{"id":357,"date":"2019-12-14T09:00:13","date_gmt":"2019-12-14T16:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/?page_id=357"},"modified":"2019-12-14T10:12:59","modified_gmt":"2019-12-14T17:12:59","slug":"mistletoe-and-murder","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/mistletoe-and-murder\/","title":{"rendered":"Mistletoe and Murder"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

This free fiction appears here as part of The Infinite Bard<\/a> project. A new story is posted every other week, so be sure to check back often!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mistletoe\nand Murder<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Lauryn Christopher<\/h5>\n\n\n\n

December 21<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first snowflakes of the season glittered in the crisp,\ncold air before settling delicately on the precisely-trimmed boxwood hedges\nsurrounding Richard Fenton Tulley\u2019s grand, Berkshire estate. It had been an\nunusually dry winter thus far, but with only four days left before Christmas,\nit was clear that not even Jack Frost dared face Fenton Tulley\u2019s wrath, should\nthe snow fail to materialize in time for the obligatory holiday photos, and the\nweather had complied at last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth\nBrewer, who had managed the Tulley estate for as long as anyone could remember,\nnoticed the snowflakes fluttering on the breeze as she oversaw the unloading of\ncrates of wine and other spirits which had been ordered in advance of the\nfamily\u2019s annual holiday gathering. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\nwould be eight guests in attendance this year, not counting the grandchildren, and\nElizabeth had spent the previous month ensuring that the necessary preparations\nfor the holiday week had been attended to \u2013 a task she had shared with each of the\nprevious Mrs. Tulleys, but which the current Mrs. Tulley, a former pro-football\ncheerleader, had shown no aptitude for. After making the entirely inappropriate\nsuggestion that bunches of mistletoe be hung in every archway throughout the\nmansion and how much she \u2018absolutely adored<\/em>\nthe kissing tradition\u2019 it encouraged, her hummingbird-brain\u2019s interest in the\naffair predictably turned to her wardrobe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth hrmmphed<\/em> at the recollection, pulling\nher sweater tighter around her thin frame as she followed the deliveryman into\nthe house. She had said nothing \u2013 it was not her place \u2013 but she had her own\nopinions, of course, and her opinion was that Mrs. Jocelyn had much to learn\nabout being the wife of a man like Mr. Fenton, who bought and sold businesses\nover breakfast and received foreign dignitaries in his home on a regular basis.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And while\nit was true that Mrs. Jocelyn was a pretty little bit of arm-candy \u2013 especially\nafter pouring herself into one of her tight skirts and fluffing her bottle-blonde\nhair into a cloud around her perfectly painted face \u2013 being a proper hostess\nrequired much more than the ability to simper and coo and flutter her lashes at\nher rich and powerful husband and flirt with his friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, she\nwould learn. Or she would join the list of former Mrs. Tulleys, each younger\nthan the last, all scheming in vain to find a loophole in their pre-nuptial\nagreements \u2013 as though Mr. Fenton would have been careless enough to leave\nhimself exposed in any way \u2013 and good riddance to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As far as\nElizabeth was concerned, there was only one true Mrs. Tulley, and that was Mrs.\nClaire. Nearly fifteen years younger than Mr. Fenton, his first wife had\nmarried him shortly after graduating college, and given him thirty years and\nthree children \u2013 Richard, Jr., Margot, and Kyle \u2013 before walking away with her\nhead held high after discovering that while she had been battling with breast\ncancer, her devoted husband had been dallying with one of her nurses. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs.\nClaire was a lady of the old school, refined and polite, who seldom raised her\nvoice, but had a way of letting you know just what she thought of you without\never saying a word. It had been seven years and six wives since Mrs. Claire had\njoined the family for the holidays, but Miss Margot had phoned this morning to\ntell Elizabeth that she had invited her mother up for the holiday, and while she\nhadn\u2019t agreed, she hadn\u2019t declined, either. So Elizabeth had had the blue\nbedroom made up just in case. The blue bedroom was a very pleasant suite at the\nopposite end of the mansion from the master suite, and it seemed prudent to put\nas much distance between the Mrs. Tulleys as possible, while keeping the entire\nparty under one roof. It wouldn\u2019t do to put Mrs. Claire out in the guesthouse,\nlike some stranger, forcing her to tromp back and forth through the snow to the\nmain house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\ndeliveries continued throughout the day \u2013 small game hens for the Christmas Eve\ndinner, both a turkey and a ham for the Christmas Day feast, the leftovers of\nwhich would be sliced and shredded and served up for Boxing Day sandwiches,\nbaked into casseroles, and used in a variety of other ways during the week\nbetween Christmas and New Year\u2019s Eve. There were potatoes for mashing, eggs for\ndeviling, ingredients for baking the endless supply of cookies and other\npastries that would grace the sideboards, and on and on, until every item on\nElizabeth\u2019s extensive grocery list had been received, checked off, and stored.\nMuch of the baking had already begun, and the aromas of pies and breads wafted\nthrough the mansion like a holiday potpourri.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

December 22<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The guests\nbegan to arrive the following morning, snow flurries swirling around the cars\nas they ambled up the long, sweeping drive, passed under the broad portico that\nseparated the main house from the garage, and found shelter from the coming\nstorm. Kyle was first, ducking into the kitchen in search of something to fuel\nhis long, lean frame. Just twenty-six, Elizabeth noted that the youngest of Mr.\nFenton\u2019s offspring was finally settling into his adult body, though his face\nstill sported the boyish grin and dusting of freckles that had endeared him to\ncountless sweethearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought\nyou were bringing a date,\u201d Elizabeth said, looking beyond him as the kitchen\ndoor swung closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo did\nI,\u201d Kyle said with a shrug. \u201cAlas, it was not meant to be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAm I\nsorry?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNah. She\nchose Maui \u2013 Christmas on the beach \u2013 with her family over snowy mountains. I would\nhave done the same, if for no other reason than to avoid the old man and his\nchild-bride, but I\u2019d already promised Margot I\u2019d be here. Besides, I couldn\u2019t\nget a plane ticket.\u201d He popped a cookie in his mouth. \u201cSo here I am,\u201d he said\naround the mouthful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard,\nJr., and his wife Denise were the next to arrive, trundling in enough bags and\nbaggage for a month\u2019s stay \u2013 or so it seemed to Elizabeth, as they loaded in\nsuitcases and diaper bags and baby carriers and playsets and all the other\nparaphernalia required for a week\u2019s travel with twin toddlers. They had an au\npair in tow, as well, a pale, slim girl of no more than twenty, with long,\nmousy-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wide brown eyes that seemed to\nbe trying to take in everything all at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While Denise\nand the au pair got the small family settled in their rooms, Richard piled\ngifts under the large Christmas tree in the library, then availed himself of\nthe glass decanters on the sideboard, pouring himself a liberal helping of the\nfine Kentucky bourbon that was Mr. Fenton\u2019s preferred drink, and which\nElizabeth always made sure was in plentiful supply. Richard was tossing back a\nswallow as she arrived at the library door, then reached for the bottle to pour\nhimself another, and for a moment she was struck by just how much he looked\nlike his father had in his mid-thirties, with his broad shoulders and dark hair\nand square jaw set in a hard expression, relieved only slightly by the softening\neffects of the alcohol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is\nyour girl from?\u201d Elizabeth asked, coming into the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard\nnever flinched, pouring the whiskey and replacing the decanter before turning\nto face her. \u201cWho, Gina?\u201d he said. \u201cShe\u2019s from Topeka. Kansas. She\u2019s working\nher way through college.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, really?\nI thought she was foreign. She looks like she\u2019s afraid of being deported at any\nminute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard\nlaughed. \u201cNo, she\u2019s just very quiet \u2013 and I think the estate intimidates her a\nlittle. But she\u2019s great with the twins. Denise says she couldn\u2019t get along without\nher.