A Christmas Return
Page 12
One by one the people’s hands were raised in agreement, almost all men, except one or two slender arms wrapped in velvet and silk. Mariah sensed the mood shift quickly and dangerously from interest to anger, and possibly violence.
Several men looked toward Durward, and it was perfectly clear that they believed both Mrs. Johnson and Rowena. Two or three of them closed in on Durward, who took a few steps closer to the door, his face distorted with rage. He snatched a wineglass and broke the end of it against a table.
One of the men stopped, holding back the others.
Mariah held her breath.
There was a sudden scuffle. Durward lunged sideways with the broken glass in his hand. There was a shriek, sharp with pain and outrage, then a man toppled, blood on his white shirtfront. He fell, taking two more people down with him as they lost their balance.
A woman screamed.
Durward started to run.
Mariah was about the same distance from the door as he was, but her way was clear. She picked up her skirts and bent forward, moving rapidly. She reached the door ahead of him and picked up a dish of blancmange from one of the side tables, intending to strike him with it, if it proved necessary to stop his escape. She swung around to face him, but Durward charged toward her, knocking a woman aside. She realized that she was not strong enough to stop him, so she flung the dish’s contents onto the floor. The white jellylike pudding hurtled off and landed in front of him, and as his feet hit it, they flew out from under him. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his body. Mariah heard his head strike the boards. He lay still.
A moment later, Peter was at her side. He looked at Durward lying motionless. Then he saw the blancmange on the floor, and the skid marks, and Mariah still holding the bowl.
“I knew he wouldn’t escape you, Aunt Mariah!” Peter said jubilantly. “You don’t give up, not ever.” He stepped forward and put his arms around her, holding her tightly.
Constable Harris walked up to them and stood over Durward. He prodded him with his foot.
Durward groaned.
Peter walked across, took one of the curtain cords and handed it to the constable, who then jerked Durward’s hands behind his back and tied them tight and hard.
“Owen Durward, I am arresting you for the rape and murder of Mary Catherwood. Now come quietly, don’t spoil everyone’s Christmas party. They’ve a right to celebrate, to remember birth and death, people they’ve loved and lost, and that because of Christmas, love never dies.” He looked at Mariah and the mess on the floor. “Thank you, Mrs. Ellison. Quick thinking.”
“Oh, she did much more than that,” Peter said firmly. “Durward never had a chance. Aunt Mariah never gives up. Not ever. As you said, love never dies. Neither does courage, nor hope. Happy Christmas, Constable.”
“Happy Christmas, Mr. Wesley, Aunt Mariah. Sorry…Mrs. Ellison.”
“Aunt Mariah is fine,” she replied. “And happy Christmas to you.”
To all who have the courage to keep on trying
THE CHRISTMAS NOVELS OF ANNE PERRY
A Christmas Journey
A Christmas Visitor
A Christmas Guest
A Christmas Secret
A Christmas Beginning
A Christmas Grace
A Christmas Promise
A Christmas Odyssey
A Christmas Homecoming
A Christmas Garland
A Christmas Hope
A New York Christmas
A Christmas Escape
A Christmas Message
A Christmas Return
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANNE PERRY is the bestselling author of fourteen earlier holiday novels, as well as the bestselling William Monk series, the bestselling Charlotte and Thomas Pitt series, five World War I novels, and a work of historical fiction, The Sheen on the Silk. Anne Perry lives in Scotland and Los Angeles.
anneperry.co.uk
Anne Perry is available for select readings and lectures. To inquire about a possible appearance, please contact the Penguin Random House Speakers Bureau at 212-572-2013 or speakers@penguinrandomhouse.com.
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