The Widow's Christmas Surprise

by Jenna Jaxon

  “I know you are only looking out for my welfare and that of little Jane, but I cannot help but think that I should give Mr. Granger every opportunity to prove himself capable of providing for us.” Slowly, Maria spoke the words Jane would be loath to hear. “He has declared himself to me and I have given him to understand I am agreeable to deepening our friendship to the point of . . . something more.”

  Closing her eyes, Jane sighed. “I feared this would happen, but you are determined as God made you.” She began walking with short, quick strides so that Maria had to almost run to catch up with her. “When we arrive at Kersey Hall I will have to write to Kinellan and explain that I once again must put off my visit to his home.”

  “But why, Jane?” Her cousin must be terribly upset to make her postpone her long-anticipated trip again. “I assure you, I can take care of myself perfectly well.”

  “I believed that last year, and you ended up married to a most unsuitable man. I will not have such a thing happen to you once more while you are under my charge.” With head held high, Jane continued down the pathway, her mind, apparently, irrevocably made up. “Mark my words, you will not make another disastrous marriage, if I have to remain at Kersey Hall until my namesake is ready to make her come out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Maria and Jane came down to breakfast early one morning several days later, Maria was surprised to find the room unusually full. She and Jane almost always breakfasted alone. Lady Kersey was wont to have a tray in her room, her husband broke his fast very early, and their two sons apparently did not eat breakfast, or ate much later in the morning, for they were never in evidence. Today, however, all the family were gathered around the table, with the startling addition of Mr. Ganger and his sister.

  Heat raced into Maria’s cheeks. She had not seen Mr. Granger for almost a week. Ever since their tea the previous Sunday, Jane had watched her like a hungry hawk circling a field mouse. Therefore, Maria had had no chance to seek out Mr. Granger, to talk about his declaration and assure him of her interest as well. Now her mouth was so dry she probably couldn’t speak a word if she got the opportunity.

  An insistent nudging in her back turned out to be Jane pushing her to continue into the breakfast chamber.

  “Good morning, all.” Jane breezed by her, making for the nearest place, next to Lady Kersey and Miss Granger.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Putting on a bright smile, Maria went forward, toward the one seat left—between Mr. Granger and Lord Wetherby

  “Good morning, my dears.” Lord Kersey stopped eating his eggs to beam at her. “So splendid you are down at last.”

  Murmuring a polite “good morning” to the men on either side of her, Maria slid into her seat and took up her napkin with shaking hands. This assembly had been the last thing she’d expected when she’d come down this morning. Her place between the two gentlemen both a dream and a nightmare.

  Lord Wetherby glanced down at her, a knowing smile on his face. He’d tried to get her alone several times during the week, but Jane’s almost constant presence had deterred his success. Now he exuded a confidence that gave Maria cause to dread the meal.

  On her right, Mr. Granger ate sausages and ham while conversing with his sister. He turned to greet her, smiled briefly, then went back to his other partner.

  A footman placed a plate before her and she swallowed hard. Given her current situation, food would likely choke her. Slowly she adjusted her napkin in her lap, lifted her cup of tea and stirred it.

  “Did you forget something, Cousin Maria?”

  She jumped at Lord Wetherby’s silky voice so close to her ear. “Forget what, my lord?”

  “The sugar.” He nodded to her still stirring hand, although she’d not put either milk or sugar into the cup yet.

  “I suppose I did not. Thank you,” she added as he handed her the sugar basin. His finger brushed hers in the process and she gasped at the contact of his bare skin on hers. Hastily she fished out the smallest lump she could find and dropped it in her cup.

  “Milk as well?” His eyebrow rose, likely in anticipation of another touch of her hand.

  Eyeing the milk pitcher, which sat closer to Lord Wetherby than to her, she demurred. “No, thank you, my lord. Not this morning.”

  She enjoyed tea better with milk, but not at the expense of further contact with his lordship.

  “Good morning, again, ladies and gentlemen.” Lord Kersey spoke up over the chatter of the breakfasters. “I know for several of you this morning’s summons was a surprise”—he looked directly first at Lord Wetherby and then at James Garrett—“but you really should not have been, given that today is December sixth.”

