When at fifteen minutes past two o’clock, Jamie tooled the manor gig down the drive to the lane, Melissa spied Dagenham in his curricle idling about along the verge. Thomas Kilburn was with Dagenham, while Henry and George Wiley were in Henry’s curricle, waiting a little farther up the lane.

On seeing them, Dagenham smiled and raised a hand in greeting. “Henry knows the way, of course, but we thought we’d wait for you and go all together.” Holding his high-spirited horse on a tight rein, Dagenham waved Jamie past. “Go ahead. We’ll follow.”

Jamie grinned and proudly did.

Sitting in Melissa’s lap, Lottie squirmed about to look up at Melissa’s face, but Melissa continued looking forward and refused to meet Lottie’s gaze.

Eventually, Lottie gave a soft huff and turned to face forward again.

With Dagenham trotting his horse immediately behind the gig and Henry following Dagenham, they proceeded at a clipping pace around the corner and into the lane that led north to Swindon Hall.

They reached the Hall forecourt to find grooms waiting to take charge of the horses. The Swindons’ butler opened the door to them and, unsurprised, bowed them all into the house.

They filed into the front hall and discovered that Faith, waiting to meet them, had paved their way with her uncle and aunt, too; Major Swindon and Mrs. Swindon came out of the drawing room to greet them. Viewing them all—including the younger gentlemen—the Major nodded approvingly. “We all know how much the carol service means to the village. Your efforts to find this missing book are commendable.”

Everyone looked faintly bashful.

Mrs. Swindon smiled upon them all. “Faith has pressed your cause—quite unnecessarily, because as Horace says, we all know how important the book of carols is at this time. You have our permission to search the ground floor rooms, and Colton has already organized for the staff to search the rooms upstairs.” She cocked a brow at the butler. “I believe the staff are doing so as we speak.”

Colton bowed. “Indeed, ma’am.”

When the company looked back at their host and hostess, Major Swindon gestured expansively. “Search as you will. Mrs. Swindon and I will take refuge in the drawing room. Do let us know how you fare.”

The searchers quickly conferred, and once again, Melissa found herself partnered with Dagenham in searching the library in company with Henry and Kilburn. The others, too, had largely stuck to their previous assignments, except that this time, George Wiley went with Faith.

They searched assiduously, even moving furniture and peering behind the leather-bound tomes, but were forced to accept that the book of carols had not been secreted in the library.

Or, as it transpired, in any of the other downstairs rooms.

Dejected again, the company gathered in the front hall, where Colton waited. He, too, didn’t look hopeful, and sure enough, when the housekeeper came to report on the search upstairs, it was to confirm that no book of carols had been found.

They all looked at each other, then Jamie asked, “So shall we go on to the vicarage?”

Melissa frowned, then shook her head, in puzzlement rather than disagreement.

Dagenham, standing beside her, had been studying her face. “What is it?” he asked.

Melissa grimaced, then looked across at Jamie. “I know Reverend Colebatch is sometimes vague and forgetful, but he’s not as dithery as Mrs. Woolsey. If he left here with the book of carols under his arm, then…” She frowned more definitely and turned to Colton. “Colton, I assume it was you who opened the door for Reverend Colebatch when he left the house?”

Colton nodded. “Yes, miss. I remember doing so quite clearly. Reverend Colebatch doesn’t call that often—he hasn’t been here since that day.”

“Excellent.” Melissa focused all her attention on Colton. “If you would, please think back—try to picture Reverend Colebatch as he left the house.”

Colton frowned slightly, but judging by his expression, he obediently thought back. “Yes, miss?”

“When Reverend Colebatch walked out of the front door and onto the porch, did he have a book with a red cover in his hand or under his arm?”

Colton stared into space for several heartbeats, then he blinked and looked at Melissa. “No, miss. I can see him clear as day in my head. He didn’t have the book with him.”

“And,” Melissa said, triumph in her tone, “as I understand it, the book of carols is too big to be put into a pocket.”

“Right!” Henry’s exclamation was the verbal expression of the surge of enthusiasm that shot through them all.

“That’s more like it.” Dagenham caught Melissa’s gaze and smiled admiringly. “Sharp thinking.”

She colored.

“My goodness!” Colton was still blinking. “But…that means the book must still be here.” He glanced at Faith, then at Major and Mrs. Swindon; alerted by Henry’s exclamation, they’d emerged from the drawing room to see what was happening.