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth\nlooked at him closely. \u201cAnd you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\nabout me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the\nstrained sound of his voice, Elizabeth knew she had overstepped. \u201cIs there\nanything I can get for you?\u201d she asked, her voice calm and professional and not\nthe least bit intrusive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI saw my\nbrother\u2019s car in the garage. Is anyone else here? And when is my father\nexpected to arrive?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr. Kyle\narrived this morning; I believe he is in the billiard room. I am expecting Mr.\nand Mrs. Tulley tomorrow afternoon, along with Miss Margot, and Mr. Moreland.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMoreland\u2019s\ncoming? Whatever for? This is a family holiday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMiss\nMargot told me he was coming,\u201d Elizabeth said. \u201cShe did not elaborate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhatever,\u201d\nRichard said. He crossed the room and dropped into one of the large leather\nchairs, the whiskey sloshing in its tumbler, but not splashing out of the\nglass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf there\nis nothing else, sir, I will take my leave. Dinner will be at seven.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\nyes,\u201d Richard said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Elizabeth\nleft the room, she thought Mr. Richard seemed agitated, distracted. Like\nfather, like son, regardless of their differences. She hoped she had ordered\nenough bourbon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

December 23<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth peered through the blinds of the large dining\nroom window as Daniel, the estate\u2019s groundskeeper drove past the house on the\nsmall, growling, ATV, clearing away what looked to be a hand\u2019s depth of snow\nthat had accumulated during the night, and was still falling in thick, heavy\nflakes. Snow was part of winter in the Berkshires, and while the county was\nreasonably efficient at maintaining the public roads, the individual homeowners\nwere on their own when it came to snow removal. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth turned away from the window and began to gather\nup the breakfast dishes, making note of the spills on the floor surrounding the\ntoddler\u2019s high chairs. She would have to ask Denise if she planned to have the\nchildren out at every meal \u2013 in which case, she would have to put down\ndrop-cloths \u2013 or if they would be spending the majority of their time in the\nsuite with the au pair, Gina. She hoped the latter. While much could be\nforgiven of small children, Mr. Fenton was not a patient man, and would not\nwell tolerate either the chaos or the mess his young grandsons were sure to\ncontribute to the holiday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Daniel and the ATV had rumbled past the house twice more,\nand the groundskeeper was busily clearing the area in front of the garage when\nMargot rolled up the drive, snow crunching beneath the tires of her Jeep\nCherokee. She left the truck in front of the house, and burst in through the\nfront door, stomping her feet and shaking the snow from her head and shoulders\nin a wet flurry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m here! The party can now begin!\u201d she called out,\nlaughing and dropping a backpack onto the floor while she shed her outerwear,\npiling vest, coat, scarf, gloves, and hat on Elizabeth\u2019s outstretched arms.\nWhen the layers were finally removed, Margot was revealed as a petite brunette\nwith blue streaks in her hair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFather isn\u2019t far behind me,\u201d she said, kicking her wet\nboots toward the grate. \u201cI passed them on the freeway. But the local roads are\ncrap, so it could be another half-hour before they get here. Thought you\u2019d\nappreciate the warning. Who\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But before she could finish her question, Kyle appeared in\nthe gallery at the top of the stairs, a broad grin on his face. Though nearly\nten years separated the two, they had always been close. As children, Margot\nand her little brother had developed a tight bond, which had only strengthened\nas they had become adults. Elizabeth smiled as they greeted each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, well, look what the abominable snowman dragged in,\u201d\nhe said, heading down the stairs to greet her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSeen yourself in a mirror lately?\u201d she replied, laughing.\nAnd then she darted toward the stairs, meeting Kyle near the mid-point. After a\nmoment\u2019s awkward repositioning, so that Margot was on a higher step and Kyle on\na lower, putting them at a more compatible height, the siblings laughingly\nhugged each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRichard\u2019s here, too\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDenise and the twins?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2013with the family, yes. Your luggage?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust my pack,\u201d Margot said, darting back down the stairs\nand scooping up the discarded backpack. \u201cI\u2019ve got more than enough clothes in\nmy room.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cElizabeth, is there any of that spiced cider in the\nhouse?\u201d Kyle asked. \u201cNothing like a hot drink after a cold drive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, of course, Mr. Kyle. I\u2019ll send some up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then they ran up the stairs in search of their older\nbrother, leaving Elizabeth to manage Margot\u2019s outerwear, send a maid upstairs\nwith a plate of gingerbread, several mugs, and a heated carafe of mulled cider\nfor the Tulley siblings, and prepare for the imminent arrival of Mr. and Mrs.\nTulley.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton crossed the library toward the crystal decanters\non the sideboard and poured himself half a tumbler-full of bourbon, all the\nwhile peppering Elizabeth with questions about the holiday preparations, which\nshe answered with her usual, calm efficiency. She was accustomed to this sort\nof barrage from him, and did not take it personally \u2013 like so many men in his\nposition, who were forced to delegate tasks to subordinates, Mr. Fenton was\nfirmly of the belief that no matter how capable those subordinates might be,\nnothing was truly to his satisfaction without his direct input and oversight,\nand it irked him to have to rely on anyone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Age was forcing that reliance on him more and more each\nyear, though, and Elizabeth\u2019s sharp eyes noticed that while his step was still\nsure, it had grown slower in the last several months, and his precisely\ntailored suit did not hide his gaunt frame, bony wrists, or shoulders that seemed\nto have shrunk with age.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Mr. Fenton alternately barked out orders and sipped at\nhis drink, Elizabeth watched his gaze slide past her, note the large, lighted\nChristmas tree in the corner of the room, and then stop at the library door.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the mistletoe?\u201d he asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExcuse me, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe mistletoe? Jocelyn was going on and on about how there\nwould be mistletoe hung from the archways. Some fool notion of hers about \u2018how\nromantic\u2019 it is. Makes no difference to me, but this is our first Christmas\ntogether, so if she wants mistletoe, she gets mistletoe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth prided herself on never backing down, even in the\nface of Mr. Fenton\u2019s criticisms. \u201cI was given to understand that Mrs. Jocelyn\nwould be bringing the bundles of mistletoe with her,\u201d she said smoothly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd so I did,\u201d said a bright, perky voice behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth turned to see Jocelyn coming into the room. With\nher hair pulled back in a high ponytail, she looked barely out of high school,\nmuch less her twenty-four years. And the fuzzy, pale-pink sweater over tight, fuchsia\nleggings and matching open-toed stiletto heels were more suited to the runway,\nnot a holiday in the country.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In her hands, Mrs. Jocelyn held a clear plastic box, like\nthe kind long-stemmed roses are delivered in. But instead of tasteful flowers,\nthe box held six large clusters of mistletoe and holly, each bound with a\nlength of red ribbon, suitable for hanging.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth accepted the box from her employer\u2019s overgrown\ncheerleader-wife. \u201cI\u2019ll see that these are hung,\u201d she said, taking pride in the\nfact that no evidence of her disdain for either the idea or its source crept\ninto her voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had just cleared the doorway, but was not yet out of\nearshot when Mrs. Jocelyn began to whine. Elizabeth did not stop to listen \u2013\nactively eavesdropping was beneath her \u2013 but she did allow her step to slow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think she likes me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNonsense. You\u2019re just tired. Come here, my pet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Heels clicked across the hardwood floor, silencing as Mrs.