‘We have to do our songs!’ William declared. ‘We’ve been practising them so much, Mother.’
Jane laughed again, and ruffled her son’s dark hair. ‘I know, my darling, we have heard you. Yes, the children may come down for a while, and as a special treat William and Eleanor can dine with us tonight as it will be very informal. We have to choose the King of the Bean, after all.’
Eleanor clasped Rose’s hand and whispered an explanation. ‘The King of the Bean is the one who finds the bean in the special cake at dinner tonight and then they will rule over what we do for the rest of the festivities!’
‘Oh, I see,’ Rose answered. ‘Like the Lord of Misrule?’
‘Only not as wild, I hope,’ Jane said.
‘Well, I think it all sounds merry indeed,’ said Rose. ‘What time should I have them prepared to come downstairs, then, Jane?’
Jane waved her hand. ‘The nursemaids will see to all that. Just come down with them when you’re ready. We’ll just be a small, cosy party tonight, with Emma and her family, and the vicar and his wife. Oh, and the St George brothers! I am sure you remember Harry and Charles. I was so happy to persuade them to join us this holiday, they seem intent on becoming hermits over at Hilltop.’
‘The—the St Georges?’ Rose whispered, feeling her cheeks turn warm as she was caught by surprise. Of course she had thought—feared—she might see Harry St George that holiday, as their home was so near Barton, but she hadn’t expected to hear his name quite so soon, before she could prepare herself.
‘You’ve gone all pink, Miss Parker,’ Eleanor whispered.
‘It—it must be warm in here,’ she answered faintly.
Luckily, she was saved from answering further by the arrival of an older lady in stiff black silk, keys jangling at her waist from an old-fashioned chatelaine.
‘This is Hannah, our dear housekeeper who has been at Barton for ever,’ Jane said. ‘She will see you to your room. You must take all the time you need to rest before you take on my wee monsters.’
‘Mama!’ Eleanor protested. ‘Miss Parker will think we are most unruly.’
Rose laughed, pushing away thoughts of Harry as she tried to remember what she was really there for—the children and their music. ‘Indeed I will not. You seem entirely ladylike to me, Lady Eleanor.’
‘If you’ll follow me, then, Miss Parker,’ Hannah said, as Jane took her children’s hands and led them into the drawing room. ‘You’ve been given the yellow room, it’s near to the nursery.’
‘Of course.’ Rose followed the housekeeper up the stairs and down a long corridor, past closed doors and a few open ones where maids bustled about preparing the rooms for their guests. Her own chamber was close to the end of the hall and when Hannah opened the door she saw it was small but lovely. The white-painted bed was covered with a yellow-satin counterpane and draped with pale yellow and green striped silk, as was the small dressing table where a maid was already laying out her toiletries. A fire burned merrily in the little white-marble grate and her trunk was placed near a small desk and yellow-cushioned chair.
‘What a lovely space,’ she exclaimed. She put down her bonnet as she studied the view out the window, a long landscape of drive and trees, the stone fountain and flowerbeds. She could see for miles; could see anyone making their approach to the house.
‘Hmmph,’ Hannah said, twitching the curtains into place. ‘I will make sure hot water for washing and some tea is sent up. Be sure to let the maids know if you require anything else.’
‘I don’t think I could possibly need anything else, thank you, Hannah,’ Rose answered. A chamber all to herself, with no Aunt Sylvia constantly ringing her summoning bell? It sounded most luxurious.
She glanced again out the window and remembered what Jane had said about the St Georges and their home nearby. She wondered whimsically if the chimneys she could barely glimpse in the distance belonged to them. Or maybe it was the ruins of the old castle where Arabella once hid her treasure, the story she had once shared with Harry, so long ago?
‘Don’t be so silly,’ she told herself, and pulled the curtains closed. She was there to teach music and that was all. The silly, fanciful girl she had once allowed herself to be for one night so long ago had no place in the world any longer.
