Angela's Christmas Adventure: An Angela Marchmont Short Story Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Angela's Christmas Adventure

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Copyright

  © 2016 Clara Benson

  All rights reserved

  The right of Clara Benson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser

  clarabenson.com

  Cover, interior design and text formatting by Colleen Sheehan

  wdrbookdesign.com

  Angela’s Christmas Adventure

  Angela Marchmont is looking forward to spending a nice, cosy Christmas à deux in Saratoga, but before she can set off she finds herself caught up in the search for her elderly neighbour’s missing diamond ring. Can Angela find it and help a young couple celebrate their own happy Christmas?

  This is a short story of ten thousand words, or seven chapters—just right for an afternoon curled up on the sofa!

  If you’d like to receive news of further releases by Clara Benson, you can sign up to my mailing list here.

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  ‘DON’T YOU THINK it’s a little lop-sided?’ said Angela Marchmont doubtfully.

  Barbara Wells straightened up and jumped down from the chair to stand by her mother. She regarded the glittering gold star she had just placed atop the Christmas tree, considering.

  ‘It’s not the star that’s lop-sided,’ she said at last. ‘It’s the tree. Look, you can see it’s leaning to the left.’

  ‘I believe you’re right,’ said Angela. ‘And now I’ve seen it I’ll never be able to un-see it. How can we fix it? It’s too late to re-pot the thing now we’ve decorated it, but it will bother me perpetually if we don’t do something with it.’

  ‘We shall have to turn it around so it’s leaning into the corner,’ said Barbara decidedly. ‘That way nobody will notice when they look at it head-on.’

  There was some little struggle as they moved the tree, heavy with glass baubles and tinsel, and then rearranged the decorations to suit its new position.

  ‘There!’ said Angela. ‘Now Christmas has truly begun. Have you started packing your things yet, by the way?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Barbara. ‘I’m not going until next Monday. That’s ages away.’

  ‘No, but most of them still need to be washed. I don’t know what you do to get your clothes so dirty. Well, you’d better not leave it until the last minute. It wouldn’t do to turn up late.’

  ‘Grace won’t mind. She’s always late herself.’

  ‘It’s not Grace I’m thinking of—it’s her mother and father.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say they’re used to it,’ said Barbara. ‘Look here, Angela, are you quite sure you don’t mind my spending Christmas at the Wheelers’?’

  ‘Not at all—I’ve already said so.’

  ‘It’s just that there’s to be such a party, and all the other girls will be there, and lots of boys, too, and they do all sorts of fun things. Agnes Chapman said that last year it snowed and they had a sleigh-ride, and there was ice-skating on the pond. But it’s not too late for me to back out if you’d rather I stayed.’

  ‘No, I’d much rather you went,’ said Angela firmly. ‘You’re still the new girl at school, and it’s a very good sign that they’ve invited you. If we’re to stay here in New York then it’s important that you fit in.’

  ‘Yes, I should like to stay here,’ said Barbara. ‘For a while, at least. But you won’t sit mouldering all alone in the apartment on Christmas Day, will you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Angela. ‘I’ve had plenty of invitations to go and stay with people. It’s just a question of deciding which one to accept.’

  As a matter of fact, her plans were already quite settled, and depended only on the weather. At the mention of sleigh-rides, her eyes had strayed anxiously to the window. Outside, the sky was a dirty white, and a few flakes of snow were drifting in half-hearted fashion down into the busy street below. She hoped they would come to nothing, since the last thing she wanted was for the roads to be blocked just when she wished to leave town.

  ‘I’ll be back on the twenty-seventh, anyway, which is still Christmas—or near enough,’ went on Barbara. ‘And then we can do the theatre together and all those other nice things we talked about.’

  The telephone-bell rang just then, and Marthe, Angela’s maid, came in to answer it. After a moment she glanced at Angela and then across at Barbara, her eyebrows raised. Angela shook her head warningly, and Marthe nodded and dismissed the caller quietly in French.

  ‘Oh, it’s just occurred to me—do you think I ought to take a gift for the Wheelers?’ said Barbara, who, with a fifteen-year-old’s self-absorption, had seen nothing of this little pantomime. ‘I’ve bought one for Grace, but I didn’t think to get anything for the rest of them.’

  ‘Yes, I think you’d better, if you want to make a good impression,’ replied Angela. ‘There’s no need to get anything too expensive, but a thoughtful gift for Mrs. Wheeler certainly won’t go amiss.’

  ‘Then I’ll go now, if you don’t mind, before it starts snowing too heavily. Marthe can help you hang the other decorations.’

  She went off to put on her coat and hat, and Angela went across to the window. Outside, the daylight was fading, and the street-lamps were beginning to come on. Angela counted snowflakes, and thought perhaps the snow had eased a little. Still, the ground was too wet at present for it to lie, and there was no use in worrying anyway. She should just have to hope for the best.

  Barbara came back in, her coat half on.

  ‘I must say, I do like this apartment,’ she said. ‘My bedroom is much more comfortable than the old one—even if the old one did have better views over the park.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Angela. ‘The other one was too big for us, really. And it was very expensive.’ She did not mention that it had also harboured too many bad memories for her ever to feel at ease there again.

