Canine Christmas (16 page)

Hilda Mae, seated on the earl's right, had no trouble keeping the earl amused. The one member of the family party we had not previously met, the earl's betrothed, seated on his left, was not in the least diverted by the situation, however.

The Right Honorable Miss Ottoline Chance, a “charmin' gell” in Lady Antonia's parlance, seemed intent on relating to Hilda Mae every moment of her romance with the earl. Neither the earl nor Hilda Mae paid much attention. Miss Chance batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes in the earl's direction at such a rapid pace I feared she would soon lift herself out of her chair. Which in itself would have been wondrous to behold, for Miss Chance must have stood six foot three in her stockinged feet, with a physique to match. She dwarfed the earl whenever she stood remotely near him.

Tossing her mane of glossy raven hair over one shoulder in a manner reminiscent of the slightly cockeyed horse she most nearly resembled, Miss Chance erupted into laughter at some witticism of the earl's. Directed, of course, at Hilda Mae, not at her. With one ear, I listened to the droning of Lady Antonia; with the other, I kept tabs on the other end of the table. Frankly, I wasn't that keen on hearing all the intimate details of the earl's first weekend with Ottoline at Lyme Regis, nor did I care to hear anything more about her horse, Sultan. Miss Chance babbled on, while the earl and Hilda Mae feasted on each other with their eyes.

Thankfully, Lady Antonia reclaimed my attention with yet another anecdote of her good works among the benighted quadrupeds in Africa. Oblivious to it all, Rosamond and Piers plowed through their meal with rarely a pause for breath—or mastication. Having had only this rather brief experience of dinner at Wiggleton Priory, I quite understood their taking refuge in massive quantities of food.

A determined yip interrupted the flow of Lady Anto-nia's harrowing tale of abused gazelles and starving wildebeests. Her Yorkie, Percival, reclined near her on a small stool upholstered in a velvet matching her dinner gown. From time to time during dinner Lady Antonia would feed Percival with choice morsels from her own plate, but she had become so caught up in her horror stories that she had been neglecting her dog.

“Oh, my widdle pweshus man, Mummy will feed you. After all,
you
are the one dearest to Mummy's heart in all the world.” She held out a bit of beef Wellington, and Percival nearly took off her fingernail in grabbing the meat.

Lady Antonia turned to beam at me with pride in her darling's healthy appetite, while I did my best not to return my dinner to its plate in a rather disgusting manner. (By the way, vampires these days do eat and drink, lightly, of course. It's all thanks to these wonderful little pills we take. No more nasty bloodsucking for us, thank you very much. We can even go outside in the sunlight, but in moderation. It's all very civilized these days. The wonders of modern science!)

But I digress. Lady Antonia might be enchanted with her
widdle pweshus
—I hoped to be able at some point to expunge those words warbled in that voice from my aural memory banks—but various members of the party cast a baleful glance in the Yorkie's direction every time Lady Antonia broke off conversation to attend to her pet.

Over the dessert course, Lady Antonia cleared her throat, bringing the conversation between Hilda Mae and the earl finally and mercifully to a halt. While Ottoline glowered on, and Rosamond and Piers chewed, Lady Antonia announced, excitement bringing a near squeak to her voice, “As you know, my dears, in two days' time, it will be Christmas Eve. And, as is the tradition in this family, I will have some very important gifts to bestow upon the family after dinner that evening. I trust that our two distinguished guests will feel welcome to take part in our festivities, though you are of course not obliged to have brought presents for the family.” Her eyelashes fluttered in my direction.

“We would be delighted, and most honored, dear lady,” I said. “Your generosity in allowing us to partake of your hospitality at this time of year is most gracious, and we will do our best not to impinge upon you and your family traditions.”

I detected such a wave of anger at that moment that I nearly dropped my wineglass. There was no doubt about the source of the anger. The earl trembled with the effort to hold back his temper. But at whom was it directed? Lady Antonia seemed the most obvious target.

The earl stood suddenly, almost sending his chair crashing back onto the floor. “You have not intruded in the least, Simon,” the earl said, biting off the words. “I'm delighted to extend hospitality to a scholar of your stature. As my dear aunt stated, you are most welcome to be a part of our holiday festivities. Now, if you will excuse me, there is some urgent estate business to which I must attend. Have Foxwell bring you port or brandy, cigars, whatever you wish.”

