Christmas Carol Page 13

  “I’m sorry,” Carol replied. “I won’t be able to do that. I have plans for Christmas Eve, and for Christmas Day, too. Some old friends from the United States will be in London for the holiday and I am eager to see them again. Hettie, I leave the flowers with you, to arrange as you think best.” Thrusting the bouquet into Hettie’s hands, Carol made her escape from the kitchen.

  “Humph,” she heard Mrs. Marks mutter behind her departing back, “I didn’t know Miss Simmons had any friends.”

  “Oh, what a shame. Everyone should have friends. I hope she’s not lonely,” Hettie responded. “Anyway, the flowers are beautiful.”

  By the time Carol reached her room she was furious with herself.

  “Why did I make such a stupid excuse? Now I’ll have to go out on the holiday even if I don’t want to, or they’ll know I was lying to get out of eating with them. I don’t feel like pretending anymore. Most of my life has been pretending and I’m sick of it.” With a rough motion Carol tore the paper off the bowl of narcissus. A stem rising from one of the bulbs lifted half-open buds into the air. Carol sniffed at them appreciatively. “At least they don’t smell like lavender.”

  That thought stopped her with the bowl in her hands before she could put it down on the table beside the wing chair. Lady Augusta’s last words to her before removing Carol from the nineteenth century had indicated that there was still more to come, which suggested the probability of another ghostly visitation. Carol did not want to see Lady Augusta again. She wanted to try to forget what had happened on the previous night. She did not think she would ever be able to forget Nicholas, but putting the unexplainable events firmly into the past and shutting the door on them seemed to her to be the only way to maintain her sanity. Still, she had to admit that the ghost of Lady Augusta held a certain fascination.

  “She is more interesting dead than she ever was alive. When she was living, she was just a miserly, argumentative pain in the neck.” Carol put the bowl of narcissus on the table and stood back to judge the effect. “It doesn’t look right there. Perhaps on the bedside table.” She picked up the red glass bowl and headed toward the bed.

  “Miss Simmons?”

  “Ye gods, Nell, don’t creep up on me like that!” Carol exclaimed. “I nearly dropped this.”

  She did not mention her relief that Nell was not a ghost.

  “Oh, those’ll be pretty when they open.” Nell regarded the narcissus with approval. “Yes, they belong there, right next to your bed, so you can see them first thing every morning. Hettie told me you gave her the roses. She says she’s never had a nicer Christmas present.”

  “It wasn’t a present, just something for all of you to enjoy.”

  “Don’t tell Hettie that or you’ll break her heart. She thinks you are wonderful.” Nell set down the tray she was carrying. “Mrs. Marks said you’ll be out Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so we aren’t to make meals for you then.”

  “That’s right.” Again Carol cursed herself for making an impulsive excuse that was going to be extremely inconvenient. She wasn’t certain any restaurants would be open on the holiday, and even if she could find one, it would mean buying a meal that she could have gotten free at Marlowe House.

  “Be sure you don’t skip dinner tonight the way you did last night,” Nell admonished, lifting the metal dome off the tray to reveal a plate heaped with seafood curry, rice, and peas. A small bowl of chutney sat beside the dinner plate. Dessert was a fresh pear and gingerbread.

  “It smells wonderful,” Carol said, “and I am hungry. I am just going to get a glass of water to put on the narcissus, and then I promise to eat every bite.”

  But when she returned from the bathroom all thought of food was swept from Carol’s mind the instant she stepped through the bedchamber door. She stopped short, clenching the filled water glass in both hands so she wouldn’t spill it. The visitor who was bending over the bowl of flowers straightened and turned around when Carol kicked the door shut. With only the lamp beside the wing chair lit, most of the bedroom was in shadow. Even though she could not see the figure clearly, Carol knew at once who it was.

  “Good evening,” said Lady Augusta. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Chapter 8

  “What do you want with me now?” Carol demanded. “Haven’t you done enough harm already?”

  “It is my opinion that I have done only good to you,” Lady Augusta responded, “and will do still more good on this night.”

