A Hero for Christmas

by Jo Ann Brown

  It was so easy to imagine exactly how it should be and then draw it.

  It is simple if you break any task into small pieces and focus on one facet at a time. Jonathan’s voice whispered in her mind, and she smiled. How kind he had been when he had helped her with the muddle she had made of the accounts!

  She wished she could return the favor and help him with whatever made his expression grow grim. If only she knew what bothered him. At first she had thought he was embarrassed when someone lauded him as a hero. Cousin Edmund believed that, too. But she had seen signs that the root of his sadness was because of something else. The few times they had spoken of his family, his smile had wavered. In addition, any mention of her going to London bothered him.

  Maybe she should be honest with him about her plans for London. She looked down at her sketchbook. Slowly she closed it, spreading her fingers across the leather binding. To open the book to him could unleash too much of the truth. He already knew she was hapless when it came to managing the wedding breakfast, and she had heard how fervently he prayed. There was no doubt in his voice that he would be heard, and his prayers answered. If he knew of her distance from God, would he be distressed that she had pretended nothing was amiss?

  Cat avoided the unanswerable when Sophia opened her door and peeked around it. “Ah, here you are!”

  “Come in.” Cat opened the top drawer of her dressing table and slid the sketchbook inside. She wanted Sophia to be surprised by the decorations.

  “No.” Sophia hooked a finger toward her. “You come out. The pond has frozen, and we’re going skating.”

  “The pond has frozen already?” Her eyes widened. “It never freezes before January.”

  Sophia gave an emoted shiver. “Haven’t you noticed how cold it is? We barely had a summer.”

  “I guess I have become accustomed to the chill.”

  “I wish I could.” She shivered again, this time for real. “Do you want to come?”

  Cat nodded. She loved ice skating. Gliding along the ice while the cold air nipped at her cheeks was great fun. After they would return to the house and enjoy a hot drink and laugh about the spills they had taken.

  As Cat dressed in her warmest clothes, Sophia listed who was joining them at the pond that was set on a cliff south of the house. Cousin Edmund and Jonathan had returned from wherever they had gone earlier, so they were coming along with Lillian. Vera and her brother, the vicar, had been invited, too. Several of the footmen and a pair of maids had volunteered to come as well, ostensibly to be there to help, but Cat knew they loved the chance to skate. The collection of skates kept in the stables would be waiting at the pond.

  Soon Cat was walking with Sophia and the servants through the wood. The trees gave way to the windswept top of the cliff where the spring-fed pond had become a grayish-white. When she saw Jonathan sitting on a log as he lashed on a pair of skates, something quivered in her center. He had both her cousin and Lillian and the nearby servants laughing at some joke he had made.

  But she could see past the jesting man who always had a witty word. She saw his gentle heart. Why did he always try to make people laugh? Did he fear others would see beyond his affability and discover his pain?

  Tears began to flood her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could fall and freeze on her cheeks. Making sure she wore a cheerful smile, she greeted the others and took the skates Cousin Edmund held out to her. She lashed the leather straps around her ankles and listened to the lighthearted conversation.

  Cousin Edmund sneezed, then grinned as they all said, “God bless you,” at the same time.

  “I hope we don’t suffer from Christmas compliments this year,” he said.

  “What?” asked Cat.

  “A head cold, as they say in London.”

  “The ton has a language of its own. I doubt I will be able to understand half of what is said once I get to Town.”

  “Which may not be a bad thing,” Jonathan muttered. His face was tight, as it was when anyone mentioned London or the Season or the Beau Monde. What troubled him about those?

  Sophia stood and stepped onto the ice. “Last one across the ice is a doleful donkey.” She laughed as she skated away.

  Cat followed. When she heard a thump, she looked back to see Jonathan sitting on the ice. She skated to him.

  “Hurry!” she said. “You don’t want to be a doleful donkey, do you?”

  “I am afraid I must be.” He did not move.

  “Let me help you.” She held out her hands.

  “Go ahead with the others. I will catch up.”

  “Nonsense!” She grasped his hands and brought him to his feet. “The only way you are going to catch up with us is to let me help you.”

  He chuckled. “You hold me in low esteem, I see.”

  “Only your skating ability. Otherwise I hold you in the highest esteem.” Her eyes widened as she realized she had spoken boldly.

  Her sister skated to them. “Don’t go to the far side of the pond. The ice isn’t stable there.”

  “I doubt,” Jonathan said, “I will make it that far.”

  Cat took his hands in hers. Slowly skating backward, she towed him. “Move your feet. No! Don’t pick them up. Just let them slide. Good. Good.”

  He stared at his feet as he inched forward. His mouth was set in a determined line. He clearly intended to master the skill.

  “Look up,” she urged. “It is easier when you keep yourself in a straight line.”

  “Easier for you maybe.”

  “Trust me, Jonathan.”

  He raised his head so their eyes were level. As they slid along on their own momentum, he said, “You know I would like nothing more than that.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Was he about to tell her, on the frozen pond, what had hurt him so that the shadows of pain never left him? That thought sent a frisson of fright through her. If he were to be so open, could she be, too?

