by Carla Kelly
If only her secret attempts to stand on her own, to eventually walk again, were more successful. Then they could have some semblance of a normal family life to offer David. She knew she would keep trying.
Each time she tried, she managed to balance upright for a few seconds longer. Almost a full minute now, though she couldn’t take a step to save her life. But one day she meant to go skipping about the meadows the way she used to, hopefully with a child or two in tow. The burgeoning hope certainly put her in a holiday mood.
Amalie always considered herself fortunate to live in the country where they celebrated the holidays. City folk hardly ever did, so she heard.
Thankfully, this house always spent the entire month of December festooned with greenery and berries. The mouthwatering smells of baking cakes and puddings filled each day as preparations got well under way.
No one reveled more in the expectations of good things to come than the younger Napier. This evening they would exchange gifts to mark the season. David crouched eagerly beside the fire as Michael helped him roast chestnuts.
“Do you think Grandmama will like these?” he asked her brother.
Michael raked a few from the coals and set them into the pile that was cooling on the hearth. “When you sack them up in that silky pouch you helped Amie to stitch, your grandmama will love it. Marvelous idea you had there, mate!”
David looked so serious as he gripped the bag they had made out of scraps and ribbon. His sooty little fingerprints only added to its charm as far as Amalie was concerned. Mrs. MacTavish had better think so, too.
Amalie thought of the jaunty cap she had made for the boy from a length of wool Napier had snipped from his Blackwatch plaid. A braw bonnet, Napier had called it as he voiced his approval. She had of necessity asked his opinion as to whether it resembled enough the tams that Scotsmen wore. She had added a pom of red yarn to the top and banded the cap with black grosgrain.
Napier had whittled a small wooden sword and carved intricate designs upon it. Michael had driven Mrs. MacTavish to Maidstone earlier in the week on some errand. Amalie suspected the woman had gone to buy something for David. In any event, the boy should have a holiday to remember.
“Will those cool in time?” David was asking Michael.
“Oh, in plenty of time for the gifting. Here, these few are ready now, you see?”
David gingerly picked up the chestnuts and dropped them one by one into the pouch. His smile warmed Amalie’s heart as it always did.
Napier swung into the room on his crutches, a bit more practiced and agile after frequent outings in the garden these past few days. “Good evening,” he said, taking a seat beside her on the settee. “Quite warm out for the time of year.”
She smiled. “It is freezing and you know it, but I doubt a blizzard would keep you inside.” She leaned sideways and surprised him with a kiss on his cheek.
He smiled in response, but the kiss did seem to discomfit him. So much so that he didn’t comment on it.
Her parents entered just then, her father bearing a basket of gaily wrapped gifts. Moments later, Mrs. MacTavish made her entrance with one large gift. When all were greeted and seated, Michael took charge.
“We haven’t a huge yule log, but Father, David and I have provided one that should keep us warm through the festivities.” The two proceeded to dump the oversize section of a tree trunk onto the smoldering ashes in which they’d roasted the chestnuts. He stoked it to a flame, then turned to the boy. “Now, my man, it is time for you to present our gifties whilst I provide music!”
David’s little chest puffed out with pride as he waited for Michael to reach the pianoforte and begin playing softly. “Grandmama, you first, for you are the oldest!”
Mrs. MacTavish quickly erased her frown.
“This is for you from me,” David said, presenting the rather grubby pouch of warm chestnuts. She accepted them with sincerest thanks, commenting on how good they smelled.
Then he reached into a box beside the hearth and turned to her parents. “Milord and Lady Harlowe, new nib pens from Mr. Michael and me. I found the feathers and he trimmed ‘em.” Her mother and father applauded and smiled, accepting their gift.
“Miss Amie, for you,” David said, handing Amalie a small packet of sachets, purchased no doubt from one of the local ladies in the village. She sniffed them appreciatively. “Lavender! My very favorite!”
