Read A Christmas Guest for Free Online Page B

explained later, if necessary. “I am afraid I have extremely distressing news to bring to the family, the sort of thing that can really only be told in person.”
    He looked alarmed. “Oh, dear. Please do come in, Mrs. Ellison.” He opened the door wider for her and backed away a little.
    â€œThank you,” she accepted. “May I ask you the favor of a little warmth and refreshment for my coachman also, and perhaps water for the horses, and at least in the meantime, shelter from this rather cutting wind?”
    â€œOf course! Of course! Do you …” He swallowed. “Do you have Miss Barrington with you?”
    â€œNo, indeed not,” she replied, following him inside after a brief glance behind her to make certain that the coachman had heard, and would drive around to the stables and make himself known.
    Inside the hall she could not help but glance around. It was not a house of London fashion; nevertheless it was well furnished and extremely comfortable. The floor was very old oak, stained dark with possibly centuries of use. The walls were paneled, but lighter, and hung with many paintings, mercifully not the usual portraits of generations of forebears with expressions sour enough to turn the milk. Instead they were glowing still lifes of fruit and flowers, and one or two pastoral scenes with enormous skies and restful cows. At least someone had had very good taste. It was also blessedly warm.
    â€œThe family is all together, ma’am,” the butler continued gravely. “Would you perhaps prefer to tell Mrs. Harcourt this news in private? She is Miss Barrington’s elder sister.”
    â€œThank you. She will know best how to inform the rest of the family.”
    The butler thereupon led her to a doorway off to the side. He opened it to show her into a very agreeable room, lighting the lamps for her and poking up a fire, which had almost gone out. He placed a couple of pieces of coal on it judiciously, then excused himself and left. He did not offer her tea. Perhaps he was too alarmed at the news, even though he did not yet know what it was. Judging by his manner, he expected a disgrace rather than a tragedy—which in itself was interesting.
    She stood by the fire, trying to warm herself. Her heart was still thumping and she had difficulty keeping her breath steady.
    The door opened and a woman of great beauty came in, closing it behind her. She was perhaps sixty, with auburn hair softening to rather more gold than copper, and the clear, fair skin that so often goes with such coloring. Her features were refined, her eyes large and blue. Her mouth was perfectly shaped. She bore little resemblance to Maude. It was not easy to think of them as sisters. No one would have called Maude beautiful. What had made her face so attractive was intelligence, and a capacity for feeling and imagination, a soul of inner joy. There was no echo of such things in this woman’s face. In fact she looked afraid, and angry. Her clothes were up to the moment in fashion, and perfectly cut with the obligatory shoulders and high crowned sleeves.
    â€œGood afternoon, Mrs. Ellison,” she said with cool politeness. “I am Bedelia Harcourt. My butler tells me that you have driven all the way from St. Mary in the Marsh with unfortunate news about my sister. I hope she has not”—she hesitated delicately—“embarrassed you?”
    Grandmama felt a fury of emotion rise up inside her so violently she was overwhelmed by it, almost giddy. She wanted to rage at the woman, even slap her perfect face. However, that would be absurd and the last way to detect anything. She was quite sure Pitt would not have been so … so amateur!
    â€œI’m so sorry, Mrs. Harcourt.” She controlled herself with a greater effort than she had ever exercised over her temper before. “But the news I have is very bad indeed. That is why I came personally rather than have