Chapter Five
‘Will you have some mulled cider, Miss Parker? Lady Ramsay says it is most warming on a cold day,’ the stern housekeeper Hannah said as she waited outside the drawing room, holding out a tray laden with tiny crystal glasses filled with ruby-red liquid. Rose had bathed and changed as quickly as she could, but it seemed the party had already begun. She could hear loud laughter from the room, the clink of heavy crystal goblets.
Liquid courage—just what she needed, Rose thought with a laugh. She needed to steel her nerves to face the crowd, especially one that contained Captain St George. ‘Thank you very much.’ She gratefully took a glass. It was warm through her glove and smelled of rich spices and fine red claret. It smelled exactly like Christmas.
‘Her ladyship and the other guests are in the drawing room,’ Hannah said, gesturing to the half-open door behind her.
The other guests? Including Harry St George? She hadn’t been able to cease thinking about him since she heard he would be there. She could feel her cheeks turning warm again and worried that if they were too pink others would surely notice, as little Lady Eleanor had earlier.
‘Am I the last to arrive?’ she asked as she tried not to gulp down more of the wine. At Aunt Sylvia’s house, the strongest drink was watered sherry and then only when the vicar called. She didn’t want to get too giddy before she faced Captain St George again.
‘No, Miss Parker. Several others are still dressing, I believe,’ Hannah answered, with a disdainful sniff that revealed exactly what she thought of such laggards. ‘Some have only just arrived and I believe the St George brothers are still above stairs as well.’
Rose smiled in relief. ‘Thank you, Hannah. I will just join the guests, then.’ She put her now-empty glass back on the tray and made her way towards the half-open doors of the drawing room. She could hear laughter and the hum of conversation, the faint strains of someone playing the harp, and it made her determined to enjoy her Christmas as well. It would all end much too soon.
Just like the hall and the bedrooms above stairs, the drawing room of Barton Park had been transformed under Jane’s care into a space that was stylish, grand and cosy all at the same time. From the warmth of the white and yellow striped silk wallpaper to the flowered cushions of the deep chairs and sofas, to the fire that blazed in the white marble grate and the gold-framed landscape paintings, everything was warm and welcoming.
Rose marvelled, too, at the beautiful holiday decorations. Elaborate swags of greenery tied with red and green bows looped around the picture frames and formed into wreaths above the windows that looked out on to the chilly winter evening where snow was starting down in delicate, lacy flurries. Blue and white Chinese vases on their marble stands were filled with holly branches heavy with red berries and round kissing boughs of mistletoe and streamers hung in every doorway. The warm air smelled sweetly of cinnamon and cloves, spicy and sweet all at the same time.
The crowd gathered around the harp looked just as ready for the holiday spirit as the decorations were, a kaleidoscope of bright, jewel-like velvets and satins. They all sipped at the spiced wine, or sang along as Emma played the harp in an ever-so-slightly off-key version of ‘I Saw Three Ships’.
Rose smiled at the scene, at the noise and happy chaos of it all. It had been so long since she saw such merriment around her. Yet it made her feel a bit nervous as well.
She smoothed the simple chignon of her hair, the skirt of her second-best grey silk dress, and hoped she would fit in with such a crowd. She also wished she had worn her spectacles, so faces wouldn’t be qui
te so fuzzy. She narrowed her eyes to scan the figures around the harp and to her relief she saw that Hannah had been right—none of them seemed to be Captain St George.
‘Rose! There you are,’ Jane cried, rising from the sofa where she sat with two other guests. She wore a gown of deep forest-green satin, but Rose was happy to see the lines were simple, so she didn’t feel quite so shabby. Jane’s dark hair was tied back with a green and gold bandeau and her only jewellery was a pair of pearl drop earrings. She quickly fetched two glasses from a footman’s tray, and hurried over to offer one to Rose. ‘Hasn’t the weather turned quite beastly? Almost everyone has already arrived, but I think we still expect a few others. I do hope they hurry, as the roads will be quite impassable soon.’
Rose sipped carefully at the wine, hoping it wouldn’t go to her head like the last glass. She surveyed the crowd over the crystal rim, not sure how many others could possibly fit into Barton’s cosy drawing room. ‘Are you expecting very many more, Lady Ra—Jane?’