  December sixth? Maria looked blankly around the table. Jane’s face showed the same confusion that must be on her own face. However, Mr. and Miss Granger were now smiling as well as the Garretts, obviously understanding the importance of the date.

  Naturally, Jane would be the one to speak up first. “I’m sorry, my lord, but what is the significance of December sixth?”

  “It is Saint Nicholas Day, my dear,” Lady Kersey answered, her eyes lit with excitement. “A holiday we enjoyed celebrating in Virginia very much.”

  “Oh, yes, in my flurry of unpacking”—Jane sent an arch look toward Maria—“I quite forgot the day.” Sipping her tea nonchalantly, Jane laughed softly. “I have not truly celebrated it since my children were small.”

  “Does it have something to do with Advent?” Maria cocked her head. She’d heard the day spoken of, but as the beginning of the Christmas season.

  Carefully setting down his cup, Mr. Granger smiled at her indulgently. “If I may, my lord?”

  Nodding, Lord Kersey raised his cup in a salute. “Thank you, Mr. Granger.”

  “It isn’t directly connected to Advent, Lady Kersey.” Suddenly all Mr. Granger’s attention was focused on her, making her want to shrink back in her chair.

  All eyes seemed to be on her.

  Mr. Granger smiled kindly and continued. “It is, however, a Christian feast day and a celebration of the good works of Saint Nicholas of Myra, who was known for secretly giving gifts to children.”

  “I remember getting small gifts in my stockings when I was young.” That had been fun. How had she forgotten all about that? She would have to begin doing that with Jane next year. “How is it celebrated now?”

  “The same way you have said. The evening before, all the children put out their shoes or stockings, and the good saint is supposed to come by in the night and fill them with candy or gold coins.” Mr. Granger exchanged a glance with his sister. “You remember that, don’t you, Bella?” He turned back to Maria, making tingles of excitement speed through her. “It also unofficially begins the Christmas season.”

  “I must say, there is nothing whatsoever wrong with the giving of gold coins.” James Garrett spoke up for the first time. “When Anthony and I were small, December sixth was our favorite day of the year. We were always in pocket for the rest of the year.”

  “But the stockings and coins sound like something that should have been done last night, my lord.” Cocking her head, Maria reluctantly turned her attention to Lord Kersey. “So how do you plan to celebrate this year?”

  “Anthony came up with a grand idea.”

  A chill sliced down Maria’s spine, making her shiver. Anything Lord Wetherby came up with probably forwarded his own aims.

  “Usually we gather our greenery on Christmas Eve morning and decorate the house during the afternoon. This year, because we are expecting guests to begin arriving early next week for the house party, Anthony suggested we use Saint Nicholas Day to go gather evergreens so the house will be festive and fragrant for the party.” A twinkle in Lord Kersey’s eye told her he wasn’t quite through. “When we all return to the Hall, perhaps the good saint will have left presents for those who have been good this year.”

  An excited chattering broke out around the room. Now might be a good time to ask Mr. G
ranger to arrange a time for them to talk.

  Before she could engage him, however, Lord Wetherby leaned over her, making her jump, and whispered in her ear. “I think a day out in the fresh air will be rather stimulating, don’t you, Cousin?”

  “The crisp air will certainly make for a pleasant walk in the woods, if we don’t tarry too long.” Maria rose, her breakfast untouched. “We wouldn’t want to contract a severe chill, would we?” She hurried to her room, bent on dressing more warmly. The outing did sound like fun, and since Mr. Granger apparently was to be a part of the festivities, she could likely manage to steal some time with him. She wanted badly to talk to him, to assure him of her interest. If they could wander away from the others, perhaps they could do more than just talk.

  That was bad of her. She was technically still in mourning for her husband, and here she was looking forward to seeing another man. Well, it served Alan right. He’d seen other women—seen them and more—and while they were married too. He was now dead and so it was time for Maria to make up her own mind about men such as Mr. Granger.

