The next morning, Melissa, Jamie, George, and Lottie made a point of being prompt to choir practice. They walked into the church as the clock in the tower above pealed for ten o’clock.

The song that greeted them halted them at the top of the aisle. Pure and sweet, Faith’s soprano wended its way through a light country air, soaring and dipping, then falling, only to rise in splendor again. The sound was simply beautiful. The sight of Faith standing by the organ, one hand resting on the side of the keyboard, her gaze on Richard while his eyes were wholly for the music before him, touched something inside Melissa and kept her silent and still; from the corner of her eye, she saw her cousins were similarly affected.

As a group, they waited, willingly enraptured, until, on a strong clear note held by Faith as the organ faded, the piece finally came to an end.

Spontaneously, the four of them burst into applause.

Faith heard and looked up the aisle as Richard lifted his hands from the keys and swung around.

Smiling delightedly, the four from the manor came quickly down the aisle, little Lottie skipping ahead to exclaim, “That was lovely!”

The others echoed the sentiment.

Faith was pleased that, this time, she didn’t blush so hotly. When she glanced from beneath her lashes at Richard, she saw that he wasn’t blushing at all.

After greeting the others and accepting their accolades with a panache Faith could only envy, he directed them all to their places, and in businesslike fashion, they started going through their scales.

Singing scales was something Faith could do without thought; while she kept pace with the others, following Richard’s directions, she allowed herself to savor those moments when she’d been able to justifiably look at him and drink in all she could see.

His was a quiet, understated handsomeness that appealed to her far more than that of the dramatic beaux who strutted through London’s ballrooms. As her gaze had lingered on Richard’s face, she’d recognized what she saw in him—something enticingly close to her ideal—but she had no idea whether he found anything at all attractive in her.

Well, other than her voice; she felt certain he appreciated that, along with her skill on the harp. But when his gaze fixed on her—when he seemed to see past her spectacles, past all veils, to her inner self—what was it he saw? A lady to whom he might grow romantically attached? Or simply an unusual lady, one who piqued his curiosity in a purely academic way?

From their first meeting, she’d sensed that he possessed a particular aloofness she’d learned to associate with academics, who tended to view life as if from one step removed. As if matters didn’t touch them in the same way as they impacted other people.

To her, Richard Mortimer was temptation and fascination, and although the thought remained distant, hovering just beyond her ability to believe it, there was a chance he might also be her salvation. That he might represent connection and a future—one her inner self desperately wanted, but that she’d thought she would never have.

Yet as Richard took his hands from the keys and reached for some music sheets, saying they would try another choral piece for practice, Faith lectured herself against reading too much into his encouragement over the contribution she could make to their performances.

Melissa had been watching Faith and Richard’s interactions with unalloyed interest. Even though she had no intention of speaking to her grandmother on the subject, had she needed to make a report, she felt she could say that matters between the pair were progressing well.

Judging by Lottie’s expression and the glances she, standing beside Faith, kept directing between Faith and Richard, Melissa’s young cousin thought so, too.

Melissa, Jamie, George, and Lottie had agreed to wait until the end of the practice before broaching the idea of an a cappella performance at the pageant, reasoning that the more confident Richard and Faith, too, grew over the ability of their small choir, the more likely they were to agree.

Finally, after running through the two carols in their repertoire twice each, Richard declared the practice done. He glanced around at their faces. “You’ve done very well. Those harmonies were really quite outstanding.” Focusing on the cousins, he said, “I take it you’ve sung together before—within your family.”

“Sometimes at family gatherings,” Jamie admitted. “But we’ve never done anything formal like this.”

“Speaking of which,” Melissa said, “we visited Dutton Grange this morning, and Lady Longfellow gave her permission to use the harp.”

“Oh, excellent!” Faith’s smile was relieved. “I’d hoped she wouldn’t object.”

“She was very happy to know the instrument was being used again.” Melissa seized the moment. “She also had a suggestion to make. She heard us practicing yesterday and wondered if we might possibly do a short a cappella performance as part of the village pageant. It’s to be held next Wednesday and revolves about a re-enactment of the Nativity—Lady Longfellow’s suggestion was that we might provide the angels’ chorus to celebrate the Savior’s birth.”