  “I refuse to become involved in another time-travel excursion,” Carol stated. “I haven’t recovered from the last one yet.”

  “I do understand how difficult it is to change your heart,” Lady Augusta said in a surprisingly sympathetic tone. “While I lived I was never able to do so, though I had many opportunities to alter my ways. You may take comfort in the knowledge that during your visit to the past you learned a valuable lesson or two, and you prevented much grief for those whom you loved in that time.”

  “A famous woman once said that no good deed will go unpunished.” Carol could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I am paying now for my generosity to Lady Caroline.”

  “Yes, you were generous,” said Lady Augusta. “You will receive full credit for your actions. However, I note that you have not yet given up your essential selfishness. You have much more to learn in the two nights still to come. We shall begin at once.” She moved from the bedside toward the middle of the room, passing into the light of the single lamp, and now Carol could see her clearly for the first time.

  “Are you headed for a costume party?” Carol asked, surveying her unwelcome guest’s appearance. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

  “Do you like my gown? Personally, I am quite pleased with the overall effect.” Lady Augusta was wearing a robe of deep red velvet. Long strands of ivy were wrapped about the robe in a spiral pattern. The garlands were caught here and there with sprigs of red-berried holly or with small bunches of green and white mistletoe. A high collar of rubies and diamonds encircled Lady Augusta’s neck, and ruby and diamond earrings fell in glittering showers almost to her shoulders. She wore wide matching bracelets on each wrist. Her shining black hair, which on this occasion displayed not a single streak of white, was piled high and decorated with a diamond snowflake ornament.

  “You look like one of the Christmas trees I saw in a florist’s window this afternoon,” Carol said.

  “That is altogether appropriate, since on this night you will witness Christmas in the present.” Lady Augusta moved toward Carol, who backed away until she was pushed up against the door. “Come now, Carol, surely you are no longer afraid of me.”

  “Why don’t you leave me alone?” said Carol rudely.

  “Dear me.” Lady Augusta sounded surprised and a bit hurt. “I hoped the lessons you learned last night would stay with you longer. I regret to see how quickly you have reverted to your earlier self.”

  “How could you imagine that I would be glad to see you again after you took me away from the one man I have ever really loved?” Carol cried.

  “I did not remove you. You left voluntarily. You still do not understand. But then, how could you? Water your flowers, my dear, and we will go.” Moving aside to let Carol pass, Lady Augusta lifted the dome on the dinner tray. “I see Mrs. Marks has been stirring up that dreadful curry recipe of hers, now that she doesn’t have to feed me anymore. I never could abide the stuff.” Lady Augusta sniffed, turning up her nose in distaste.

  “I happen to like curry,” Carol retorted, pouring the contents of the water glass over the narcissus bulbs. “But I suppose I won’t have an opportunity to eat it, will I? If you insist on snowing up every night at dinnertime and taking me away, I will probably starve to death before you are finished with me.”

  “There is little chance of that.” Lady Augusta smiled at her and Carol began to tremble.

  “What are you going to do this time?” Carol asked.

  “Come.” Lady Augusta held out
her hand. When Carol did not move, the smile turned into a scowl. “Do not be childish. We have work to do and no time to waste. If you do not take my hand, Carol, I will be forced to embrace you once more.”

  “Oh, all right.” Reluctantly, Carol reached toward the ghost and felt cold fingers clasp hers.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lady Augusta was smiling again.

  “Where are we going?” Carol asked.

  “We have two visits to make tonight. The first is to the servants’ hall.”

  “ Why?” Carol tried to pull her hand away, but Lady Augusta held fast to her.

  “You have a habit of asking the wrong questions,” Lady Augusta told her. “Just come with me and I will explain as we go along.”

  In an instant they were standing in the warm, bright kitchen of Marlowe House.

  “How did you do that?” Carol demanded. “We didn’t come down the stairs. We didn’t even walk out of my bedroom door.”

  “Delightful, isn’t it? I do so enjoy the transportation part of my assignment.”

