps over a quiet family Christmas she’d be more inclined to confide in me.

I don’t believe I drew a breath until the following morning, when we boarded the train and began wending our way through the countryside. In addition to packing, we had had to procure train tickets and coordinate the servants, who now had significantly more time off for the Christmas season, so the house would not stand empty. Once I had the opportunity to relax, I realized this visit might be enjoyable, after all.

We had managed to obtain all our seats in one of the first-class carriages, with plush seats and curtained windows. The three young people sat across from the three adults. Rose, who had visited Hadley Grange before, had been telling the older two about the place and had moved on to Fiona and Robert’s children. Christine and Lissette had spent their lives around adults, so I wasn’t sure what they’d make of the children, but they always treated Rose like one of their own, so I saw no reason for concern. In fact, they were all likely to have a wonderful time.

Lissette turned to me with a look of confusion. “If Cousin Robert and Cousin Fiona’s surname is Nash, then who were the Hadleys of Hadley Grange?”

“Protestants,” I told her. “At an unfortunate point in history. Under the reign of Queen Mary, they lost their property to the crown.” There was also the possibility that they were burned at the stake, but I left that detail out. “Later, under Elizabeth, one of Robert’s ancestors performed some noble feat that came to the attention of the queen, and she gifted him the estate.”

“Was he made a baronet then?” Rose’s eyes were round with wonder. I believe Robert had climbed a few notches in her esteem simply by being related to this exceptional fellow.

“No, that came at a later date.”

“That means another ancestor did something heroic,” she told Christine and Lissette. “I love learning history.”

“That means your governess is teaching it well.” That brought another point to mind. “Rose, didn’t Miss Pettigrew give you and Grace an assignment to work on over the holiday?” I asked. “Did you bring it with you?” Fiona and I shared the cost of a governess, who was part of Fiona’s household, so every day Rose joined Grace for her lessons. Between the two of us, we were able to provide an attractive salary, and we were both pleased with Miss Pettigrew.

Hetty looked aghast. “What sort of governess assigns work for her students over the holiday?”

One who knew that children could often be at loose ends during a long break from their lessons. If Rose and Grace didn’t need the distraction, Miss Pettigrew had confided to me, then she wouldn’t count it against them if they didn’t complete the assignment.

“It’s a fun assignment, Aunt Hetty,” Rose said with a grin. “We are supposed to write a Christmas story. We both started on our own, but now we shall write it together.”

“You must tell us about your story,” Christine said. The three girls began talking among themselves.

Everything seemed to be working out smoothly. The trio was occupied. George had rested his head against the window and dozed off. I turned to Hetty. “Did your departure go smoothly?” I asked. “Were you able to get word to Gilliam?”

“I did. He said he’d do his best to join us by Christmas Day. I told him that would be fine.” She looked at me in question. “I didn’t think Fiona would mind not having a firm answer.”

“I’m sure she won’t. After all, she was delighted to hear that she’d managed to convince the six of us to come. I can’t imagine one more will make a difference.”

Hetty made a noncommittal sound.

“I feel badly about the change in our plans taking you away from London. Will you mind very much if he doesn’t make it?”

Hetty gazed ahead for a moment before answering me. “I would like to spend the holidays with him. We had only just begun our friendship when last Christmas came around, so there was no question of spending it with anyone other than our own families. I had thought this Christmas would be special for us.” She gave me a cautious glance. “It may be still, but he and I are older, and our lives are complicated.”

Complicated? “Are you and Gilliam having some difficulties?”

Hetty gave me a smile. “Nothing you should worry about.”

Perhaps not, but I was likely to worry nonetheless. Hetty was quite independent and wealthy enough to be so. If Gilliam was talking to her about marriage, she might lack the confidence to believe he wanted her for herself and question his motive.

If he was talking about marriage, that is.

“Whatever your troubles,” I said, “you and Gilliam care enough about each other to work through them.”

“I’m sure you are right.” Her reply rang hollow, but at that point she retreated to a book she’d brought with her, forestalling any further questions from me. I had to content myself with sitting quietly and watching the scenery stream past the window. Fortunately, George woke up at that point.

It might have been the tiny jab I’d given him with my elbow.

He moved his head from the window to my shoulder. I felt him nod in the direction of the trio. “Look at them,” he said in a quiet voice. “Doesn’t it look like they’re plotting some mischief?”

“Your imagination has taken a turn to the devious,” I said. “Rose is simply telling them about her story or perhaps Hadley Grange.”

“I’m starting to think you might have been right about leaving so soon.” He tipped his head to look up at me. “Two full weeks without any structure—no governess or nanny. What if they become restless? They could plot a coup. We could be at their mercy.”

I shifted so that his head slid back against the seat. “First of all, you are giving me credit for something I don’t recall saying. My concern about leaving so early was that we’d all be stuck with two weeks of rain.”

George straightened his slouch until his head was a few inches above mine. Those green eyes bore down on me. “They are expecting snow, not rain.”

“I hope they are correct. Secondly, you needn’t worry about a coup. We are bigger than the children, and we outnumber them.”

“I accept your first premise, but how do you figure the second?” he asked. “There are three of them and three of us.”

“Come now, George,” I said. “Christine will be an adult in little more than a week—legally, that is. She’s been taking on adult responsibilities for years now. I definitely put her in our camp.”

“Hrmph,” he said noncommittally.

“Lissette is somewhere in between, but she hardly needs a minder.”

“She needed one last summer,” George reminded me.

“She had just lost her mother, and she didn’t know us. You can hardly blame her for not trusting us back then.”

He slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side. “Agreed,” he said, his breath warming my cheek. “Lissette has been remarkably resilient in so short a time, but she still has nightmares. Did you know that?”

I pulled away enough to face him. “I didn’t, but I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to tell you about it.” Lissette began our association resenting me, in part because her mother died and I lived. She was beginning to warm up to me, but I wasn’t surprised that she put her trust in George instead. “What did you do?”

He pulled a blank face. “Gave her a brandy and sent her back to bed.”

I raised a brow, and he grinned. “We talked. She said she felt better. You are right. She’s not likely to initiate a coup.” He narrowed his eyes. “But what about my sister’s rapscallion son, Gregory?”

“By then we will have added Fiona and Robert to our ranks, so we will still outnumber them.” I patted his hand. “You needn’t worry about the children getting into mischief. In fact, I can picture you playing in the snow with them. Your biggest concern should be keeping up.”

George drew back and looked down his nose at me. “I take that as a challenge, madam.”

We changed trains in Norwich for the second part of our journey to the village of Badenworth, nestled between Aylsham and Cromer. When we finally reached Badenworth, we found Robert’s coach waiting to whisk us to Hadley Grange, where our arrival was cause for much excitement. Cold and damp from the mist in the air, we hurried through the door. Happy voices rang out, echoing off the stone walls of the cavernous entry hall.

A casual observer would never have dreamt that Fiona, Hetty, and I had had luncheon together only ten days ago and that Rose and Grace had concluded their lessons for the year only a week ago. Instead, we greeted one another as if it had been months rather than days since we’d last been together. Rose had barely removed her coat before she and Grace skipped off to the drawing room, leaving us with a view of two sets of plaits, one fair, one dark, bouncing against their shoulders as they escaped the grown-ups.

Christine and Lissette had yet to visit an English country estate, and Hadley Grange, the country home of Robert and Fiona Nash, was something to behold even to the jaded eye. The original . . .