\nJocelyn stepped onto the carpet surrounding the seating area.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy did we have to come to the mountains, Fenton? I have\nnothing to wear here. My feet are so cold. Just look at my toes\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth had heard enough. She resumed her pace, and\nquickly put the library, and her employer\u2019s petulant, simpering wife, behind\nher.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton\u2019s business partner, Kenneth Moreland, arrived\njust in time for supper. Mr. Moreland had always seemed like a pleasant enough\nman to Elizabeth, but she didn\u2019t know him as well as she knew the members of\nthe Tulley family. But she\u2019d overheard Mr. Richard telling his wife that he\nhoped Mr. Moreland got stuck in a snowbank somewhere, so she knew that there\nwere other stories in play here. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nevertheless, she took his coat and showed him to the\nlibrary, where the family was gathering for pre-dinner appetizers. Mr. Fenton\ngreeted him warmly, Mr. Richard raised his glass in salute \u2013 though Elizabeth\nnoted his thin-lipped smile \u2013 and Mrs. Jocelyn looped her arm in his, guided\nhim back to the entryway, pointed to the mistletoe hanging above their heads,\nand planted a kiss squarely on his lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth thought that was clearly not the first under-the-mistletoe-kiss\nshe had delivered, as Denise glared at Mr. Richard while everyone else laughed\nat Mr. Moreland\u2019s discomfiture. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDinner will be served in ten minutes,\u201d she announced when\nthe laughter had subsided.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLooks like you\u2019re just in time for a drink, Kenneth,\u201d Mr.\nFenton said, moving toward the sideboard. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Moreland nodded, extricating himself from Jocelyn\u2019s\ngrasp. \u201cThank you, Fenton,\u201d he said. \u201cI could use one. The roads are miserable.\nI nearly ended up spending the holiday in a snowbank.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth couldn\u2019t help but\nglance over at Mr. Richard, and thought that his expression seemed almost smug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth had learned long ago that the best way to ensure\nthe Tulleys and their guests enjoyed a pleasant stay in the big house was to\npay attention. Years of practice had honed her skills at being present, yet\nunnoticed, in all but the most intimate of family interactions \u2013 and she was\nusually aware of those goings-on as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So she was observant, but said nothing, when Mr. Moreland\npaused to speak with Mr. Kyle as the two passed in the short hallway between\nthe dining room and kitchen on their respective paths to and from the washroom.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure you were going to make it,\u201d Kyle said, his\nvoice low, but still audible where Elizabeth had paused, just out of sight,\nwhen he started speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t miss it,\u201d replied Kenneth. \u201cIt took some doing to\nkeep things off his radar until now, but it will be a pleasure to stab the old\nman in the back \u2013 return the favor, as it were. There\u2019s a symmetry here, you\nknow. He took the company away from me at a Fourth of July picnic. Seems only\nright for us to wrest control back on a holiday. I do wish your mother was\nhere, though. It would be just like old times.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMargot tried to persuade her to come. She was\nnoncommittal, but apparently sounded like she was at least considering it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that so? Well, she\u2019ll never make it now, not in this\nweather. More\u2019s the pity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the men parted, Elizabeth thought briefly of the empty\nblue bedroom, and wondered what momentous event Mrs. Claire would be missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth was also witness to \u2013 although, to be honest,\nless surprised by \u2013 Mrs. Jocelyn\u2019s hand, snaking out to rest on Mr. Richard\u2019s\nupper thigh while the pot roast was being placed on the large dining room table.\nThe blonde\u2019s head was turned to the right, toward her husband, her eyes following\nhis every gesture, as though she was fully captivated by what he was saying;\nbut it was clear from the activity beneath the snowy white linen tablecloth\nthat her attention was elsewhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As though a mirror had been placed between the two, Mr.\nRichard\u2019s head was turned away from Mrs. Jocelyn and toward his own wife,\nseated at his left, and who was relating an amusing anecdote about the antics\nof one of their twin boys. And though he smiled and nodded in all the right\nplaces, his right hand, fingers sliding across the fuchsia leggings covering\nhis father\u2019s wife\u2019s leg, was definitely not<\/em>\nin the right place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth kept her observations to herself, as it was not\nher place to call attention to the indiscretions of her employers, regardless\nof her opinion of their behavior. Things would not go well for Mr. Richard if either\nhis wife or his father found out, it was true, but if bidding a final farewell\nto Mrs. Jocelyn was among the results, well, at least some good might come of\nthe affair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

December 24<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was two o\u2019clock in the morning when the ringing of her\ncell phone awakened Elizabeth from a sound sleep. She reached for it, nearly\nupsetting the empty teacup that sat near it on her bedside table, and squinted\nat the number, unable to fully make it out without her glasses, which she had\nknocked to the floor. Reluctantly she pressed the button to accept the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cElizabeth, it\u2019s Claire,\u201d said the caller, the familiar\nvoice sounding nearly as tired as her own. \u201cI\u2019m sorry to wake you, but I\u2019ve\njust arrived and I don\u2019t have a key. Can you let me in? I\u2019m parked just under\nthe portico, near the kitchen door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMrs. Claire? Of course,\u201d Elizabeth said. \u201cI\u2019ll be right\nthere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She quickly found her glasses, pulled on a robe, slid her\nfeet into a pair of warm, fleece-lined slippers, and headed toward the kitchen.\nShe made her way in the dark, lights being made unnecessary by the glow of the\nexterior lights reflected on the falling snow, which cast pale, bluish shadows\nthrough the mansion\u2019s many windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth did switch on a light when she reached the\nkitchen, but only the dim, service light \u2013 just enough to orient Mrs. Claire,\nwho was no longer familiar with the house, to her surroundings, but not so\nbright as to render both of them temporarily blind. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, Elizabeth!\u201d Mrs. Claire said after Elizabeth opened\nthe door bid her come into the house. \u201cIt is so good to see you. Wait just one\nmoment while I fetch my bags, and then I\u2019ll greet you properly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had, indeed, parked only a few steps from the kitchen\ndoor, the portico providing enough shelter that she was able to retrieve her\nbags from the back of her small SUV and bring them into the kitchen without the\nthick, wet snow, which was already beginning to erase her tire tracks, ever\ntouching her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was not at all sure I would make it through,\u201d Mrs.