  Carol scarcely heard her companion. She was staring at Nell, Hettie, and Mrs. Marks, who were all bustling about the kitchen.

  “Nell, what are you doing?” asked Carol, putting out a hand to catch the maid’s attention. Nell walked right by her as if Carol wasn’t there.

  “She cannot see or hear you,”. said Lady Augusta.

  “Why not? What kind of trick is this?” Carol cried.

  “You persist in thinking that I am playing mere tricks on you,” responded Lady Augusta with exaggerated patience, “when in fact, what is occurring is of an importance far beyond your comprehension. No person whom we will encounter on this night will be aware of your presence. Until your heart is finally and permanently changed, you cannot be allowed to alter the present-day course of events. What you see before you is this year’s Christmas Day at Marlowe House. Your duty is to observe, to think upon what you see, and to consider ways in which you might improve the lives of others.”

  Carol said nothing to this. She watched as the female servants prepared and set out a holiday meal under the direction of Mrs. Marks. A small roasted turkey with chestnut stuffing, a sauceboat of gravy, bowls of whipped potatoes, cranberry sauce, and several dishes of vegetables were all carried into the servants’ dining room, where the table was laid with a spotless white cloth and gilt-edged plates.

  “They are using my mother’s best china,” Lady Augusta noted. “Well, why not? No one will know unless they break a plate, and Mrs. Marks will see to it that all is replaced where it should be when they have finished.”

  “Where is Crampton?” Carol asked.

  “In the wine cellar,” came Lady Augusta’s reply just as the butler appeared with two dusty bottles.

  “They are stealing your wine for their dinner?” Carol exclaimed.

  “By household tradition, the servants are allowed a bottle or two for their own use on Christmas,” said Lady Augusta, “and I have always left it up to Crampton to choose the wine. It appears that he is still honest. While those particular bottles are adequate for this feast, he has not brought up the best my cellar has to offer. He must know the servants would not appreciate it, while my nephew will.”

  Carol wasn’t really paying attention to what Lady Augusta was saying. She was much more interested in what the servants were doing. As the women took off their aprons, she realized that they were all three dressed in what must be their best clothes. Crampton, who was occupied in opening one of the wine bottles, was also properly attired in jacket and necktie.

  “This is the Christmas meal to which you were invited,” Lady Augusta explained, “and which you refused to attend.”

  “I would eat it now if I could,” said Carol. Her invisibility did not prevent her from smelling the delicious aromas coming from the turkey or the vegetables and the freshly baked rolls. From past experience she knew what a good cook Mrs. Marks was, and her mouth was watering. “I’m hungry. I never did eat lunch today and now, thanks to you, I have missed my second dinner in a row.”

  “You would be hungrier still if you waited for this meal,” Lady Augusta noted, “since it will not take place until Christmas Day. The scenes you will see tonight are of the present holiday season, unmodified by any act of yours. Listen, now.”

  “Ain’t the flowers pretty?” asked Hettie, taking her place at the festive table. “They didn’t wilt after all. It were so nice of Miss Simmons to think of us.”

  “It was, indeed,” said Crampton, speaking right over Mrs. Marks’s derisive snort.

  “Miss Simmons has a real kind heart,” Nell remarked. She was sitting across from Hettie, with Crampton at the head of the table and Mrs. Marks at the foot.

  “Miss Simmons is a snob,” said Mrs. Marks.

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Marks,” cried Hettie, apparently greatly upset by this point of view. “She ain’t no snob. She always speaks to me.”

  “Be quiet, Hettie,” commanded Mrs. Marks. “What could an ignorant girl like you possibly know about Miss Simmons?”

  “I knows that I likes her,” Hettie responded.

  “Let us have no dissension on this special evening,” said Crampton. “Enjoy your meal, Hettie, and be grateful for it.”

  As soon as Crampton finished carving the turkey, the vegetables, stuffing, gravy, and rolls were passed, and everyone at the table fell silent while the dinner was eaten.

