Lady Osbaldestone’s Plum Puddings: Lady Osbaldestone’s Christmas Chronicles Volume 3

by Stephanie Laurens

  Melissa didn’t look his way, and he didn’t look at her.

  Both pretended to listen as the rest of the group argued over how best to continue the search, but the light was waning, and eventually, it was agreed they would follow the Romsey lane to where the village lane joined it, then take the village lane back to the manor and Fulsom Hall.

  The group set off again, still visually scouring the verges to either side. By the time they turned in to the village lane, disappointment had started to rise again.

  “It’s disheartening.” Roger Carnaby spoke for them all.

  Henry huffed. “They always say that nothing worthwhile in life comes easily—let’s hope this is one of those times when the worthwhile eventually appears.”

  “Hear, hear,” Thomas and George Wiley concurred.

  “We’ve only searched to the south today,” Jamie said. “We can’t give up yet.”

  They reached the end of the manor drive and halted, and Dagenham said, “What say we meet tomorrow morning on the green and take the paths to the north?”

  The suggestion was met with ready if not enthusiastic support.

  Dagenham glanced at Melissa and Mandy. “Shall we say ten o’clock?”

  With the time agreed, the group parted, with the five from the manor heading up the drive, leaving the young gentlemen to walk on to the Hall.

  With her sister and cousins, Melissa reached the first curve in the drive and couldn’t resist glancing back.

  The five gentlemen had started on their way, but Dagenham’s head was turned, and he was looking at her.

  Blushing, Melissa faced forward and walked on.

  Chapter 7

  The morning air was crisp and cool when the group gathered on the village green. As the church clock struck ten times, they set off, once again, to pick up the path at the northern tip of the lake, but this time, they turned their feet northward and, with renewed vigor, applied themselves to diligently searching for any sign of digging or excavation.

  “Harris was in the library when we got back to the Hall yesterday.” Thomas clambered down to the path after investigating a fallen tree. “He’s still deep in the history books, but hinted he was on the trail of some definite place—a house or villa or something of that sort—that he’s increasingly certain was built somewhere around the village.”

  “He’s back in the Hall library now,” Dagenham added, “ferreting through yet more books.”

  The others nodded and continued their searching.

  A little later, Jamie offered, “Grandmama said she understands Harris knows quite a bit about finding ancient objects, and that if he says there’s a good chance of finding a hoard nearby, she would be inclined to believe him.”

  The five young gentlemen regarded Jamie, then Dagenham said, “Your Grandmama is a downy one—if she thinks that, she’s probably right.”

  Her ladyship’s encouragement buoyed the company as they followed the path around the rear of the Hall’s grounds, past Tooks Farm, and on. Eventually, they stepped out of the woods onto the lane that ran between Romsey and West Wellow.

  After exchanging dispirited glances yet clearly attempting to hold disappointment at bay, they turned east and walked to the intersection with the lane from East Wellow, then angled back toward the village along the Romsey lane. Deciding that, to be thorough, they should search along the sides of the lane as it ran south past Swindon Hall, Witcherly Farm, and Crossley Farm, they continued along the well-beaten track, checking on either side, until with disaffected sighs, they turned once more in to the southern end of the village lane.

  Seeking a distraction from their lack of success, Dagenham glanced at Melissa. “The day after the carol service, I’ll be heading north to join the family for Christmas at Carsington—in Derbyshire.” He waited until Melissa met his eyes. “You?”

  She smiled. “We”— with a wave, she included her sister and cousins—“will all be going to Winslow Abbey, in Northamptonshire. That’s Jamie, George, and Lottie’s home, and the family always gathers there for Christmas—the abbey’s large enough to easily hold us all.”

  Thomas said, “It sounds as if we’ll all be traveling on the same day—I’ll be off to Norfolk to my grandfather’s house, outside Norwich. Our family gather there.”

  “Dags will drop me off in the Cotswolds,” George Wiley said, “at the parents’ house near Chipping Norton. M’family will be celebrating there.”