  His arms windmilled, and she realized she had released his hands. She must have pulled back without realizing it. Reaching for his fingers again, she missed as he dropped to the ice.

  “I am sorry,” Cat said.

  “Don’t apologize. I should be able to stand on my own two feet.” As Jonathan pushed himself up again, he said, “I don’t know why I thought I would be less clumsy on ice than I am on solid ground.”

  “You are not clumsy.”

  He smiled grimly. “It is kind of you to say that, Cat, but the truth is that I spent half of my time on the Continent tripping over my own feet.”

  “Because you were hurrying here and there. You haven’t been clumsy at Meriweather Hall.”

  “As far as you know.”

  His tone was so dreary, she had to laugh. “Skating is like dancing. Move your feet and the rest of you will come along.”

  “I am a very unskilled dancer.”

  “All you need is an excellent partner.”

  His voice dropped to a caressing whisper. “Is that you, Cat? Will you stand up with me for the first set at the Christmas Eve ball?”

  Her heart thudded with joy. “Yes!”

  “Good. I—”

  Whatever else he might have added went unsaid when Sophia skated to them. She smiled as she circled to a stop. “You are doing well, Mr. Bradby.”

  “You are too kind. Way too kind.” He laughed, once again the jolly man who acted as if he did not have any cares. Cat was astounded by the transformation, though she had seen it many times.

  He inched away on his skates. His arms were out at his sides as if he walked on a tightrope, but he stayed on his feet. When he looked over his shoulder and called out that Cat was a good teacher, his feet slid out from beneath him, and he hit the ice with a crash. He waved help away and struggled to his feet.r />
  Sophia grabbed Cat’s hand, and they skated around the center of the pond. Lillian waved from where she sat on a log. A thick blanket covered her knees.

  “I wish she would join us,” Sophia said. “I tried to persuade her.”

  Cat matched her sister’s pace. “Maybe you should not have been the one to try to persuade her.” She looked across the ice to where Cousin Edmund was waiting for Mr. Fenwick to put on his skates. Beside him, Vera smiled at something their cousin had said. Cat was amazed, because she had not even noticed their arrival while she helped Jonathan.

  “Cousin Edmund asked Miss Kightly to skate, but she suggested it would be better if he sat with her on the log.”

  “She acts smitten with him, taking any opportunity to sit beside him or talk to him.” Cat waited until they had skated past their cousin and the Fenwicks before she added, “I hope it is not only because she wants to make Sir Nigel happy. Cousin Edmund deserves better than that.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. Cousin Edmund is being a good host. Nothing more. If she has a calf-love for him, she must wait for him to take notice of her as more than a neighbor’s great-niece.”

  “And if Sir Nigel truly wanted to smooth the road to true love, he could be more forthcoming with help to halt the smugglers.”

  Sophia’s laugh rang across the pond. “Oh, Cat! You have the most wonderful way of getting to the heart of the matter.”

  A sudden spate of loud barking announced Jobby’s appearance. He loped out of the woods, but he was not alone. Three forms emerged from the trees, two short and one much taller.

  “Charles!” Sophia scrambled across the ice and almost tumbled.

  Her fiancé rushed forward to catch her before she could collapse. Twirling her about as he kept his balance effortlessly, he kissed her, as if they were the only two people on the pond.

  Cat looked away, startled by her response to their kiss. She had seen them in each other’s arms before, but never had she felt the prickle of envy as she did now. She yearned to be part of something as wonderful as her sister had found. She had thought she had that with Roland, but she had been wrong. He had been so determined to do his duty and prove he was worthy of her that he never seemed to notice that she believed he already was, and he did not need to demonstrate that to her. He had helped her believe in herself and her art. She could not imagine anything else he could have done that would please her more, but that was not enough for him. He had been absolutely certain that her father would not approve of their match unless Roland was acclaimed for his role in the war. Had Roland taken foolish risks simply to assure her father’s respect? Risks that led to his death? If so, it had been unnecessary, because the previous Lord Meriweather had spoken highly of Roland even before he had enlisted.

  If only Roland had heeded her when she had told him that.... He had not, and all she had left was her grief at the waste of his life and the love they could have shared.

  She glanced at Jonathan. He was inching toward them, his arms flung out to help him keep his balance. At least he had nothing to prove. Everyone already knew of his heroics. She was glad he would not throw his life away needlessly as Roland might have. To lose someone else she cared about... She could not bear the thought.

  Small arms were flung around her knees, almost knocking her off her feet. She reached down and picked up Michael. The three-year-old gave a squeal as she spun around with him in her arms.

  “Teach me,” he said as she placed him on the bank again. “I want to do that.”

  Charles ruffled his son’s hair. “As it happens, I brought a pair of skates just your size.” He smiled. “And a pair for you, too, Gemma. They’re in the carriage’s boot.”

  The little boy and his seven-year-old sister gave an excited shout and ran ahead of their father to Meriweather Hall. Sophia waited until they returned and Charles had tied on his skates, then both of them helped the children. With Charles holding Gemma’s hand and Sophia gripping Michael’s, the four of them began skating slowly.

  “They look like a family,” said Cousin Edmund.

