Christmas with Death: Into Death

By M.A. Lee

Christmas is for miracles, merriment, and murder.

 

An English country Christmas in 1919 should be a joyful celebration.  Isabella Newcombe, however, discovers only petty sniping and bitterness when she and her friends (Cecilia Arkwright and the brothers Madoc and Gawen Tarrant) are invited to Emberley.

 

Sir Reginald and the Malvaise family filled the grand house with friends, acquaintances, and business associates.  With money tight, Isabella and her friends enjoy the rich meals, hot fires, and comfortable rooms.

 

Yet rumors of affaires and drug addiction as well as accusations of blackmail sour the holiday atmosphere.  And the invitation to the four friends was driven by an avid relish to hear about Cecilia's upcoming divorce from her gaoled husband and the two deaths at Gawen Tarrant's archaeological dig in October.

 

They plan to leave before New Year's Eve, then Isabella and her fiancé Madoc discover the body of a fellow visitor, shot dead and left lying in an ice-skimmed pond.

 

With multiple motives and suspects, will Scotland Yard solve the crime before Isabella is the murderer's next target?  Will an imperfect murder be impossible to solve?

 

A historical mystery of 53,000 words, Christmas with Death is the second novel in the Into Death series.  While it follows Digging into Death, it is not a sequel.  Each novel of the Into Death series is complete and not a cliff-hanger.  Readers, however, will have a richer experience should they read the first two novels in the series, as the primary characters repeat.

 

Writer M.A. Lee also publishes the Hearts in Hazard 12-book series of mysteries set in the Regency era.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.A. Lee
• Release date: Oct 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781733887533

Book preview

Christmas with Death

by

M.A. Lee

an Into Death mystery

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Christmas with Death

Copyright © 2017 M. A. Lee & Writers’ Ink

First electronic publishing rights: December 2017

All rights are reserved. 

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.  No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means,

electronic or print, without the author’s or Writers’ Ink permission.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.  The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Published in the United States of America.

Cover Design ~~ Deranged Doctor Design

Acknowledgements

This book would not exist if my sister Diane had not asked for it.  After weeks of struggling, the story finally came together—but only after I decided who had to be Dorothy Sayers’ five red herrings!  Thank you, Diane.

Cover design by the wonderful people of Deranged Doctor Design

~ They take my poor ideas about images and give them beautiful reality ~

Additional Novels by M.A. Lee,

Available at online distributors

Digging into Death , the first Into Death mystery, featuring Isabella Newcombe

The Hearts in Hazard Series, loosely-connected novels of romantic suspense, set in Regency England

A Game of Secrets

A Game of Spies

A Game of Hearts

The Dangers of Secrets

The Dangers for Spies

The Dangers to Hearts

Table of Contents

Christmas with Death

Acknowledgements

Dramatis Personae

Chapter 1 ~ Kirkgardie Street, London

Chapter 2 ~ Christmas Eve

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 ~ Saturday, 27 December 1919

Chapter 7 ~ Sunday, 28 December

Chapter 8 ~ Monday, 29 December

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 ~ Wednesday, 31 December

Chapter 15 ~ Sunday, 4 January

Chapter 16

Chapter 17 ~ Thursday, 8 January

Epilogue ~ Monday, 12 January

More Books by M.A. Lee

Dramatis Personae

The 4 Friends

Isabella Newcombe, struggling artist living and working in London

Madoc Tarrant, Isabella’s fiancé, recently hired by a global engineering firm

Gawen Tarrant, Madoc’s older brother, an archaeologist at St. George’s University in London

Cecilia Arkwright, Isabella’s flat mate, separated from her husband Nigel Arkwright, who was convicted of theft of artifacts and conspiracy to commit murder (events in Digging into Death).  He is in gaol on the island of Crete.