\nClaire said, wrapping both hands around the steaming mug of tea Elizabeth had\nprepared for her. Though thin wisps of gray now touched her honey-blonde hair,\nand fine lines framed her eyes, Elizabeth thought Mrs. Claire had only grown\nmore elegant with age, wearing her fifty-eight years with her customary grace. They\nsat, the two of them, on stools at the kitchen island, for the better part of an\nhour, chatting like long-lost friends while Mrs. Claire thawed out and unwound\nfrom a harrowing drive over dark, winding, snow-filled roads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019d best get you up to your room before you fall asleep\nright here,\u201d Elizabeth said finally, after shared yawns reminded both of the\nlateness of the hour. \u201cI\u2019ve put you up in the blue room\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve always loved that room,\u201d Claire said. \u201cDoes it still\nhave the daisy comforter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, indeed. And as we\u2019ve only the family and Mr. Moreland\nin the house, it will be quiet enough for you to get a good rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat you mean to say is that I\u2019ll be far enough away from\nFenton that my latest replacement won\u2019t fly into a rage until at least\nmidmorning,\u201d Claire corrected her, chuckling as she reached out and patted\nElizabeth on the arm. \u201cIt\u2019s fine. I would have arranged things the same way\nmyself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have missed you,\u201d Elizabeth said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Tulley mansion library was a two-story affair, arranged\nwith a comfortable gathering area on the lower level, and a book-lined balcony\nwrapping around three of the four upper walls, the fourth being a double-height\nwindow that looked out across the expansive, snow-covered grounds toward the\nsurrounding forest. The Christmas tree occupied a place of honor in one corner\nof the lower level, with piles of gifts surrounding it, to which the various\nfamily members had been adding as they arrived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth was just passing by the open upper-level door\nwhen she heard voices in the lower part of the library. After determining that\nit was Mr. Richard and his wife, Denise, she stepped onto the balcony, pulling\nthe door nearly closed behind her. She then picked up a book, quietly sat in an\neasy chair that offered her a partial view of the lower level, and pretended to\nread, though anyone passing by would have questioned her selection of reading\nmaterial, the study of economic structures during the Victorian era not being\nher usual fare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHave you asked him yet?\u201d Denise was saying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Richard said, looking up from the book he was holding.\n\u201cHe\u2019s been in a foul mood all morning, ever since he found out that Mother was\nhere. Why on earth did she come anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have<\/em> to ask\nhim. It\u2019s the only reason I agreed to come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be ridiculous. What would you have done alone in the\ncity?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot hauled diaper bags all over creation, for one thing,\u201d\nDenise grabbed the book from his hands and tossed it on a table. \u201cOr listened\nto that vapid cheerleader go on about her nails. For god\u2019s sakes, what does he\nsee in her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think he\u2019s looking at her nails.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNeither are you,\u201d Denise said, the ice in her voice making\nit clear that she had noticed, at least to some extent, the dalliance between\nMr. Richard and Mrs. Jocelyn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat difference does it make to you?\u201d Richard asked. He\nrose and crossed to the sideboard, where he poured himself a bourbon. \u201cI\u2019m done\nwith you, Father\u2019s done with you\u2026\u201d he paused to take a sip of his drink before\ncontinuing. \u201cHave you set your sights on Moreland? His wife\u2019s been gone long\nenough that he\u2019s probably back on the market. He\u2019s second-tier to Father, of\ncourse, but at least he\u2019s not losing his hair yet.\u201d He might have been\ndiscussing a business venture for all the emotion in his voice. \u201cAt the very\nleast,\u201d he continued, \u201chis portfolio should be powerful enough to appeal to\nyou.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re horrible.\u201d Denise was standing there, visibly\nshaking, her fists clenched at her sides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd you\u2019re a slut. Just stay away from Kyle. He deserves\nbetter than you\u2019ll give him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou just don\u2019t want him to find out that the twins are his\nbrothers\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard threw the tumbler at Denise, catching her on the\nshoulder. \u201cNever say that again,\u201d he said, his voice a low growl. \u201cEver. No one\ncan ever know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour father knows.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd he\u2019ll pay for that knowledge, believe me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo you\u2019ll talk to him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen the time is right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you won\u2019t talk to him, I will,\u201d Denise said. \u201cHe won\u2019t\nignore me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes he will,\u201d Richard said with a dry laugh. He crossed\nthe room to her, and paused, standing very close, but not touching. \u201cHe\u2019s very\ngood at ignoring people. And deflecting both blame and responsibility. I know\nmy father better than you do, Denise. I\u2019ll handle him \u2013 and maybe then we\u2019ll\nboth get what we want.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard left the library. Denise stood there for a moment,\nthen sank to the arm of the sofa, where she sat, shaking, arms wrapped tightly around\nher midsection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth was shaking a little herself as she slipped out\nof the upper library and pressed her back against the wall. Mr. Fenton was the\nfather of Denise\u2019s twin boys? It was unthinkable, yet clearly it was the truth.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She did the mental math, thinking back past two\nChristmases, to the autumn before, when Mr. Richard and his wife had spent so\nmany lazy weekends in the mansion, along with Mr. Fenton and his then-wife,\nMrs. Marie. There had been late nights and laughing and drinking and lazy\nafternoons and quiet picnics and plenty of opportunities for Mr. Fenton to find\nhis interest in his young French model waning as his pretty daughter-in-law\ncaught his eye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How had she not seen it? And how many other secrets had the\ngreat house seen that she had missed? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth showed Mrs. Claire to Mr. Fenton\u2019s study, then\nslipped quietly into the small powder room that served both the study and the\nhallway, locked the doors on both sides, and pressed her ear to the wall. She\u2019d\nlearned from Mr. Kyle, when he was but a young boy, that it was possible to\nhear everything that was said if you listened at exactly the right spot \u2013 but,\nthe inquisitive lad had informed her solemnly, if you so much as sniffled, they\ncould hear you on the other side just as clearly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy are you here, Claire?\u201d Mr. Fenton asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Claire\u2019s voice was lighthearted, the volume rising and\nfalling as though she was moving around the room as she spoke. \u201cMargot invited\nme. I wasn\u2019t going to come at first, but the prospect of spending Christmas\nalone, watching a recorded fire on the television, held little appeal. So I\ndecided to make the trip.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou must realize how awkward this is for everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly for you, dear,\u201d Claire said with a laugh. \u201cThe\nchildren seem to be quite pleased that I\u2019m here.\u201d There was a pause, then she\ncontinued. \u201cEven the house knows me \u2013 frankly, I\u2019ve been pleasantly surprised\nat how little it has changed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou set it up well,\u201d Fenton said, his tone that of a\ncompliment grudgingly given. \u201cThere was little that needed changing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An awkward silence fell, and for a moment Elizabeth thought\nthey might have left the room. The powder room did not offer even the slightest\nview into the study, and she chafed at her inability to see what was going on. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was miserable to you,\u201d Mr. Fenton said finally. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAn apology, Fenton? My, you are getting old, if you\u2019ve\nbegun contemplating your sins and regretting them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow did you ever put up with me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t,\u201d Claire said. The lightness had left her voice. \u201cYou\nforget,\u201d she continued. \u201cI divorced you. For good reason, I might add.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know how to handle your illness\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re beyond excuses, Fenton,\u201d Claire said, cutting him\noff. \u201cYou\u2019d been a cheating bastard for years, and when I was sick you\ndefaulted to your usual behavior. So I left you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt would have been easier if you\u2019d died,\u201d he said. \u201cI\nwould have known how to handle that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThinking of yourself again, and only of yourself,\u201d she\nsaid, her voice now tired, but still strong \u201cWhy am I not surprised? Yes, it\nwould have been easier for you if I had died. It would have been easier for the\nrest of us if you<\/em> had.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As nearly as Elizabeth could tell, only the au pair, Gina,\nwho had spent nearly the entire time in Mr. Richard\u2019s suite tending to the\ntwins \u2013 thank heavens Denise had the good sense not to parade them around too<\/em> much! \u2013 was not embroiled in one or\nmore of the schemes, arguments, or grievances she had been privy to throughout\nthe day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the curse of a life of service, Elizabeth thought.