‘Oh, just the Smythes, who are Emma’s sister-in-law and her husband, and Lady Fallon. Perhaps you remember her as Miss Helen Layton? She is a widow now.’
Of course Rose remembered the beautiful Miss Layton and how she took Captain St George’s arm so intimately all those years ago. ‘I—yes, of course.’ She took another sip of wine. ‘Barton does look so lovely dressed for the holiday. I can’t remember a Christmas so festive.’
Jane laughed. ‘Oh, I do hope it is. We’re all in need of a lovely, old-fashioned Christmas. We’ll have games later, of course, some snapdragon and hide-and-seek, and dancing. I’ve also arranged a Christmas Day ball and invited all the neighbours.’
The drawing room door opened again, and Rose turned with a smile—only to freeze when she saw it was Harry St George who stood there, along with his brother.
Charles St George was handsome, to be sure, and most fashionably dressed in a blue velvet coat and elaborately tied cravat, but it was Harry she could not look away from. She had heard he was wounded in battle, but not to what extent. He wore a patch over his left eye, and a long, raised reddish-purple scar arced down his cheek. It made Rose’s heart ache to think of the pain he must have suffered with it all—and somehow it made him even more handsome than he had been the last time they met.
She swallowed hard and turned away, trying to compose herself before she had to speak to him. She did not want to make a fool of herself in front of him and on her very first day at Barton, too!
Jane came to her rescue. ‘Rose, dear, could you favour us with a song at the pianoforte? Nothing makes a holiday merrier than a fine carol!’
‘Of course,’ Rose said quickly. At the instrument, she could busy herself with the music, which was always a refuge. She hurried to the pianoforte and raised the lid as she tried to decide what to play. It was a very fine instrument indeed, better even than Aunt Sylvia’s, and would make an excellent hiding place indeed.
She trailed her fingers over the keys and launched into ‘The First Noel’. It was a good enough start to the holidays.
* * *
‘I do hope I won’t be sorry you persuaded me to come to this party, Charlie,’ Harry muttered as he studied the crowd gathered in Jane’s drawing room. He had avoided such noise since his return from battle, and the loud laughter almost made him want to go back to the silence of his room once more.
Charles laughed and snatched up two glasses of spicy-scented wine from the nearest tray. He handed one to Harry and tossed back the other. ‘You agreed that a holiday away from Hilltop would do us both some good. Why not enjoy it, Brother?’
‘Harry! Charlie! How lovely to see you,’ he heard Jane call out. She emerged from the crowd, a vision of Christmas herself in forest-green and gold. She kissed their cheeks, smiling, and only a flicker of her lashes showed she noticed Harry’s scars, his eye patch. ‘I am so sorry I wasn’t able to greet you when you arrived. I do hope your chambers are satisfactory?’
‘When is your hospitality less than perfect, Jane?’ Charles said.
‘I do want people to be comfortable and, well, happy for the holidays.’ She took their arms and led them to a nearby table, where a plan of the dining table was set with small white cards. Their backs were to the crowd, but nothing could disguise the loud singing, the beautiful playing of the pianoforte. Harry found it most distracting, and comforting, to have such familiar diversions. The song was lovely.
‘You see, Charlie,’ Jane said. ‘You are quite near Mrs Anson, the lovely young widow who manages Emma’s bookshop for her. She was asking about you just last week. She is also very interested in travel and I do think you have met once or twice before?’
Charles frowned. ‘Mrs Anson?’ He sounded rather confused. Harry wondered if this young, bookshop-managing widow did not quite fit into Charles’s stated heiress scheme. ‘I’m not sure I’m quite, er, interested in romance this holiday, Jane.’
‘Are you not?’ Jane said, teasingly nudging his shoulder. ‘Are you sure you are feeling quite well?’
‘If matchmaking is your aim for the holiday,’ Charles said with a mischievous wink, ‘you should turn your attention to my brother.’
‘Really?’ Jane looked up at Harry with far too much intrigue and delight in her smile for his comfort.
