The Duke's Winter Promise: A Christmas Regency Romance

by Isabella Thorne

  Emily grimaced. She did not want to talk about that. It was such old news that no one ever spoke of it anymore. The elders of the families avoided one another as if their opposites carried the plague, but no one of note paid it any mind. Still, she imagined that Robert’s grandfather would be resolute in his hatred. He was entirely the type to hold old grudges.

  “So, this Robert is one of those Hawthornes?” Henrietta pressed.

  “Yes,” Emily replied. “He is of that family, but I can’t see that it would matter. The argument between the families was long ago.”

  “You cannot honestly entertain his interest,” Henrietta gasped. “Why, you would never be permitted to visit Sandstowe or Bramblewood again. Likely not even the neighborhood unless you came alone, and that would be a push. Your aunt and uncle would certainly be most distressed, let alone those of us that call you friend.”

  Emily smiled. She had some reservations about calling Henrietta friend when the tea began, but it was clear that the lady needed a friend or two. “Thank you, Henrietta, for your kind thoughts of me,” she said.

  “Of course,” Henrietta said.

  The two of them smiled at each other over their teacups.

  “I like Robert’s sister, Eleanor.” Emily said. “She is always up for a lark.”

  Anne took a sip of tea and nodded. “Father’s family has been able to maintain a friendship on both sides without conflict, so perhaps it would do.”

  “Only, you must be careful of invitations. You must not include both families on invitation to the same event,” Eliza added with a nod. “You could still see us, Emily,” she said with a kind squeeze to Emily’s hand. “I am sure of it.”

  “That is good to know,” Emily replied. “I admit that I had not given much thought to the feud. Still, I have made no official decision and so we shall cross that bridge when the carriage draws close.”

  She was glad when the subject drifted away from her romantic endeavors. They were an uncomfortable topic for an afternoon spent with friends. She would much rather think of happy things over necessities. Marriage was a tedious business: one to be dealt with in the spring, she decided. “I do not have to think about marriage just now,” she said.

  “We all must think of marriage,” Henrietta replied.

  “But,” Eliza added, “spring is a much better time for weddings, or perhaps summer when all of the flowers are blooming.” Her eyes were alight with the thought. They all knew that Eliza was quite the gardener.

  “Right now, let us talk of the Christmas presents we purchased.” Susanna said digging in her satchel to show the girls several items.

  For a while they did just that.

  “I do want to find something special for your young cousins,” Henrietta said.

  Emily nodded.

  “I know that the vicar would say that Christmas is a solemn holiday,” Emily said, “and not all about presents and merrymaking, but I am sure that Claire and Caroline need some Christmas cheer in their lives right now.”

  All thought of the poor girls and the loss of their mother. They knew that presents would not really take away the sting of that loss. It would be their first Christmas without their mother, and although the ladies were uncertain what to do to help, they all wanted to bring joy to the young girls.

  “I’ve brought a few tokens from Town which I hope they enjoy,” Emily said.

  Anne said, “I have made them both scarves which they can wear skating once the lake freezes.”

  “Oh, do you think it will be soon?” Susanna asked excitedly.

  “Without a doubt,” Eliza answered.

  “I am not even sure I remember how to skate,” Emily lamented. “It has been so long.”

  “I am sure it will come back to you,” Anne consoled her.

  Susanna shivered with delight. “It shall be so much fun!”

  “I am more excited for the party at Bramblewood,” Henrietta said.

  “Yes,” Anne admitted. “That will be sooner.”

  Emily admitted that she too was looking forward to it, although she had mixed feelings. “I suppose it will be a very different party than has been held there in the past.” At least she hoped so.

  “Oh yes,” Henrietta agreed. “Alexander hated those parties,” she said in an off-handed way that revealed she and the duke had discussed it.

  Emily raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Anne as Henrietta began a story from several years ago about the Dowager Mayberry’s fur hat. “She said it was a gift from a Russian prince, but Alexander and I thought it looked like a fox perched unhappily on her head. I must say, we laughed until our sides ached.”