\nOne spent years seeing to their employer\u2019s wishes, listening to their\ngrievances, and anticipating their needs, for which the only reward was the\nopportunity of cleaning up the mess when conflicting interests in a household\nof headstrong individuals boiled over like an unattended soup. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the current escalation of tensions felt different\nsomehow, in a way Elizabeth could not quite put her finger on, but not unlike\nthe sensations she imagined animals experienced which caused them to flee in\nanticipation of an earthquake. She glanced at the window. There would be no\nfleeing from this cataclysm. The snow had only gotten thicker as the day had\nprogressed, the weight of it causing even the sturdy branches of the pines to\ndroop, turning them into a ghostly line of soldiers at the edge of the white\nexpanse blanketing the lawn. Of the boxwood hedge bordering the drive and\nwalkway, there was no sign, only a slight rounding where the snow Daniel had\npushed to the edges had buried them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even the sturdy ATV had finally retreated in the face of\nthe heavy snowfall \u2013 for surely it could not have been the redoubtable Daniel\nwho had been the one to admit defeat. Regardless of on which side the decision\nhad been made, after he had seen that all of the expected visitors had arrived,\nand their vehicles safely sheltered in the garage, he parked the ATV, hung up\nhis hat and coat, and announced to the staff that it was his intention to wait\nout the storm in front of a cozy fire with a good book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth made a mental note to ask him to make sure the\ngenerator was ready to be switched on at a moment\u2019s notice, in the event of a\npower outage, but beyond that minor task, found herself in complete agreement\nwith the groundskeeper\u2019s decision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Christmas Eve dinner of game hens, roasted to crispy\nperfection, served with a savory wild rice stuffing and steamed asparagus was\nwell-received, but it was clear to Elizabeth that tensions in the great house\nwere too high for anyone to truly enjoy the meal. Sidelong glances were met\nwith hastily averted eyes, witty comments were as sharp as the knives used to\ncut the hens, and awkward silences piled on top of each other as thickly as the\nsnow falling in drifts outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI spoke with James Harward the other day,\u201d Mrs. Claire\nsaid, buttering a roll as casually as she spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you now?\u201d said Mr. Fenton, the words practically\ndripping off his tongue. \u201cSo did I. I wonder if we were both there on the same\nday. That would have been awkward.\u201d They were seated at opposite ends of the\nlarge table, as in the old days, a slight that had not been lost on Mrs.\nJocelyn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whatever Mrs. Claire had been about to say was lost in the\nsudden burst of chatter, as Jocelyn, Richard, and Denise \u2013 the three seated all\nin a row to his left \u2013 all began speculating on the likely changes Mr. Fenton\nhad made to his will during his visit with the attorney, there being no other\ngood reason to meet with him, in their opinion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton would neither confirm nor deny any such changes,\nbut sat there looking over the chaos like a cat deciding which of the many\nsparrows milling about before him he should pounce on next. He turned from the\nchattering trio to the less vocal trio at his right \u2013 Kyle, Margot, and\nMoreland \u2013 and said, \u201cSo, are none of you interested in the contents of my\nwill?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you planning on dying any time soon?\u201d Kyle asked in\nreturn. \u201cIf not, I see no point in worrying about it. You\u2019re likely to change\nit many times over before it has any lasting impact on me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWise boy,\u201d Fenton said, raising his wineglass toward his\nyoungest son. \u201cYou must take after your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Jocelyn took renewed offense to the mere mention of\nMrs. Claire in a positive manner, and launched into another round of whining\ncomplaints against the former Mrs. Tulley\u2019s presence, to which Mrs. Claire paid\nno attention, instead leaning forward to hear what Mr. Moreland, who was seated\nto her left, was saying to her. But though Elizabeth saw that the pair had\nclasped hands beneath the corner of the table, their words were lost in the\ngeneral hubbub, over which only Mr. Fenton\u2019s stentorian voice could be heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, Moreland, what do you think of our little family\ngathering?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Moreland gave Mrs. Claire\u2019s hand a squeeze, then turned\nto look at Mr. Fenton. \u201cNot substantially different from some of our board\nmeetings,\u201d he said, which generated a ripple of laughter. As the table quieted,\nhe continued. \u201cThough I seldom have the honor of having my fianc\u00e9e present at\nthose meetings \u2013 a situation I trust will change in the very near future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Brief confusion followed by sudden clarity washed over the\ntable like a wave, as everyone looked from Moreland to Mrs. Claire, both of\nwhom were grinning like teenagers. It wasn\u2019t until Mr. Fenton tapped his spoon\non his glass several times to call for their attention that the excited\noutbursts of surprise and congratulations finally subsided.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton stood, his glass raised. \u201cCongratulations,\nMoreland, Claire. I must admit, I never saw it coming.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amid a round of \u201ccheers,\u201d the happy couple graciously\nnodded their thanks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Mr. Fenton sat, he said, \u201cBut I don\u2019t see how you\u2019re\nbeing married will result in Claire gracing our board meetings with her\npresence.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUnrelated, but coincidentally timed,\u201d Claire said. \u201cAs I\nstarted to say before, I met with James Harward the other day \u2013 actually,\nseveral times in the last weeks \u2013 and, to make a long story short, the current\nvalue of my stocks, which I have been accumulating over the last six years, have\nresulted in my once again having one-third interest in the company, the same as\nboth you and Kenneth. The board has already granted me a seat\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whatever else she was going to say was lost to an enormous\nroar as Mr. Fenton jumped up like a furious beast, knocking his chair over in\nthe process, and stormed toward Mrs. Claire. Kyle twisted in his chair, reaching\nfor his father, but the older man shook him off, his jacket slipping through\nhis son\u2019s grasp. It was Margot, putting a foot out to trip him and sending him\nsprawling on the carpet where Moreland then subdued him, that prevented him\nfrom physically attacking his first wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No one was paying quite as much attention to Mrs. Jocelyn,\nhowever, and the former cheerleader sprang from her own chair and fairly flew\nat Claire, screeching like a banshee, and wielding her long, manicured\nfingernails like bright pink knives. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her wineglass still in her hand, Mrs. Claire flung the\ncontents into Jocelyn\u2019s face, buying for herself a moment\u2019s breath to raise a\nhand in her own defense, but otherwise having much the same result as pouring\ngasoline onto a fire. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jocelyn pounced, tipping Claire\u2019s chair backwards and\nsending them both over, shrieking, in a tangle of flailing limbs and broken\nglass. By the time Richard and Kyle succeeded in pulling them apart, both were\nstained with spilled wine, and sported a number of cuts and scratches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been out to get me all along!\u201d hissed Jocelyn,\nstruggling to free herself from Richard\u2019s grasp and practically spitting at\nClaire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy dear, I haven\u2019t given you a moment\u2019s thought,\u201d Claire\nsaid, smoothing back her hair. \u201cMy actions were entirely directed at Fenton\u2014\u201d\nshe graced him with an icy smile. \u201c\u2014and why not? After all, he is the one who\nnot only cheated on me while I was ill \u2013 oh, I\u2019ve long since forgiven you for\nthat, my dear \u2013 but also took advantage of my weakened condition to swindle me\nout of my shares of the company.