The Malvaise Family

Sir Reginald Malvaise ~ 9th baron of Emberley

Lady Loretta Malvaise ~ 3rd wife of the baron

the dowager Lady Malvaise

Cleveland Malvaise ~ the baron’s brother, his wife Millicent and his daughter Phyllida (Filly)

Mrs. Lottie Crittenden ~ the baron’s widowed sister, who publishes Modern Woman magazine

Mrs. Greta Ffoulkes, his widowed eldest daughter who invited Cecilia Arkwright and her friends to attend the Christmastide celebration

Miss Victoria (Tori) Malvaise, his second daughter

Miss Alexa Malvaise, his third daughter, not yet introduced to society

Edward Malvaise, the baron’s only surviving son, not in attendance at the Christmastide celebration

The Visitors

Harry Jervis, engaged to Greta Ffoulkes

Tommy Gresham, engaged to Tori Malvaise

Philip Buxton, a wealthy friend, his wife Maureen, his son Tony, and his niece Selena

Godfrey Hunstead, another wealthy friend of the baron and the Buxton family, and his wife Marilyn Marcala Hunstead, formerly on the London stage

Douglas and Rosamunde Ryder, a nouveau riche couple who are recent acquaintances of the baron, Philip Buxton, and Godfrey Hunstead

Jack Portman, an old friend of Greta Ffoulkes and Cecilia Arkwright

Wyatt Williamson, a famous London art critic

St. John Lamont, a famous artist, and his wife Caro(line)

Stephen Pettigrew, a London artist

Calum Eliot, a budding London actor

Alicia Osterley, assistant to Mrs. Crittenden

Incidental Recurring Characters

the butler Thompson

Detective Inspector Michael Wainwright of Scotland Yard and Sergeant Callaway

Constable Billings

Dr. Venture

Chapter 1 ~ Kirkgardie Street, London

Gawen Tarrant dropped the rope-tied box before the sofa.  Madoc promptly propped his feet on it.

Isabella shut the flat’s door then maneuvered around Gawen’s tall form.  Cecilia is not going to be pleased.

They told me to clear out her husband’s office.  He dropped onto the chintz chair then tossed the silk pillow with its embroidered brown and pink tulips to his brother.  Madoc flipped it to the other end of the sofa.

"Nigel is no longer—Cecilia is not collecting this things.  She’s trying to divorce him."

A crate of books will come after the Christmas freight traffic is over.

She will definitely not like that.  After she closed out their Mayfair flat, the shipping cost to send his possessions to his parents emptied her bank account.  She recovered a little of her money when she sold their furniture, but then she sent half of that to his parents as well.  Now you bring her another cost.

He shrugged.  She’ll have to swallow the expense or store Arkwright’s things here.  Gawen loosened his tie and collar then propped his feet on the box.  Any tea going?

Isabella didn’t complain or sigh, just slipped into the tiny kitchen.  Rain slicked the square window to the fire escape.  As she set the kettle to boil, she heard the brothers talking.  She didn’t try to listen;  Madoc would tell her what she needed to know.  She stared out the window, peering past the ironwork to the distant lights twinkling in the darkness.  Then she shrugged off her gloom and began setting out the tea things.  Gawen may have come when he thought Cecilia would be away, but Isabella expected her back soon.  Fresh biscuits and Mrs. Kittner’s meat pasties covered a white plate.  The kettle whistled as she stuffed the tea ball with fresh leaves.

She bore the tea tray into the sitting room and aimed it for the box.  The men hastily removed their boots then grabbed for the meat pasties.  Isabella sat beside Madoc and poured three cups.

Gawen eyed the empty fourth cup.  He said nothing, just dropped two biscuits onto the saucer and scooped up another pasty.  These are good.

Isabella watched his huge bite that took off one crimped corner.  Mrs. Kittner in the third floor flat.  She gives us a daily dozen to earn extra cash.  I do wish you hadn’t brought more of Nigel’s things, Gawen.  I hoped Cecilia would cheer up over the holidays.

What’s the matter?

Madoc brushed crumbs off his cardigan.  Bad news from her solicitor.

About the divorce?  Her husband’s in a Greek gaol for conspiring to commit murder.  He’s obviously not a worthy husband.  What’s holding the decree up?