  “You are so familiar as to use His Grace’s Christian name?” Susanna asked with curiosity. Her young face was alight with romantic notions of familiarity. She had yet only one or two gentlemen who were close enough to refer without title; and those for family reasons.

  The truth was, she was young and naïve enough to ask what they all were thinking, even though they were too well bred to pry. Emily thought it was not only the familiarity of calling Alexander by his given name, but the very awareness of knowing his feelings about his father’s parties. It made Emily uncomfortable although she supposed she could have guessed the same.

  “We have long been close,” Henrietta explained with a wave of her hand, “since childhood really. You know, Anne. We all played together.” She seemed to want validation for her familiarity, or perhaps she was trying to draw Anne into the conversation.

  “Nonetheless,” began Anne shaking her head. “He is the duke now, and we are not children.”

  The truth was, Emily thought herself and Anne were much closer to the duke in childhood than Henrietta. Emily’s mind conjured several fun childhood excursions. She remembered Henrietta tagging along rather than being completely included, and yet it was Henrietta who called the duke by his first name.

  “I do not recall your spending much time with Ale… His Grace in our youth,” Emily added. She had almost slipped up herself because she always thought of him as Alexander in her mind.

  She had called him Alexander since childhood and it felt somewhat strange to refer to his as the duke, but that was his proper title. It was extremely forward to refer to him with familiarity now that they were no longer children. Emily much preferred the honorific for its formality. It reminded her that he was no longer the boy who was her friend. He was a man and a peer of the realm.

  “No,” Henrietta admitted explaining, “not in the years that you might recall. It was afterward, when you were away and we were a little older, that we became close.”

  How old? Emily wondered. She shot a glance at Anne who was frowning mightily.

  “Oftentimes we were the only two of an age in the neighborhood with any real position,” Henrietta continued, but Emily knew that was not the complete truth. There were the Albright sisters and several other girls their age, but Anne had said previously that they were discouraged from visiting with Henrietta.

  “Everyone was always coming and going, Alexander and I were quite left behind,” Henrietta said with a pique.

  Left behind together, Emily thought miserably. She chided herself for her uncharitable thoughts, but she knew it was true. Her mouth felt dry at the implication. At the same time, Emily realized that they were left behind.

  Henrietta said the words as if it were no great hardship, but Emily heard the pain behind them. Emily felt terrible as she realized that this must be true. It was clear Henrietta felt abandoned by the friends who had gone off to finishing school.

  She wondered if the duke had felt abandoned as well. Lady Aldbrick did not even want her daughters to visit Sandstowe when the rowdy Edmund, Alexander were there, most certainly not Bramblewood. It was a good thing that Edmund had continued to visit, Emily thought, and of course William, but where did that leave Henrietta.

  “Your fathers were close,” Anne observed with caution. “Were they not?”

  Henrietta clicked her tongu
e. “Somewhat,” she said. It was clear she did not want to continue on this topic. Her eyes began darting around to other tables as if looking for another topic upon which to latch her interest.

  Emily knew it was common knowledge that the two nobles had been cronies of sorts. The baron and the duke were of differing status, and yet, in character, they matched each other perfectly. Both enjoyed a deep glass and a party that went well into the morning hours, with women of the questionable variety.

  “They shared company often back then,” Henrietta agreed hesitantly as if trying to retreat from her earlier admissions.

  “But they had a falling out,” Anne urged. Emily knew that when Anne got her teeth in a bit of gossip she really could not let go. Emily wanted to stop her, but she also wanted to know.

  “Yes. I suppose. They were always trying to out do one another, and eventually Father could not keep up. The duke had very deep pockets you know.” Her voice contained a bit of coldness as if she were stepping around a delicate subject. “Although, Father did not keep me apprised of the goings on or the financial situation.” The chilly retort and the topic itself advanced the fact that Henrietta did not want to elaborate.

