The Mistletoe Seller

by Dilly Court

  Angel chuckled at the thought of women who were beefier and stronger than Lumpy Lil Heavitree. ‘I’d pitch Lil against them any day. But we’re almost home, so my news will have to wait until we’re tucked up in bed. You can share my room until we’ve got one ready for you. It will be like old times, swapping stories and talking half the night.’

  Hector returned later that day to find Angel in the parlour, swaddled in one of Lil’s large pinafores and a scarf tied around her head. She was balancing precariously on a chair as she attempted to brush cobwebs from the cornice.

  ‘I thought you were going to stay the night at Grantley, Hector.’

  ‘I’ve only come to collect a few things I’ll need to keep me going,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Are you all right up there, Angel? You look as if you’re about to topple over.’ He held up his hand. ‘Come down before you break your neck. Anyway, Lil should be doing that, not you.’

  Angel climbed down without needing his assistance, although the temptation to leap into his arms had almost got the better of her. The memory of their recent parting was still fresh in her mind, but such thoughts would only lead to heartbreak. Hector would need to think carefully before he chose a wife, and marriage to an heiress would secure Grantley’s future for ever. She brushed the dust from her skirts, avoiding his direct gaze. ‘I’ve sent her to market, and Dolly is helping Cook to prepare supper. Have you got to go right away? It’s a good seven miles to Grantley and you could set off first thing in the morning.’

  ‘I’m not leaving Grantley unoccupied any longer. I’ve hired a hack from the livery stables, so it won’t take too long.’

  ‘Did you get anywhere with the solicitor?’

  ‘Quelch said that as Galloway was acting against our interests the agreement he entered into isn’t binding, but it’s a pity that Uncle Dolph chose to borrow from a company whose only interest is to acquire land for building. They won’t give up easily.’

  ‘Sir Eugene’s solicitor said that part of Grantley is common land and has to be kept as such.’

  ‘That’s interesting, I’ll ask him about it when I visit Westwood. I must see my mother and sister, and I intend to put Rupert’s case to his father, all of which means that I have a lot to accomplish in as little time as possible.’

  ‘Does that mean you only have a short leave?’

  ‘I’ve resigned my commission, Angel. When Uncle Dolph was dying he begged me to leave the army and concentrate on Grantley. He said that he regretted his cavalier attitude to the estate and the people who depend upon it for their living, and he wanted me to make amends for his neglect.’

  ‘That’s a heavy responsibility to put on your shoulders, Hector. Are you sure it’s what you want?’

  He met her anxious gaze with a smile that melted her heart. ‘If you’d asked me that a few years ago I would have answered differently, but now it’s what I want most in the world. I’ve seen enough war and destruction to know that I wasn’t cut out to be in the military. Grantley and the land around it has come to mean more and more to me. I can’t imagine either of my brothers working to restore the estate to its glory days.’

  ‘That’s fine talk, but you will have to find the money first. Perhaps you should consider marrying an heiress?’

  ‘Who knows?’ He gave her a whimsical look. ‘Have you anyone in mind?’

  ‘I’m not a matchmaker. Perhaps you should consult your mother. I’m sure Aunt Eloise has a whole list of eligible young ladies lined up for you.’

  Hector laughed and brushed a cobweb off her forehead with the tip of his forefinger. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that? But maybe I have other plans.’

  The mere touch of his hand was enough to send her senses reeling, but she fought against the emotions that threatened to overcome her. Hector had been her childhood hero, but she was certain that his love for Grantley was deeper than he realised. If marrying a rich woman secured its future he would have little choice other than to follow the tradition that had kept the estate in the family for centuries.

  ‘You’d best go now,’ she said briskly. ‘You’ll want to get there before dark. The road through the marshes is treacherous at this time of year, as well you know.’