He stalked out, totally ignoring a crestfallen Hilda Mae and a thoroughly dispirited Ottoline, while Lady Antonia filled the strained silence with more nauseating baby talk to Percival, anxiously awaiting more tidbits from the table. I looked across the table at Hilda Mae.
What have we gotten ourselves into?
I wondered. Hilda Mae wiggled her nose up and down a couple of times, and I was hard put not to laugh. This week would prove most interesting, one way or another.

The next morning, the admonitions of Lady Antonia notwithstanding, I consulted Hilda Mae, who volunteered to drive to the nearest village to find gifts of some sort for the various members of the family. I walked with her out to the garage, and we discussed suitable items. Hoping that Hilda Mae wouldn't spend all her time lost in a roundabout, I detoured through the gardens on my way back to the house to enjoy the crisp, cold air of this gloriously cloudy morning. Vampires, as you might guess, thoroughly enjoy cold weather.

Pausing behind a concealing arbor of evergreens, I heard Rosamond approaching with a whining Percival.

“Boiling in oil isn't good enough for you, you little rat!‘Take Percival for his walkies, Rosamond!’ ” Her imitation of her mother was savage in its accuracy. “I'd like to take you to the lake, tie a stone around your neck, and throw you in, that's what
I'd
like to do. To think that I was the one who gave you to Mother in the first place, two Christmases ago.”

Rosamond's litany of complaints continued as she and Percival passed by the other side of my hiding place. The poor Yorkie looked to be in no immediate danger, or I would have assayed a rescue. Instead, thinking over what I had heard, I made my way into the house and to the library where I settled down to the work for which I had come here.

Hilda Mae returned from the village about two hours later, and I waved away her suggestion that I should inspect her choices. “Later, my dear, later.” I pointed her toward the other end of the table at which I labored. “You have work to do here. Time to earn your keep.”

Hilda Mae groaned. “Sit!” I said sternly. “I know you'd rather be flirting with the earl, but you did promise to help me with this, if you came along.” She stuck out her tongue but set to work.

We had been working steadily for nearly two hours when the earl sauntered in. “I do beg your pardon, Simon,” he began quietly. I had been so engrossed in a story of how the nuns of Selsey had managed to defend certain properties against the depredations of a local landholder that I quite started in my chair. “Oh, I do say, Simon, I hadn't meant to startle you,” the earl apologized.

“Not at all, Algernon, not at all,” I said, relaxing in my chair. “I was rather engrossed in my work, that's all.”

“I thought you might like to know that there is a light luncheon laid on in the dining room,” the earl said. His words were directed at me, but his eyes could see only Hilda Mae.

I smothered a sigh. I sincerely hoped the situation wouldn't get out of hand before the end of our week here. Ottoline wouldn't take kindly at being nudged aside in the matrimonial stakes.

“
There
you are, Algie
darling
,” boomed the hearty tones of Ottoline Chance, right on cue. We all looked around to see the earl's fiancée clumping into the room, Percival clutched tenderly in her arms. The earl tried desperately to control an involuntary shudder at the sound of her voice.

“Good afternoon, Simon, Hannah Mae.” She beamed at us. Hilda Mae rolled her eyes at the deliberate mistake with her name.

Ottoline hovered, staring goofily at the earl, while he in turn gazed at Hilda Mae. They stood, backs to me, mooning at their objects of desire. I rolled my eyes back at Hilda Mae; she saw me and had to suppress a smile.

Percival barked. Miss Chance rubbed his head soothingly. “Yes, sweetums, Auntie Ottoline knows you're ready for your walkies.” She held him up and rubbed her nose to his, then she kissed him tenderly on the nose. “You little darling!

“Isn't he just the most precious thing you ever saw?” She beamed at us again. “
Dear
Algie, I do so
hate
to tear you away, but Lady Antonia asked me to find you, so that you could take Percival for his walkies.” She thrust the dog at the earl. “I
must
go back and help her draft an appeal on behalf of the gnus.”

Dear Algie accepted the cowering creature with ill grace. Percival looked back piteously at Ottoline Chance, but, evidently assured in her notion that her betrothed adored the little dog as much as she did, she paid no attention to Percival's subdued whimpering as she departed.