Colton licked his lips and looked at Melissa. “I don’t understand, miss. If the book didn’t leave the house with Reverend Colebatch, and yet we haven’t found it even though we’ve searched every room, where is it?”

“Somewhere we haven’t yet looked,” Dagenham murmured, softly enough that only Melissa heard.

Faith echoed Colton’s puzzlement. “Where could Reverend Colebatch have left it?”

Melissa shook her head. “I don’t know, but…” She regarded Mrs. Swindon. “You gave Reverend Colebatch the book of carols while you were both in the music room.”

Mrs. Swindon nodded. “He was holding the book when I left him there—I was called away to the laundry, and he waved me off, saying he knew the way to the front door.”

Melissa was imagining the scene. “So Reverend Colebatch was in the music room with the book in his hands. We’ve searched that room twice, so we know he didn’t leave the book there.” She transferred her gaze to Colton. “Could Reverend Colebatch have gone somewhere else in the house before he came into the front hall and you showed him out of the door?”

“Well,” Major Swindon said, “if the good reverend was in the music room, he would have had to come all the way along the corridor to reach the front hall, so I would say the answer to your question is yes.”

“So,” Henry eagerly summarized, “Reverend Colebatch, carrying the book, could have gone somewhere else in the house and, for whatever reason, left the book there.”

“Wherever that somewhere is,” Dagenham said, “it has to be a spot that hasn’t yet been searched.”

“But we’ve searched everywhere,” Jamie said.

“No. We haven’t.” Melissa suddenly realized what might have happened. She looked at Major Swindon. “Could we possibly assemble all the staff? Not just those who work above stairs but all those who work in the house?”

The major studied her for a second, then nodded. “Excellent notion.” He looked at his butler. “Colton?”

“At once, Major.” Now as determined as anyone to get to the bottom of the mystery of the missing book, Colton strode for the door at the rear of the hall. “I’ll summon everyone.”

Within minutes, staff members started filing in. Soon, what Colton assured them was the entire complement of indoor staff stood clustered around him at the rear of the hall.

Melissa and the others had turned to survey them, making several of the maids rather nervous.

The major harrumphed and stated, “We’re still looking for the missing book and have a few questions.” He turned to Melissa and inclined his head. “The floor is yours, m’dear.”

Melissa had been thinking furiously about how to lead the staff’s minds in the direction she wished. “I would like you all to think back to the day when Reverend Colebatch last visited this house. It was several weeks ago.” She paused, then said, “Mrs. Swindon, who had been with the reverend in the music room, was called to the laundry, leaving Reverend Colebatch to make his own way from the music room, along the corridor, and so to the front hall. Do any of you know if, at that time, Reverend Colebatch went anywhere else in the house? Anywhere other than the music room, the corridor, and the front hall?”

All the staff Melissa could see looked at each other, then shook their heads. Mumbles of “No, miss” reached them.

Then Dagenham, still standing beside Melissa, tapped her arm and pointed. “At the rear of the pack.”

Melissa went up on her toes and, past the shoulders of two footmen, saw a small hand waving. “Yes?”

The rest of the staff looked around, then shuffled aside to allow a short, rotund woman in a flour-dusted apron to be seen.

The woman nodded at Melissa. “Mrs. Higgins, miss. I’m cook here. And if you’re speaking of the day a few weeks ago when Reverend Colebatch called at the house, then he came to the kitchen to give me a message from my sister.”

The major made a chuffing sound. “There’s a door to the kitchens along the corridor between the music room and the front hall.”

Mrs. Higgins nodded. “Aye, that’s the way he came. Past the butler’s pantry and the housekeeper’s room, through the servants’ hall and into the main kitchen.”

“So,” Henry said, rising excitement in his voice, “he could have put the book down anywhere along there.”

Colton cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Sir Henry, but those rooms are constantly in use. If the book was there, we would have found it long since and handed it back to Mrs. Swindon.” Colton glanced at his fellow staff members, all of whom nodded in agreement.

Mrs. Colton, the housekeeper, spoke up. “I believe I can assure you, Major, Mrs. Swindon, Miss North, that the book of carols is nowhere in those rooms.”

Disgruntled, Henry humphed and subsided.

Melissa looked again at Mrs. Higgins. “So Reverend Colebatch came into the kitchen via that route and gave you the message from your sister. Did he leave by the same route?”