  ‘And our neighbours here aren’t anywhere near as snooty,’ said Barbara. ‘There’s a lovely old gentleman in a polka-dot bow tie who bows to me and tips his hat every time I pass him in the hallway. I think he lives on this floor. I should like to have him for a grandfather. May we adopt him, Angela?’

  ‘By all means,’ said Angela, laughing. ‘I should ask his permission first, though.’

  ‘He doesn’t say much,’ said Barbara, ‘but he has a kind face. Perhaps I’ll buy him a present too.’

  And with that, she went out.

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned grey, and there was a chill closeness that spoke of snow, although no flakes were falling. Barbara had disappeared early on mysterious errands of her own, and Angela, who had one or two things to buy, forced herself not to think of the weather, and prepared to sally out and brave the cold New York air. By the lift she met the elderly lady who lived in the apartment opposite. Mrs. Dressler was the dearest little woman imagi
nable—all apple cheeks, fluffy hair and twinkling eyes. She had welcomed them most kindly to the building when they had moved in, and she now beamed as she saw Angela.

  ‘I declare, this elevator is so slow that it would be quicker to take the stairs,’ she said by way of a greeting. ‘A few years ago I might even have tried it, but these days I believe ten floors would be beyond me.’

  Angela laughed.

  ‘And me,’ she said. ‘I prefer to wait.’

  ‘If ever I move again, I shall be sure and take an apartment on one of the lower floors,’ said Mrs. Dressler good-humouredly. ‘And what takes you outside in all this cold, Mrs. Marchmont? Christmas preparations, I suppose?’

  Angela acknowledged that that was the case.

  ‘Yes, I have one or two gifts still to buy, too,’ said her neighbour. ‘I do love the city at this time of year, don’t you? It’s so cheery with all the lights and the store windows and the carols, that one can quite forget the weather. Shall you be staying here for the holidays?’

  ‘No,’ said Angela. ‘I am going up to Saratoga—or rather, a little further North of that.’

  Mrs. Dressler’s eyes gleamed with interest.

  ‘Oh yes?’ she said. ‘You have a friend up there, I understand. A most charming gentleman. He was here a month or two ago, wasn’t he? He was very kind and helped me carry my parcels. He told me all about himself.’

  ‘Did he?’ Angela could not quite keep the surprise from her voice.

  ‘Why, yes. Mr. Merivale, that’s his name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Er—’ said Angela, who was by no means sure.

  ‘Yes,’ went on Mrs. Dressler. ‘He told me about his plans for the stud-farm, and I’m pleased to say I was able to give him a few useful names. My husband Ernie was quite the racing enthusiast, and we used to go up to Saratoga frequently. He had a lot of friends there. He was very well liked.’ Here she paused wistfully for a moment, then seemed to come to herself. ‘Anyway, you won’t care what I think, I dare say, but I approve.’

  Fortunately, the lift arrived just then, so Angela was saved the necessity of replying, and was left to wonder uneasily whether she ought to have been more discreet. Mrs. Dressler noticed nothing, however. She was evidently in a very good mood, and the reason soon became clear.

  ‘I can’t stay out long,’ she said as they descended. ‘I’m expecting a visitor. I don’t think you’ve met my nephew, Jim?’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ said Angela.

  ‘Well, I say he’s my nephew, but in actual fact he’s my husband’s brother’s son. He’s been so good to me since Ernie died, and I can’t think what I’d have done without him. Now, I have a niece, Frances—she’s my sister’s daughter, so not related to Jim at all, and I’ve always secretly hoped that one day they would make a match of it. They seemed to get along well enough, but I could never see anything more than friendship to it, so I thought I was going to be disappointed. But in the summer something changed between them—I could see it, and I hoped against hope, but didn’t dare say a word. Then just the other day Jim came to me to tell me that they’re in love, and that he intends to ask her to marry him. Now, isn’t that the most marvellous thing?’

  ‘How lovely,’ said Angela. ‘Do you think she’ll accept him?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘Anyway, he wanted to know what sort of ring to buy her, and I said right away that he mustn’t think of buying her a ring, because I have one to give them. It was my mother’s engagement ring, and it’s awfully pretty, in an old-fashioned kind of way—but then these things always come back into fashion eventually, don’t they? It’s gold, set with diamonds and turquoise, and Frances has always admired it, so I know she’ll just love to receive it. There’s only one loose stone that needs re-setting, and that’s why Jim’s coming this afternoon, to pack it up for the jeweller. I can’t tell you how happy I am.’

  Angela said what was proper, then the lift arrived at the ground floor and they stepped out and went their separate ways.

  Angela had a busy day, and it was not until almost five o’clock that she returned home. In the hallway outside her apartment she saw the elderly gentleman with the bow tie whom Barbara had threatened to adopt. She smiled and wished him a good evening, but he seemed distracted and anxious and did not reply, or even appear to see her, and merely passed on. As she stood outside her front door, looking for her key, the door to the apartment opposite opened and a fair-haired, sturdy young man came out and began peering up and down the corridor, his eyes to the floor, as though searching for something. He did not notice Angela until he almost bumped into her. He started slightly and begged her pardon.