Richard looked faintly alarmed, but Faith was interested. “I haven’t heard about this pageant.”

Jamie, George, and Lottie chimed in with a colorful description of last year’s event.

“It’s the village’s other major Christmas event,” Jamie informed Richard.

“It’s as important to the village as the carol service,” George added, and his siblings nodded emphatically.

Richard still looked uncertain.

“We wouldn’t have to use carols,” Melissa pointed out. “George said he saw the music for several choruses in the vestry.”

Reluctantly, Richard inclined his head. “Yes, we do have the music for several such pieces, so we could practice…and I suppose, as the performance itself will be a cappella…” He glanced at Faith.

She met his gaze and, lips firming, nodded. “I think we should do it.” She waved at the others and included herself. “We’re all guests in the village, and it would be a nice contribution for us to make to the village festivities.”

Richard glanced at Jamie, George, Lottie, and Melissa. “The chorus might not be—indeed, won’t be—the right one for the Nativity. Those pieces are, I’m told, included in the back of the book of carols.”

“As long as it’s a triumphal chorus,” Melissa said, “I don’t think anyone will mind.”

Richard looked at them, clearly weighing the issue, then he glanced again at Faith.

She was waiting to catch his eye. “I really think we should. Whether the book of carols is found in time or not, this is something we can do for the village—a contribution we can make.”

Melissa felt like applauding, but contented herself with watching as Richard held Faith’s gaze for a moment longer, then he faced Jamie, George, Lottie, and Melissa and capitulated. “Very well.” He studied their faces, then, eyes narrowing in thought, said, “But if we’re going to do this, we should do it properly.” He focused on her cousins. “You three know the program—when are the most appropriate moments for us to sing?”

A lively discussion ensued, and they eventually agreed on two points in the proceedings that would most benefit from choral support.

Apparently having set aside his reservations, Richard nodded. “I’ll look out the music for the most suitable choruses, and we’ll start practicing them on Monday.”

Jamie and George cheered.

Faith smiled—indeed, beamed—at Richard when he glanced at her.

Melissa’s smile was a trifle smug as she and Lottie exchanged a satisfied look. At that moment, in their corner of Little Moseley, all was going well.

They reported to their grandmother over the luncheon table.

Therese listened to her grandchildren prattle about how well they felt the two carols they already had music for—thanks to Melissa’s efforts—were coming along, how Faith’s harp accompaniment had blended so wonderfully with the organ, and how they’d managed to secure Mortimer’s agreement, along with Faith’s, to their small choir providing an a cappella performance at the pageant.

Therese waited. When neither Melissa nor Lottie volunteered any further information, Therese baldly asked, “And how are Miss Collison and Mr. Mortimer getting on?”

Lottie shot a quick look at Melissa, then offered, “Faith was singing when we got to the church—Mr. Mortimer was playing for her.”

“It was a lovely performance—they both seemed pleased.” Melissa paused, then gave Therese what she wanted. “They seem to be getting along well—they were more at ease with each other than they were yesterday.”

“They didn’t blush as much,” Lottie said.

And that, Therese thought, was what she’d most wanted to know—that her granddaughters, both of them, were awake and aware as to the potential for romance between Richard Mortimer and Faith. Indeed, it seemed as if both were exercising a degree of discretion over when to push and when to appear oblivious.

Jamie and George had kept their heads down, busily cleaning their plates. Setting down his knife and fork, Jamie said, “Even though we don’t absolutely need the book of carols for the pageant, it would be better if we could find it in time to use one of the Christmas choruses instead of just any old one.”

Melissa nodded. “We need to find the book even more urgently given the pageant is on Wednesday at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

Four pairs of eyes fixed on Therese.

George stated, “Our next step has to be to go to East Wellow and ask the rector of St. Aloysius if he still has the book.”

“And if not, what he did with it.” Jamie looked pointedly at Therese.

She narrowed her eyes, but then—somewhat to her own surprise, sincerely regretfully—shook her head. “Sadly, my dears, I won’t be able to go with you—I have an appointment with my man-of-business this afternoon. As our meeting has been arranged for weeks and he’s coming down from London expressly to see me, I can’t put him off.”