  His smile faded. ‘You’re right, of course. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Angel said faintly as the door closed behind him. The room seemed suddenly cold and empty without his presence and she shivered. She was sending him to war, but not the kind that would be lost or won on the battlefield. He had to fight to keep his birthright and he would have to stand up to his mother. Aunt Eloise was a determined woman, and Angel suspected that she had long ago chosen a suitable bride for her eldest son, and she would not be a penniless foundling, but that was not the full extent of her worries. Uncle Dolph had left her his London home, but without a steady income it would be impossible to maintain the establishment. Dolly had promised to pay for her keep, and Baines had his army pension, but that left Angel with Cook and Lil to provide for, and their wages to find. Angel’s initial euphoria was fading by the minute. She would have to find work, or Dolly’s fears might be realised – the shadow of the workhouse was still very real.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The old house in Naked Boy Court echoed with the sound of women’s voices as they worked from room to room, dusting, sweeping, scrubbing floors and polishing. The scent of beeswax, turpentine and lavender oil wafted around the house, together with the smell of lye soap that Lil concocted over a brazier in the back yard. Curtains were taken down, washed and hung out to dry, although some of them fell apart before they reached that stage, and others were so moth-eaten that they had to be torn up and used as rags. Windows were cleaned with vinegar and water, and the attics were raided for anything that could be taken to the second-hand furniture shop in Blue Boar Court. Dolly did her best to help, but she spent most of her waking hours at the hospital, returning home pale and exhausted after her efforts to keep Rupert from a pit of despondency.

  The days were growing shorter, and still there was no word from Hector. Then, on a bitterly cold November day, Rupert was discharged from hospital. He had been given strict instructions to rest and regain his strength. Baines carried him from the hackney carriage to the parlour where Angel had used some of their dwindling supply of coal to light the fire, and they made Rupert as comfortable as possible on the horsehair sofa. He was pale and exhausted after the bumpy journey from the hospital, and they left him to take a nap.

  ‘The doctors say he mustn’t overexert himself,’ Dolly whispered as she followed Angel to the kitchen. ‘But he needs fresh country air and good food. I’m not being ungrateful, Angel, but he ought to be at home where he can be properly looked after.’

  ‘I agree.’ Angel hesitated outside the kitchen door. ‘But don’t say anything to the others, it will only make them feel uncomfortable. They’ve worked so hard to get everything ready for his homecoming.’

  Dolly nodded tearfully. ‘I know, and I’m truly grateful, but Sir Eugene could see that Rupert gets the best doctors and medicines. Even if I have to remain here, I want Rupert to go home.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, Dolly. You’re his wife and the mother of his child. You are part of the Westwood family now.’

  ‘I don’t think Sir Eugene will agree, and as to Lady Westwood, you know what she’s like. She’ll never see me as anything other than a housemaid.’

  Angel could not argue with that, even though it hurt her to admit that Dolly was right. Eloise Westwood was a hard woman, and she had set ideas. ‘I can see that there’s something on your mind, Dolly. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘I’d like you to go to Westwood and have a word with Sir Eugene. Tell him how poorly Rupert is and ask him to help his son. Beg him on your knees, if that’s what it takes.’

  ‘All right, but please don’t upset yourself. Think of the baby and try not to worry.’

  Dolly’s eyes brightened. ‘You’ll do it? You’ll go today?’r />
  ‘I will. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my very best.’

  ‘You’re a true friend and I love you.’ Dolly was about to hug her but she clutched her belly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Angel asked anxiously, but Dolly’s face creased into a smile.

  ‘My son kicked me. He’s a proper little fighter, Angel. He’ll make his father proud.’

  ‘For both their sakes look after yourself. I’ll pack a bag, but the quickest way to get to Leyton is by train and I haven’t enough money for the ticket.’

  Dolly opened her reticule and took out a purse. ‘Rupert wanted you to have this. Use it as you think fit.’ She tipped some coins into Angel’s outstretched hand.

  ‘You’re not to worry. I’ll do my very best.’