Mrs. Higgins frowned, then nodded. “Eventually.”

Melissa arched her brows. “Eventually?”

Rather sheepishly, Mrs. Higgins admitted, “I asked him to help me get down my Christmas jelly molds. He did, then he left, going the same way he’d come.”

Everyone, staff included, turned to stare at the cook.

Colton asked, “Why ever did you ask Reverend Colebatch for help with such a thing?”

“Well, he was there, wasn’t he? And I needed those molds, and he’s such a long, lanky thing”—she spread her arms—“and look at me.”

Mrs. Higgins was barely five feet tall.

“I needed the molds right then and couldn’t reach them,” she went on, “but he could, and he was happy to help, so he got them down for me, and that was that.”

“Where were the molds?” Melissa asked.

“On the top shelf in the pantry. On account of not being used but once a year.”

Dagenham glanced swiftly at Melissa, then looked at Mrs. Higgins. “Did the reverend have a book with him when he came into the kitchen and spoke to you?”

Mrs. Higgins frowned. “I can’t say as I noticed, sir.” She screwed up her face in thought. “He might have been carrying something, but I didn’t really look.” She paused, then her expression firmed. “But I know he had nothing in his hands, nor under his arms, either, when he reached up to the pantry’s top shelf and lifted down the molds, then held them out to me. He had to use both hands, so of that I can be sure—he wasn’t carrying any book then.”

“Then.” Melissa could all but see what must have happened. She shared a quick glance with Dagenham, then said to Colton, “We need to search the pantry.”

Colton glanced at Major Swindon, who gave a brusque nod.

“Yes, indeed,” the major said. “The good reverend might have set the book down. We have to check in there.”

The rest of the staff, now as interested as anyone, drew back to allow Colton to lead the way. Mrs. Higgins followed. The major waved Melissa forward. With Dagenham, Henry, and all the other searchers on her heels, she quickly caught up to the cook.

Colton led them down the corridor to the music room, but halted at a door set into the wall midway along. He glanced at Melissa. “This is the way Reverend Colebatch went from the music room to the kitchen.” Then Colton pushed the door open and continued on.

Melissa followed Mrs. Higgins past the butler’s pantry and the housekeeper’s room, through the servant’s hall and into the kitchen. At that point, Colton stepped aside, and Mrs. Higgins marched past him to a tall, narrow door set into the kitchen’s side wall.

Mrs. Higgins hauled the door open and propped it wide, then stood back and waved Melissa and the searchers forward. “Right at the end on the left, on the very top shelf, was where the jelly molds were stored.”

Melissa halted on the pantry’s threshold and surveyed the space. With the door open and illumination from a small skylight in the ceiling at the far end, there was enough light to see the five rows of deep shelves that lined the walls on both sides of the long, narrow room. The recesses of the highest shelves were only just within the reach of a very tall man. Virtually every inch of shelf space was packed with packets and bags and containers of foodstuffs, from hessian bags of flour, barley, and oats to packets of sugar and salt and pots of treacle to glass and pottery jars of preserved fruits from the Hall’s orchards.

The others in their search party had gathered around and behind Melissa, all doing their best to survey the pantry. Faith stood close by Melissa’s shoulder. Lottie, George, and Jamie had wriggled through the press to fetch up behind Melissa and now peered around her.

Henry, craning his neck to look in from beside Dagenham, on Melissa’s other side, huffed in disappointment. “There’s only space enough for three between the shelves—and it needs to be our tallest three.” Which meant not Henry.

All the company glanced at each other, then Dagenham lightly touched Melissa on the back, and she stepped forward. Dagenham joined her just inside the pantry and waved her down the room. From the rear of the group, Thomas Kilburn eased past the others and joined them. They were the tallest of the searchers.

Melissa faced the shelves on the left-hand wall below where Mrs. Higgins had said the jelly molds had been. Melissa couldn’t see what was on the top shelf and could only scan the top of things arrayed on the next shelf down.

“Just like in the library,” Dagenham said. “I’ll search the top two shelves while you take the other three.”

Melissa nodded and started searching. She and Dagenham, working side by side, started at the far end of the pantry, and Kilburn started from the end closest to the door; they concentrated on the left-hand shelves. Melissa and Dagenham covered more ground than Kilburn, who had to search all five shelves. When they met, they looked at each other, then his tone flat, Dagenham stated, “Nothing.”