‘Jane,’ he said warningly. ‘Remember what a tease Charlie can be?’
‘But ladies so love a war hero!’ Jane studied her chart and nudged a card around. ‘Lady Fallon is expected, you know, though I fear she has not yet arrived. I am sure you do remember her.’
Of course he remembered Helen and how she had married someone else—and was quite right to do so. They would never have suited in the end. ‘Like my brother, I have no interest in romance this Christmas, Jane,’ he said cautiously.
‘Ah, well, just as you like,’ she said with a bright smile. The door opened and Jane’s children appeared, accompanied by their nurse and luckily distracting Jane from any matchmaking thoughts for the moment. ‘Hello, my darlings! Have you come to sing for us?’
Harry was more relieved than he would have ever expected to see a group of carolling children. He reached for another glass of wine and looked for a quiet corner to retreat to. He turned—and found himself facing Miss Rose Parker, who had just got up from the pianoforte.
She was just as lovely as she had been all those years ago, slender and pale with a faint flush to her cheeks that brought to mind her name—Rose. Her brown hair was twisted up into a plain knot at the nape of her neck, held with a small silver comb that was her only adornment. It matched the light grey of her gown, enlivened only by a narrow edge of pink ribbon.
Her eyes sparkled and they widened as she glimpsed him there. She glanced over her shoulder, as if she would leave, but the crowd pressed too close.
He remembered their dance so long ago, as if it was in another life altogether, but one he could barely glimpse again, like a sunrise on the horizon. If she was not entirely repelled by his new looks.
‘Miss Parker,’ he said with a bow. ‘How wonderful to see you again and looking so well.’
She dipped into a curtsy and as she rose she didn’t quite met his gaze. Her gloved hands twitched at her skirts.
‘And you, Captain St George,’ she said. ‘I’m happy you were able to join us for Christmas. Have you been home long?’
‘Not long at all. I was in hospital in Italy for a time and the journey home was slower than I would have liked. All those muddy roads.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no! It sounds quite appalling.’
Harry made himself laugh. He had to forget battle now, forget his lost friends. This was what he needed to focus on now. Being at home, doing his duty. ‘Not at all. If one must be in hospital, Italy is the place to do it. The best wine and food far better than I’ve had in English camps. It was almost like a spa-town holiday.’
>
Rose shook her head, her lips twitching as if she tried not to laugh. She did look directly at him now and didn’t seem to notice his patch, his scars at all. Her smile was just the same as it had been all those years ago. ‘I’m not sure it was quite spa-like, but it does seem to have done wonders for your health.’
‘So it has. I hope your own family is well, your mother and sister.’
‘Oh, yes, very well. Mama is settled in her own cottage and Lily is married now, with two little ones.’
Harry suddenly wondered with a pang if Rose herself was also married, if her gloves hid a ring. ‘And yourself, Miss Parker?’
‘Me? I live with my aunt, Mrs Pemberton, as her companion. Jane asked if I could come here for the holiday to teach her children some music and I was glad to be able to visit Barton again.’ One of the children cried out and a nursemaid appeared with a crowd of children. They were all clad in their Christmas best, taking in the crowd with wide eyes. ‘I should go. Duty calls.’
‘It was lovely to see you again, Miss Parker,’ he said quickly, before she could run away.
She smiled in a way which seemed both shy and hopeful. Or maybe he was the one feeling hopeful in that moment. ‘And you, Captain.’
She hurried off to lead the children to the pianoforte set near to the fireplace. Rose sat down on the bench again, her plain grey skirts draping gracefully around her. The children gathered close.
‘What should we sing, then?’ Rose asked cheerfully.
‘What about “The Holly and the Ivy”?’ Jane said, sorting through a stack of sheet music. ‘We are all going on a greenery-gathering expedition tomorrow.’
‘A very good choice indeed,’ Rose said. She took off her gloves and tripped her fingertips lightly over the keys before she nodded at the children and launched into the song. Everyone else in the room gathered close to listen and Harry edged towards the door, out of the crowd.
The Wallflower's Mistletoe Wedding Page 6