  It was early afternoon when Angel alighted from the train at Lea Bridge Station. Low Leyton Marsh was white with frost and grey clouds threatened heavy rain or even snow; it was certainly cold enough. Angel wrapped her woollen muffler around her neck, picked up her bag and started walking along the road that led to Westwood Hall. A biting wind snatched spitefully at her bonnet and slapped her cheeks, bringing tears to her eyes, but she put her head down and continued on her way.

  As she neared Grantley the first flakes of snow began to float down from a pewter sky and she hesitated, wondering whether to call at the house first, in the hope of seeing Hector. He had been gone for a few days and she was becoming anxious. The ornate wrought-iron gates were padlocked, but the side entrance was unfastened and she let herself into the grounds. The green grass of the deer park was rapidly disappearing beneath the snow, which was settling fast, but the house appeared to be shuttered and there was no sign of life.

  She trudged up the carriage sweep and knocked on the door, but there was no answer and she retraced her steps, heading in the direction of the stable block. The familiar smells and sounds were a comfort and reassured her that at least one part of Grantley still existed. She could remember a time when the stalls had been filled with horses, and the family had employed grooms and stable boys as well as Russell and an under-coachman. The mews had always been a hive of activity, but now it was eerily silent, apart from the odd snicker from one of the two remaining horses. Then, as she came to a halt, she thought she could hear someone moving about in the coach house.

  ‘Is anyone there?’ Her voice echoed eerily around the stable yard, and a head popped out of one of the stalls. She recognised Parry, a boy from the village who was training to be a groom.

  ‘Is that you, Miss Angel?’ He squinted against the driving snow.

  ‘Yes, Parry. I’m looking for Captain Hector. Have you seen him recently?’

  ‘No, miss. He came here a while ago, but he didn’t stay long.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the coach house. ‘Mr Russell is at home, miss. He might know more.’

  ‘Thank you, Parry.’ Angel headed for the back of the building and the cottage where she hoped to find Russell.

  Mrs Russell opened the door and her mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘Oh, Miss Angel, what are you doing out and about in this weather? Come in, my dear.’

  Prissy Russell had been one of Angel’s favourites when she was growing up at Grantley. In the early days, when she had felt lost and lonely, especially when Susannah had been spiteful, Angel had made for the stables and Prissy had often taken her in and allowed her to help knead the dough when she was baking, or peel the carrots and potatoes when she was making a stew. Childless herself, Prissy Russell loved children, and Angel had always been sure of a welcome. A second cousin to Miss Creedy from the post office, Prissy was her complete opposite. She could not play the organ, but she had a rich contralto voice and when she sang the whole congregation hushed and listened in rapt silence. She often sang while she worked and had encouraged Angel to join in the chorus of popular songs, urging her to hum the tune, even if she did not know the words.

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ Angel said as she stepped over the threshold into the main living room and kitchen. ‘I’m on my way to Westwood Hall, but I wanted to see Captain Hector. I thought he had returned to Grantley.’

  ‘Sit by the fire for a while, and dry your clothes. You’re blue with cold, my dear.’

  Angel took off her gloves and her muffler and hung them over the brass rail on the range. ‘Captain Hector? Have you seen him recently?’

  ‘He was here yesterday, but then he left. We don’t know what’s happening or if we’ll be able to stay here. It’s very worrying and my poor husband hardly gets a wink of sleep. He tosses and turns and then he gets up and walks round the room, keeping me awake, too. Do you know anything, Miss Angel?’

  ‘I wish I did, Mrs Russell.’ Angel rose from the chair; if she stayed a moment longer she would not want to go outside and face the long walk in the snow. ‘I’m going to Westwood Hall now, and if I find out anything that will give you comfort I’ll be sure to let you know.’

  ‘Won’t you stay for a cup of tea and a bite of my seed cake? You need something inside you before you brave the weather.’

  ‘I would love to, but I must get there before dark.’

  Prissy picked up the teapot. ‘Russell will take you in the chaise. That’s his job, miss. You must allow him to do it.’

  Angel sat down again. She knew when she was beaten and she loved Prissy’s seed cake.