The four faces around her table predictably fell.

Thinking further, she frowned. “I was going to suggest you venture to East Wellow regardless, but I fear that, today, your journey would be in vain.” She looked at their puzzled faces. “It’s Saturday, and it’s already after one o’clock. I can guarantee the rector will be far too busy arranging everything for tomorrow morning’s service to attend to your query.”

It was amazing, Therese thought, how, without seeming to move, children could slump. All four looked as if all energy had drained from them.

“However,” she said, straightening and, purely with her tone, bringing them back to full attention, “there’s no reason you can’t spend the afternoon eliminating other possibilities and widening your search. I agree that with the carol service, let alone the pageant, so rapidly nearing, there’s no time to lose, and that it would be folly to waste a whole afternoon. That said, I believe you should rethink your strategy.”

Jamie frowned. “How so?”

“When you started on your hunt for the book of carols, we assumed the book would be found with one of those known to have borrowed it recently. We’ve now eliminated three of the four known borrowers, and realistically, while I agree you must ask the rector of East Wellow in order to eliminate him, he more than anyone else would appreciate the importance and significance of the book of carols to this village.” She shook her head. “I really can’t imagine that he would have kept it. I’m sure he’ll tell you he brought it back and, indeed, returned it to the vestry. I’ve met the man once, and he’s a punctilious sort.” She paused, then summarized, “So I agree that he must be asked, but I would advise against pinning your hopes on him having the book.”

George was now frowning, too. “So we should think of where next we should search.”

“Exactly.”

“But we know of no one else who borrowed the book,” Melissa said.

“And that,” Therese said, “is my point. When you first started your search, you kept the actual searching to yourselves, which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time because we assumed the book would be easily found. Sadly, that hasn’t come to pass, and given the increasing urgency, I therefore suggest that it’s time to involve the whole village in the quest.”

It was Lottie who asked, “How do we do that?”

Therese smiled. “By asking for their help.” She glanced around the table. “Everyone in this village from the eldest to the toddlers knows about the carol service and what it means to the village. They might not have seen the book of carols themselves, but chances are the adults, at least, will know of it. As we don’t know if anyone else borrowed the book, asking around can’t hurt. And there’s also the fact that many of those in the village have sons or daughters who work at the larger houses. Asking if they or anyone they know have seen the book is a way of double-checking that the book wasn’t—for example—in Mrs. Woolsey’s bedroom, and some maid found it and put it in the library because she thought that was where it belonged.”

Jamie brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Indeed. But as the possibilities for such happenings are well-nigh infinite, the only way to address the issue—to find out if someone in the village knows where the book is—is to ask everyone. Absolutely everyone. Once you tell them that the carol service is at stake, I predict they’ll do everything they possibly can to help.”

Therese looked around the table and saw determination once again in all four faces. “In pursuit of your goal, I suggest that the four of you could best spend this afternoon enlisting the help of all the villagers. You can take the gig and visit all the homes, farms, and businesses and ask if anyone has any idea of where the book might be.” She paused, then added, “You won’t need me for that.”

Melissa looked uncertain; she met Therese’s eyes. “Will they talk to us—will they take our questions seriously?”

“If it was just the younger three, perhaps not, but with you to lead the delegation…” Therese arched her brows. “I’m sure you’ve learned enough from your mother to know how to elicit information from shopkeepers and villagers.”

Melissa blinked; her expression stated that having never tried, she wasn’t sure.

Therese patted Melissa’s hand where it rested on the tablecloth. “Trust me—you’ll manage.” Therese felt certain she would—that when faced with a challenge, Melissa would step up and meet it.

With the other three looking at her expectantly, Melissa swallowed her doubts and nodded. “All right.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s almost two—if we’re to go around the whole village, we should start straightaway.”

“Yes!” Jamie and George pushed back their chairs.

Lottie slipped from hers, rounded the table, and caught Melissa’s hand. “Come on—let’s go!”

Melissa had to laugh. She got to her feet, inclined her head to their highly amused grandmother, and allowed Lottie to tow her from the room.