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She reached out to Moreland. He gave Fenton a grim look,\nthen moved to her side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was just the three of us in the beginning, old man,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cWe\u2019re just bringing things back full-circle\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaking things right,\u201d said Margot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fenton whirled on his daughter. \u201cYou knew about this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPfft. Of course. We all knew. You\u2019re the one who\u2019s too\nbusy playing with children\u2014\u201d she glanced meaningfully toward Jocelyn, who\nglared back at her, \u201c\u2014to be paying any attention to what\u2019s really going on\naround here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton looked from Margot to Kyle to Richard, his expression\nshifting from shock to hard fury. When his gaze reached Denise, his expression\nshifted again to one of cool calculation. \u201cI guess it\u2019s just as well you\nweren\u2019t interested in the content of my will,\u201d he said, glancing only briefly\nat Kyle as he spoke. \u201cBecause it seems I need to make some revisions to it\nafter all. Yes, indeed.\u201d He straightened his now-rumpled dinner jacket and\nadjusted his tie. He then pushed his way past Mrs. Claire and Mr. Moreland and\nheaded toward the dining room door, reaching up to rip away the clump of\nmistletoe that brushed the top of his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hope you\u2019ve all suitably ingratiated yourselves to your\nmother, as you\u2019ll get nothing more from me,\u201d he said, favoring them with a\nsmile that was almost feral in nature. \u201cIn the meantime, I must make proper\nallowances for those children of mine who have not<\/em> betrayed me. Denise?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this last, he held out his hand toward Mr. Richard\u2019s\nwife, who was the only one who had not risen from the table in all the\nexcitement. She now quietly folded her napkin, rose, and without a word to the\nothers crossed to the door, and took Mr. Fenton\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Jocelyn sputtered in fury and everyone else \u2013 except Mr.\nRichard, Elizabeth noticed \u2013 murmured in confusion, Mr. Fenton and Denise left\nthe dining room, leaving the crushed clump of mistletoe on the floor behind\nthem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So it was that the night before Christmas drew to its\nclose, with Mrs. Jocelyn and Mr. Richard slipping off to one of the unoccupied\nguest bedrooms, Mrs. Claire, Miss Margot, Mr. Kyle, and Mr. Moreland engaged in\na game of cards during which it seemed their entire conversation alternated\nbetween wedding plans and corporate takeovers, and Mr. Fenton and Mrs. Denise\narguing heatedly in the study.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With all of the household\u2019s guest thus accounted for,\nElizabeth made herself a cup of tea. The fracas at dinner had been no more than\na preliminary tremor, of that she was sure. Tensions still rode high among the\nvarious factions in the household, and with no way of escaping each other\u2019s company,\nit was only a matter of time before things boiled over once again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Settling herself in a comfortable chair in the upper\nlibrary with her tea and a good book, Elizabeth waited to see what gifts the\ncoming night would deliver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Among the many services Elizabeth performed for Mr. Fenton\nwas that of notary, for those times when business required official documents\nto be signed while he was away from his office in the city. As a result, she\nwas only slightly surprised when a maid interrupted her reading to inform her\nthat Mr. Fenton required her in his study, and that she was to bring her\nofficial seal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Richard had joined his siblings in the library a\nhalf-hour before, drinking bourbon and offering less-than-helpful suggestions\nto the various players as he strolled around and observed their hands, until\nthey had finally put him to better use as the dealer. Mrs. Jocelyn had not made\nan appearance, and as Elizabeth headed to her room to retrieve her official\nseal, she asked the maid if she had seen her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh yes, she was in her room,\u201d the maid replied, then\nlooked around as though making sure that no one else could hear her before\ncontinuing. \u201cMr. Fenton asked for her as well. She was in something of a state\nwhen I found her \u2013 her hair all mussed, and only wearing one of her fancy\nnightgowns. I think she\u2019d been drinking. A lot. She said if he wanted to talk\nto her, he\u2019d have to come upstairs, but I told her that he insisted she come\ndown.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe yelled at me. I didn\u2019t want to be in trouble, so I\nleft and closed the door. I\u2019d given the message. I couldn\u2019t drag her\ndownstairs\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou did fine,\u201d Elizabeth said, consoling the girl. She had\nonly been with the household for a couple of months, and had come from a much\nquieter position, so was unused to the variable tides that ruled the Tulley\nfamily gatherings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Elizabeth reached the study, Mrs. Jocelyn was indeed\nthere and properly dressed, her hair twisted up in that \u2018messy look\u2019 that girls\nher age seemed to find so fashionable. Mrs. Denise was there as well. Both\nwomen were seated in the pair of comfortable visitor chairs that faced Mr.\nFenton\u2019s large desk, each sipping at a tumbler of the house bourbon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was behind the desk, of course, a single sheet of paper\non the blotter in front of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh, Elizabeth,\u201d he said, his voice as smooth as though the\nearlier unpleasantness had never occurred. \u201cI have drafted a codicil to my\nwill, which I would like to sign immediately, and have you validate. Jocelyn\nand Denise will serve as witnesses.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The signing was a simple matter, after which Elizabeth\naffixed her seal, quickly skimming the content of the codicil as she did so. In\nit, Mr. Fenton revoked all prior bequests to his adult children, transferring\ntheir portions of his estate to Mrs. Jocelyn and his infant sons by Mrs.\nDenise. It was all Elizabeth could do to keep her hand from shaking as she\nsigned the document and stepped away from the desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs there anything else, Mr. Fenton?\u201d she asked, unsure if\nthe tremors she felt were evident in her voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat will be all, Elizabeth,\u201d he said, not bothering to\nlook up as he opened the desk drawer and slid the page inside it, then locked\nthe drawer, turning the key over and over in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she left the room, she heard laughter and the clinking\nof glasses as the three of them wished each other a Merry Christmas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth was conflicted as she had never been in all her\nyears of service to the Tulleys. Certainly, once his anger cooled, Mr. Fenton\nwould recant the terms of the new codicil. He would surely recognize that\ndisinheriting his legitimate children in favor of Denise\u2019s bastards was a mean,\nchildish act, done in anger. And giving an equal portion to Mrs. Jocelyn? Why\nthat was simply unthinkable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But what if he didn\u2019t change it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Worse, what if he suffered an accident on the icy roads as\nthey returned to the city after New Year\u2019s Day, and the codicil took effect\nbefore he had a chance to correct his error?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had seen the drawer where he had put the codicil, knew\nwhere he kept the key. She could sneak back into the study during the night and\ndestroy the document.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he would simply write it again the next morning,\npossibly with even worse terms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth paced back and forth in her room, trying to\ndecide what, if anything, she should do, reminding herself repeatedly that it\nwas not her place to have an opinion; it was not her place to interfere. Unable\nto sleep, she wandered through the darkening house as the members of the family\nretired for the night. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unnoticed and silent in her dark velour robe, the soft\nsoles of her slippers making no sound, she observed the shifting of rooms and\nrelationships as Mr. Richard quietly closed the door to his own suite and\ncrossed the hall to meet Mrs. Jocelyn in the green bedroom. Looking over her\nshoulder, she saw Mr. Moreland carrying his suitcase down the hall toward the\nblue room and Mrs. Claire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her wanderings took her downstairs, and after passing\nthrough the dining room and the library, Elizabeth was not entirely surprised\nto find herself standing in the doorway of Mr. Fenton\u2019s study. It was as though\nthe codicil was calling to her, begging her to destroy it. Begging her to\ndeclare her loyalty to the family, and reject Mr. Fenton and his selfish\ndemands. Years of overlooked meanness, cutting remarks, insensitivities to his\nwives and children flooded her memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would destroy the codicil. He could dismiss her, he\nwould likely write it again, but she had to do the right thing for once and not\nsimply stand idly by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed\nthe tiny latch to open the panel on the arm of his chair, revealing the small,\nsecret compartment where he kept the desk key.