The Ghost of Christmas Past

by Rhys Bowen

  At that moment Liam squirmed to get down again. “Horsey?” he asked. “Go horsey?”

  “We found a rocking horse,” Bridie said.

  “A rocking horse?” Winnie had gone quite white.

  “You said we could explore,” Bridie said hastily. “And we found an old nursery. And Liam rode the rocking horse. I hope that was all right?”

  Winnie gave a weak smile. “Why, yes. Yes, of course it was all right. There is no reason at all why Liam should not enjoy the rocking horse. It has been sitting there doing nothing for so long now.”

  Her voice sounded light and breezy, but I could see from her face that she was making a supreme effort.

  Fifteen

  I sent Bridie to find Ivy and then followed them to the rear of the house. The kitchen was big and warm, hung with copper pots, and permeated with many good smells. The elderly cook looked up, red-faced from stirring something over a giant cast-iron stove, but she smiled when she saw us.

  “So the young’uns have come for their food again, have they?” she asked. She turned to the young girl who was chopping vegetables at the scrubbed pine table. “Rose, leave that and serve some of that stew to the young folk. They look like they need fattening up.” Rose shot us a shy little smile. “This way,” she said and took us through to what was clearly a servants’ dining room. She laid places at one end, returning with bowls of hot stew. Bridie took Liam on her lap and held him while Ivy fed him, the two girls giggling as he leaned forward and opened his mouth eagerly. I left them to it and went to rejoin the grown-ups.

  The mood around the table at luncheon was a festive one.

  “Christmas Eve tomorrow,” Cedric said, looking around at us with a pleased expression on his face. “This takes me back to old times. Although my grandfather kept the Dutch tradition, you know. Our big day was Saint Nicholas. He came on December 5. You put out your shoes and if you’d been a good child, they were filled with candy and little presents by morning. Then on Christmas Eve it was the Christ child who came. So tomorrow night we’ll finish decorating the tree and we’ll sing carols and have hot grog. The young ones will love it. Actually I’ll enjoy it myself.”

  “We look forward to it,” I said because I felt that someone should say something.

  A bowl of butternut squash soup was served—thick and creamy, and just what was needed on a cold December day.

  Winnie looked out of the window. “I think it might snow again. We may have our white Christmas after all.”

  Indeed the day had now clouded over and heavy yellowish clouds hung in the sky. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am that our friends have finally returned to us,” the aged Great-Aunt Cara said, beaming at us. “So many years with no company and now look at us. And I’m especially glad to see you again.” She was sitting next to Daniel and patted his hand. “Where have you been all this time? I’m sure we’ve all missed you. I know Winnie has missed you.”

  There was a silence, then Daniel laughed and said, “I’m afraid you’re mixing me up with someone else. I haven’t visited this house before.”

  “I never forget a face,” Aunt Clara said indignantly. “It might be years, but I still remember you.”

  “You’re confused again, Aunt Clara,” Cedric said. “This man is Captain Sullivan.” He turned to Daniel. “And I meant to ask, are you a sea captain? Nobody ever explained to me.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m afraid nothing so glamorous. And I’m surprised my mother hasn’t told you. She usually recounts every one of my exploits since the day I learned to walk. I’m a captain with the New York Police Department.”

  “Police?” Cedric registered a moment’s shock, then gave a carefree laugh. “Then we’d all better be on our best behavior, hadn’t we?”

  The main course was served: ham with a parsley sauce, parsnips, and baked potatoes, followed by an apple tart. Simple country fare but good. Cedric was clearly making an effort to remain jolly but Winnie was tense. I saw her glancing at Great-Aunt Clara and then at Daniel a few times. Who did Daniel resemble? I wondered.

  When lunch was over I went to retrieve the children from their meal. I found Liam sitting on the floor, eating a gingerbread man, while the girls were at the table helping to cut dough for little tarts.

  “You’ve got good little helpers here,” Cook said.

  I picked up Liam. “Time for your nap, young man.”