  Maria laced up her sturdy half-boots, little worn and very stylish. She added a warmer gown of dark brown merino wool, serviceable but elegant, and a pair of mittens. With her winter-weight pelisse, she should be quite warm enough. She ran down the stairs to the entry hall to find Miss Granger talking with Lady Kersey.

  “Look, Lady Kersey.” So excited she could not stand still, Miss Granger danced on her tiptoes as she gazed around the room, her face a study in joy. She pointed to a line of stockings, all different sizes and colors, hanging from the fireplace mantel at the end of the hall. A tag with a person’s name was pinned to each stocking. “When we return from the woods, Lady Kersey swears there may be presents in these stockings.”

  “In the spirit of Saint Nicholas’s feast day, I suggested the stockings as part of the fun today.” Lady Kersey smiled at Maria. She always seemed to genuinely wish to be of service to anyone in need. “It was always such fun to watch the boys digging through their stockings, looking for sweets and coins.”

  “Oh, but it does sound like a tremendous amount of fun.” Squeezing the strings of her reticule, Miss Granger looked about the largish entry. Likely looking for her brother.

  Where was Mr. Granger? Surreptitiously, Maria tried to spy him, but his handsome face and broad-shouldered frame were nowhere to be seen.

  The front door opened and Mr. Granger strode in. “Ladies, gentlemen, your carriage awaits.” He laughed and ushered them out to the circle driveway where a shooting brake stood.

  “Surely we could have taken the carriage, my dear.” Frowning, Lady Kersey confronted her husband.

  “Part of the adventure, my lady,” he said as he escorted his wife and handed her into the rustic cart meant to take gentlemen out to the field for shooting.

  Mr. James Garrett handed Jane and Miss Granger up and into the open cart. Maria then faced a terrible dilemma. She stood at the rear of the brake, Mr. Granger on one side, Lord Wetherby on the other. Both held hands out to assist her. Of course she wished to put her hand in Mr. Granger’s, but to snub his lordship would hardly be either considerate or canny if she wanted to keep her attraction to Mr. Granger a secret. In the end, she placed one hand in either of theirs and clambered aboard to sit by Jane. The gentlemen followed her quickly and the horses started.

  “You are a regular Solomon, my dear,” Jane whispered. “Still, your preference is showing, if ever so slightly. Learn to school your eyes and you will be fine.”

  That was a true criticism. Maria had always had a difficult time trying to shield her thoughts from showing on her face, one reason she was such a wretched card player. Anyone who paid a modicum of attention to her, knew her thoughts as well as if they could read them in a book.

  “You must instruct me, my dear,” she whispered back. “No one conceals their thoughts better than you do. How do you do it?”

  Her cousin chuckled. “An old trick, but not easy to accomplish. You must be able to spin gold out of nothing and do so with so much sincerity that people wish to believe what you say is true so much they refuse to accept the truth even when you tell it to them.”

  “That does sound diff icult.” Maria sighed. “What is the next best way?”

  “Tell the truth.” Jane made the statement glibly, but there was enough gravity to it that Maria could tell the advice was not lightly given. “You will always find that to be the safest and truest path.”

  “And often the most difficult one, if I don’t miss my guess.”

  Jane nodded. “I concede that point, but still you will find, honesty is the virtue that will stand you in good stead in the end.”

  “What are you two ladies talking about that has made you gloomy?” Lord Wetherby stood and maneuvered himself over beside Maria.

  Like a ball out of a pistol, Maria shot back, “The virtue of telling the truth before lies, my lord.”

  “Good God, no wonder you are Friday-faced.” He raised his hands in mock horror. “I beg of you, turn your conversation to something merrier and in keeping with the season, or you shall both turn into a Krampus and punish us all.”

  “Especially you, my lord?” Jane’s voice dropped to a sultry drawl. “Will you need to be punished more than anyone else?”

  Lord Wetherby stared at Jane, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. “I have not been an angel this year, but I can be awfully good when I want to be.”

  “I suspect you are, my lord.” The coquettish sound in Jane’s voice had the man almost salivating.

