by Jenna Jaxon
“We needn’t settle every detail this instant.” Elizabeth rose, hoping to spread a soothing oil on the roiling waters. “But we will need to discuss plans for the wedding over dinner. And since Jem—Lord Brack—has had a rather tiring two days, I suggest he be allowed to refresh himself before dinner.” She smiled at Jemmy. “Let me show you to your chamber. The Alexander Room, Mama?” Decorated with pictures of Alexander the Great and many military hangings and artifacts, it was the most important guest room in the house.
“Yes. I think that will serve well for Lord Brack.”
Jemmy bowed. “Thank you, my lady. My lord.”
“Tell Porter to see to him,” her mother called as they left the room.
* * *
“Well, that went much better than I had anticipated.” Jemmy laughed as they headed down the carpeted corridor and turned to the right.
“Indeed, it did, considering that two hours ago Mama wanted to give you the cut direct. Now she’s got you in the best guest room and is practically forcing us to live with her.” Elizabeth sighed. “That may be a mixed blessing. Dickon and I lived with my parents for a short time after we married. It was difficult to be . . . intimate while under my parents’ watchful eye.”
“Considering the alternative, I believe we will learn to live with the arrangement, my love.” He took her hand and kissed it.
“What was the alternative solution you spoke of just now? Is that something we should still pursue?”
He chuckled and tucked her arm back into his. “A bluff, pure and simple. I had no plan in mind other than the one to ask my grandfather for assistance. But I have found that if you claim to have one, people take you more seriously.”
“Jemmy.” She smacked his arm, eliciting a yelp from him. “No wonder your ears turned pink.”
“You have found out my best secret.” His eyes were merry, despite their tired appearance. “Whenever I tell a falsehood, my ears turn the color of one of the roses at Blackham.”
“I hope I shall have little occasion to see that display, my dear.” Elizabeth laughed as she stopped at his chamber door. “I’ll tell Porter, my father’s valet, to come see to you.”
“Lord, I shall have to track down Fellowes and send him to Lyttlefield Park to fetch the rest of my things. Thank goodness I didn’t take everything to Blackham or I’d never get them back.” He drew her to him, and she reveled in his nearness. Had he not appeared when he did, she’d now be Lady Robert Naylor. A shudder wracked her.
“Are you all right?” He cupped her face and her fears fled.
“Now I am.” She grasped his face and melded their lips together, sinking into him once more, like coming home. When she finally broke the kiss, his eyes were dark, eager to continue. “I’m afraid we shall have to wait until after the wedding for anything more, my love,” she said with a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, this house has no secret passages.”
Chapter 28
Next morning, Christmas Eve dawned chilly and overcast, with a promise of snow in the damp air. Given her current circumstances, with Jemmy under the same roof and her marriage to him imminent, Elizabeth gazed out the window at a beautiful world. She finished brushing her hair, smiling to herself, and turned for Weller to pin it up in a simple style for the day.
It promised to be a busy day. She must get Jemmy to take her shopping, for with all the distractions recently, she had no Christmas gifts for the children or her family. The prospect of doing something so domestic with him filled her with an inner happiness that she’d sorely lacked in the past week.
Her toilette complete, she headed down to breakfast, hoping Jemmy might be there by now. Her heart lifted as she heard his rich baritone voice in the breakfast room as she approached.
“So I was dangling from a rope of twisted sheets—”
“You never did, Lord Brack. Weren’t you terribly frightened? Didn’t you think you’d be killed?” Dotty held Jemmy captive, apparently, as he told her about his recent adventures.
“I was more afraid I wouldn’t be in time to keep your sister from marrying another man.” Jemmy looked up as she entered, his face brightening as if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud. He bolted to his feet and hurried over to her. “How are you, my love? Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I have since I left you at Lyttlefield.” That was certainly true. She’d retired shortly after dinner and slept like the dead, awakening refreshed this morning.
