Charles entered carrying the steaming bowl of punch while Goudge managed the difficult job of drawing open the dining room doors. The twins gave a shout of joy at the heaping platters revealed, while their mother hovered anxiously over Charles’s shoulder.
“You are certain you added the proper amount of cream? I would not want it to curdle. Your father always said if it was not done just the proper way ...”
“We shall let Mr. Drummond taste it to declare whether it is proper done or not, Mama.” Charles lowered the silver punch bowl to the table and graciously ladled out the first cup for their guest. “I trust I haven’t forgotten all of my father’s teachings.”
Mr. Drummond sipped experimentally at the mixture of hot ale, spices, sugar, and eggs, and nodded his head approvingly. “Your father taught you well, young man. He would be proud of you this day.”
Diana saw the pain shoot through Jonathan’s face at this chance remark, and her fingers clenched in her palms at his father’s heedless cruelty. The man had not said a word to his injured son, home from a war fought to protect king and country. Jonathan had spent four years bravely risking his life so that they could celebrate this Christmas in safety. His father had no right to throw all that aside to salve his injured pride.
Knowing it was not her place to interfere, well aware that she defied every stricture of proper behavior by doing so, Diana calmly turned to comment upon a remark that had not been made to her. “My father was proud of both Jonathan and Charles. Papa always said if it weren’t for such men as them, Napoleon would have walked across England as he has Europe.”
She said it quietly, without defiance, but the polite murmurs of conversation all across the room died as Mr. Drummond turned to meet her proud gaze.
In the candlelight her mahogany tresses shimmered in a rich halo about features as fair as fine porcelain. For the first time he realized she had grown into a striking woman instead of the young chit who once got caught in the top of his best apple tree. He couldn’t scold her as he would a child, and as much as he would like, he couldn’t give her a setdown. Not only would it mar the memory of his late friend’s words, but she was right. He just refused to admit it out loud. He had suffered when his only son had rejected the lands and position he had carefully built to take up the life of an adventure-seeking soldier. The humiliation and suffering had not lessened with the years, but the fear of losing his only son had added to it. Still, he had a position to uphold in the eyes of the others. The boy had to be punished, even if it meant a continuation of his own suffering. The only problem was that the cold stranger who had returned seemed already lost to him, and the only one suffering from his punishment was himself. He could not say the words to show his relief that his son had returned safely.
“Your father was quite likely right, as he was in many things.” That was as far as he could unbend without injuring his pride. Let the boy make of it what he would.
Charles began pouring small cups of punch for the ladies, but they scarcely heeded him as Diana now turned to glare at Jonathan. He had the fire licking at the brittle kindling beneath the log, and he rose when he first heard what he recognized as Diana’s declaration of war. He wasn’t surprised when she turned on him, but his father’s grudging admission caught him unprepared, leaving him no defense when Diana launched her attack.
“He also said it was wrong for a son to act against his father’s wishes without trying to understand his father’s reasons. It is not always possible to adhere to the wishes of one you love, but if you truly love him, you would at least listen to him and consider his feelings.”
Jonathan met her gaze steadily, hearing more in her words than he dared admit even to himself. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the passion blazing in Diana’s eyes and turned to face his silent father. He had never been very good at apologizing, and he still felt himself the wronged party, but it was Christmas, and he could not abide this distance that separated him from his family. In her outspoken manner, Diana had given him the opening he could never have made for himself. He took the cup Charles shoved between his fingers, and raising it, nodded to his father.
“Your father was a wiser man than I, Diana. Perhaps it is still possible to learn from him. Charles,” Jonathan caught his host’s eyes and raised his cup in salute, “To fathers, past, present, and future, who must bear the ingratitude as well as the affection of their unthinking sons. May we bear the task as well when our turn comes.”
Charles grinned irreverently and gave a roguish wink to the delightfully pretty miss watching from the corner. “I’ll drink to that. To fatherhood.”
Mr. Drummond’s loud “harrumph” removed the grin from Charles’s face, but as all eyes returned to the patriarch, he lifted his glass to join in the toast. “Past, present, and future—that was very well said. I’ll drink to that.”
It wasn’t a healing of the breach, but it was a rough acknowledgment that one existed. The evening moved more swiftly and more pleasantly after that, giving time for the momentary unpleasantness to dissipate. The village musicians, who earned extra shillings at Christmas by roaming from house to house singing the ancient carols, appeared shortly after to fill the huge old drawing room with song and share the punch. Neighbors stopped by to enjoy the chorus and to exchange greetings, and the strained atmosphere of earlier disappeared in the general merriment.
The returned soldiers found themselves the center of these festivities, but above the heads of his well-wishers, Jonathan followed Diana’s movements as she entertained the guests. He could not decide whether she had defended him out of affection or her usual determination to see things right. It mattered little enough. His father obviously wasn’t prepared to admit his own pigheadedness and welcome his erring son home. He couldn’t blame him, he supposed, but he couldn’t forgive him easily, either. Had he accepted his son’s decision to go off and fight as Charles’s father had, he would not have had to run away in such a havey-cavey manner, leaving Diana to turn elsewhere for affection, if that was what she had done. They had both chosen their paths; there was nothing for it but to go their separate ways, it seemed. The package wrapped in his pocket had no purpose anymore. He must have been crazed even to consider it.
