Mistletoe and Murder by Carola Dunn Page A

added, “He says she won’t be too awfully miserable.”
    Felicity glanced at Miles. Her eyes full of mischief, she said, “Nana might pine. We can’t have that. No one will mind if she comes into the house.”
    â€œThe East Wing,” Miles qualified. “Father would have forty fits if she were let loose in the old house.”
    Belinda and Derek promised faithfully that the puppy should not put so much as her nose over the threshold, and Daisy performed belated introductions. By then her mother was ashore, moving towards the trap, leaning heavily on Alec’s arm.
    â€œGrandmama is in a fearful bate about Nana,” Derek observed, “and about having to come by boat, and because Uncle Alec told her in the train he thought Lord Westmoor wasn’t going to be here for Christmas, and because Mummy and Daddy didn’t come. She’s mad as a whole hive of hornets.”
    â€œDon’t speak of your grandmother like that, you horrid little brat,” said Daisy, quailing. “Felicity, I think it would be a good idea if you and Miles took the children up to the house while I see if I can smooth a few ruffled feathers.”
    â€œRight-oh,” Miles said promptly. “We’ll go the back way, through the woods, and give the dog a run. Come on, you two.”
    Felicity looked down at her rather smart shoes. “Not me. I’ll stick with Daisy.”
    â€œMummy?” Belinda clung.
    â€œGo along with Mr. Norville and Derek, darling. Nana’s
your puppy. You’re in charge of her, even if you let Derek hold the lead.”
    â€œYou can have her now, Bel,” said Derek magnanimously. His dog, Tinker Bell, was a country dog and hardly ever had to go on a lead.
    Belinda felt better holding Nana’s lead. She had been worrying about coming to Brockdene. Gran had warned her that going to stay in a grand house with a grand lord would be very different from staying with Uncle John and Aunt Violet, who were practically part of her family. If Belinda’s manners were not perfect, they would look down on her as Ill-Bred! And then there was Grandmama Dalrymple, who was as grand as a grandmother could be and rather frightened Bel, and maybe already considered her Ill-Bred.
    Bel was awfully glad Derek had been allowed to come. Nothing bothered Derek, not even turning up with a dog who wasn’t invited. Belinda was in two minds about Nana. On the one hand, Nana would go on loving Belinda even if all the rest of the world thought she was Ill-Bred; on the other hand, she was an uninvited guest, and just turning up with her might make people think her mistress was Ill-Bred.
    â€œMr. Norville,” she said, as they reached a path through the woods by the river, “do you really, really truly not mind Nana?”
    â€œNot at all. Why is she called Nana?”
    â€œAfter Peter Pan , because Derek’s dog is called Tinker Bell, only he usually just calls her Tinker. ‘Specially now he knows me, ’cause he calls me Bel, you see.”
    â€œI see. May I call you Bel? You’d better call me Uncle Miles, I should think. Mr. Norville is my father. And he
won’t mind Nana as long as you keep her out of the old house.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Derek. “I mean, I should have thought he’d care more about new stuff than old.”
    â€œHe’s a historian,” Miles explained. “The old house is full of valuable antiques—tapestries and four-poster beds and cabinets with secret drawers and all that sort of thing.”
    â€œSecret drawers! Gosh!”
    â€œAnd a secret passage, and lost treasure, and a ghost.”
    â€œCrikey!” breathed Derek. “Ripping!”
    Belinda wasn’t so sure a ghost was “ripping,” but she saw a twinkle in Uncle Miles’s eyes and guessed he was teasing Derek. “Have you ever seen the ghost, Uncle Miles?” she asked.
    â€œNot I, but I live in hopes.