“Then I declare we must never part, for you must always enjoy a full complement of rest.” He escorted her to the place next to his. “I’ll be most happy to assist you with that, my love.”
Elizabeth cast her gaze down at her lap and slipped a napkin onto it. Her body tingled with the thought of his next to hers again in her bed. Soon. Very soon.
“Why are you turning red, Elizabeth? Is it too hot for you in here?” Dotty peered at her with concern.
“No, dear, I’m fine. Perhaps I came downstairs too quickly.” Lord, she hadn’t had these kinds of problems when she and Dickon had lived here. Of course, her younger sisters had been in the schoolroom then, not often seen at all. She would have to learn to control her face better.
“What may I get for you this morning, my dear?” Jemmy hovered over her, a smile playing over his lips.
“Just tea and toast this early, thank you.”
“Nonsense, Elizabeth. You must keep up your strength.” He strode away to the sideboard.
She sighed and motioned to a footman. “A pot of tea, George, please.”
“Is he always so forceful?” Dotty whispered to her behind her napkin.
“Sometimes.” Elizabeth shot a glance at her betrothed busily piling a plate high. “It depends. Good Lord, Jemmy, I couldn’t eat all of that if I tried.”
He set the plate, brimming over with poached eggs, ham, beans, muffins, and a smattering of potatoes, in front of her.
“And where is the toast?”
“No room for it.” He grinned. “Finish that lot, and I’ll go back for more.” He seated himself between her and her sister and dug into his own half-finished plate, as full as her own.
“If I finish all this, I won’t be able to move for three days.” Elizabeth contemplated the food items with distaste. She could rarely stomach more than toast when she was first pregnant before. This time the nausea had been less distressing, but if she ate more than the salty ham, she’d be fleeing the room in search of a chamber pot. “I’ll make a bargain with you,” she began, cutting a small piece of the ham. “I will eat this piece of ham and then you will go shopping with me. Won’t that be a more pleasant way to spend the day than hearing me groan in misery?”
“Come again, love?” He cocked his head, making him look like a puzzled beagle.
“We can have luncheon out, and I will be happy to eat more after noon. Before will make me ill, Jemmy. Trust me on this.” The ham, with its salty taste and chewy texture, was good, though she’d have preferred her toast instead. “I thought we would start out at the Pantheon Bazaar, since we have but little time, and if I cannot find everything there, then we can try Howell’s. I have a list upstairs.”
“How terribly efficient you are.” He grinned approvingly at her.
“She’s like that all the time, Lord Brack. You just see if she isn’t.” Dotty finished her tea and rose. “I shall leave you to your shopping. Good morning.” She drifted out of the room, leaving them quite alone.
“Before we leave I must send ’round to Fellowes’s old rooms to see if he has come up from Surrey or is still there waiting for me.” Jemmy continued to chisel industriously at the mound of food on his plate.
True to her word, Elizabeth finished the ham, taking small bites and drinking plenty of tea to soothe her stomach. “I hope you find him, soon, my love. I know you will get tired of this same suit day in and day out.”
“Porter did a splendid job of refreshing it overnight, but I sent to Lyttlefield Park by the morning post to have my things brough
t here, though I expect they cannot arrive before the day after Christmas. Everything stops for Christmas Day. Which reminds me.” He set his knife and fork down. “I must go to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office this morning to procure a special license. We can’t be married until the twenty-sixth, most likely, but we shall have everything in place to go as soon as we can.”
“Apparently not before the twenty-seventh to procure a license or be married either, Brack.” Papa strode in briskly, heading straight for the sideboard.
“Good morning, Papa.”
“Good morning, my lord.” Jemmy looked up at her father. “Have you tried the Archbishop’s office already?”