  “It seems all of you will have a decent chance of enjoying a white Christmas.” Roger nodded at the heavy clouds that heralded yet more snow. “Meanwhile, I’ll be stuck in London, where the snow is never white.”

  Thomas grinned and thumped Roger on the shoulder. “Buck up—you’ll still have all your family around.”

  Roger scoffed, but he was smiling.

  “How will you get home?” George asked. “You didn’t bring your curricle, did you?”

  “No, but I’ll leave with Thomas—he has to go through London, anyway, so he’ll let me off there.”

  They halted and milled at the bottom of the manor’s drive.

  “What now?” Dagenham looked at Henry and Jamie. “As we’ve just confirmed, we’ll all be leaving a week from tomorrow. We have only seven more days in which to find this hoard.”

  “Assuming it exists,” Roger said.

  The others all looked at him, then Jamie said, “I think we have to assume the hoard is real. We have to believe it is, or we won’t find it.”

  “Just so.” Henry nodded. “So we need to keep searching, but…where next is the question.”

  Mandy looked around the circle of faces, then focused on her cousins and Melissa. “It’s nearly time for luncheon.” She looked at the five gentlemen. “Why don’t we take the time while eating to think, then the five of us will come to Fulsom Hall, and we can see if Mr. Harris has found anything useful, and discuss where next we should search?”

  That plan found favor with everyone, and the group split and went their separate ways, with Melissa and Dagenham again sharing a lingering look as they parted.

  Therese heard her grandchildren come in and walked out from her private parlor to find them shedding coats and scarves in the front hall. She studied their faces. “Still no sign of where those coins might have come from?”

  “No,” George replied. “But we’re not giving up.”

  Therese smiled. “Of course not.” She waved them ahead of her into the dining room, and they sat about the table. She waited while Crimmins served the soup, and slices of Mrs. Haggerty’s seeded loaf were passed around. Therese continued to wait while the soup was consumed.

  When Crimmins returned to clear the empty plates and serve the main course of a thick rabbit stew, Therese gave up waiting and prompted, “Have your endeavors of the morning led to any further insights into where the source of the coins might lie?”

  Jamie grimaced. “Not really.”

  “We searched all along the paths through the woods and along the lanes around about,” Mandy said.

  “Yesterday to the west and south,” Melissa added, “and today to the north and east.”

  “But we didn’t find any sign of digging.” George sighed.

  “Yet,” Lottie trenchantly added.

  Therese hid a grin. “I see. And was Mr. Harris searching with you?”

  “No.” Mandy shook her head. “He’s been buried in the library at the Hall.”

  “On Saturday, he told us about the other Roman hoards and treasures he knew of.” George’s eyes lit. “Did you know…”

  Therese listened as between them, Jamie and George, assisted by Lottie, elaborated in detail as to the information Harris-Goodrich had imparted. Given what Therese knew of him, such knowledge wasn’t a surprise, but that he’d taken the time to share that knowledge with his young searchers was a mark in his favor. After noting that Mandy and Melissa were also nodding, encouraged and enthused despite their age and the group’s signal lack of success, Therese inwardly conceded that Call
um Harris Goodrich knew how to fire the interest of his searchers.

  In his line of work, that was undoubtedly an advantage.

  The children ended their recitation with the news that they intended to head to Fulsom Hall for a meeting, to learn if Mr. Harris had gleaned any clues from his search through the history books and, subsequently, to decide how best to proceed.

  Therese arched her brows and, her tone even, inquired, “Is Miss Webster assisting with the search?”

  The boys shook their heads. “She knows we’re searching and that Mr. Harris is helping,” Jamie reported.

  “We haven’t seen her,” George said. “Not over the past days.”

  “I see.” Although Therese kept her tone uninflected, from the corner of her eye, she saw Lottie, Melissa, and Mandy staring at her, then the girls exchanged a three-way glance, and Therese saw Lottie’s lips form the words, “Miss Webster and who?”

  Melissa’s brows arched, and she looked at Mandy.