Nigel refuses to admit to any adultery while on the archaeological dig, and her solicitor says that’s the only reason for which the marriage can be dissolved.  His or hers.

The ginger biscuit cracked.  Half fell into Gawen’s teacup.  "Not her adultery, he snapped.  Her reputation should be kept intact.  I can’t believe Arkwright is so lost to honor."

That’s the reason she was crying yesterday, and Isabella didn’t mistake his wince.  Today she’s off lunching with friends in the hopes they’ll help her forget for a few hours.

Madoc snared a fourth pasty.  We can give depositions, Bella, you and I.

I could—.

No, not you.  Madoc shut down his brother’s offer.  Not if you intend to have any relationship with her after the divorce is granted.  We might enlist Professor Standings and his wife.

They’ll talk about her flirtation with me, Gawen growled.

Flirtation only.  As long as you two aren’t seen as a couple until after the divorce.  Castlereagh and Matthews can give depositions as well.  They won’t talk about her flirtation with you.  Matthews probably didn’t even notice.

Gawen still hadn’t eaten his third pasty.  Maybe I shouldn’t have come today.

You are her husband’s colleague, Isabella pointed out.  You’re delivering his possessions.  And you are the brother of Madoc who is seeing me.

Madoc squeezed her shoulders.  More than seeing you, Bella.  I’m going to put a ring on your finger.

Happiness glimmered in her pale blue eyes.

Gawen set his saucer down and stood up.  Cecilia needs to give her solicitor options.  You need to tell her what we’ve said.

Tell her yourself, for they heard light footsteps hurrying up the third flight of stairs to the fourth-floor flat.

The door opened then shut quickly.  Cecilia stepped into Isabella’s view when she hung her umbrella on the four wall hooks.  Goodness, it’s wet.  Rain every day for a week.

She gave her hat a shake then placed it on the glass-topped Demilune table that had once graced the marble-floored entry in the Mayfair flat she had shared with her estranged husband.  She shed her raincoat then paused as she reached to hang it on another hook.  She bit her lip then hung her coat over the dripping umbrella.  Her heels clacked on the bare wood floor as she came into the flat.

Cecilia stopped when she saw Gawen.  I didn’t know you were expected.  Then her gaze fastened on the rope-tied box that Madoc’s feet had reclaimed as an ottoman.  She glanced at Isabella, who started to explain the arrival of Nigel’s things only to be interrupted by Gawen.

I came to pick up a box that Madoc brought me.  His boot nudged the box while his bright green eyes challenged his brother and Isabella to contradict his lie.

Do sit down.  Have some—more tea, she added when she saw the cup he’d abandoned.  Mrs. Kittner’s meat pasties are very good.

They are indeed, Madoc said and reached for another.

Isabella pushed his hand away.  You’ve had four.  Gawen’s had three.  Leave some for Cecilia.

Don’t worry about me.  I’m still stuffed from that luncheon.  She towed over one of the straight-backed chairs from the drop-leaf table that they used for dining.  Then she bent her head over the steam from the teacup and closed her eyes briefly before she sipped.  Ah.  Good and still hot.  Sit down, Gawen, she repeated.

He resumed his seat but sat on the edge.  When pressed, he took another pasty then held out his cup for more tea.  I thought we could dine at Guiseppi’s around the corner, the place you told me about, Madoc, when you rang about this box.  He frowned at his brother.

They discussed dinner while Cecilia had a pasty and a second cup of tea.  Then she interrupted.  I don’t believe this is a box that Madoc brought.  What’s in it, Gawen?  More of Nigel’s things?

Honesty battled with his lie and won.  Out of his office.  The dean required that it be cleared before the New Year.

He had more than that box in his office at St. George’s.

The books are coming after Christmas—but if you’ll give me his parents’ address, I will have it routed straight to them.  The University will pay the freight.  That is where you are sending his things?  I can send this box there for you.

No.  Leave it.  I want to sort through his journals.  His parents shouldn’t see—.

I purged anything that looked nefarious.