  This was Jane in her element, always flirtatious and witty. A sensual woman with an appetite, so their other widow friends had told her, that put all the rest of them—even Fanny—to shame. Had she gotten bored waiting around to go to Kinellan in Scotland and now set her cap at Lord Wetherby? Not to marry, of course, but simply for a dalliance?

  Well, if it distracted his lordship from her, Maria would be ever so grateful. She hoped to meander off with Mr. Granger for a time at least. If Lord Wetherby was occupied elsewhere, that would make her own flirtation that much easier to begin.

  The brake pulled into a clearing, not far, as the crow flies, from Francis House. The trees had changed to evergreen, with pine, fir, and holly scattered in a ring around the natural clearing. The gentlemen jumped out, then assisted the ladies until everyone was in a circle around Lord Kersey, looking to him eagerly for instruction.

  “The greenery we like to use in the house is fir, holly, rosemary, and yew if you can find it. These plants tend to be very pungent, so the house will be fresh and lovely for our guests. Oh.” He chuckled softly. “We will also need to bring home several mistletoe balls, to make kissing boughs out of.” His grin grew broader. “We cannot have Christmas without a bit of kissing now, can we?”

  The gentlemen sent up a roar of approval while the ladies fell silent or laughed nervously. Maria did not join in the laughter. She was too busy trying to keep her eye on Mr. Granger, who stood next to his sister and Mr. Garrett. Good. Now if Jane would pair off with Lord Wetherby, she could join the Granger party and perhaps pair off with the man she sought.

  “If everyone will gather closer, I will give the signal and you must scatter and bring back as much greenery as you can. Remember, Saint Nicholas is watching! If you want to have something good in your stocking when we return, you must bring back as much of the fragrant boughs as possible.” Lord Kersey held his arm up and dropped it. “Begin!”

  With a great shout, people began grabbing partners’ hands and pulling them off into the woods without further ado.

  A strong hand grasped Maria’s gloved hand and she turned smiling into the also grinning face of Lord Wetherby.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drat it. Maria’s face froze, a pleasant smile plastered across it, even though the disappointment was almost a physical blow. Why did Lord Wetherby have to choose her? Why hadn’t Jane’s seduction taken him to her instead? At least, that’s what she thought wou
ld have happened. She glanced around for her cousin, and found her standing with Mr. Garrett, Mr. Granger, and Miss Granger. Mr. Granger was turned away, pointing toward a stand of evergreens to the east.

  Abruptly, Lord Wetherby pulled her to him and they started off into the woods to the right of the brake, dodging around trees left and right, forcing her to run until her side ached.

  Enough. She gave a mighty tug and her hand slipped free of his. Winded, she stood panting as Lord Wetherby continued on a few feet until he realized he no longer held her hand.

  “My . . . lord!” Goodness, but she was out of breath. “I believe we have gone far enough. If we find sufficient quantities of the greenery we seek, we will be unable to carry it all back to the brake.”

  “We can pile it up here and let the footmen carry it back for us.” He had walked back to her and now stood close, so close that his bergamot scent warred with the fresh smell of the firs all around them.

  “Then we had best get to it, shall we?” With that Maria stalked off to the right, heading for a large stand of holly bushes that should be easy to collect, praying he would not follow her. The clean scent of the holly brushed the lingering traces of the spicy bergamot away, and she began tearing off small twigs with the bright red berries, avoiding the sharp points of the distinctive leaves.

  Mentally bewailing the fact that they had brought no basket to collect the greenery in, Maria lay the torn branches carefully in her arm, going methodically from bush to bush, trying not to strip an entire plant, but leave something of it intact to grow and seed for next year.

  A basket and scissors certainly would have been very useful to this endeavor. Maria’s hands became scratched, even through the protection of her gloves. Perhaps she should have gone after the fir branches instead. Gathering up an armful of small pieces, she judged she had enough and turned toward the growing pile of branches on the ground. As she tossed them on the heap, one of the holly leaves caught her index finger, jabbing deep through the material of her glove and into the tender flesh of the pad.