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“No. A nun wouldn’t kill anyone,” said Miss Charming. “Nuns are nice.”
“My mother bears scars on her knuckles from ‘nice’ nuns armed with rulers,” Miss Gardenside said.
“No one lives who knows the truth,” said the colonel. “But there may yet be clues. You have not asked me what happened to Mary Francis.”
“I say, what happened to Mary Francis?” asked Eddie.
“I am glad you asked, Mr. Grey. An orphan, she had no family to take her in. She was driven from place to place by folk suspicious of her involvement in the deaths, until at last she was taken in as a maid in a grand house not far from here. There she lived but a few years—and, it must be said, uncanny things took place in the house after her arrival. Some believe her ghost still haunts the gardens on summer nights.”
“Do tell us, old boy,” Eddie asked with a knowing smile, “what was the name of the grand house?”
“The name?” Colonel Andrews dropped his voice low. “Why, Pembrook Park, of course.”
Charlotte and Miss Gardenside both gasped at once, then laughed at each other.
“But the house isn’t old enough,” said Charlotte.
“Oh, parts are old,” said the colonel. “Parts are very old indeed. Is that not right, Mallery?”
He nodded. “Older than the trees.”
“You’re related to the Wattlesbrooks, aren’t you?” asked Charlotte.
“Mr. Wattlesbrook’s father and my grandfather were brothers,” said Mr. Mallery. “Pembrook Park would have been my father’s inheritance, but Grandfather lost it to his brother in a card game.”
Silence followed this remark. Colonel Andrews cleared his throat.
“I propose we set about to uncover the mystery of Grey Cloaks Abbey. Pembrook’s ball is in just under a fortnight. Before that occasion, let us solve once and for all the mystery of Mary Francis and her murdered sisters.” He pulled a small leather book from his breast pocket. “I have uncovered this ancient text from the library of Pembrook Park. Each night let us read from it, learn more of the story, and follow the clues to the end … wherever they may take us.”
Home, last December
“James sent a package here with a Christmas gift for you,” Charlotte’s mother said on the phone.
Lu and Beckett were gone to their father’s for the holiday, and the house felt cavernous and unpleasant. Charlotte was packing for North Carolina, where she would spend Christmas with Mom, as if she were a childless college student again. Was life moving backward?
“He knows it’s your first Christmas without him and the kids,” said Mom. “Isn’t he thoughtful?”
Charlotte considered other adjectives that might apply to James, but she had to agree: Sending a gift to her mother’s house was thoughtful. She felt guilty now she hadn’t sent him a thing.
“I’d rather not unwrap it in front of everyone,” said Charlotte. “Would you open it now and just tell me what it is?”
There was a sound of ripping paper and her mother mumbling to herself.
“Hm … it’s some kind of … oh! It’s a vibrator.”
The hairs on the back of Charlotte’s neck stood up.
“What?” she said, remarkably calm.
“It’s one of those vibrator things.”
Charlotte took two very deep breaths, then said through clenched teeth, “Mom, I’ll call you back later.”
She phoned James. “How dare you! How dare you mock me like that, and in front of my mom?”
“Charlotte, nice of you to call. How are things?”
“Please don’t insult me further by acting ignorant. I never thought … I didn’t think you were so beyond—I’m speechless.”