Courtesy of their visit the previous year, Jamie and George knew the village well.

“There’s no point calling at the Grange, or at the church or the vicarage, or at Deacon Filbert’s cottage,” Jamie said as he tooled the gig up the village lane.

Seated beside him with Lottie in her lap, Melissa nodded. “The people at all those places know we’re hunting for the book.” They’d turned right out of the manor drive and were heading into the village proper. “So, who’s next along the lane?”

“Not who,” George replied. “It’s a what.”

Melissa’s heart sank as Jamie turned the gig in to the yard of the Cockspur Arms. “But it’s a public house.” She couldn’t keep the dismay from her voice.

“Don’t worry.” Jamie was already tying off the reins. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitesheaf are nice, and anyway, we’ll probably speak with one of their sons—Rory or Cam.”

Reluctantly climbing down from the gig, Melissa did not find that information reassuring. But with the other three waiting for her to lead the way, she had little choice but to push through the open door of the pub and walk in.

The first person she saw was a red-haired girl only a few years older than herself. The girl was wiping down tables not far from the door; she looked up and smiled brightly. “Can I help you, miss?” Then she saw Jamie, George, and Lottie, and her smile brightened. “Hello, you lot.” The girl’s gaze went from the three to Melissa, then back again, then she looked at Melissa. “Are they with you?”

Melissa glanced at her cousins. “Yes. They’re my cousins.”

“I thought you must be related. I’m Ginger. So what can we do for you?”

Melissa found herself saying, “We’re trying to find the church’s book of carols.” To her considerable surprise, the details of the book and why they needed to find it rolled easily off her tongue.

Ginger’s expression changed to one of concern. “Gracious goodness! We can’t do without our carol service!”

“We wondered if you could possibly ask all the members of your family if they’d seen the book—it has a red cover with writing and a design in black ink—anywhere. Anywhere at all. We’ve asked at the obvious places, you see, and no one knows where it might be.”

“It’s possible the book got left somewhere by accident,” Jamie put in. He glanced at the various tables around the taproom. “Even in here.”

“But really, it could be anywhere about,” George said.

Ginger nodded. “I’ll spread the word. And I’ll get Da and my brothers to do the same among our regulars—whoever comes in tonight.” She tipped her head to two old men huddled over pints by the fire and grinned. “I’ll even ask them. Like you said, sounds as if the book’s wandered accidental-like and might turn up in any old spot.”

Melissa thanked Ginger for her help, and they parted on excellent terms.

As she climbed into the gig and took Lottie back onto her lap, Melissa observed, “People here are very friendly—and they really do want to help.”

After their success at the Cockspur Arms, Melissa found no difficulty in knocking at the doors of the next two cottages along the lane, then walking into Butts’s Bakery, followed by Bilson’s Butchers and Mountjoy’s Stores, and pleading their cause. At all the premises, they were met with attention and, once they’d stated their purpose, unstinting support. At Mountjoy’s, they were lucky enough to meet two of the wives from an outlying farm who promised to spread the word.

“We’ll ask around and let you know after church tomorrow,” they promised.

Back in the gig, the cousins traveled around the curve in the lane, stopping at each cottage. Eventually, they rolled past the entrance to the Fulsom Hall drive and turned down the track to Tooks Farm. As they rattled along, Jamie, George, and Lottie told Melissa the tale of their adventures the previous year, when they’d led the hunt for Farmer Tooks’s missing flock of geese. Melissa admitted to being duly impressed.

She was even more impressed by the welcome accorded them when they reached the farm gate. Nothing would do but that they should all go into the farm kitchen and be regaled with tea and Mrs. Tooks’s homemade scones.

When, in between bites of luscious scone topped with fragrant raspberry jam, Melissa explained their current quest, Farmer Tooks swore he’d ask around his friends that very evening. Not to be outdone, the Tookses’ children and Mrs. Tooks vowed the same.

“It’s Saturday,” Mrs. Tooks explained. “We often get together, several families of us, of a Saturday night for our meal. We’ll be able to ask those who come to join us from the big houses, too.”

“Thank you.” In sincere appreciation, Melissa held up the last bite of her scone. “And for the scones, too.”