“And Father,” David said at last. “I made you a picture with watercolors.” He tore off the wrapping himself before Napier could take hold of it. “See, Da? It’s Scotland!”
“Indeed it is. Old Ben Muir,” Napier said, eyeing the bare, purplish mountain with gorse and heather stippled over it in a childish hand. “Well done, David,” he added, his voice thick with pride. “Very well done.”
Amalie saw the tears gathered in his eyes, though he never let them fall. She offered him a smile and he returned it with a sheepish quirk of his lips. She thought she had never loved him more and the very idea shocked her.
She loved Napier. Alexander. The Scot. When had that happened? From the first meeting? No. Later, perhaps, when he met her every insult with humor and equanimity? Did it even matter when? She loved him now with a mixture of such longing, exasperation and need to give that she could barely stand it.
She had only meant to make him like her and to learn to like him. Love was not what she’d always thought it was. Not an easy thing at all. He almost surely had no such feelings for her, and why should he? She had not given him a single reason to feel so. He probably didn’t even like her very much. But he did want her and that was a fact. And it was a start.
He gave her a silver trinket box lined with silk that held a delicate brooch set with amethyst stones. Amalie thanked him rather more formally than she would have liked, then produced her gift to him, handkerchiefs embroidered with his initials. He smiled and complimented her needlework. How proper they were with each other after such an improper beginning.
“Your turn, I believe,” Napier was saying to his son. He presented the beautifully carved wooden sword and Amalie added the tam she had made. Michael and her parents gave David a mechanical bank, a metal monkey that snatched a penny as he raised his hat.
The boy delighted in everything. His manners were impeccable when he remembered them. When he forgot was when he was most adorable, Amalie thought with a grin. Away from his grandmother’s watchful eye, he was a rambunctious little rascal. This evening he was an angel.
She pictured Alexander as being very like him at that age. That made her wonder what his daughters would be like when he had some. She dearly wanted them looking somewhat like her. Little hellions, most likely. At the fantasy, her grin grew wider still.
And then Mrs. MacTavish produced the skates.
David’s mouth dropped open in absolute wonder as he ran his small fingers reverently over the highly polished blades attached to shiny leather boots. He threw himself into his grandmother’s arms. “Oh, Granny! Skates! Thank you, thank you! You knew what I most wished for in the whole world. You always do!”
Mrs. MacTavish tossed Napier a gloating look of superiority over her grandson’s shoulder. Amalie wanted to smack her for it. The woman never let an opportunity pass to remind them that David was better off in her care than he ever would be in theirs. But one had to admit, the skates were a brilliant move to secure David’s undivided affection.
Amalie leaned closer to Napier and said behind her hand, “I knew we should have gotten the pony.”
“His birthday’s next month,” Napier replied in a whisper. “And I’ve a saddle on order.”
Amalie placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “Well, then, let her top that if she thinks she can!” She smiled back at Mrs. MacTavish, granting the woman today’s small victory.
Amalie realized that at some time during David’s visit, she had begun to lay a motherly claim upon him. And while she did not approve of spoiling children in general, she wanted to make this bo
y happy, to show him how much a real family with two loving parents could do for him as he grew to manhood. She felt responsible for making that happen and she would, no matter what.
When all the gifts were given, they went into a late dinner of roast beef and plum pudding. Amalie hardly tasted the food, so busy was she in planning her future. Nothing could go wrong, she kept telling herself. The wedding was set, only a week away. David would stay. She would have all the time in the world to regain her ability to walk. Then, in realizing she was not a slackard, Napier would like her, perhaps even come to love her in time. She would work to that end with all the energy and determination she could muster.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, after a restless night, Alex dressed and took up his crutches, intending to head for the breakfast room, but David almost ran him down in the hallway. “Father, come and watch me skate! Granny says I may on the shallow fishpond! Will you come?”
“Absolutely! Wouldn’t miss it. Do you know how it’s done?”