Catching a glimpse of Freddie eyeing the highly polished apples adorning the branches of the kissing bough, Jonathan managed a wry smile in remembrance of Christmas past. He and Charles had often connived some means of reaching those tempting apples, even though their stomachs were filled to overflowing with Christmas delicacies from the table. Judging by the front of Freddie’s coat, the lad had already sampled everything on the table, but the forbidden apples always looked more delicious than what was at hand.
Successfully evading several older couples saying their farewells, Jonathan slipped up behind Freddie and whispered, “What will you give me if I help you get one?”
Freddie beamed up at his brother’s friend. Charles and Jonathan were as much together in the minds of the twins as to seem equally like brothers. Without hesitation, he offered, “Me and Frankie got the mistletoe like Elizabeth said. We gave it to Charles, but we’ll get you some, too, if you like.” He wasn’t much concerned with the adults’ need for the pretty greenery that hung on the highest branches of the old walnut tree, but he understood its value in terms of trade.
Jonathan chuckled. “Is that what you scamps were up to? I’ll not send you back out in the cold. The information is sufficient payment, thank you. Climb up on my shoulders. We should be able to reach that low one there.”
Since the branches were hung so that the lowest loop just barely missed his head, Jonathan could have reached the apple for himself, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun for the young boy. Without thought to the crease of his coat, he hoisted Freddie into the air where he triumphantly captured the apple he had been admiring.
From her corner of the room, Diana watched this display with a peculiar wrenching feeling in the middle of her stomach. A man like Jonathan should hav
e children of his own. He had always been patient with Marie, more so than Charles had been with his younger siblings. She could tell by the smile on his face that he was enjoying the mischief as much as Freddie. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as she had feared. Perhaps it was only his feelings toward her that had changed. Or perhaps she had only imagined those feelings in the first place, mistakenly thinking his attentions more than those of an older brother, when all he did was play the part he played with Freddie tonight.
“Look, that package has my name on it!” Freddie cried excitedly from his lofty perch. “And there’s one for Frankie!”
“And it will still have your name on it in the morning when you come down.” Charles materialized beside them and lifted the imp from Jonathan’s back before his friend discovered the difficulty of lowering that hefty weight with a bad knee and one hand. “Where’s Frankie? It’s time you’re both off to bed. The guests are starting to leave.”
Both hands filled with apples, Freddie came down reluctantly, but he turned his expectant gaze to Charles. “Aren’t you going to hang the mistletoe, Charles? Can we help you?”
Charles exchanged a laughing glance with Jonathan as his secret was revealed, and he whispered, “It can’t be a kissing bough without mistletoe, can it?” To his brother, he added, “Get upstairs now and we’ll see about the mistletoe later. It’s a surprise, so not a word, mind you!”
They watched as Freddie located his twin and the two ran off whispering together. Then Charles followed Jonathan’s gaze as it drifted back toward Diana. She and Elizabeth and Marie were conferring over something in the corner by the fire, and Charles let his gaze linger on Jonathan’s younger sister. She had turned into a real beauty since they had left. He had never dreamed the difference four years could make in a thirteen-year old child. Diana, now, was a different story. She had been a pretty child like Marie when they left. She was a stunning, self-assured woman now. He glanced surreptitiously to his friend’s face.
“Have you discovered yet if another has captured her fancy? I can’t believe you were fool enough to go off to war without securing her pledge. If I’d known Marie would become such a diamond, I would have sought hers. Now I suppose I’ll have to fight her suitors away just to get near her.”
Jonathan quirked a doubting eyebrow but did not look away from the focus of his attention. “Diana was young and had only been out one Season. I couldn’t ask her to wait for a man who might never come back, not any more than you can ask Marie before she’s had time to test the waters. So don’t lecture me, Carrington.”
“Then make haste while you can, sapskull, instead of idling time like some moonling. I’d see her wed to you before any other I know.”
Jonathan shot him a wry look. “You’ll not ever make a proper head of the household with that attitude. You haven’t inquired into my prospects. They don’t look particularly bright, you realize. I haven’t a feather to fly on. My father still isn’t speaking to me, and with a crippled hand, I have very little use in any position.”
Charles gave him a look of disgust that spoke his opinion of these objections. “You’re quite correct. You forgot to mention you haven’t a wit in the old brain pan, either.” With that frosty remark, he left to see off the remainder of their guests.
Diana was caught by surprise when she entered the dining hall some minutes later to discover the only other occupant was Jonathan. Almost everyone had left or retired upstairs to rest and freshen up before midnight services. She had hoped to help in packing the boxes of left-over food for the needy.
The cold punch had been returned to the kitchen, but he sipped at tea kept hot over the chafing dish while he sampled the moist remains of a fruit cake. At Diana’s appearance, he gestured a greeting with his cup.
“I was hoping to speak with you, but you seem to be avoiding me. Have I given you cause for offense?”