  Rumors of Henrietta’s hoyden ways assaulted Emily’s sensibilities and Emily wondered if she really should have invited the woman to tea, lest she be labeled so by association. More than that, the thoughts that Emily was entertaining filled her with a strange combination of anger and hurt. Emily had the sinking feeling that Henrietta and the duke were much more familiar with one another than the laughing about hats or the use of Christian names.

  10

  A buoyant laughter rang from the far side of the teashop and drew the attention of the gathered ladies.

  “What could be so humorous?” Henrietta wondered.

  It must be the funniest thing as the two ladies across the shop bent over with peals of laughter.

  Emily did not feel like joining in the spirit of laughter at all. In fact, she had a strange desire to be home.

  “We should ask,” Henrietta said with determination. “Melinda Mize has never been one to hold her tongue and is bound to share the tale. It is sure to give us an entertainment.”

  “No,” Emily said, and with a shake of her head, she caught Henrietta’s arm as she meant to stand. “It is not for us to pry.”

  Henrietta raised an eyebrow.

  Emily felt guilty. She wished she had not pried about Henrietta and Alexander. Now she felt disheartened. “Let them get on with it,” she said.

  It was clear that Henrietta was desperate to escape the conversation into which they had maneuvered her.

  Emily’s thoughts were whirling. She had to believe that Alexander would have acted the gentleman. Hadn’t they spoke of such things, even as children? She exchanged a glance with Anne as Henrietta spoke, waving her hand at the other ladies.

  “Mrs. Mize,” Henrietta called over one of the participants when it seemed their conversation was complete. Henrietta had to make several tries because Mrs. Mize was nearly deaf, but Henrietta was determined.

  “How are your daughters?” Henrietta called loudly.

  “Who?” the lady asked and Henrietta repeated herself quite loudly. “Last I heard Nell was going to marry a solicitor or something of the sort.”

  “You heard correctly,” Mrs. Mize said in the same overly loud voice. She beamed with pride. “Not just any solicitor, Mr. Mills. My Nell did well for herself, I should say although he is quite a bit older than she would have liked he treats her well and is as doting as any husband ought to be. I cannot complain that she stayed right here in Northwick.”

  The ladies offered their congratulations and listened for what seemed an hour on the details of the marriage and her daughter’s small but respectable dowry.

  “I’ve just heard the most amusing thing,” Mrs. Mize said when she had run out of other things to say. She brought her voice down to what she must have thought was a whisper, but it was still possible to hear her across the room.

  “Do tell.” Henrietta gave a pointed smile to the ladies at her table. Her purpose had been accomplished.

  “Well, those of the Bramblewood party were out carousing last night,” Mrs. Mize said with the sort of stern, yet loving, look only a mother can give.

  “Is that so?” Anne said. “What have they done this time?”

  Emily felt a bit of worry, but she was not surprised to hear this. Her brother must have been in the fray considering that he had not arrived home until she was waking for the day. He had put himself straight to bed and was still asleep when she had left for her tea. She hoped that the night did not get too out of hand.

  “It is the most ridiculous thing,” Mrs. Mize clucked. “Honestly, I do not know what made them think of it.”

  “Well,” Emily said, “what have they done?” She had the feeling that she was about to be embarrassed by the actions of her brother and his friends, but it would not be the first time, nor the last.

  She remembered that Edmund and Alexander usually made her smile, and she needed a bit of levity at the moment. Her mind was still reeling with the information that had been revealed by Henrietta. She wanted to push it away, but her sensibilities would not allow it.

  “Do you know Mr. Marksham?” Mrs. Mize asked.

  All four ladies shook their heads. They had not heard the name.

  “He is the new magistrate. His family is related to some lord or other. I can’t remember which.” Mrs. Mize went on for a while trying to remember but could not. “Hosh-posh,” she continued. “Anyway, as I said, he is new to the neighborhood and has taken up at Chatterling Cottage. Which, mind you, is more than cottage, but that is beside the point. He is a proud man, you know.”