“Aye. I’ve skated a bit with borrowed ones, but it’s hardly ever cold enough to freeze,” he declared, grasping on to one of Alex’s crutches as was his custom.
His son thought he was helping and Alex didn’t even think of disabusing him of the notion. It was as close to holding the lad’s hand as he could get while walking together.
“Where are you off to? Aren’t you two hungry?” Michael asked as he wheeled Amalie toward the breakfast room.
“A skating expedition,” Alex explained. “Apparently it won’t wait until after we eat.”
“Come watch me!” David chirped, grinning as his grandmother also approached to accompany them.
Alex offered her a smile and said good morning, wishing they could mend fences. It did not look likely and he did understand. She would be lost without David, but then, so would he. And a boy needed a father.
Michael fetched Amalie a blanket and wrapped her against the cold, but she argued him out of the weather shield that attached to the front of the chair. Michael pushed as Alex lurched along beside her, David hanging on to his far crutch, gaily impeding his progress. Alex could not recall a time since his injury when he had felt such contentment.
I am happy now, he thought with wonder. This very moment.
Suddenly, unable to wait, David let go and made a dash for the little frozen pond at the edge of the garden. It was a man-made pool used in warmer weather to hold fish caught for the kitchens until they were ready to be cooked.
David plopped down near it, kicked off his shoes and began donning his new skates. Just beyond the pond lay the lake crusted with ice. The entire tableau, including his son, was beautiful beyond words, Alex thought. As life should be.
Michael parked Amalie within five feet of the pond, near a stone bench where his mother-in-law had taken a seat. Alex sat on the other end, propping his stacked crutches between them.
They watched as David stood, ankles wobbling, and cut his way to the ice of the fishpond. Amalie applauded when the lad achieved his balance and took a few hesitant slides.
Within minutes, he had the hang of it and was gliding around in a circle on the solid sheet of ice. Alex called encouragement and Amalie’s soft laughter warmed the event. His mother-in-law issued hums of approval and actually returned Alex’s proud grin. Maybe the boy would bring peace between them eventually.
Michael excused himself to return to the house for a heavier coat. The sun shone brightly, but it was frightfully cold. Alex wished he had opted for something more substantial, and nodded as Michael offered to fetch his woolen cape for him.
Unfortunately, David used the distraction of Michael’s leaving to search out a greater arena. When Alex looked back at his son, the lad had crossed the short stretch of lawn that separated the pond from the lake. He was at the edge already.
“David!” he cried, and fumbled for his crutches, but Hilda had knocked them to the ground in her rush to get up.
Alex hopped frantically toward the lake. A rush of rose-coloured fabric swished past him and he nearly fell down in shock. Amalie was on her feet. And running right past Hilda, too!
She dashed straight for David just as he disappeared beneath the broken ice. Without hesitation, she jumped in and followed the boy down. Her skirts billowed, then vanished into the freezing waters.
“They’ll both be lost!” Alex cried, and fell to his knees, scrambling to the shattered crust of ice at the edge. It gave way and he submerged.
The water was only chest deep, he realized as he got his feet under him. He began tearing at the ice, breaking away chunks, making a larger opening, hoping against hope that Amalie and David could find their way back up to the surface.
Amalie’s head emerged. “I have him! Help me!” she gasped.
Alex clutched her wrist and tugged. Her other hand held fast to David’s coat. Together they struggled out of the water, dragged the boy out and laid him on the bank.
Hilda was screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Shut up!” Amalie commanded. “Get Michael and my father! Anyone you can find! Now! Go!”
Alex had rolled David to his stomach and was trying to press water from his body so he could take in air, but the boy wasn’t responding. He continued to work, treading a fine line to keep from breaking the lad’s ribs and yet applying enough pressure to empty the lungs.
