05 - Mistletoe and Murder Read Free

fellow driving the cart for getting in
his way. A heated argument began and embroiled several passers-by, in general on
the side of the milkman. Clara watched it all from the relative safety of an
omnibus, wondering how anyone could live all their days in such a madhouse of a
place.
    She had hoped that Berkeley
Square, one of the more prestigious parts of London, would at least afford some
peace from the craziness of the city – but she was completely wrong. While
Berkeley Square had begun life as a classic collection of Georgian townhouses
to accommodate the extremely wealthy (and the odd MP), the intervening years
had seen many of its properties transformed into businesses and the Square
thronged with shoppers, businessmen and traffic. The only peace from the drama
seemed to be found in the grand garden at its centre, around which the Square
was built.
    “Which house is it?” Tommy
asked as their little party trooped along the pavement.
    Annie was pushing his
wheelchair, Tommy having lost the use of his legs during the war, while Oliver
Bankes came behind them dragging a trunk that had accompanied him all the way
from Brighton. He had explained that it contained various pieces of
photographic equipment including his camera. Clara marched ahead of the group
looking out for door numbers, which seemed rather remiss in this neighbourhood.
    “No. 50.” She replied to
Tommy’s question over her shoulder, “But I can’t see it.”
    Finally she had to nip into a
high-end florist shop to make enquiries and was directed to a townhouse in the
middle of the row. Clara knocked loudly on the door and waited for a response.
The door was opened by a man in a suit who Clara took to be the butler. He
stared down his nose at her.
    “Yes?”
    “Clara Fitzgerald and party. I
am expected.” Clara handed over her card.
    The butler gave it a cursory
look, then handed it back.
    “Miss Sampford wants me to
direct you to the drawing room. Would you come this way?”
    Offering no assistance for
either Tommy in his wheelchair (who had to negotiate several steps to reach the
door) or Oliver and his trunk, the butler vanished into the house. Clara was
not precisely astonished, more disappointed. She helped Annie with the chair
and then returned to assist Oliver, who was complaining his glass plates would
be all smashed at this rate. Once stationed in the hall she looked around for
the butler, only to find him gone. Annie was giving a thoughtful look to the
ornate staircase that dog-legged up to the next floor, wondering how on earth
they would get Tommy up it.
    “That gentleman is most
inconsiderate.” Clara snapped.
    At that moment the butler
emerged from an open doorway at the back of the hall.
    “I have just enquired of Miss
Sampford of the possibility of arranging for the young gentleman to have a room
on the ground floor.” He said, making no sign he had heard Clara, “She suggests
the garden room would be most conveniently placed for such an arrangement. If
you would follow me?”
    Tommy gave Clara a laughing
look. She ignored him, how was she to know the butler had gone off to adjust
arrangements? Especially after he left them standing on the doorstep.
    The garden room was set at the
back of the house, off the main hall and down a second corridor. As its name
implied it overlooked the back of the house, onto a neat garden. It was
furnished in the fashions of the late Victorian period, with a great deal of
lace edgings and knickknacks.
    “I shall arrange for a bed to
be brought down.” The butler continued, “I shall also inform the maid to make
up a fire. The water closet is just opposite, set behind the curve in the
stairs. If the arrangements are suitable might I suggest you accompany me to
the downstairs drawing room where I can fix you some drink?”
    Oliver let go of the handle of
his trunk with a loud thud.
    “Sounds good to me.”
    “I’m sure it sounds good to
all of us.” Clara observed, “Please lead the