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The compartment was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No doubt, with both Jocelyn and Denise in the room, Mr.\nFenton had not had an opportunity to return the key to its usual hiding place,\ndropping it into his pocket instead. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth sighed. She had no skill at picking locks, and\nnone of the many keys she possessed were small enough to attempt to use of them\non the drawer. That only left her one option. If she truly wanted to destroy\nthe codicil, she would have to find Mr. Fenton\u2019s coat, take the key, steal the\ndocument, and then return the key. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Could she enter his room \u2013 twice \u2013 without waking him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Did she dare risk it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was not a light sleeper, often boasting of his ability\nto sleep soundly. It was probably the bourbon, she thought. But whatever\ncontributed to his lack of awareness would only be to her benefit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth opened Mr. Fenton\u2019s bedroom door only enough to\nslip through it, carefully closing it behind her. She leaned her back against\nthe door, fearing that the sound of her heart, thudding in her chest like a\ntimpani and practically drowning out the sound of Mr. Fenton\u2019s snoring, would\nwake the entire household, but no one came running, and her employer snored on,\nwithout even a restless movement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The blinds were only partially closed, but even the\nreflected light from the outside raised the darkness of the room to little more\nthan vague shadows. Elizabeth moved carefully, taking only a step or two at a\ntime before making sure that the way ahead of her was clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton was a creature of habit. And Elizabeth had\ncleaned his room often enough to know that the best place to look for his\njacket was not in the closet, but on the wingback chair that stood next to the\ncloset door. And so it was \u2013 the coat draped casually in its usual place on the\nwing nearest the closet and the slacks in a heap on the seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She did not find the key in any of the jacket\u2019s many\npockets, and moved to the slacks. She lifted them carefully, feeling the way\nthey had been dropped on to the chair so she could return them in the same\nmanner. As Mr. Fenton was right-handed, she tried the right pocket first,\ncarefully sifting through the loose change and slips of paper for the edges of\nthe small key until she finally felt the rough edge of the tiny metal teeth and\npulled it out. It had to be the desk key \u2013 it was the right size, and it was\nthe only key in his pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At just that moment, Mr. Fenton shifted, his snoring rough\nas he turned. Elizabeth slowly lowered the slacks to the chair, but did not\nmove, barely daring to breathe until his breathing again settled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pocketed the key, made her way back across the room,\nand out into the hall, relieved to see no activity in the hallway. Silently she\nwent back down the stairs and to the office.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Removing the codicil from the desk drawer was simple\nenough. It was as she automatically started to put the page in the shredder\nthat Elizabeth abruptly jerked her hand back. The noise! In the silent house, it\nwas possible that someone might hear the shredder running, even for only the\nshort moment it would take to dispose of a single page.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fireplaces had all been banked for the night, so she\ndoubted that burning the page would be a viable option. And while she could\ntake it to the kitchen and run it down the garbage disposal \u2013 which was much\nquieter than the shredder \u2013 there was still the possibility that someone would\nnotice the unusual sound in the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, as though in the distance, the brief whine of water\nrunning through the pipes after someone relieved themselves almost made her\nlaugh. A flushing toilet was a sound that no one would remark upon in any way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Folding the page and slipping it into her pocket, Elizabeth\nleft the study.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The document disposed of, Elizabeth was almost giddy when\nshe slipped back into Mr. Fenton\u2019s room to return the key. She had done it! And\nno one, not even Mr. Fenton, would be able to trace the missing codicil back to\nher. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She crossed the darkened bedroom confidently, going\ndirectly to the chair and sliding the key back into the slacks pocket. It was\nonly as she turned to leave that she realized that she did not hear Mr.\nFenton\u2019s slow, rhythmic breathing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then a toilet flushed, the water closet door opened,\nand a stream of light shone from the bathroom into the bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth stepped away from the chair, moving just inside\nthe shadow of the large, walk-in closet, and froze as her sleeve brushed\nagainst a dry-cleaning bag, the rustle barely louder than a breath, but\nsounding like a klaxon in her ears. She listened as Mr. Fenton washed his\nhands, heard the rattle of a pill bottle and a glass being filled then clinked\nonto the counter, watched as the light was extinguished, watched and listened\nas his shadowy form crossed the room and he threw himself onto the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How long would it take him to fall back asleep? What would\nshe do if he was unable to sleep and turned on a light? She was trapped, and\nhad to fight down the rising sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.\nIt had been a stupid idea to destroy the codicil, stupid to jeopardize her job,\nshe told herself, stupid to do anything more than simply observe and serve as\nshe had always done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had been stupid, yes, but it had been right<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Five minutes passed, then ten, and Elizabeth found her own\nbreathing returning to normal as Mr. Fenton settled back into sleep. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hated him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thought surprised her at first, but the longer she\nstood there listening to him breathe, peaceful in the knowledge of his perfidy\ntoward his family, the less surprised she was at her realization. Mr. Fenton\nwas an awful man. He hurt people and laughed about it. Bragged about it. And by\nstanding there, silent, she was no better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She couldn\u2019t work for him any longer. When the snow cleared\nand the family left after the New Year, she would leave as well. Surely Mrs.\nClaire would give her a good recommendation, after all her years of service,\neven if Mr. Fenton would not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded her head, reaffirming her commitment, and the\nplastic of the dry-cleaning bag rustled again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Fenton did not hear. Of course he didn\u2019t. He didn\u2019t\nhear anything \u2013 people talked to him all the time and he never heard anything\nthat he didn\u2019t want to. Elizabeth gently lifted the dry cleaning off the rod. It\nwas heavy \u2013 Mr. Fenton must have brought several suits with him, fresh from the\ncleaner, for the holiday. All the better, she thought, as she carried the heavy\nbundle across the room. She paused for only a moment, looking down at him. He\nseemed so small, laying there in the large bed. Then she laid the bundle across\nhis frail body, across his face, muffling the sound of his snores. Stretching\nherself over the bundle, she pressed the plastic into his nose, the weight of\nthe clothing and her own body blocking his thin, flailing arms, his grasping,\nbony hands finding only plastic and dark velour the same deep blue as his\nblanket and tugging at them desperately, weakly, until his spindly legs ceased\ntheir kicking and his arms dropped to the blankets. Then, with one final,\ntwitch he lay still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth lay there for a few minutes, relaxed, almost\ncomfortable, stretched across the lumpy form that was Mr. Fenton, until her own\nbreath caught and she abruptly pulled her face from the plastic beneath her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Getting back up was a little awkward, but she carefully\nlifted the dry cleaning bag and carried it back to the closet. Then, tearing\nthe plastic away from the suits, she hung them on the rod, crumpling the torn\nplastic and shoving it into the pocket of her robe, because it wouldn\u2019t do to\nleave Mr. Fenton\u2019s room untidy, and really, Mrs. Jocelyn should have seen to it\nthat he\u2019d unpacked properly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slipping out of the room, she made her way quietly down the\nhall and back to her own room. It would take a few trips to the bathroom, but\nif she tore the plastic into small enough pieces, she should be able to dispose\nof the bag without clogging the pipes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