  Angel alighted from the chaise. ‘Thank you, Russell. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find out what’s happening to Grantley.’

  He tipped his hat. ‘Thank you, Miss Angel. I’m very anxious, as you might understand. We’ll be homeless if the party buying the estate turns us out on the street.’

  ‘I’ll do my very best to prevent that happening.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you here, miss.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that, Russell. I might be a long time, depending on what Sir Eugene has to say and if Captain Hector is here.’

  ‘Send word if you’re invited to stay, miss. I’ll wait just in case you want to return to Grantley.’

  Angel turned and saw the footman silhouetted in the doorway and she hurried up the steps. If James was surprised to see her, he was too well trained to make any comment.

  ‘I must see Sir Eugene immediately and in private,’ Angel said firmly.

  ‘I believe he’s in the library, Miss Winter. Lady Westwood is in the drawing room with Miss Susannah.’

  ‘Thank you, but I wish to speak to Sir Eugene.’

  James snapped his fingers and a maid hurried over to take Angel’s damp mantle and bonnet. ‘Please wait here, Miss Winter.’ He strolled off at a leisurely pace, and returned minutes later with an equally irritating lack of urgency.

  ‘Follow me, please.’

  Angel could not wait a moment longer to put Rupert and Dolly’s case to Sir Eugene, and she followed close on his heels as he led her to the study.

  Sir Eugene was seated by a log fire, reading a book, which he closed with a snap and set down on the low table in front of him. His smile seemed genuine and he motioned Angel to take a seat. ‘It’s good to see you again, my dear. James said you wanted to see me urgently. Is something wrong?’

  Angel sat down, clasping her hands in her lap in an attempt to appear calm and collected, although inwardly she was quaking. So much depended on the outcome of this interview. ‘You’ve heard that Rupert was badly injured?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m saddened to hear it.’

  ‘He was discharged from hospital this morning, and he is now at Naked Boy Court, but he needs proper care and medical attention, which we cannot give him.’ There was no point beating about the bush. She had to make him understand.

  ‘By we I assume you mean yourself and the servant girl he married against my wishes.’

  ‘Dolly is no longer a servant, sir. She’s a loving wife and soon to be a mother.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Rupert doesn’t know that I’ve come here to plead their case, Sir Eugene. But the doctors say he’s unlikely
to walk again. He needs his family around him at a time like this.’

  Sir Eugene rose to his feet and walked over to the window, standing with his back to Angel. ‘And you braved the snow to come and tell me this?’

  ‘I did what any friend would do in the circumstances.’

  ‘When is the infant due?’

  A glimmer of hope gave Angel the courage to go on. ‘In March or early April. Dolly is well, but tired after the long sea voyage and she’s spent every day at Rupert’s bedside. I think he might have given up had she not been so devoted.’

  He turned to face her, his expression grave. ‘Even if I were to accept the girl into my home I know that my wife would never acknowledge her, and I fear that Susannah would follow suit.’

  ‘Blanche might feel differently.’

  ‘I have hopes for my daughter. According to Eloise there is a strong chance that Blanche will become mistress of Grantley before long.’

  Angel stared at him, too stunned to speak.

  ‘You may look surprised,’ Sir Eugene said casually. ‘But I have to think of my daughter’s future and it’s a match that I would encourage wholeheartedly.’

  ‘Hector and Blanche?’ Angel’s mouth was dry and the words stuck in her throat.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Their union would please me greatly.’

  ‘But I had the impression that Blanche and Percy had an understanding.’

  ‘I think I nipped that romance in the bud. With due respect, Angel, your brother is a fine man, but Grantley land abuts mine and I would like to see our two estates united by marriage.’

  Angel bit back a sharp retort. The idea was old-fashioned and outlandish. ‘Is Hector here now?’ she asked, forcing herself to remain calm.

  ‘He had only just arrived at Grantley when he received a telegram ordering him to return to his regiment.’

  ‘But he told me that he’d resigned his commission.’