  He protested, trying to wiggle out of my arms. He was becoming so strong and heavy that I had to fight to hold him. No longer a baby, I thought. A little boy with a mind of his own. And I tried to picture the Van Aikens’ daughter putting on her boots or shoes. There was no way that Liam could dress himself. Someone in this house had dressed that child and led her to the door. Then sent her out into the night, to what?

  I looked across at the cook. “You must have been with this family for a long time,” I said.

  “Oh, indeed. I came here as kitchen maid over forty years ago. I served Mr. Cedric’s father and his grandfather. I remember when he was born. So happy they were. They’d been married for years and no child. And this was a boy to carry on the name.”

  “Then it is sad that Mr. and Mrs. Van Aiken have no son,” I said. “There will be no one to inherit this lovely house.”

  She moved closer to me, wiping her hands on her apron. “You know they did have a child. A little girl. Vanished ten years ago.”

  “I did hear that,” I said. “What a terrible thing. And she was never found. I’ve only heard the gist of the story. None of the details. But I was told she went out of the house on her own in the dark. How could that be?”

  “I’ve no idea, ma’am,” she said. “We asked ourselves that at the time. But we were all in the ballroom, you see. Having our own holiday party while we decorated the ballroom to be ready for the big party the next night. And the nursemaid was with us. She thought the little girl was asleep or she’d never have left her.”

  “What did the servants think? Was there anyone they suspected?”

  “None of us, ma’am. There wasn’t one of the servants who would have done such a cruel thing. Least of all the girl’s nursemaid. Adored little Charlotte, she did. Worshipped her. And after she was gone she couldn’t stop crying. ‘If only I’d stayed with her,’ she kept on saying. And then the police were here and they kept questioning her, hinting that she must have been in the pay of kidnappers. It was too much for the poor soul to bear. We heard she’d died soon afterward. Took her own life.” She had lowered her voice. “But it couldn’t have been kidnappers, could it? They never got a ransom note or Mr. Cedric would willingly have paid it to get his daughter back.”

  “Did he dote on his daughter?”

  “I’m back here in the kitchen, ma’am,” she said. “But from what I heard he was clearly disappointed she wasn’t a son. He wasn’t cruel to her or anything, but I don’t think he ever really took to her. Unlike her mother, who doted on the child. But that’s the way of things, isn’t it? Men are not made for nurturing children.”

  “I heard there was a gardener who might have been involved,” I said.

  “Harris, you mean? Yes, that’s what they were saying. Of course the gardeners don’t have much to do when the snow’s lying deep on the ground, so it was only discovered he wasn’t in his quarters when the gardeners were called out to search the grounds. And who knew how long he’d been gone. One of the stable boys claimed they saw him here, on the estate, the evening after the child vanished, and the word was that he was not missing but just getting out of work, which would have been like him. We indoor staff never mixed with them much but the rumor was that he liked his drink a little too much. And anyway what could he have to do with the kidnapping of a child from the house? Outdoor staff never set foot anywhere but the kitchen and it was plain enough that the child went out through the front door.”

  The clock in the hall chimed two. She roused herself, as if suddenly aware that she’d been gossiping with me. “This will never do,” she
said. “I need to get those pies in the oven.”

  “And I need to put this young man to bed,” I said, brushing his hair with a kiss.

  “It doesn’t do no good rehashing it, does it?” she said, heading back to the table. “All the talking in the world won’t bring her back.”

  By the time I had finally got Liam off to sleep and came to join the others in the gallery, it was snowing hard—great white flakes swirling about the windows and blocking the view across the grounds.

  “Lucky we went to see about the poultry this morning,” I said as I came to perch beside Daniel’s mother, who was busy with her tapestry again. “I hope they’ll be able to deliver them all right.”

  “It’s not far,” Winnie said. “At worst they can send a boy out on skis or snowshoes. People out here use them to get around all the time.”