  Emily did not know, but apparently Mrs. Mize was going to tell them.

  “What of him?” Henrietta pushed the woman to get back to the point with an encouraging nod.

  “Well, the party of no less than six gentlemen was at the inn all evening, His Grace included,” Mrs. Mize began again. “I know this because my maid’s daughter is a serving maid there and she said they had her in stitches all evening with their antics. Her daughter, not my maid, of course.”

  “Of course,” Henrietta said.

  “She brought home a silver shilling for her trouble, too,” the lady said knowingly.

  “A shilling?” Susanna encouraged.

  “More than she made in the whole day, no doubt several days,” Mrs. Mize said. “The daughter, not the maid,” she corrected again.

  “Of course,” Henrietta said.

  “Sounds like your maid is itching for a raise in salary,” Anne muttered, but Mrs. Mize ignored her.

  “Even the chambermaids came out when they finished their work, and they all had a grand old time.”

  Emily was taut with anticipation. She was not sure if she was eager to know or afraid to know, but the tale must be revealed. “What happened?” she urged.

  She hoped Edmund wasn’t trifling with bar wenches. That was a slippery slope. Pulling braids indeed! Surely Mrs. Mize would not find that funny. The thought brought her back to Alexander and Henrietta, unchaperoned in their youth. The thought would simply not go away.

  “What is the humor in that?” Anne inquired sharply, voicing Emily’s feelings

  “Well, when talk came to the new Mr. Marksham’s arrival the gentlemen soon realized that he was an old schoolmate of theirs, and they decided to welcome him into the neighborhood properly.” Mrs. Mize giggled and held her girth as it shook with laughter.

  “How did they achieve their welcome?” Emily pressed when the woman seemed unable to continue. She was now interested in the story in spite of herself.

  “Why they crept out in the dead of night, while Mr. Marksham was asleep in his bed,” Mrs. Mize let loose several more peals of laughter, “captured a dozen fowl and released them inside Chatterling Cottage!”

  “They did not!” Emily cried. Emily could imagine the confused birds squawking and fla
pping inside the house. It was too funny. She had to laugh. “Inside the cottage?” She said just to confirm the picture of chickens flapping about the house that she had in her mind.

  Around her the ladies broke out in giggles.

  “Loose about to their own devices until Mr. Marksham woke to the sound of clucking beneath his bed!”

  Emily laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. The prank was truly harmless. If there ever was any doubt that the boy Alexander was somehow in the duke, this story confirmed it. This was exactly the sort of prank the boys would have pulled when they were ten.

  Perhaps his kind nature would not have changed, she thought. Certainly, Edmund’s still had the same quirky sense of humor. She had to remember that she has always trusted Alexander as a youth. She would trust him now. He did not have an unkind bone in his body; careless, yes, but not unkind, and Henrietta was their childhood friend. He would not be so crass.

  “Boys,” Mrs. Mize said, shaking her head, and Emily could not agree more though she wondered at the eventual outcome.

  “Was Mr. Marksham cross?” she asked. Very few people liked having pranks played upon them, but apparently Mr. Marksham was forgiving.

  “Not at all!” Mrs. Mize chuckled. “He vowed to get his revenge when they least expect it and sent a note to the duke saying that he would be keeping the chickens!”

  “Were they his chickens?” Emily asked. “The duke’s, I mean?” She would not put it past her brother to steal them, but she hoped they had grown past such antics.

  “Oh, I assumed they were from the duke’s own enclosures. If not, I am sure he could have bought them. I did not think about it,” she said with a shrug.

  “But now that you mention it, the chickens were probably worth a pretty sum,” Mrs. Mize said. “And with all the flooding this year well, Mr. Marksham made out the best in the deal.” She laughed again. This time the joke was on the duke.

  Emily could not keep the smile from her face. No harm done then. Serves the duke right, she thought, to lose his fowl for a prank although he was certain to have plenty more. Emily thought that this Mr. Marksham had gotten the best of them and with good humor as well.