FOUND CHRISTMAS

by JEANETTE R COLLINS

Genres: Regency Romance

Synopsis

Spirited sisters Bia and Letty Greenway, out in the snow to find Christmas holly, instead find a wounded man, shot. They care for him, Bia charmed by his beauty and Letty eager to gain material for her ongoing novel. Soon, his horse and evidence of the event ever having happened disappear.

Who is he? Why was he riding at night in a snowstorm without a heavy coat? Who shot him and why? The man regains consciousness, and an exciting story begins, involving Waterloo, a cruel murder, and an attempt to commit another, to steal an earldom.

Release date: November 1, 2021

Publisher: THE WILD ROSE PRESS

Print pages: 199

Content advisory: MILD

Sample

Tuesday

       Bianca Greenway woke as the bed sagged. Opened one eye and Woof licked her chin.

       “Wake up, Bia, wake up!” her sister cried. “It snowed!”

       She moved the dog aside. “Did it?”

       “Yes, lots,” Letty pulled at the covers. “Put on clothes and let us go out.”

       Bia yawned. “After breakfast.”

       “No, no, that will not do. It might melt, then we shall have no Christmas at all. We must go out and cut holly branches.”

       Bia petted the shepherd’s shaggy ears. “Is there holly hereabouts?”

       “We have to look for it. That is the way it is supposed to happen. It snows, then everyone in the house party goes out. A merry time is had, with mistletoe and the like.”

       “What book is this?”

       “Mine! The one I am writing.” Letty pulled the comforter away. “Come now. Just for an hour, then we can breakfast.”

       Woof wagged his tail, his doggy expression hopeful.

       “Very well.”

       Her sister leapt off the bed, Woof right after her, and ran out the door.

       Bia got up and in her nightie, searched through the armoire. In a bottom drawer were old pants and jumpers she had spotted. She held up the pants. They would fit, or nearly, and she would not spoil her clothing. She took a pair and went next door to Letty’s room.

       “Look here, Letty. Wear these and save your gowns.”

       Letty stared. “Pantaloons?”

       “Old, but they are wool. Give them a try. And there are a few jumpers. Come back when you are ready.”

       Bia put on stockings and the dark plaid pantaloons. They reached her ankles, so would do nicely. She tugged on her second-best half boots. Rummaged through the drawer, raising a musty odor, came up with a wool shirt and donned that. Now she felt overheated but picked through the jumpers and chose one. She must leave the house or die of heat stroke.

       Letty returned, resembling a scarecrow. Woof busily sniffed the clothing. “I need a jumper.”

       “The bottom drawer.”

       “Ah, who might these have belonged to?” Letty asked, dragging one on. It, too, fell to her knees. “Somebody really big. A handsome aristocrat, perhaps.”

       “In Grandmother’s cottage?”

       “Maybe she hid a notorious French spy.”

       “Write that down, Letty. Scarves and hats, and we shall venture out.”

       Letty skipped ahead, Woof followed and they went down the stairs and to the kitchen. There they found Quinn, the cook and housekeeper. She was relaxed at the deal table, sipping a large dish of coffee.

       “God a’mighty. You two look right peculiar.”

       “We are going out to cut holly,” Letty announced, “and must have a knife.”

       “Well and good. Take the smallest and do not hurt yourself.” The woman slurped the coffee. “In the meanwhile, I will think of breakfast. Too early for that, so have a fine time.”      

       “Do you know where there is some holly?” Bia asked.

       Quinn waved a hand. “Beyond the rhododendrons. Take care near that gully. Watch your step, it goes right straight down forever. Best stay clear. As I recall, there be a holly bush round there somewheres. Mean to decorate, do you?”

       “Some. Letty needs material.”

       “What say?”

       “She wants to mark the holiday,” Bia amended.

       Letty pulled at her enormous jumper. “Let us go, Bia. Time is flying.”

       They went to the front door and outside. A gust of frosty air hit their faces.

       “Glorious,” Letty cried, and began to make footprints in the snow. She leaned down and poked in a finger. “Two knuckles, Bia. Two.” Woof inspected the resulting hole.

       “Great. Let me carry the knife.”

       Letty handed it off and ran away, the dog frolicking. What a daft errand, Bia thought, sticking the knife in her half boot. Christmas, bah. The spirit had gotten lost. No one was left to celebrate with. Dafter yet, she brooded, to come here to this outpost of humanity, on a whim.

       She paced after her sister. Her nose is cold, but it is a fine, crisp December day, the sky a washed blue. Sunlight slanted through the trees, frost glistening on the bare branches.

       “Bia! Bia, come!”

       She strolled that direction.

       “Quick! Come quick!” Letty shouted.

       Bia hurried and found Letty beside a large hump of snow, bending down and appearing much distressed. “Look, look.” She scuffed away snow to reveal a brown mane. “It is a horse.”

       “I can see that.”

       “Dead.” Letty leaned down further. “Still warm! It melted the snow a little or I would not have seen it in this sort of um, depression.”

       Bia tried to add it up. Had the animal run away? Fallen exhausted and died? “Give me that branch, Letty.” She tore off leaves to leave a stick and cleared snow from around the horse’s head and neck. This exposed matted blood, a lot of it. It had pooled, run down the slope toward the gully, then frozen over. She knelt down, saw a gaping wound in the neck and quickly stood up.

       “We must…this animal has been shot!”

       Letty just stood there. “Impossible.”

       “There is a hole in the neck. See? A bullet hole, just like the ducks Daddy used to bring home.”

       “They had lots of holes.”

       “This bullet was bigger. It is a wonder to me why the creature did not fall into that enormous gully. Mercy, Letty, get the dog.”

       Letty scooted down the snowy hill toward the ominous crack in the land and caught Woof by the tail. The dog continued digging. To their fresh shock, Woof had uncovered the edge of a tweed coat, and a human hand. The whole hillside shifted and portions began to slide, the snow slowly falling away in a sheet. Letty let go of the dog which scampered away. Bia clambered down to help and clutched the cold hand. The two girls strained and grunted, caught and held onto the coat sleeve, then the arm. Grabbed more of the coat, and struggling, they got the body up a little rise. More of the hillside snow soundlessly sank into the abyss.

       They got firmer holds and with great effort, dragged the body up to level ground, helped by the ice and slush. Bia brushed snow from the face of the tall man.

       “Oh, horrors, he is hurt. His coat is….” She jumped back, a smear of blood on her hand. “Letty,” she calmly said, “go fetch Milton and the wood cart. Hurry.”

       “What for?”

       “He is alive.”

       Letty ran to find Milton. Woof sat down, his tongue lolling, looked from the man to her and back again.

       “Woof, you are a hero,” she told the dog, ruffling his fur. “One more minute, and this fellow might have been gone forever.”

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