As it transpired, church was impossible. The weather had only worsened in the night. Mel woke to Harriet’s shriek of delight on seeing her mother, and the sound of the rain, wind and sleet driving against the window.
After collecting a jug of water, they washed and dressed while Harriet shared news about the month since they’d spent time together—Mel had visited only briefly between finishing her most recent case and beginning the investigation of the brothers and the marquess.
Lydia Eastwood featured frequently in Harriet’s stories. She was, according to Harriet, the best, prettiest, cleverest, and most loyal friend. “But you shall see for yourself, Mama, for Aunt Harmony has invited her and her uncle to spend Christmas with us.”
Sure enough, there was a knock on the door partway through the morning, and it proved to be the neighbors from upstairs. Mr. Eastwood was a tall, thin gentleman with a pleasant countenance. He carried a double armful of greenery—fir branches as well as hawthorn, rosemary, ivy, holly andhellebore. Lydia, his niece, did not look much like him. She had a familiar look about her, but Mel could not quite put her finger on whom she resembled.
“Mel, allow me to present Mr. Eastwood,” said Harmony, “and his niece Lydia. Mr. Eastwood and Lydia? My sister, Mrs. Blackmore.”
After greeting her politely, Mr. Eastwood spoke to Harmony. “Mrs. Little, since you are giving us Christmas, we have brought our greenery to add to your decorations. Lydia, show your friends the ribbons and charms in your basket.”
The girl obliged with a merry smile, pulling back the cover on her basket to show ribbons of all shades and assorted shapes cut out of tin—bells, harps, angels, and more.
Soon, the three children were busily at work using the ribbons to tie the greenery into wreaths and swathes, adding the charms to dangle from the ties.
Mr. Eastwood had donned an apron and armed himself with a knife to scrape the carrots and parsnips, Mel was peeling potatoes, and Harmony was putting the finishing touches to a capon pie that was to join the goose already roasting in the oven.
“How festive,” Mel said.
“How magnificent,” said Mr. Eastwood, but he was looking at Harmony.
Lydia began singing, “The holly and the ivy,” and they all joined in. One carol followed another, while the minutes flew by, they completed their respective tasks, and delicious smells filled the kitchen.
Yes, whatever Lord Kemble might think about it, Mel had made the right decision to stay.