  Was that envy she heard in her cousin’s voice? If so, she understood the feeling all too well.

  “That is,” Jonathan said as he tottered closer to them, “because they are. Even before Northbridge had the good sense to ask your cousin to marry him, they were becoming a family.”

  * * *

  Jonathan stood to the side as Mr. Fenwick and Miss Fenwick stepped onto the ice. For a moment he considered asking the vicar if he could have a few minutes alone with him. Mr. Fenwick might have some advice for him on how to deal with the burden of his lies, a way that would guarantee that he did not lose his friends.

  But now was not the time. Not when everyone was on the ice, laughing and enjoying the day. Everyone but Miss Kightly who seemed content to sit on the log and drink hot tea provided by one of the footmen.

  He watched the others skate, but his gaze focused on Cat. Her innate grace served her well on the ice, and her face was appealing pink with the cold. She laughed, the sound as sparkling as the chilly air. He thought of how happy she had looked when he had asked her if he could be her partner for the first dance at the ball. His sister’s friend Augusta had been as open with her emotions in the weeks before she had left for London and then changed into a haughty predator eager to win the attentions of the highest ranking man in any room.

  He did not want that to happen to Cat, but he could not imagine any way to halt her from going to Town. She spoke of her visit eagerly, and he found it impossible to forget her dismissive tone when she talked about not needing much of a country-made wardrobe for the Season.

  Sitting on the edge of the bank, he took off his skates. He suddenly did not feel like making more of a fool of himself.

  A child’s scream sliced through the air. He looked up to see Gemma at the far end of the pond where Miss Meriweather had said the ice was too thin. Jumping to his feet, he ran around the pond at top speed. He saw Northbridge and Meriweather turning toward the little girl, too, but Jonathan jumped down on the ice and went skidding in her direction.

  Beneath him the ice cracked. He threw himself forward, spread-eagle on the ice, to distribute his weight. His momentum carried him toward the little girl.

  “Grab my hand,” he said, stretching his arm as far as he could.

  “Why?” she asked, puzzled.

  The ice broke beneath him, and cold water rushed up around him as he hit something hard. In astonishment, he realized he was lying in the mud on the bottom of the pond. The water was less than an inch deep.

  He pushed himself up. More ice broke, but it did not matter. The water was shallow.

  Behind him, he heard a laugh. He looked back as he pushed himself to his feet. Meriweather was laughing so hard that he had to lean forward and put his hands on his thighs. His whole body shook. Beside him, Northbridge grinned as he reached past Jonathan and set Gemma on the shore.

  “Sophia warned you not to come over here, Gemma,” Northbridge said with a stern tone that was lessened by his grin. “Go back with Sophia and your brother. Don’t come over here again.”

  “Or else,” Meriweather said with a smothered chuckle, “Bradby will try to rescue you again.” He laughed so hard he had to sit in the snow on the shore.

  “Bradby to the rescue,” Northbridge said, clapping him on the shoulder. “No one can accuse you of not being willing to risk life and limb at any time.”

  Jonathan wiped at the mud freezing to his clothes. Stepping out of the pond, he tried to suppress the rage boiling up within him. Not at his friends. They had every reason to tease him. He had acted like a nick-ninny, rushing to save the little girl without checking to determine the circumstances first. Thunder! He was a trained solicitor and a trained soldier. Both should have taught him to look before he leaped. Instead he had heeded his craving to
prove he truly was a hero.

  He mumbled something about going to the house and changing out of his filthy clothes. He doubted his friends heard, because they were laughing too hard. As he strode around the pond, Cat called his name. He did not stop. He could not face her after his stupidity.

  Jobby bounded up to him, but ran to the others when Jonathan ignored him and kept on a straight course for the wood. A hand seized his filthy sleeve as he stepped between the first trees. The tingle that raced up his arm told him, without looking, that Cat stood beside him.

  “Jonathan, wait a minute,” she said.

  He kept walking.

  “Talk to me!” she cried.

  “And say what?” He did not slow. “That I have made myself a laughingstock for trying to save a child who didn’t need saving.”

  “If she had, you would have been there.”

  “But she didn’t need saving. Isn’t that the point? Or do you think I acted like a Tom-fool simply for everyone’s entertainment?”

  She pushed her way in front of him, forcing him to stop before he plowed her down. The quick comment he had been about to speak died on his lips when he lost himself in her dark brown eyes. No hint of amusement glistened in them. Instead they were bright with unshed tears.

  Thunder! Not only had he made a fool of himself, but he had ruined her outing. The thought thrust a sharp pain into his heart.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I am being silly, as usual.”

  “You are not usually silly. Funny at times, but I don’t think I have ever seen you do something truly silly.”

  His fingers wanted to cup her cheek, but his gloves were caked with mud. If he kissed her... That would be truly foolish, because then her clothes would be dirtied, too, and everyone would know what they had done.

  He turned away before he could no longer fight the need to pull her close, no matter the consequences. As he stepped around her, she walked alongside him. She was waiting for him to say something, but the only words on his tongue were of how much he longed to kiss her.

  “What is that?” Cat asked.