  Therese couldn’t tell what passed between the sisters, but she suspected it was along the lines of “Mr. Harris? Well, it must be.”

  As, apparently, the girls hadn’t seen Miss Webster with Harris-Goodrich other than in passing, and had been too absorbed with their own activities during the skating party to have noticed anyone else, Therese wasn’t surprised that her granddaughters hadn’t picked up the signs of burgeoning romance. However, now they’d been alerted, she felt confident she could trust them to supply whatever encouragement fell to their hands.

  At the end of the meal, she followed the five into the front hall. “I’ll be helping Mrs. Haggerty and Mrs. Crimmins and everyone else in the kitchen for the rest of the day. We’re starting on the plum puddings.” Therese smiled. “I’m in charge of slipping the silver coins into each pudding.”

  The children cheered, then, after shrugging into their coats and winding thick scarves about their throats, they waved and set off for Fulsom Hall.

  The five were admitted to the Hall by Mountjoy, the butler. He smiled at their cheery greetings. “Sir Henry and his friends and Mr. Harris have just retreated to the library.” Mountjoy’s eyes twinkled. “Mrs. Woolsey is with them.”

  He led the way to the library, which lay down a corridor to one side of the front hall.

  As she and Mandy followed Jamie, George, and Lottie, who were trailing Mountjoy, Melissa tipped her head close to Mandy’s and murmured, “Mrs. Woolsey is a distant cousin of Henry’s. She’s a trifle…” Melissa paused, lost for words.

  Lottie, who had heard, glanced back and, sotto voce, supplied, “Fluttery. She flutters.”

  Melissa nodded. “That’s not a bad way to put it.”

  Thus forewarned, Mandy smiled and curtsied along with Melissa when, on being announced by Mountjoy to the company in the library, she and her sister and cousins were set upon by a butterfly-like elderly lady, clad in filmy draperies, who swooped upon them, exclaiming and welcoming and making comments in a stream of disjointed statements.

  Mandy took her cue from the others in responding only to the comments that seemed relevant.

  Henry rescued them. “Excellent! You’re here.” He ushered the five toward a grouping of chairs set before the large fireplace. “We’ve told Mr. Harris of our lack of success in searching along the paths and lanes.” Glancing back at his elderly cousin, Henry smiled fondly and said, “We’ll be going out again soon, Cousin Ermintrude.”

  “Very good, dear boy.” Mrs. Woolsey raised her head and looked over the children toward Henry’s four friends and Mr. Harris, who were gathered about the fire. “Do be sure to keep me informed of any advances, gentlemen!”

  “We will, Mrs. Woolsey!” Henry’s friends dutifully chorused.

  Mr. Harris looked bemused—and faintly amused.

  “I’ll leave you to your endeavors, then.” Mrs. Woolsey whirled in a swirl of draperies and made for the door that Mountjoy helpfully held open. At the last, without looking back, she waved over her head. “Good luck!”

  Henry nodded to Mountjoy, who departed in his mistress’s wake and shut the door. “Phew!” Henry looked at the manor group and grinned. “That was a near-run thing. Cousin Ermintrude got wind of our continuing efforts and was determined to assist Mr. Harris, but it seems she’s forgotten.”

  Mandy frowned. “Does she often do that?”

  “Forget?” Henry nodded. “Frequently, from one minute to the next. But she’s a dear old thing—quite harmless.”

  They’d reached the chairs, and the gentlemen, who were all on their feet, waited until Mandy, Melissa, and Lottie sat, then either claimed chairs themselves or propped against the mantelpiece.

  “Judging from your reports”—Harris spoke from the armchair he’d claimed—“finding evidence of the excavation that unearthed our three coins is not going to be straightforward. I commend your thoroughness to date and share your frustration.”

  “Have you learned anything from the history books?” Melissa asked.