December 25<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth woke bright and early on Christmas morning,\nfeeling more refreshed and rested as she looked out over the glittering\nmountains of snow than she had in a long time. It had been a difficult night \u2013\nher twisted blankets bore the evidence of much tossing and turning \u2013 but\nclearly she had finally managed to sleep well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She saw to it that the breakfast was laid, buffet-style,\nwith pastries both sweet and savory, and cut fruit, as well as carafes of\ncoffee and eggnog. They would have a more substantial brunch later, but there\nwere traditions that must be upheld, and Christmas breakfast was one of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gradually, the members of the family began straggling in.\nKyle, then Mrs. Claire and Mr. Moreland, Denise and young Gina with the twins\nin tow, all collecting their breakfasts and moving on to the library to\nofficially inspect the packages beneath the enormous Christmas tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Richard came down a few minutes later, running his hand\nthrough still-damp hair. He was just pouring his coffee when Mrs. Jocelyn\u2019s\nscreams echoed throughout the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s dead! Oh, god, oh god, oh god! Fenton! He\u2019s dead!\u201d\nshe wailed, nearly falling down the stairs as she half-ran, half-slid down\nthem, her face white with shock and terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While Mrs. Claire and Margot got her some water and tried\nto settle her, and Denise and Gina struggled to keep the toddlers under control\nin all the excitement, Mr. Moreland and Richard and Kyle went upstairs to check\non Mr. Fenton, returning moments later, their faces grim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gone,\u201d Moreland said. \u201cI don\u2019t know, maybe a heart\nattack?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought he was just asleep,\u201d said Mrs. Jocelyn, choking\nthe words out through her tears. \u201cBut when I shook him, he didn\u2019t move. That\u2019s\nwhen I realized he wasn\u2019t breathing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll call 911,\u201d Elizabeth said. She was standing in the\nlibrary doorway, attempting to ignore the clump of mistletoe hanging directly\nover her head even though it was practically begging her to shove it into\nJocelyn\u2019s mouth and shut her up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat can they do now?\u201d Jocelyn wailed. \u201cIt\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStill, someone should be notified,\u201d Mrs. Claire said.\n\u201cThank you, Elizabeth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elizabeth made the call, then assisted Mrs. Jocelyn with\nmoving her personal belongings into the green bedroom so they could close the\nheating vents to the master suite and keep the room cold until the roads were\nclear and Mr. Fenton\u2019s body could be taken away. She noted with grim\nsatisfaction that while the members of the family were shocked, and the mood\nhad grown understandably somber, no one \u2013 other than the cheerleader \u2013 seemed\nparticularly distraught by his passing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was only later, after the family had reconvened in the\nlibrary, that Kyle mentioned having a twinge of regret about his joke from the\nnight before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen I said I wasn\u2019t worried about the content of his\nwill, since he wouldn\u2019t be using it soon, I didn\u2019t mean for him to call my\nbluff,\u201d he said, the attempt at gallows humor receiving only the barest of\nchuckles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the mention of the will, Denise and Jocelyn exchanged a sudden\nglance, then sprang from their chairs, nearly colliding as they ran from the\nroom. Denise raced down the hall, while Jocelyn nearly flew up the stairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s with them?\u201d Richard asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho knows,\u201d said Margot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A moment later, Jocelyn was back, not pausing as she ran past\nthe library and toward the study. Curious, the rest of the family followed her,\narriving just as she shoved the tiny key into the desk drawer lock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is it?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know he put it in here,\u201d said Denise, pulling open other\ndrawers and beginning to rifle through the papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHold on there, what are you doing?\u201d said Richard, coming\ninto the room and pulling both of them away from the desk. \u201cHe\u2019s barely cold;\nyou\u2019ve got no right to go rummaging through his papers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the new will,\u201d Denise said. \u201cHe made a new will last\nnight \u2013 Jocelyn and I witnessed it\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe locked it in this drawer,\u201d Jocelyn said, her voice\nrising to nearly a shriek. She turned to Elizabeth, who was standing just\ninside the study door. \u201cYou saw it. Tell them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Years of training allowed Elizabeth to remain perfectly\ncalm as all eyes turned on her. Without even a fraction of a moment\u2019s\nhesitation, she shook her head ever so slightly. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Mrs. Jocelyn, but I\nreally cannot be of any help. Yes, I notarized the signing of the codicil, and\nsaw Mr. Fenton lock it in the desk drawer, but I was only in the study with the\nthree of you for those few moments. What took place after I left the room\u2026\u201d she\npaused momentarily, as though reluctant to say what was on her mind. \u201cWell, not\nto speak ill of the dead, but Mr. Fenton could be so disagreeable at times. It\nwould have been just like him to have destroyed it as soon as your backs were\nturned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once again, everyone began talking all at once, while Mrs.\nJocelyn returned to the desk and began pulling papers from the drawers,\nscattering them on the floor as she searched for the missing codicil. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The scent of bacon drifting down the hall from the dining\nroom told Elizabeth that the brunch was being set out. Making a mental note to\nsend one \u2013 or perhaps two \u2013 of the maids to put the study back in order while\nthe family was eating, Elizabeth announced the meal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the last of them had reluctantly left the study,\nElizabeth decided she was particularly pleased with how the day was turning\nout. Colorful lights twinkled on the large tree in the library, convivial\nconversation flowed from the dining room, and even the clumps of mistletoe that\nremained in a few, select, archways lent a festive air. The tension of the past\nthree days had ebbed, and she no longer felt the overwhelming need to find a\nnew position \u2013 as though she would have ever actually left the Tulleys\u2019 employ.\nThey were her family, after all, and it was her duty to see to their every<\/em> need. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside the window, the last flakes of snow drifted down, settling quietly on the mounds hiding the boxwood hedges; inside the great house, Elizabeth wandered quietly through the great house, a slight smile touching her lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Mistletoe\"<\/p>\n

Mistletoe and Murder<\/em>
\u00a9 2017 by Lauryn Christopher
Cover design by Lyn Worthen and Lori Swapp<\/em>
Mistletoe \u00a9 Ron Davey (Dreamstime)<\/em>
Sunny Snow \u00a9 Dutchscenery (Dreamstime)<\/em>
Dripping Blood and Puddles \u00a9 Wektorygrafika (Dreamstime)<\/em><\/small><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stay in touch!
Sign up for Lauryn’s occasional newsletter (use the form at the top of this page)<\/em>, or follow her on Facebook<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This free fiction appears here as part of The Infinite Bard project. A new story is posted every other week, so be sure to check back often! Mistletoe and Murder Lauryn Christopher December 21 The first snowflakes of the season glittered in the crisp, cold air before settling delicately on the precisely-trimmed boxwood hedges surrounding … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Mistletoe and Murder”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-357","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P1rVMc-5L","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/357","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=357"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/357\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":373,"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/357\/revisions\/373"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.camdenparkpress.com\/laurynchristopher\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=357"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}