  My mind was still on my conversation with the cook. Skis or snowshoes, I thought. Had the person who took Charlotte come for her on skis, thus leaving no footprints? But then skis leave tracks too, don’t they? I pushed worrying thoughts to the back of my mind. As the cook said, no amount of talking or thinking or worrying could bring the child back. But I glanced across at Daniel, who was deep in conversation with Cedric, and thought about the old aunt at the table, mixing him up with another man. I hadn’t asked whether there had been guests in the house for Christmas and whether one of them might have had a hand in taking Charlotte. I certainly couldn’t ask Winnie or Cedric. It was lucky that Liam was taking his meals in the servants’ quarters. I’d have to have another chat with the cook.

  “We need some Christmas music,” Great-Aunt Clara said, quite animated now. “Why don’t you play the piano for us, Henry? You play so beautifully. I still remember.”

  Daniel looked uncomfortable. “I’m afraid my name is Daniel and I do not play the piano,” he said.

  “Are you sure? You’re not trying to fool an old lady whose eyesight is failing?”

  “Whose mind is failing too,” Cedric said abruptly. “This is nobody you know or remember, Aunt.”

  “And he doesn’t play the piano?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Daniel said.

  “Oh, what a pity.” Great-Aunt Clara frowned. “Why is everything so jumbled suddenly?”

  “I will play the piano later, Aunt,” Cedric said, going over to her and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And tomorrow we will sing Christmas carols when the tree is decorated.”

  Great-Aunt Clara stood up with difficulty. “I think I will go up to my room.”

  “Good idea. Take a little nap. There will be a lot of feasting and fun in the coming days,” Aunt Florence said. “We all need to keep up our strength.”

  “Oh, no. I try not to nap in the daytime,” Great-Aunt Clara said. “Such a weakness. I shall sit at my window and see which of our old friends is coming to visit next to surprise us.”

  She went from the room with great dignity.

  Cedric shook his head. “Really, her confusion gets worse by the day.”

  “Poor old thing,” Aunt Florence said, giving Daniel’s mother an understanding smile. “I suppose it will come to all of us in the end, but one doesn’t like to think about it.”

  “You will remain sharp until your dying day, Florence,” Daniel’s mother said.

  “Sometimes too sharp for her own good,” Winnie’s father muttered in a low voice.

  “I heard that,” Florence said, making us all laugh and breaking the tension.

  It was still snowing hard as night fell. We heard the clip-clop of hooves and jingle of sleigh bells. Bridie and Ivy had been in the kitchen and came running through to tell us that the goose and chickens had been delivered, and boxes of other good things. It was good to see Bridie’s face alight with joy for a change. I vowed to make this a Christmas she would never forget.

  Sixteen

  When Daniel and I were finally alone in our bedroom and the children were asleep I sat at the dressing table, brushing out my hair. Daniel came up behind me and stood looking at my reflection in the mirror.

  “You’re still a handsome woman, Molly Murphy Sullivan,” he said. He ran his hands over my shoulders and caressed my neck. A shiver went through me. I glanced up at him and smiled.

  “That’s more like the girl I married,” he said. “Recently you’ve been looking as if you’ve the weight of the world on your shoulders. So coming here was the right thing to do after all?”

  “Maybe it was,” I said. “I think I’ve been wounded in too many ways recently. I just needed time to heal.”

  “And now you think you are finally healed?”

  “I’m on that path,” I said. “My thoughts are no longer all turned inward. I have that missing child to think about.”

  “I wouldn’t get any hopes up about finding her after all this time.” Daniel’s hands still massaged my shoulders.

  “I don’t know. Something that was brought up today made me realize there were aspects we haven’t looked into yet.” I swiveled to look at him. “This Henry person that the old lady mistook you for. He obviously used to be a guest here, but doesn’t come anymore? We know the servants were all in the ballroom, having their own party when the child disappeared. But we don’t know if there were guests in the house, just like we are, for Christmas. Why has nobody mentioned them?”

