The Mistletoe Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

I finished firmly. ‘My father always took a great interest in his parish.’
    Mr Bertram shrugged, knowing when he was beaten. ‘I’ve put a little something extra in all the staff’s pay packets as a Christmas bonus, but not yours.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said confused.
    Mr Bertram smiled. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I actually have a small gift for you. As long as you don’t feel it inappropriate I would like to give it to you on Christmas Day itself. I’m sure we can find a moment or two together in the midst of all the celebrations.’
    I assented despite some deep misgivings.
    By dinner time we had almost a full house. There was a great deal of shrieking and laughter. I hate to think ill of my own gender, but I swear some of the young ladies positively delighted in being caught under the mistletoe. However, the high spirits all seemed good natured and no one tried to take advantage of any of my staff. In fact once dinner was under way there was a palpable sense of relief in the air. The reality of the happy party was dispelling any foolish misgivings. When I thought of what Richenda and I had planned to do this night I almost laughed out loud.
    But my relief was short lived. After dinner, when the guests decamped to the drawing-room to play charades Richenda apprehended me in the corridor. ‘All set for tonight,’ she hissed in a dramatic stage whisper.
    ‘Do you think it is still necessary?’ I asked. My feet were sore, my head ached, and tonight I felt the whole force of bringing the house up to scratch and the toll it had taken on me.
    ‘Absolutely,’ said Richenda. ‘I can sense emanations! We meet as arranged.’
    If I was going to go back into her service, which was better paid and far away from the Fens and Mr Bertram, then I was going to have to do as she wanted.

VII
    The grandfather clock in the hall struck midnight and Christmas Eve begun as I crept down the main staircase. I reached the midway point and smelt burning. My instinct was to scream. I inhaled deeply, preparing to wake the whole house when Richenda popped into the hall like a rabbit that’s seen a stoat. ‘The weirdest thing, Euphemia,’ she said in her normal loud voice, ‘you have to come and see.’
    ‘But I can smell burning!’
    ‘Exactly,’ said Richenda and disappeared down the corridor. Her demeanour was one of bemusement rather than fright, so I repressed my scream and followed her. She went into Mr Bertram’s study and there piled high in the fireplace were all the boughs that Sam has so carefully put up.
    ‘Good heavens!’ I said.
    ‘It’s a fair old blaze, isn’t it?’ She took a step closer. ‘As long as you’ve kept that chimney well swept I shouldn’t think there will be a problem.’
    I went over and opened a window. The smoke in the room began to clear. ‘I wonder if we should put it out,’ said Richenda. ‘I didn’t realise how smoky it had got in here until you opened that. You can die from smoke inhalation, can’t you?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but it’s certainly not good for you.’
    ‘Who could have done such a thing?’ asked Richenda.
    A gust of cold air blew through the room and my head began to clear. ‘I think the important thing is to check they’re not still doing it!’ I said.
    Richenda picked up a heavy candlestick. ‘Tally-ho!’ she cried and led the way out of the room. I selected a poker for myself. It had a longer reach and would be useful if we had to pull away any burning branches. That neither of us thought of waking anyone else only goes to show the effects on sense that burning mistletoe has.
    The red light from the roaring fire spilled out into the hallway. Richenda was already half way towards the drawing room, her candlestick held high over her head. She turned the door handle with her free hand and blazing light shone into the passage way. She flung her arm up to guard her face against the heat. ‘Is the room on fire?’ I cried.
    ‘No,’ called