Page 140 of One More Christmas at the Castle
Then, looking round the table, she said, ‘I find myself somewhat mystified this morning, for on my way down I went into the sitting room to retrieve my earrings. If you recall, I took them out because the catch on one was loose and I distinctly remember dropping them into that pot of potpourri on the mantelpiece.’
‘Yes, you did, right after I’d given you the one I’d found in the dining room,’ agreed Henry, putting more triangles of toast in the silver rack.
‘Precisely. But they were not there this morning,’ said Sabine. ‘Lucy, did you remove them, meaning to put them by till you could take them to be mended?’
‘No, Cousin Sabine, I haven’t been in that room since yesterday evening.’
‘Anyone?’ asked Sabine, looking questioningly round the table.
Sophie, who was nibbling a slice of dry toast, just shook herhead in a disinterested way, but there was a chorus of ‘no’ from the others.
Mr Makepeace looked worried. ‘But they must be there somewhere, my dear Sabine! Perhaps they’ve slipped right under the potpourri?’
‘I felt right around the jar, and they were not there,’ Sabine said.
‘You might have managed to miss the jar entirely and we’ll find them mixed in with Henry’s holly and ivy swags,’ Xan suggested easily. ‘They’ll be there somewhere.’
‘Yes, let’s all play Hunt the Earrings after breakfast, the new Christmas party game!’ Dom said with a grin.
‘I expect you’re right, Xan, and I wasn’t concentrating on what I was doing,’ Mrs Powys said.
‘I could go and look now, if you like?’ offered Simon, kindly. He’d loaded his plate high, like one starved of good food for a very long time, which he probably had been.
‘Thank you, but no, after breakfast will do.’
‘Is there any cream for my coffee?’ asked Olive Melling plaintively. ‘I do prefer it to milk in the mornings.’
‘Of course – I’ll fetch some now,’ I said, and hurried out.
‘That was very odd,’ said Henry a little later, shutting the baize door behind him. ‘I thought everyone had left the morning room, so went to start clearing – but there were Mr Makepeace and Sophie over by the window, having what looked like a furious argument in whispers.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought he was the argumentative type,’ I said, surprised.
‘No, he seems even more buttoned up than Frank Melling!’
‘I expect he finds the way Sophie’s been behaving – not to mention what she’s been wearing! – very embarrassing, especiallysince he’s here partly in his professional capacity,’ I suggested. ‘She does seem a bit of a loose cannon.’
‘Maybe that’s it,’ he agreed. ‘They stopped talking when they saw me and went out.’
He dumped his load of dishes on the work surface. ‘I’ll just stack these in the dishwasher and then go and see if they’ve found the earrings.’
‘Oh, I expect they have by now …’ I said absently, thinking I really ought to add a layer of custard to the fresh trifle, now that the jelly and sponge was firmly set. I’d made a fruit jelly in the antique pottery mould I’d found in the shape of a turreted castle. I hoped it would come out in one piece …
‘The mystery thickens!’ Henry announced, coming back with Nancy in tow.
I looked up. ‘Haven’t they found the earrings?’ I asked, startled.
‘Oh, yes – just now. But only after they’d all been searching for ages – and then in waltzed Sophie, stuck her hand into the matching jar of potpourri at the other end of the mantelpiece and—’
‘Pulled out a plum!’ finished Nancy. ‘But not this one,’ she added, stooping to pat Plum’s head, as he looked up at the sound of his name. I hadn’t even noticed he was there till then.
‘So the earrings had been in the other pot all along?’ I said.
‘Well, that’s the mystery,’ said Henry, ‘because Xan said he’d already looked in there and, in any case, I’d be prepared to swear that Mrs Powys put the earrings in theotherjar last night.’
‘I wasn’t looking, but if you say so, Henry, then I believe you,’ said Nancy. ‘It’s all very strange – but the main thing is that we have found them. Sabine’s gone to lock them away in her jewel case.’
She turned to Henry. ‘Now, let’s get on and whisk around the bedrooms, Henry, dear – and I think Dom said he’d help, too, though he’s not terribly domesticated.’