Those gathered about the pantry’s door shifted restlessly.

The three in the pantry exchanged a glance, then as one, they turned to the right-hand shelves. Melissa walked the two steps back to the end of the space, and Dagenham followed, and they started diligently searching again.

Melissa didn’t want to think that they might not find the book or of what their next step ought to be, given they knew the book had been at the Hall and hadn’t left the house—

Dagenham made a strangled sound. Melissa looked up to see him push aside various packets and reach to the back of the second-highest shelf.

When he drew back, he was holding a book—one with a dull red cover with a black design and black lettering—in his hands.

He stared almost reverently at it, then he looked at her and held out his find. “Is this it?”

Melissa took the book between her hands. She didn’t dare look up, into Dagenham’s eyes—courtesy of the confines of the pantry, they were far too close. She had to turn the book around to be certain of the ornate lettering on the cover. Then in a firm clear voice, she announced, “This says it’s The Universal Book of Christmas Carols.”

Unable to keep a beaming smile from her face, she looked toward the door as a cheer went up from all those gathered outside the pantry. Shifting so she could be seen past Dagenham—who, helpfully, put his back to the shelves—Melissa held up the book, displaying the cover for all to see.

More cheering and whoops erupted.

“Come out”—Henry waved them out—“and let us all see.”

Kilburn led the way, followed by Dagenham, and with the book held high, Melissa triumphantly brought up the rear.

A near-carnival atmosphere abounded as the delighted staff joined the relieved searchers, and thanks and accolades and congratulations rained down on everyone.

“At least now we’ll have a proper carol service,” Mrs. Colton said.

After thanking Mrs. Higgins, the Coltons, and the rest of the staff for their help in unraveling the mystery and hunting down the book, flown on high spirits, the search party made their way back to the front hall.

There, they found the Swindons, who had heard the cheering and were waiting expectantly to have the good news confirmed.

Melissa showed Mrs. Swindon the book.

A smile wreathing her face, Mrs. Swindon nodded. “Yes. That’s the one. The Universal Book of Christmas Carols.”

“Where, exactly, was it?” the major asked.

As a group, they explained where they’d found the book and speculated that Reverend Colebatch, wanting to lift down the jelly molds, had placed the book on the shelf to free his hands and then forgotten it and left it there.

“I suspect,” Dagenham said, with a glance at Melissa, “that Mrs. Higgins or one of her helpers, all unable to see the book given the height of the shelf, had subsequently put packets into the space in front of the book, pushing it farther back into the shadows. They wouldn’t have known the book was there.”

Mrs. Swindon beamed at them all. “The Colebatches, the Longfellows, Mrs. Woolsey, and indeed, everyone in the entire village is going to be so very pleased.”

“And relieved,” the major added. “That was quite a black cloud looming on the village’s horizon—not having our usual carol service.”

There was, in fact, a great deal of relief mixed in with their exuberant triumph.

“So,” Henry said, “what now? Do we rush the book back to Reverend Colebatch?”

Melissa was still holding the book. She studied it—and thought of something her mother had said when packing her off to Little Moseley. One sign of wisdom is learning to make the most of whatever life sends one’s way.

So…

With sudden decision, Melissa looked up and scanned the searchers gathered in a loose circle in the hall. Faith was standing between Henry and Kilburn and, along with all the others, was smiling and watching Melissa expectantly.

Melissa stepped across the circle and held out the book to Faith. “I think you should take it—it was found here, after all. You can bring it with you tomorrow morning when we meet at the church for our last practice before the pageant—you can give it to Richard then.”

Faith looked faintly stunned; she looked at the book, but didn’t move to take it.

Melissa continued to offer the book and swiftly marshaled her arguments. “There’s no point giving the book to Richard immediately. He would only stay up half the night playing the carols, but he doesn’t need to practice—we all know he plays perfectly by sight. So tomorrow morning, at practice, will be the time to present the book to him. Then we can practice the replacement chorus for the pageant, and afterward, we can choose what carols we’ll sing for the carol service.”

Faith blinked and met Melissa’s eyes. “You seem to have thought things out, but it was you—you and your cousins—who started the search for the book. It was you who led the search—even here, today. If you hadn’t pushed on—”

“But it was you who helped to hold us to our purpose when we didn’t find the book at the Grange,” Melissa replied. “And besides, we’ll all be there tomorrow to back you up and share the credit when you give Richard the book.”

