‘So, you’re, what, twelve weeks now?’ Matilda asks, snapping me back to reality. ‘When does that make you due?’
I rip my eyes away from father and son to answer her.
‘Oh, so a summer baby,’ she trills. Robert looks over and holds my gaze.
Sylvia and the other maid Anya flit silently in and out of the room with the first course. I watch the others delicately fork food into their mouths and force myself to do the same. It’s going to be a long night and I will need my strength.
The courses flow into each other. Voices rise and fall, peaking and troughing with the flow of conversation, and I watch the evening swirl around us. There are two murderers at this table, and I have no idea how many of them know that.
* * *
Coffee is served back by the fire in the drawing room, eyes glazed with festive cheer and alcohol, as the clock in the hall sounds ten.
The first chime silences the room, the second summons knowing smiles and a sharp giggle from Fiona. Robert places his coffee down and stands.
‘I should probably say a few words before we start this year. Unfortunately, Lila could not attend tonight, but Harriet is here. So, for those who do not know, or possibly for those who need reminding, here are the rules,’ Robert says gently as I watch Matilda shove Stuart hard in the ribs.
‘There will be only one present on Christmas Eve. If you find your present, then you get to keep it; if you do not find it, then you do not. Most of you here know the rhyme well, but for Harriet’s benefit I’ll say it again:
Nothing in this life is free
we work for what we have and see.
If you cannot in the time you’re given
then harder-harder you should have striven.
The last phrase is said with such singsong cadence it is clear that the words are ingrained in Holbeck family history. In my mind’s eye I picture Mitzi Holbeck, decked in ’30s evening wear, German accent thick, as she recites the rhyme Robert just intoned.
The sentiment of the poem is extremely questionable given the extraordinary wealth these people inherited before any of them lifted a finger, but perhaps that is the point of the rhyme.
‘Players, your first clues are on the cards marked with your names,’ Robert continues, and all eyes fly to the green baize table beside the fire. On it I see one of Mitzi’s carved Black Forest bears standing, paws aloft, behind eight cream envelopes. He holds a silver dice cup in his claws. ‘No conferring, no hints, no help,’ Robert continues.
Edward shifts uncomfortably beside me. ‘Wait, I’m not sure it’s appropriate that Harriet play. Given, everything,’ he says lightly. He takes my hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze, though I know what’s coming before Robert even opens his mouth.
‘Well, hold on for a moment now, Edward,’ Robert says with almost theatrical caution. ‘Perhaps we should ask Harriet herself if she wants to play. After all, if memory serves me correctly, she’s a very capable young woman. She won the last game she played in record time, didn’t she?’
All eyes turn to me, expectant.
‘Are you happy to play, Harriet? Or would you like to sit this one out? Lila has been removed from the game. It’s perfectly possible for you to be as well.’ There’s something in the way he mentions Lila that makes me suddenly worry for her safety.
‘Yes, I’ll play,’ I say conclusively, as if I ever really had a choice. The rest of the gathered faces fizz with a new kind of excitement.
‘Now we’re talking,’ Oliver grins.
‘Then it’s decided,’ Robert says, clearing his throat, a glimmer of triumph in his tone. ‘Harriet plays, like everyone else. In which case, you should hear a bit more about the game you’ll be playing, Harriet. Your first card will be a riddle, and it will lead you to the next. There are three clue cards in total, with the third location holding your Christmas gift. It is a traditional treasure hunt in that respect. You may have played similar games before, but this version is slightly different. In our game, the prizes are tailored specifically to the needs of each player. Would anyone care to explain, by example?’ The room around me goes silent, smiles fading with discomfort.