Page 29 of The Tart's Final Noel
The tin in Minerva’s pocket rattled, and she tried another tactic.She held them out to see.“Did she give you sweets like this?”
Both children wrinkled their noses and pulled away.Daniel was the one who answered.“They’re nasty.She took them away when we spit them out, called us ungrateful...baterds.”
“And then what happened?”Paul asked gently.
The boy shrugged again.“We fell asleep.Then the carriage broke and woke us.Nanny was still sleeping, so we ran away.”
“That was very, very brave of you,” Verity assured them.“Let’s have Mr.Upton carry your trunk back to your room where you can put things away.I’ll see if we can find better sweets while you rest.”
Left alone, Minerva studied the nearly empty tin.The children hadn’t eaten more than one of the candies each.The driver must have finished them off.The lid was sealed quite tightly.They hadn’t fallen out.Who had provided the candies?
“I’m going up to see Meera,” she told Paul.“I’ll be right back.”
The brilliant apothecary physician might tell her if they had a second murder on their hands.That just seemed to fit better into the tale of that night of tragedy.Andscarier, if the orphans were in danger.
Fifteen
Verity
Brydie’s nephewreturned from the postmaster to say there had been no letter from Cooper’s family.Verity hoped they might eventually find who owned the bakery, but the deceased nanny and the difficulties the Uptons had described in Beanblossom worried her more.As a precaution, she warned the staff not to talk about the children.No one needed to know their whereabouts until they learned more of their family.
Brydie sold out her bread by noon and returned to report that people knewaboutWilla, but they didn’tknowher, even though she’d spent most of her life here.
Verity thought that horribly sad but it didn’t relieve her escalating anxiety.“Did anyone recognize the sketch of the nanny?”
Brydie shook her head and prepared to head back to Willa’s, where the men were apparently scouring the house for clues and waiting for suspects to knock on the door.Or perhaps they were making suspect lists.Verity didn’t pay attention.
“Other than one saying the sketch was ‘right ugly,’ no one recognized that poor woman,” Brydie admitted.
“You didn’t tell anyone about the children?”Verity had specifically asked that no one mention them.
“Not a word, although I think that would be the best way to identify her.Do you really think they were being kidnapped?”Brydie finished drawing on her gloves.
“Nothing else makes sense.”Verity didn’t know whether to be relieved or not that the nanny hadn’t been identified, especially if she had been taking the children to an orphanage.But they’d said she was taking them to family...Lying to keep them quiet?As far as she was aware, no one in the village was expecting the arrival of children.
She wished Rafe would come home and tell her what he’d learned from the mercantile owner, but he was back at Willa’s.He worked hard, and she needed to support him as best as her limited skills allowed.
As a welcome distraction, the ladies strolled down from the manor that afternoon for tea and to discuss holiday festivities.Verity greeted them with Rafe’s scones and some sweet buns he’d been testing.
“Mrs.Upton tells us the village once had a Thomasing tradition on St.Thomas’s Day, but her husband—our previous curate—persuaded the beggars to go to the manor and sing for their supper on Christmas Eve, instead,” Clare Huntley announced, sipping her hot tea.“Since this is our first Christmas here, we wondered if we might establish a new tradition.We might direct the singers to the inn, rather than have them climbing the icy hill.We would, of course, provide the supper.”
Verity enjoyed the late earl’s great-granddaughter and her managing ways.The lady had never asked to be put in charge of Priory Manor.Clare had married the irascible American before he’d become magistrate and had more or less inherited her duties as family descended.She’d simply grown into the role.Verity prayed she might do the same as Rafe’s wife, but she was so ignorant of inns, that she feared she was failing him badly.
“We could decorate the pub with evergreens and provide a wassail bowl, as well,” Lady Elsa suggested.“I’m preparing small bundles of fudge and biscuits for the children, and Jack thought we might hand out apples with a coin in them for the adults to take away.”
Patience, the curate’s statuesque stepsister, leaned forward eagerly.“I have been teaching a few old carols to the ladies at church and they are teaching their children.We hope the men will join in eventually.It will be such fun!”
“Will Rafe mind?”Descendant of the late earl, daughter of another, Lady Elsa had been raised in wealth, but she wrapped her plump figure in kitchen attire and riding habits more often than silks.
“I know nothing of the tradition,” Verity admitted, hiding her anticipation with a shrug.She hadn’t celebrated a Christmas since her mother died, and that had been ten years ago and a very meager one at that.To be part of restoring a beloved tradition...It made her feel as if she might belong.“Rafe loves entertaining.I’m sure he’d be delighted to contribute.”She glanced at the enormous chimney that served pub and kitchen.“Might we decorate a Yule log?”
After agreeing to direct her gardeners to cut greenery and hunt a suitable log, Patience asked eagerly, “May we meet the children?”She was growing round with the child she carried, but she still enthusiastically shared her lovely voice in her husband's tavern as well as the church.Verity would like to know her better.
Of course news of the orphans had made its way to the manor.Rafe would have had to make inquiries.And the nanny’s body was stored in the crypt until she could be buried.Verity mentally called up a few of Rafe’s swear words.Telling the manor ladies to keep a secret when it was already out...Perhaps she was fretting too much.The ladies would help her keep the children if their family wasn’t found.
“Lynly has the children helping sew her mother's Christmas gift,” Verity acknowledged in amusement at the highhandedness of Brydie’s niece.“I will just ask them in to give their courtesies.I don't want them to feel stared at.”She didn’t want them seen at all...
“Do you think it might help if we had Arnaud sketch their likeness and send it around to our families?”An heiress, Thea Talbott was slowly redecorating the crumbling manor as time and money allowed.She and the impoverished artist, Comte Arnaud, had not announced their banns yet, but they were almost always together.Her family moved in London society, which might be why the impoverished émigré was so slow in his courtship.