  “Mrs. Marks,” said Crampton after a while, leaning back in his chair and glancing around at the empty plates, “allow me to congratulate you upon a superlative meal.”

  “There’s still dessert to come,” said Mrs. Marks, rising.

  “And brandy to go with it.” Crampton rose, too, disappearing into the pantry, while Mrs. Marks headed for the kitchen and Hettie and Nell began to clear the table.

  “He’s got my best brandy!” cried Lady Augusta as Crampton returned bearing a silver tray with a bottle and brandy glasses on it.

  “What difference can that make to you when you didn’t care about the wine?” asked Carol, who had been observing the meal with a watering mouth. “Can’t I just have a tiny piece of turkey? I’m starving.”

  “You don’t have time to eat,” responded Lady Augusta. “You are supposed to be learning valuable lessons from what you see before you. Have you noticed Hettie?”

  “What about her?” Carol tore her eyes from contemplation of the turkey carcass and the remains of the whipped potatoes to glance toward the scullery maid. “Hettie looks fine to me. She’s the same as she always looks.”

  “Exactly,” said Lady Augusta. “The same as always. Do you know why Hettie does not change?”

  “I suppose you intend to tell me,” said Carol, her thoughts still on food.

  “Hettie will never be more than a scullery maid because she cannot read or write.”

  “That’s nonsense. Everyone in England has to go to school.”

  “There will always be children who do not learn what they should,” said Lady Augusta. “Hettie was not slow enough to come to the notice of the school authorities, who are always overworked and understaffed, and who do not have the time to look for problems that are not obvious. Hettie can write her name and do simple arithmetic, but she has never mastered the art of reading fluently, and certainly she could not compose a letter or fill out a complicated employment form. She got through school by pretending she can read and by memorizing a good portion of her schoolwork, but once her schooling was over, she was qualified for little but a life as a scullery maid.”

  “What a shame,” Carol said. “Hettie is a nice girl, and I don’t think she’s stupid.”

  “Not stupid at all,” agreed Lady Augusta. “Were she fully literate, Hettie might go far in life. But she will never have the chance to discover just how far unless—”

  “Unless what?” Carol asked.

  “Hettie needs a teacher,” said Lady Augusta. “Someone she respects might set her on the right path.”

  “If
you’re thinking that I ought to teach her to read,” Carol said, “forget it. I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

  “You could begin by offering encouragement. Or by discovering where there are schools that teach adults to read. You could volunteer your services to such a school.”

  “Volunteer? Look, maybe you aren’t aware of my financial situation. I need to find a paying job for myself, never mind Hettie.”

  “What kind of job do you think Hettie will be able to find?” asked Lady Augusta.

  “Hettie is not my responsibility.” But even as she said the words Carol experienced a pang of guilt.

  “Observe,” said Lady Augusta, waving a hand toward the scene in the kitchen.

  Mrs. Marks had just removed a large steamed pudding from its basin and was placing it on a silver platter that could only have come from Lady Augusta’s supply of family plate. The cook stuck a sprig of holly into the top of the pudding, then doused the whole dessert with brandy and set it alight.

  “I’m ready,” Mrs. Marks announced.

  With Mrs. Marks leading the way with the flaming pudding, Nell following with a bowl of hard sauce, and Hettie bringing up the rear carrying a plate of decorated sugar cookies, the three women made a procession into the dining room, where Crampton awaited them.

  “Well,” said Crampton, beaming his approval, “this might be a Christmas scene right out of a Dickens novel. Mrs. Marks, you have provided a suitable finale for our years of employment here at Marlowe House.”

  As if these words were a signal, Hettie burst into tears. Nell, after casting a worried glance in Mrs. Marks’s direction, all but tossed the bowl of hard sauce onto the table and took the cookie plate out of Hettie’s hands before she could drop the cookies onto the floor.

  “Hettie,” said Crampton, “you ought not to cry on such a joyous occasion.”

  “It ain’t joyous,” Hettie wailed. “It’s the last holiday we’ll all be together. Next year Nell and me’ll be in the poorhouse.”