  Harris glanced around the circle. “I’ve uncovered enough to feel increasingly certain that the chances of discovering the ruins of some sort of Roman building close to the village are very real.” He leaned forward and, with excitement plainly riding him, clasped his hands between his knees and skewered them all with a confident look. “I’ve confirmed that there was a Roman road between Clausentum—that’s to the north of our Southampton—to Sorviodunum, which we call Old Sarum, near Salisbury. That road is probably the forerunner of the present Southampton-Salisbury road, and given the ridge on which the church now stands and the relative distance between Clausentum and Old Sarum, there’s a good possibility that there was some sort of staging post here. It’s the perfect spot for it—just the right landscape the Romans would look for.

  “In addition”—his voice gained in strength, in fervor—“I’ve found multiple references to a merchant’s compound, containing a villa and, most likely, storehouses, somewhere in this area. It’s possible there was more than one—the references could be pointing to the compounds of different merchants.” Leaning back, he raised both hands. “From what I’ve found so far, I can’t definitively say, but the more evidence I uncover of settlements in this area, the more likely it is that those coins came from a local hoard.”

  “Have you been able to get any idea of where, exactly, these compounds might have been situated?” Henry asked. “Any landmarks or streams or things like that?”

  “Thus far, no.” Harris looked frustrated. “A few mentions of the amenities of the place—good water supply and plentiful timber and game, that sort of thing—but no clear description of any major feature. Nothing at all to point us in a specific direction.” He grimaced. “Then again, we are talking of a time over fourteen hundred years ago—the landscape will have changed.”

  He sighed and glanced at the pile of tomes stacked on the massive library table that dominated the room. “I’ve nearly reached the end of the texts you have here—I’ve three more to comb through.” Harris raked a hand through his hair. “If I don’t find anything in those…” He met the others’ gazes. “Frankly, I’ll be stumped as to how to proceed. Mounting a thorough archeological search over such a wide area…” He shook his head. “That’s not going to work. We keep coming back to needing to learn where the coins were found. Missing that…at the moment, I can’t even guess where we should look next.”

  A short silence ensued, then Dagenham looked at the pile of books. “Can we help go through the books? Perhaps that would get through them faster.”

  Harris smiled wearily. “How good’s your Latin?”

  Dagenham pulled a face. “Not good at all.” He glanced at his friends, but faintly horrified, the other four young men shook their heads.

  Harris’s smile faded. “It won’t take me longer than this afternoon to go through the last three texts. Once I have…” He paused, then went on, “I know it seems as if we’re about to reach the end of our search with nothing to show for it, but my advice is: Don’t lose
hope. Quite often, it’s moments like these that push explorers to try something else, something they have, until that point, discounted, and that, unexpectedly, leads to a major discovery.”

  The others exchanged looks, then Henry slapped his hands on his knees and sat up straight. “I need something to do—something I don’t have to think about.” He looked at the others and grinned. “Anyone for a game of croquet? It’ll take our minds off our knotty problem for an hour or so, then when Harris has finished going through the books, we can get together again and see what our minds, being somewhat refreshed, can come up with.”

  Harris nodded encouragingly. “That’s an excellent idea.”

  Henry, his four friends, and Mandy and Melissa agreed. They quickly organized teams, and Harris waved them away. “Leave me in peace. I’ll come and find you when I’ve got to the end of the last book.”

  Jamie, George, and Lottie trailed their seniors from the library, but rather than follow on to the games room to help retrieve the croquet hoops and mallets, they dallied in the front hall.

  Melissa noticed them hanging back and paused to direct an inquiring glance their way. “Are you going to join in?”

  Jamie, George, and Lottie shared a look, then Jamie said, “We’ll go and see if Johnny and Georgina Tooks are at the farm. We’ll be back in an hour or so to help plan what comes next.”

  “All right.” Melissa turned to follow the others. “We’ll see you then. Don’t be late.”

  The three younger children watched Melissa vanish down the corridor, then exchanged another glance. Jamie tipped his head toward the front door. “Come on.”

  They let themselves out onto the front porch.

  “Won’t Johnny be off with the geese, all the way over at Allard’s End?” Lottie asked.