Faith was plainly torn. When she continued to hesitate, Melissa reached out, took one of Faith’s hands, and pressed the spine of the book into it. “Trust me,” Melissa said, her tone one of brooking no argument. “It’ll be best if you bring it.”

Melissa glanced at Mrs. Swindon, who was standing near.

Mrs. Swindon responded to Melissa’s wordless appeal and stepped forward, replacing Kilburn at Faith’s side. Mrs. Swindon patted Faith’s arm. “I think you should do as Melissa suggests.”

Lottie popped up beside Melissa. “Melissa’s right—it’s a good plan.”

Faith tried to protest again, but Lottie’s words prompted all the others to support Melissa’s right to organize what next to do with the book, and finally, Faith had to give way.

At last, with the pale light of the winter’s day fading around them, the rest of the searchers left Faith on the Swindon Hall porch. She still held the book of carols, cradling the precious tome, and the Swindons flanked her, smiling and waving the triumphant company on their way.

Melissa was very aware that, more or less throughout their time at the Hall, Dagenham had remained by her side; she’d been conscious of his taller, heavier, harder frame perpetually beside her. His nearness had impinged on her senses constantly through the hours; she’d almost grown accustomed to the effect—like a rippling caress over her nerve endings. Now, he matched his graceful, long-legged stride to hers—almost as long and definitely as graceful—as, with Lottie’s hand in hers and Jamie and George in tow, Melissa walked toward the manor’s gig, which a groom was holding farther along the gravel forecourt.

Henry, Kilburn, and Wiley ambled a pace or so behind, on their way with Dagenham to claim the two curricles other grooms had stationed facing down the drive in front of the gig. The three paused when, on reaching the gig, Dagenham halted and gallantly offered Melissa his hand.

It was prettily done without any overt show, as if it was merely a polite gesture from a gentleman to a lady.

She held her breath and laid her fingers across his palm. His fingers closed about hers—surprisingly gently, as if she was made of porcelain. She kept her gaze down as, very correctly, he helped her up into the gig. He balanced her until she sat, then he released her hand and turned with a smile to Lottie, who had hovered close.

His smile deepening, Dagenham bent and lifted the little girl up to Melissa’s lap.

Melissa settled Lottie, then raised her gaze and met Dagenham’s gray eyes. “Thank you.”

He tipped his head to her, but didn’t look away, instead lightly resting a hand on the gig’s front board. “Actually”—with a glance, he drew Jamie and George, who had scrambled up from the gig’s other side, George perching behind the seat and Jamie sitting beside Melissa and picking up the reins, into the conversation—“you mentioned a practice session at the church with Mortimer. Can I ask what that’s in aid of?”

Dagenham’s gaze returned to her face, but Melissa allowed Jamie, George, and Lottie to explain about Richard Mortimer’s idea of a special guest choir to add strength and something extra-special to the carol service. “And now,” Jamie added proudly, “we’re to sing a cappella at the pageant, too.”

While the others had been talking, Melissa had been thinking. Debating and weighing up whether or not to speak. But she owed it to the village, and Richard Mortimer, too, to make the most of what life had sent her way. As the others fell silent, she met Dagenham’s gaze and said, “Mr. Mortimer has bemoaned the lack of trained male voices to balance the sopranos.” She glanced at Henry, Kilburn, and Wiley, including them in her subtle invitation. “Faith is a strong soprano, you see, and Jamie, George, and Lottie sing that part as well, which leaves only me—I sing alto—and Richard, who is a baritone, on the other side of the scales, so to speak.”

The four young gentlemen exchanged glances, wordless questions in their eyes.

Then Dagenham turned back to Melissa. She felt a frisson of expectation as he met her gaze for a silent second, then, his expression easy, he dipped his head and said, “In that case, I might look in at the church tomorrow morning. I’m said to have a decent voice—perhaps Mortimer can find a use for it.”

“That’s a jolly good idea,” Henry said. “We’ll be attending those events, anyway. Why not do our bit there as well?”

“Especially after joining the hunt and being in at the end,” Kilburn said.

Wiley smiled and nodded. “I remember enjoying the carol service last year. A strong choir to lead it will make it even better.”

Dagenham pushed back from the gig. As he retreated, his eyes again sought Melissa’s, and he angled his head in a graceful salute. “It seems we’ll see you at the church tomorrow morning.” Satisfaction edged his smile.