  ‘Oh, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Mrs. Dressler, who had just come to the door. ‘This is the most terrible to-do!’

  Through the open door of Mrs. Dressler’s apartment, Angela could hear the sound of sobbing.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she said.

  Mrs. Dressler gave an impatient click of the tongue.

  ‘Oh, that’s just Essie. Pay her no mind. She will cry at anything and everything. I guess she thinks I’m accusing her of something, even though I’ve told her over and over again that I know she’s as honest as the day is long.’

  At that, the sobbing turned into a loud wail. Angela craned her neck, and could just see Mrs. Dressler’s plump parlourmaid alternately wringing her hands and burying her face in a handkerchief.

  ‘What has happened?’ she said.

  ‘It’s the darnedest thing,’ said the young man. ‘One minute it was there and the next it wasn’t. I don’t know where it went, but it seems to have disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘Well, that’s impossible,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘It must have gone onto the floor and into a crevice somewhere. You remember the ring I was telling you about this morning, Mrs. Marchmont,’ she went on. ‘My poor, scatter-brained nephew here seems to have misplaced it.’

  Her tone was light, but there was a worried frown upon her face.

  ‘Oh, it’s missing, is it?’ said Angela. ‘That’s unfortunate.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Jim Dressler, who looked even more perturbed than his aunt. ‘And I have no idea how it happened, either. It was on the table right by me, and I’d finished writing the note to the jeweller and just turned away for an instant, and when I turned back it was gone!’

  ‘Dear me,’ said Angela. ‘But why is Essie crying?’

  ‘Why, because she was in the room, cleaning, at the time, and she’s somehow taken it into her foolish head that I suspect her of stealing it,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘Of course I don’t suspect anything of the sort, but it’s a valuable ring, and—well, I won’t deny it’ll be a great pity if it’s lost forever. It’s a family heirloom, and I’m rather attached to it.’

  ‘It isn’t lost,’ said Jim. ‘I’ll find it, just you wait and see, Aunt Minnie.’

  ‘But we’ve looked half the afternoon, and seen no sign of it. Oh dear—and I had to send away Mr. Geary, too, and he’d come specially to see about the papers, but I couldn’t possibly have kept my mind on business with the ring still missing. He was very good about it, I’ll say that for him.’

  ‘Mr. Geary? He is your lawyer, I seem to remember,’ said Angela. ‘You introduced us once.’

  ‘Yes, I believe I did,’ said Mrs. Dressler. ‘He lives just downstairs, and is always happy to come at any time, which is a great comfort. He called with his son this afternoon, but had to go away again when Jim discovered the ring was missing.’

  ‘Might he or his son have taken it?’ said Angela. ‘Accidentally, I mean,’ she added, although that was not what she had meant at all.

  Jim shook his head.

  ‘No. They didn’t come into the dining-room, where I was.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Mrs. Dressler. ‘We went into the drawing-room, and Mr. Geary took his papers out and we sat on the couch together and read through them while Randolph looked out of the window, and then I heard a commotion from next door, an
d Jim came in scratching his head and said the ring had vanished somehow, and I went to see if I could see it, and we hunted around for a few minutes without finding any sign of it. Then Mr. Geary looked in and asked if he might help, and I said it wasn’t necessary, and so he excused himself and said he’d call again at a more convenient time, and then they left.’

  ‘I’m going to look again,’ said Jim. ‘I must have missed it when I looked before, that’s all.’

  He went inside, and Mrs. Dressler sighed.

  ‘Poor thing! He feels it so,’ she said. ‘It isn’t the first time he’s lost something valuable, you see. Fond as I am of him, I can’t deny that he is a little dreamy and careless. Why, I don’t believe he’s ever owned a watch for more than a few weeks before losing it, and it always upsets him so much. I hope Frances will shake a little sense into him. Well, I guess I’d better go and help in the search. I wish you a good evening, Mrs. Marchmont.’

  ‘I hope you find the ring,’ said Angela, and went into her own apartment.

  AT BREAKFAST THE next morning, Angela found herself unable to concentrate on the latest news from the financial markets, and threw aside her newspaper with a frown.

  ‘I wonder whether Mrs. Dressler has found her ring yet,’ she said.

  ‘Shall I go and offer to help them search?’ said Barbara.

  ‘If you like,’ said Angela. ‘I think they looked very carefully yesterday, but they might like some extra assistance.’

  ‘Then I’ll go,’ said Barbara. ‘I’m good at finding things. I expect it’s got caught under the skirting-board, or something.’

  She jumped up.

  ‘Wash your face first,’ said Angela absent-mindedly. In earlier times, news of missing jewellery would have instantly caused her mind to jump to one particular conclusion, but that would never do in this case, for several very good reasons, so she had nothing to fear on that head. Still, it was a mystery, and Angela liked a mystery. She had given up detecting now, of course, but there could be no harm in helping a neighbour find something that was lost, could there? Perhaps she might follow Barbara and offer her assistance in the search.