Nervously, Diana glanced away. His eyes still had the ability to send her heart into a rapid flutter, although she had considered herself well past the stage of girlish palpitations. His presence made her more nervous than that of any man she knew, which was senseless. Four years could not have made that much difference in the person she had known all her life.
“I’ve been trying to help Mama. It’s been difficult for her. Forgive me if I have neglected you.”
Jonathan winced at this coldly formal speech. “It is I who have neglected you, Diana. I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier. My father and I are much alike in some ways, as you have already thrown in my face several times. The silence between us would never have been broken without your help.”
“I only did what I’ve been scolded for time enough again. It always surprises me when I’m not ordered up to my room directly anymore after one of my outbursts.” Diana managed a wry smile. Despite the fact that he seemed almost a stranger—an exciting stranger, she was forced to admit—this was Jonathan, and she had never kept anything from Jonathan.
“My father and I tend to keep our grievances to ourselves. You are like a burst of fresh air between us. Perhaps that is why I have always admired you.”
The tone of Jonathan’s voice made Diana look up quickly, and a touch of rose colored her cheeks as she discovered the warmth in his gaze. She had not remembered it being quite like this before. Just his look and the tone of his voice sent thrills through her center. She feared the moment he tried to touch her. He would know her heart then, and she would never be able to look him in the face again. If he did not want her for wife, they could still remain friends if she did not let him see how he affected her. She must remain steadfast in her resistance.
“I daresay that is why you and Charles are friends. He is as light-headed as I am. Feel free to invite us over whenever you and your father are at loggerheads. We’ll bring the twins and turn the house wrong side out. Elizabeth is the only sensible one among us.”
Jonathan could feel the distance she kept between them, and resignedly he said, “It is not likely that my father and I will be sharing the same household any time soon.” Changing the subject, he added, “I had supposed you would be married by now and helping your mother bring out Elizabeth. Is there a special suitor waiting for you when your mourning ends?”
Diana solemnly contemplated screaming at him, beating her fists against the starched linen of his broad chest until he awakened, but smiled coolly, instead.
“I’ve had suitors enough, thank you. As I’ve told you before, marriage never seemed worth the effort.”
She turned to walk away, but gritting his teeth, Jonathan halted her with his words. “None of them to your taste is that it, Janey? All too tame, perhaps?”
Diana swung back around and smiled sweetly. “You think I’ve had no offers? There was old man Thompson, I suppose. He was quite wealthy and stuck his spoon in the wall only a year after he married the sixteen-year-old who finally consented to be his bride. I could be a wealthy widow today. Or if you think it is lameness I dislike, I’ll have you know Lord Ashley asked for my hand just last spring. I suppose he thought my loose tongue covered a multitude of sins and we would suit.”
“Ashley?” Jonathan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “The man’s a rogue through and through. Whatever was your father thinking to entertain him?”
“Perhaps he was thinking I had enough sense to know a rake when I see one. Anyway, Ashley’s married now, too. I hear his new wife is already expecting an heir and is currently enjoying her freedom while he dallies with his latest courtesan. But forgive me, I should not mention such subjects.” Diana’s tone grew more acerbic as she spoke. “I should entertain you with my other prospects. One is quite the gentleman and my mother is holding out fond hopes we will make a match of it. He is unfailingly polite, unlike some men I know. He has a considerable fortune, I am told. He is well-favored and quite persistent in his attentions. I am sure any woman would be delighted to be the object of his affections.”
Jonathan tried desperately to fathom the meaning behind
her acid words. He knew Diana well enough to know she was angry, but he could not quite believe she was angry with him. There could only be one reason she could be angry at him, and after this listing of admirers, he could not imagine she was peeved with his lackluster courtship. She could scarcely have known he was gone.
“So what is the delay in announcing your nuptials? Surely you’ll not allow such a catch to escape?” His temper was more for himself than for her. It was his own fault that this had come to pass. He could not have expected it to be otherwise. Without any prospects, he could scarcely expect her to wait for him.
Diana couldn’t continue to take out her bitterness on Jonathan. He had come home from a long, painful war, weary at heart and soul, to be faced by a cold father and little future. It was Christmas, and she could afford to be generous with her love for just a little while, just not enough to let him suspect. She gave him a wry smile offering a truce.
“We have no interests in common. The only topic we have we can discuss together is the weather. Can you imagine saying ‘It is raining out today, dear,’ and having exhausted all conversation for the remainder of the day?’’
Jonathan choked back a laugh of relief. Wickedly, he inquired, “Surely it cannot be so bad as that? After you were married, he would have to bring up a new subject or two, I daresay. What would he say ...” he hesitated and modified his original thought somewhat, “if he wanted to kiss you?”
Diana understood that tell-tale hesitation. She had not followed at her brother’s heels and eavesdropped on his conversations without learning a few things, but Jonathan persisted in being a gentleman. She gave him the reply his question deserved.
“I should imagine he would say, ‘It’s Saturday night, dear. Shall we?” Then, not stopping to watch Jonathan’s reaction to that conceit, Diana marched off to prepare herself for church. If Jonathan remained here much longer, she would have need of a prayer or two.
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