Melissa was conscious of a fizzy, bubbling sensation in her middle. With what she hoped was a coolly gracious smile, she inclined her head to Dagenham, then extended the courtesy to include the other three gentlemen as Jamie set the mare trotting past their curricles and on down the drive.

She traveled the lanes to the manor in something of a distracted daze.

They’d almost reached the manor drive, and Jamie and George were arguing over the species of a bird they’d spied in the bushes, when Lottie twisted around, nudged Melissa in the ribs, then leaned close to whisper, “Viscount Dagenham’s sweet on you.”

Melissa managed to arch her brows in a show of being haughtily unimpressed, yet inside…

Inside, she was giddily, dizzily, really quite sillily smiling.

The following morning saw all of the choristers early to the church. Melissa, Jamie, George, and Lottie just beat Faith to the top of the rise. They waited on the porch while she parked the Hall’s gig and tethered the horse, then George pushed open the door, and they all trooped inside.

Faith had wrapped the precious book of carols in brown paper to protect it during the journey; the five of them sat in the front pew, and she unwrapped it. The others huddled close on either side as she opened the book. Together, they started flipping through the pages, exclaiming over how many of their favorite carols were included.

The door opened. They all looked up and around.

But it was Henry, Dagenham, Kilburn, and Wiley who whisked inside and shut the door behind them.

They came hurrying down the aisle.

“We saw Mortimer at the bottom of the path,” Henry explained. “He’s just started up the rise.”

Melissa and Faith exchanged a glance, then Faith suggested, “Let’s take our usual places and be ready when he comes in.”

The children led the way, filing past the organ and the harp, which was set immediately to the organist’s left, to line up on the other side of the harp—Jamie closest, then George, and lastly Lottie, with her piercingly sweet voice, at the end of the row.

Faith went to settle behind the harp, but Melissa tugged her sleeve. “Later. You have to give him the book first.”

Faith stared down at the book, then turned and sat on the organist’s bench with the book held in her lap.

Melissa took up her usual position on the organist’s right. She looked at Dagenham and the other gentlemen and waved at the space to her left. “I think Richard will want you four on this side.”

They obediently lined up beside her, Dagenham, as usual, claiming the spot by her side.

They’d only just got into position when the door opened, and Richard entered. Having no doubt seen the carriages outside, he looked expectantly toward the organ. When he saw them all waiting, males and all, he smiled and walked down the aisle. “I take it we have some new recruits to our special guest choir.”

“Indeed.” Henry rubbed his hands together. “Although I’m not strictly a guest, I’ve never sung in the village choir, and like this crew”—with a wave, Henry indicated the other three gentlemen—“I have been trained to sing.”

“We all sang in our school choir,” Wiley informed Richard as he reached the end of the aisle and turned toward the organ corral.

Faith stood as Richard neared, revealing what she’d held in her lap. His gaze was drawn to the book she continued to hold between her hands. His steps slowed, and he halted on the other side of the wooden railing.

Faith drew in a breath and held out the book. “The Universal Book of Christmas Carols. We found it.”

For several seconds, Richard simply stared, then he came around the railing, accepted the book from Faith’s hands, stared at it for a second more, then simply said, “Thank God.”

He slumped onto the organist’s bench. For a moment he appeared lost for words, then he exhaled long and hard and said, “And my thanks to all of you. This…is such a relief.”

He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from the book. A second later, he was flipping through it, scanning the contents. “Good.” He turned more pages and paused, then with rising excitement in his voice, exclaimed, “Excellent!”

They allowed him a minute more to leaf through the book, then Jamie prompted, “So what do you think?”

Richard paused in his flicking and looked at Jamie. Then he extended his glance to all three children, and to Faith, now seated behind the harp. Then he swiveled on the bench and looked at Melissa, Dagenham, Henry, Kilburn, and Wiley. Then Richard smiled in a way he hadn’t for months and months—with all his heart and soul.

“I think,” he said, “that now that I have this book, which includes all the music we could possibly need, and a decent choir of talented voices, that we, together, will put on a carol service that Little Moseley will never forget.”

The passion in his voice fired theirs. Spontaneously and in unison, they all cheered.