“Damn and blast!” I heard the earl mutter under his breath. I watched, and it seemed to me that his right hand curled rather too tightly around Percival's neck. I was beginning to suspect that Percival's days in this world were numbered.

The earl having departed to attend to Percival's needs, Hilda Mae and I put away our work and went to find some lunch.

The rest of that day and much of the following, Christmas Eve, Hilda Mae and I spent at work in the library. I had no need to translate the entire Selsey chronicle, or we would have been guests of the earl for some time to come. Instead we skimmed through, searching for key words and phrases, and thus the work progressed swiftly enough. I was optimistic that I should have the material I needed by the time our week was done.

I dressed for dinner that evening with particular care. Neither Lady Antonia nor the earl had given us much hint of what to expect tonight, but I forecast a certain amount of fireworks, given the tension that seemed to exist between Algernon and his aunt. I surveyed my reflection in the mirror (sorry to shatter an illusion; it's those little pills, you know), quite pleased. The black of my evening wear suited me well (no pun intended), matching the black of my hair and closely trimmed beard.

“Vanity, thy name is Simon,” Hilda Mae said from the doorway connecting our two rooms. “Stop admiring yourself, and let's go downstairs and see what Christmas Eve at Wiggleton Priory portends.” She wore another stunning dress, this time in ice-blue satin which left few of her curves to the imagination.

I forebore to comment and followed her downstairs.

Dinner that night was much the same as it had been the previous two nights. Lady Antonia prosed on and on about good works, and her munificent support of them; Percival whined for food; Rosamond and Piers ate steadily without saying much of anything; Ottoline nattered on and on at Hilda Mae, confiding even more inappropriate things about her and the earl, alternating occasionally with stories about her favorite horse; and the earl slowly simmered into another rage. If Santa Claus showed up this evening, they were likely to dismember him and feed him to Piers and Rosamond. Was this the typical aristocratic English family Christmas I had so longed to see?

When the meal had mercifully ended with Foxwell's removal of the dessert course, Lady Antonia rapped her spoon against the delicate porcelain of her coffee cup. What desultory conversation had been going on abruptly ended.

Lady Antonia stood. Tonight's attempt at haute couture was a hideous shade of pumpkin orange, trimmed with black. She looked like a jack-o'-lantern had vomited all over her. I shuddered and looked away. Whoever said money couldn't buy taste had obviously met Lady Antonia.

Lady Antonia announced perkily, “It's that very special time of year again, my very favorite day of the entire year. The day I get to give
all
my dear ones their Christmas surprises.”

As Lady Antonia beamed at the assembled company, I glanced around the table. Rosamond and Piers looked hopeful, Ottoline Chance utterly fascinated (evidently this was her first Christmas Eve at Wiggleton Priory), and the earl tense, though trying not to show it.

Lady Antonia sighed. “As you all know, I am getting on toward that time of life when one can only contemplate leaving this vale of tears. As I feel my life drawing to a close”—true, she had the appearance of a severely anorectic piece of string, but as far as I could tell, she stood nowhere near death's door—“I feel it incumbent upon me to make Final Arrangements for all those I hold dear. To that end, my solicitor, Nigel Farrington, will be motoring down to Wiggleton Priory early in the new year to draft a new will.”

The earl tensed even further. I thought if I threw something at him, he'd probably snap in two, he was stretched so taut in his chair.

Lady Antonia giggled. Trust me, it wasn't a pleasant sound. “I know,” she said, “that I should have waited to tell you all this until after dear Nigel had visited, but I just
couldn't
wait.” She clapped her hands girlishly.

“For my dear Rosamond and her beloved husband Piers”—Lady Antonia tried, but could not quite restrain the sniff in her voice when she pronounced Piers's name— “I wish a set of apartments set aside permanently at Wiggleton Priory for their use, as well as a sum of money to keep them fed in the style to which they have become accustomed.” Piers tried unsuccessfully to suck in his gut. Rosamond turned bright pink.

“To dear Ottoline, who is shortly to become a most welcome member of our family, I bequeath my jewels. With your excessive height, my dear, I know you will show them to advantage in any light.” Ottoline obviously didn't know whether she should be insulted or delighted. Or both.