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“What are you doing here?” Emma Graham asked, settling into her chair, a fresh cup of tea at her elbow, some needlework in her lap.
It had taken Cara a few questions earlier to understand the relationships but Emma, Lady Emma, was both an earl’s sister, and an earl’s daughter, and Graham was her married name. Dorothy Graham, the other aunt, was Emma’s sister-in-law, and the two both being widowed, were virtually inseparable.
“I’m supposed to be in one of the holiday cottages,” Cara said. “I was booked into the Gamekeeper’s but it was double-booked, and I was shifted to the Gardener’s Cottage, which was under renovation, which might have been why one of the pipes burst, flooding the cottage.”
“And now it must be all ice,” Dorothy murmured sympathetically.
“That’s what Mr. Trimble said, but I haven’t seen it. Mr. Trimble collected my things and I ended up here.”
“Where is Trimble?” Emma asked, poking the needle through the hoop.
“Yesterday, he drove Mrs. Johnson to her mother’s—she’d taken a fall—”
“Mrs. Johnson did?” Dorothy gasped.
“No, Mrs. Johnson’s mother,” Cara corrected. “Not sure if her name is also Mrs. Johnson.”
“Wouldn’t be,” Emma said thoughtfully, drawing on the thread, “seeing as our Johnson was married.” She glanced at Dorothy. “Did you ever meet Mr. Johnson? He worked for the railway line, was a train engineer. Mrs. Johnson said that was one of the reasons she liked working here. She felt safe here even when he was gone, which he frequently was.” Emma turned her attention back to Cara. “So Trimble is still gone?”
“No, he made it back late afternoon yesterday, and helped with the champagne, and made sure we had dinner before heading home to his wife.” Cara glanced out the window of the morning room. The snow outside was powdery and almost blinding in its brilliance. “I don’t expect we’ll see him today, either. Alec—Lord Sherbourne—advised him to stay home where he’d be safe.”
“So, there really is no staff for Christmas?” Emma said.
“Alec—Lord Sherbourne—informed me that the A515 has been closed, and cars and trucks are being abandoned right and left. He said it’s a mess out there and not even the tow trucks can get through until the snowplows begin clearing roads, and they’ll start with the highways first, and all the smaller roads will just have to wait.”
“Days,” Dorothy said decisively. “It will be days then.” She looked at Emma. “Remember the last time? It was in February, though, and the storm took out power and we spent most of those three days huddled around the fireplace.”
“Yes, but that was unusual,” Emma said. “Most unusual. The issue was the ice on the big trees. They couldn’t handle the weight, and so when the tree limbs fell, they knocked out the power lines.”
“That’s right,” Dorothy agreed. “It was the ice storm, not the snow. And I believe Langley has a generator or two. We should be fine.”
“Of course we will be fine,” Emma said.
“And we will be all together,” Dorothy added brightly. “For Christmas. I do like Christmas. It’s always been my favorite holiday.”
*
Cara knew Alecwas still hidden in his study, and wondered if he’d ever emerge. She didn’t exactly feel trapped herself, but she longed for some exercise and fresh air.
She rapped lightly on his door and he called for her to enter.
She’d never been in the study before and she peeked around the door, taking in the walls of books and art, oil paintings leaning against the wall, one on top of the other. There were sketches in frames hanging over books on shelves, and a giant oil painting of a horse over the fireplace, a dark red leather couch against another wall, a bust on a marble pedestal, and dog beds scattered about. She’d imagined his study would be almost spartan, but the interior was rather like much-loved chaos.
“Hello there,” she said.
“Come in,” he said.
She stayed in the doorway. “Mrs. Booth said this room is off-limits to all.”
“Without an invitation,” he agreed from his seat in a big chair by the fireplace, “but I’ve just invited you in.”
She hesitated because she’d had enough of sitting and hoped he had, too. “What would you think about taking the dogs for a walk? The snow has stopped for now and I bet they’d love to get outside. I’d love to get outside.” She scanned his face, trying to read his expression. “I think it’d be gorgeous.”
“The dogs were out this morning.”
“I saw you take them out, but it was a very brief walk.”
“They’d love to go run,” he admitted. “But it will be a lot of snow.”