Richard took in their eager faces, all glowing with commitment and enthusiasm, and felt his own commitment to their plainly shared goal harden even as his enthusiasm swelled. “Right, then. Let’s get cracking.” He surveyed the four new additions. “I believe the first task on our list has to be settling you four into place. So!” He swung to the organ and started it up, then nodded at the young men. “Scales.”

The others sang, too, and Richard listened, picking out each voice, noting range and tone. Sorting through them didn’t take long, then he stopped playing and directed them into the correct positions to best blend their voices. Dagenham was possessed of a lovely rich tenor; Richard left him next to Melissa. Henry and Kilburn were baritones. Richard waved them into a second line behind Melissa and Dagenham, adjusting the positions of the two in front so Richard could see the two behind. George Wiley, who was, somewhat surprisingly, a resonant bass, Richard placed at the end of the line beyond Kilburn.

Richard surveyed that side of his choir with unexpected satisfaction, then turned to where Faith sat, with Jamie, George, and Lottie lined up beside her. “Although there are fewer of you, your voices should easily rise above the harmony of the others. You won’t need to sing with any more strength than you usually do. Don’t strain.”

The three children nodded soberly.

Richard suppressed a smile, then his eyes met Faith’s. He saw her happiness—that they’d found the book and could now forge ahead to give the villagers the best performances they’d ever heard—and in that moment, he realized he had never been so simply happy.

More than anything else, because he was sharing the moment, the experience—the satisfaction—with her.

He blinked and forced himself back to the task at hand. “Very well. Now we’re organized and your voices are warm, let’s start with the first chorus for the a cappella performance at the pageant tomorrow morning. I propose we get that polished to perfection, then move on to the Christmas triumphal chorus from the book—that, we’ll need to go through in detail and get each part correct and working together.” He looked to either side and saw nothing in their faces but eagerness. “Given how much we have to get through today, I suggest we put off choosing our pieces for the carol service until tomorrow. The pageant, I’m told, begins at eleven o’clock on the village green—we can gather here at ten o’clock as usual, choose our carols, then warm up, run through the a cappella pieces, then walk across in good time for our performance.” It was helpful that the village green was located just north of the church.

Richard paused, but sensed from his choristers nothing but impatience to get on with his agenda. He smiled and focused on the newcomers. “Gentlemen, if you would merely listen the first time through, we’ll then work on your parts before blending all together.” He put his fingers to the keys, saw Melissa draw in a breath—then he played, and his established choir sang like angels.

From the rear of the church, in the shadows about the door, Therese watched and listened and allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips.

Remaining still and silent—unobserved—she drank in all she could see.

The interaction between Faith, behind her harp, and Richard Mortimer, with his gaze flicking frequently to her face, was nothing short of inspiring, a testament to what might be between them. With any luck, that seed was now so well planted and nurtured, it would bloom without further ado.

While that result was pleasing, evaluating the romance between Faith and Richard Mortimer was not why Therese was there. Lottie—whether innocently or deliberately, Therese couldn’t be sure—had mentioned that Melissa had a beau.

Therese had noticed a glow in Melissa’s cheeks, but had put it down to pleasure over her successful role in leading the search for the book of carols. Lottie’s comment, however, had jarred Therese to focused awareness, and she’d realized that Melissa was also showing signs of distraction.

The sort of distraction that, in a girl of Melissa’s age, as Lottie had observed, usually meant only one thing.

As Therese couldn’t imagine Melissa developing a tendre for any of the villagers or any of the staff at the surrounding houses, much less for the rector of East Wellow, that had left Henry and his visitors.

Now, as with her old eyes narrowed, she watched the interactions taking place between the choristers in the pauses between the songs, she realized just whom Lottie had identified as Melissa’s unexpected beau.

“Well, well,” Therese whispered. Relaxing, she considered the prospect, then lightly arched her brows. It would be interesting to see if anything came of a first love of such standing.

With the question of Melissa’s would-be beau’s identity resolved, Therese shifted her attention to the music swelling and rolling through the church. The organ and the harp blended perfectly, the former played with superb and unerring touch, the latter with responsive feeling. And above both instruments, the voices swooped and soared, fell and sighed and thundered and rumbled, weaving an evocative aural tapestry.

Therese remained until she sensed the hour’s practice drawing to a close. Choosing a moment when the choir was distracted, she eased the church door open and slipped outside. On the porch, she paused, then she smiled and set out to cross the graveyard to the vicarage—to bear tidings of great joy to the Colebatches.