“First thing this morning. Thought I’d steal a march on you, surprise you with it. Dashed awkward too, as I’d just gotten one three days ago for Elizabeth and Lord Robert. But the offices are closed, not to reopen until the twenty-seventh. Depending on the whim of the Archbishop, you may not be able to wed until then—or the twenty-eighth, if he decides to make very merry for the holiday.” He raised his eyebrows at them. “Why such glum faces? You shall have the license in three days and wed shortly thereafter. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, Lord Wentworth, although I’d like to have Elizabeth secure as my wife as quickly as possible.” He patted her hand, sending a warm glow up her arm.
Of course, there were other reasons to wish they were married. Her lonely bed last night had made her yearn for a secret passageway more fervently. But they would be together eventually; that was all that mattered.
“Well, there’s nothing for it. Can’t use the license I already have, so we will all have to find a way to pass the time.” Her father sat down opposite them and began eating with the same fervor Jemmy had shown.
“We thought we would go shopping this morning, Papa. May we have the carriage? I must buy some presents for Christmas.” Hopefully, their excursion would keep their minds off their troubles.
“Good plan.” Her father popped a boiled quail egg into his mouth. “Best for you to be seen about together. Then the ton won’t be shocked when they find you have married without an announcement. The more groundwork now, the less footwork later.”
“That seems settled.” Jemmy swallowed the remainder of his coffee and set the cup down. “Shall I meet you in half an hour?”
“I will be ready.” The prospect of a wonderful day with Jemmy all to herself brightened Elizabeth’s spirits immeasurably. This Christmas holiday might prove to be her best one in years.
* * *
When Elizabeth entered the Pantheon Bazaar, she stopped dead and simply stared, drinking in the sights and sounds of London at Christmastime. The Bazaar bustled with last-minute shoppers wandering in and around its lavish stalls decorated with sparkly tinsel and bright red and white ribbons wound around fresh greenery. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come here. Last year, she’d been in deep mourning and hadn’t had the heart to go shopping at all. Now the festive air of the place, coupled with Jemmy’s solid presence beside her, made her all bubbly inside. The brightly lit stalls carried everything from expensive jewelry to books, to sweetmeats, to tea, to children’s toys and more. Ropings of cedar, bayberry, and pine gave the airy venues a crisp, outdoor scent, in keeping with the holiday. The throngs of people, chattering, laughing, and calling words of holiday cheer to one another gave Elizabeth the feeling she’d rejoined the human race at last.
“Where does your list say you need to start, my love?” Jemmy surveyed the mass of people and grinned, looking too charming for his own good. “I await with baited breath to see your plan in action.”
“You may laugh now, Jemmy, but you will bless me and my efficient list, for it portends an equally efficiently managed home.” Her exuberance faltered. “When we have one.”
“Now, now.” He took her arm and started them into the crowd. “No melancholy today. As an ambassador from Father Christmas”—he deepened his voice, and she laughed in spite of herself—“I forbid it at this merriest time of year. Here,” he continued in his own voice, pulling her toward a stall that sold candied fruit and nuts. “Let me buy sweets for my sweetheart.”
“Jemmy.” She couldn’t help but smile at his high spirits. So like a puppy, bouncing with excitement at every turn.
He handed her a cone of candied cherries, figs, and chestnuts, then grabbed one and popped it into her mouth before she could protest.
As she bit down, the candy exploded in a burst of sugary goodness, mingling with the tart meat of the cherry itself. She savored it but handed the cone back to him. “You may keep charge of this, please. I told you, no more food until this afternoon.”
“Whatever you wish, my dear.” Grabbing the paper cone, he fished out a sweet and tossed it up in the air, catching it in his mouth, grinning at her all the while.
“We must get down to serious shopping, Jemmy, or I shall have nothing to give to anyone. Here, we must stop here for Bella and Dotty.” Halting before a stall that sold silk shawls, gloves, and other ladies’ accessories, Elizabeth happily searched for presents for her sisters. She’d already decided what she wanted; she simply had to find the perfect items. With several judicious comments from Jemmy, she found them with more ease than usual. The happy stall keeper obligingly wrapped up her purchases: a silk paisley shawl of pale green and gold and a pair of white gloves, embroidered with flowers and vines in white.