  “You are suggesting that one of their guests went off with the child? Rather far-fetched, don’t you think? For one thing they’d be able to give names and addresses to the police and track the person down rapidly, and for another, why would someone who was a guest in their house want to steal their child?”

  “I don’t know. Madness? Revenge? The desire for a child of their own?”

  Daniel wagged a finger at me. “Molly, if this was suspected, every policeman in New York State would be hunting for the person. They would have been found.”

  I thought he was probably right, but I didn’t want to give up so quickly. “Remember that case you were investigating where I was able to help you? The young girl who was having those dreams?” Daniel grunted. I don’t think he liked to admit that I had actually solved something the police had been working on for months. “Remember that unbalanced young man was trying to take the girl with him on a ship? Who knows whether something like that happened to the Van Aikens’ child and she was taken to South America or God knows where?”

  “Do you not think that every port would have been notified? Every passenger list checked?”

  “They would have traveled under an assumed name.”

  “And you do not find it odd that Cedric and Winnie have not mentioned this? Have kept quiet about it all these years? If your friend Augusta ran off with Liam would you have sat quietly and done nothing for ten years? No, you would have pursued her to the ends of the earth.”

  “Unless Gus thought that I was a bad parent and was taking the child away for his own safety,” I said, toying with the words.

  Daniel went across the room and pulled back the velvet drapes. “I think you should leave it, Molly. A good detective relies on facts, not flights of fancy and not besmirching characters without any modicum of proof.”

  I got up from the stool and came over to stand with him at the window. “Maybe you are right,” I said. “It’s just that I want…”

  “You want to make things right. You always have,” Daniel said gently. “Come to bed, do, or you’ll get cold.”

  I let him lead me across to our bed and lay content in the warmth of his arms.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve dawned bright and clear. I got up to see a slit of sunlight streaming between the drapes, went over to the window, and pulled them back. The new snow sparkled from bare tree branches and from the expanse of lawn. A true Christmas scene. I glanced at Liam’s bed and saw that it was empty. A jolt of fear shot through me.

  “Liam?” I could hardly get the word out. “Liam?”

  Daniel roused himself and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the matter?”


  “Liam’s not in his bed.” My heart was pounding now. “Children can wander off so easily,” the old woman had said.

  “Calm down, Molly,” Daniel said. “I expect he’s just…” As he was pulling back the covers we heard a distinct giggle from the next room. I ran to the door and there was my son, bouncing on Bridie’s bed while she pretended to sleep.

  “Wait-up,” he was saying.

  And then she turned suddenly and said in a ferocious voice, “Who is waking me up?” And he burst into giggles again.

  A normal, happy morning scene. One that had been played out dozens of times at our house. And yet for a moment I had experienced the fear that must have shot through Winnie Van Aiken when she realized that her child had gone. How could I not want to make things right?

  I dressed, then bathed and dressed my son and took him down to a hearty breakfast in the warmth of the servants’ dining room, off the kitchen. I watched with satisfaction as he worked his way through a bowl of oatmeal, insisting on holding the spoon himself, and then dipped fingers of bread into a boiled egg. From next door in the kitchen came sounds of frenzied activity, the clatter of pots and pans, shouted instructions, and plenty of admonitions. “Don’t drop that bird, Rose. Mind what you’re doing!”

  “I am minding, Mrs. Edwards.”

  “And don’t answer back.” As she said these words the cook came through to us. “That girl will be the death of me,” she said, but she said it with a smile. “Always got a glib tongue and a ready excuse for anything that goes wrong. She’ll come to a bad end, you mark my words.”

  She leaned forward to pick up Liam’s plate. “All finished? Now that’s what I call a good eater. That’s what I like to see. Not finicky like some of them.”

  “He certainly enjoys his food,” I said, wiping egg from Liam’s face before I picked him up. “And before you go, there was one thing I wanted to ask you. A friend called Henry was mentioned yesterday.…”

  “That would be Mr. Wheaton,” she said. “His name hasn’t been mentioned here for years now. He used to be a constant visitor but not anymore.”