From Tooks Farm, Jamie turned the gig south, onto the lane that ran past Swindon Hall. “There’s no other village houses farther out that way.” He waved northward.

“That’s the way to East Wellow,” George said.

There were several cottages on the opposite side of the lane from Swindon Hall. As it was Saturday afternoon, most men as well as the housewives were in. Melissa found everyone she spoke with highly receptive to their plea.

After gaining promises to search and ask all around, they continued south along the lane, calling in at Witcherly Farm and Crossley Farm along the way. Finally, they came to three cottages facing the other end of the village lane. After knocking on the doors and speaking with the three couples who lived in the cottages, Jamie declared that they’d come full circle.

“Those farmwives you spoke with in Mountjoy’s come from Milsom Farm,” he said, “so we don’t need to go down there, and that’s the last farm in the village.”

Melissa nodded and climbed back into the gig. As Jamie turned the mare’s head into the village lane, she noticed another thatched roof through the trees. She pointed. “What about that cottage?”

“That belongs to the church, and Richard is staying there now,” George said, “so we don’t need to call there, either.”

The Dutton Grange drive appeared on their left, and then Jamie was turning right into the manor’s drive.

As the shadows of the trees closed about them, Melissa realized how late it had grown. She swiveled to look west, but the sun must have set; there were no slanting rays to be seen. “It must be after four o’clock.” The chill in the air was rapidly deepening.

Jamie set the mare directly for the stable. “We only just finished in time, but that’s a good job done.”

Melissa had to agree. And she’d led their little band without mishap or any embarrassing stumbles.

As she helped Lottie down, then took her cousin’s small hand and, with the boys, raced for the manor’s kitchen door, she found she was smiling—and laughed.

Therese wasn’t surprised that the children’s spirits sank somewhat as night fell and the realization impinged that another day had gone by and they’d yet to gain any clue as to the book’s whereabouts.

When, as was their custom, they rose from the dining table and followed her into her private parlor—her inner sanctum that she rarely invited any others to share—she was ready with her arguments to bolster their flagging confidence.

She took in their sober, serious faces as Melissa and Lottie settled on the sofa and the boys sprawled on the hearthrug. They didn’t, she noticed, drag out their box of games and soldiers. Bracingly, she said, “Buck up! You still have five days before the carol service, and thankfully, it seems Mortimer doesn’t need days of practice to play superbly.”

Jamie shifted. “He just needs the book, but we still don’t have it.”

“And we’ve asked everywhere,” George said.

“Well, except for the rector of St. Aloysius,” Melissa pointed out.

“The book will turn up,” Therese maintained. “How could it not in such a small village? But I commend you for your efforts today—you’ve spread your net wide, and now, you need to wait to see what information you glean.”

“But we do need to speak with the rector,” Jamie said.

“Indeed.” Therese nodded. “I agree that he and St. Aloysius are next on the list for investigation.” She glanced around at their still-uncertain expressions. “Let me think how best to approach the rector. Now tell me, what are you and Faith and Mr. Mortimer planning for the pageant?”

That distracted them. Their faces brightened, and they happily launched into a description of the two choruses they’d decided to perform, one as Mary and Joseph rode to the stable and the other after the three kings arrived and the re-enactment reached its climax.

“We thought those were the best places to sing,” Lottie informed Therese.

“Mr. Mortimer will have music for both pieces, but if we find the book of carols in time, we can switch one of the Christmas choruses for the second piece. The one we have now is not just for Christmas but more general,” George explained.

“But it will do.” Jamie glanced at his siblings. “I wonder who will be Joseph this year.”

“And who will be Mary,” Lottie said.

The three younger children started exchanging opinions on the potential candidates.

Melissa sat quiet and contained. Therese glanced at her assessingly. Apparently, Melissa hadn’t been distracted by talk of the pageant; her expression as she sat relaxed in one corner of the sofa suggested that her mind had remained firmly fixed on their goal—on their hunt for the missing book of carols.

Therese considered her elder granddaughter for a moment more—considered the resolution and determination in her face—then, faintly smiling, returned her attention to the younger three and their increasingly humorous speculation.