That’s good of you, but I would still like to go through the box.  Knowing me, I will pull out one or two things.  Besides, I like that box.  We can put an old shawl on it, Isabella, and keep it right there as a coffee table.

A great idea, she agreed promptly.  Now, I expected you back an hour ago.  What delayed you?

A lucky meeting and a most fortunate invitation.  Fortunate for all of us.

How fortunate? Madoc asked.  He finished his tea and held his cup for more.

Do you have plans for the next fortnight?

He nudged Isabella.  Just being here.

Will you want to go to your grandparents?  This time she looked at Gawen.

Not until mid-January, when they want us to come for Grandmother’s birthday.  They’re planning a quiet Christmas and New Year.

That works, Madoc said.

Will you want to see your Grandfather Chadwick over the holidays?

"I’m still persona non grata, I think, because I refused his job in the shipping office.  Gawen may go," but his brother grunted a negative.

Then the invitation is fortunate for all of us.

What are you talking about, Cecilia?

Do you remember Greta Ffoulkes?  Tall woman.  Lovely clothes but wrong color palette, I think you said.  With a nose.  You met her at Tony Carstair’s gallery.

Brunette?  All dramatic in gold when she should have been in silver?

That’s the one.  She was at Tilda’s.

I thought you went to Chelsea, not Mayfair.

I needed a fitting.  Greta was there, picking up a new frock.  She wanted to hear about my adventurous autumn[1], but she had no time.  So, she has invited me and my friends—since I said I couldn’t abandon my flat-mate alone in London, so dreary—and we are to drive down on Christmas Eve to her family’s home.

Drive where?

Emberley, the Malvaise estate.  It’s in Cumbria.  We are invited for the fortnight of Christmas to Epiphany.

Who is we?  Who did she invite? Madoc asked.

My flat-mate and her fiancé.  And I hoped Gawen would drive us in his automobile.  She said four of us would be fine.

Not I, Gawen quickly refused.

But you’ll be alone at Christmas.

We want you with us, Isabella coaxed.

You boxed yourself in, brother, Madoc added and nudged the tea tray table.

His mouth twisted, but it wasn’t a grimace.  I think I am boxed in.

Perfect, Cecilia smiled, smug that her plan had come together.  We’ll have a late breakfast on Wednesday then leave before 11 o’clock.

Pasties from Mrs. Kittner? Madoc asked.  When he opened his blue eyes wide, Isabella could see him as a little boy, eager for a kitchen treat.

Cess laughed.  Of course.  Breakfast, then we’re on the road.  We should reach Emberley by tea.  Greta said the family will attend a late Christmas Eve service at the parish church, and we are expected to attend that, so be prepared.

. ~ . ~ . ~ .

Yawning, Isabella came back into the flat to see Cecilia reach deep into the box Gawen had carried in hours earlier.  Cess!  You said you would leave that for tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning I am off to my solicitor with Madoc’s idea for depositions to prove Nigel’s adultery.  I’ll leave this box on the landing, and contact the local carrier on my way.

I’ll help you repack it.  Isabella tied her wrapper before she knelt.

Sweet of you, but don’t you have to be up early to go to the theatre?

Early for Mr. Adderholt is 1 p.m.  She looked at the items spread around the box: files, journals, a portfolio, and the sundry paraphernalia that people somehow accumulated.  Did you find what you were looking for?  What is it?

A framed photograph of me.  From before our marriage.  I inscribed it ‘All my love,’ more fool me.  I was such a starry-eyed innocent.  Nigel kept it on a narrow table at the window.  He said the sun wouldn’t fade my photo, but I think he liked to keep his back turned to me.

How do I answer that?  She looked at the neatly stacked items.  I don’t see a photo.

Because it’s not here.  I know it was in his office before we left for Crete.  I moved it out of the sunlight.  Perhaps Gawen overlooked it.  She returned the manila folders to the box.

Maybe Gawen kept it.

Cecilia paused then shook her head so hard that her dark hair slipped free of the silk ribbon tied at her nape.  "Don’t get my hopes up, Bella.  If he kept it, he would