“Dotty will love the colors of this shawl, and it will go with her best ball gown and several of her dresses for her Season. The gloves are for Bella, who can wear them as her ‘something new’ at her wedding.”
“What will you have for your ‘something new’ in three days’ time?” Jemmy handed the parcels to the footman, George, who followed them for that express purpose.
“I hadn’t even though of that.” Elizabeth laughed. What indeed would she wear for her “something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue”? She’d not bothered with the fun superstition when she believed herself marrying Lord Robert, though she’d have needed all the luck she could have gotten then. “I suppose I shall wear my blue silk gown I had made for Charlotte’s wedding. That will take care of ‘blue.’ Mama’s lace handkerchief, made from Great-Grandmama’s wedding gown, will be something ‘old.’”
They walked through the jostling multitude of shoppers toward a bookseller’s stall Elizabeth remembered. Papa would enjoy a new volume of Sir Walter Scott to read.
“I can borrow Bella’s pearl necklace. Now I’ll just need something new myself.”
They arrived at the bookseller’s, and she began to avidly search the many volumes. “Do you know of any new works by Sir Walter Scott?” she asked Jemmy. “Papa was quite entertained by Guy Mannering last year.” She hailed the stall keeper. “I wondered, has Sir Walter Scott brought out a new volume this year?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The older man with gray and white hair reached behind him to retrieve a two-book set. “This is the latest by Sir Walter—his new series Tales of My Landlord; this is the very first subset of that series. Both bound in lovely calfskin.” He handed the set over to her.
Before the books touched her hands, Jemmy had swooped in and grabbed them “I’ll take those, my dear. Too heavy for you to lift both at once.” He handed her a single volume.
The maroon leather tooling was exquisite, embossed with gold and black. So soft in her hand. She rubbed the spine lovingly.
“What do you think, my dear? Will your father enjoy these?”
“I believe he will.” She smiled at Jemmy. How pleased Papa would be with these volumes. “He will sit right down and begin the first one after dinner tomorrow if we give him leave.” They had all teased Papa dreadfully about reading novels, but it didn’t deter him one bit. “I will take them both.”
Another parcel wrapped and handed over to George.
“You are an efficient manager.” Jemmy took her arm and patted it. “I will relish turning my household over to you.”
&n
bsp; The praise warmed her heart. She had been a good manager of Dickon’s small household, and she missed running it. Always she had loved making sure the accounts balanced at the end of the month, refurbishing items when necessary. Not that there’d been much of that. They hadn’t been together long enough to wear out carpets or draperies. She squeezed Jemmy’s arm, drawing a grin from him. Pray God, they would be married long enough to wear out many sets of household furnishings.
“Where to next?”
“The toy stall is just around this corner unless they have moved. No, here they are. Oh, Jemmy, look at the wooden horse!”
It stood at least a foot and a half high, a slender maple-colored leather horse with wheels and a seat that doubled as a handle. It was elaborately carved to make the mane and face look as real as possible. Colin would love this. He rode his rocking horse all the time in the nursery. She ran a hand over the polished body.
“I don’t even have to guess who this is for.” Jemmy chuckled.
“Am I being too extravagant?” Biting her lip, she debated the merits of the purchase. She had been more indulgent of the children after their father had died. Did this go a bit too far?
“Extravagant?” Jemmy scoffed. “Wait until our child is born. You will declare a new meaning for the word once I begin to acquire things for him. Or her,” he hastened to add.
Elizabeth sent up a fervent prayer that this child would be a boy. All men needed to secure the succession, and it would make her feel proud to accomplish her duty so efficiently.
Not stopping to count the cost, Elizabeth paid for the horse, and George left to cart it to the carriage. His shocked face proclaimed he hadn’t a clue where it was going to go.
“Now we must find something just as fine for your daughter. Young ladies should be spoiled just a trifle more than boys. They are the most special, after all.” Jemmy started off to explore the tables and displays of children’s toys.