Michael and Lord Harlowe had arrived and stood close by with Hilda. No one spoke as Alex turned David to his side and kept pressing and releasing. Suddenly, a gurgle sounded and David expelled a gush of liquid, gagging and coughing spasmodically. Then he began to cry.
Alex grabbed the boy off the ground and held him close, weeping unashamedly, burying his face in the crook of David’s shoulder.
“Amalie!” Michael shouted. When Alex turned, he saw his intended lying on the dry grass.
“I’m all right. Only resting,” Alex heard her rasp. Her brother scooped her up and headed for the house.
“I’ll take the boy,” Lord Harlowe offered. “He’s breathing all right now, simply frightened.” And howling because he’d lost one of his skates. Harlowe reached for the squirming child. “We should get him warm right away. Let go of him, Captain.”
“Here, Alexander,” Hilda said, sniffling loudly. “Your crutches.”
He let Amalie’s father take David from him. Hilda started to follow, then turned back, looking at Alex oddly, fingers pressing against her lips. Then she hurried back to his side and stayed by him, helping him get to his feet and position his crutches so that he could follow the others.
“Thank you,” he said once he’d gotten his balance.
“You saved our boy,” she said, her voice teary. “He’d be dead if not for you.”
“It was Amalie who dove in for him. I’d never have managed by myself.”
“Oh, I know. That brave girl, how can we ever thank her? I’m so sorry, Alex,” she cried, burying her face in her hands.
“No need,” he assured her. “You couldn’t have known David would try for the lake. He told me you gave permission only to skate the fishpond. And he didn’t know the lake was too deep to have frozen solid as the shallow pond.”
“That…that’s not what I mean. You…you were so good to let me have David when…”
He picked up the pace. “I wasn’t good, Hilda. I was selfish in my grief. There was no chance I could have been a proper father at the time. I know how you feel about giving him back. We’ll work things out somehow. Now stop this weeping and hurry on without me. See he’s thawed out and comforted until I can get there, will you?”
She nodded, lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could. Alex stumped along after her, hoping with all his heart that lung fever wouldn’t take his son and that Amalie would not suffer for her heroic rescue. He couldn’t bear to think what would have happened if she had not found that burst of will to get to his son in time when he could not.
Of course, this meant Alex must lose her. There was no way she could
deny the use of her legs now. He did not know what course of events had caused her to do so before, but it was surely a thing of the past. Amalie could walk. She could run. What woman in her right mind would want to attach herself to a man who could not?
If she had been his wife before or even a betrothed who loved him, then she would be obligated to follow through and take care of him. But they had not even known each other. She certainly deserved a better opportunity, a better match.
Michael would be the only one to object to breaking the engagement. For Amalie’s sake, he would simply have to understand.
A sadness he had seldom experienced enveloped him, warring with the elation over his son’s escape from a watery death.
He was exhausted and wet to the core. He’d be lucky to make it to the steps of the house in his condition. Maybe he should simply collapse in the garden and freeze to death. That would solve everyone’s problems, even his own. That problem being how he was to give up gracefully his recent taste of contentment and happiness. But death was no answer. If he’d ever thought it was, he would never have made it home from the peninsula.
Two footmen reached him just then and all but carried him inside between them. After being reassured that both David and Amalie had quite recovered and were resting comfortably, Alex was treated to a hot bath and put to bed like a child. His leg ached abominably and he felt chilled right down to his soul, unable to stop shivering. Hilda entered then, dosed him with laudanum despite his objection and proceeded to tuck him in. Hilda herself tucked him in.
“Like old times,” she said, smiling down at him as she adjusted his covers. Much to his surprise, she laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “You were such a dear little boy. Remember when your parents went on their trip to Italy and you stayed with us?”
Of course he remembered. Hilda had been a different person then, laughing, happy. “I was what? About six?”
“Yes, just David’s age now, wasn’t it? La, he reminds me so of you then. Gets up to such tricks. You recall when you and Olivia found that hedgehog and put it in my jewel box?”
