The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance

by Alicia Quigley

  “I have no doubt that everything at the castle will be exactly as it should be,” Harriet declared. “Lord Glencairn is such a gentleman, as well as being an attentive host and friend. How could it be otherwise?”

  Isobel turned her head to hide a smile. “Of course it will, Harriet. I did but jest.”

  The carriage rattled over the cobbles of the town, and then down the road that led to Glencairn, as the ladies watched the twilight deepen. Just as it seemed that it would be entirely dark before they arrived, the carriage turned off the road and onto a drive bordered by tall pines, their dark green boughs dusted with snow that glowed in the dimming light. Very shortly thereafter, the carriage pulled up before the door of the castle, four lanterns blazing light onto the steps leading to the entry.

  As the coachman pulled out the carriage steps, Lord Francis opened the door, holding out a hand to Isobel, who stepped down saying gratefully, “How very glad I am to be here at last! Five days traveling in winter is more than enough.” As Francis handed Harriet out as well, Isobel swept up the steps to the great oaken door, which had been thrown open so that the light of the hall spilled out of it. The butler stood there, with two footmen, and as their party entered the castle they were divested of bonnets, capes, coats, muffs and the other necessities of winter travel, and soon entered the great hall, as the butler announced them.

  As Harriet walked in behind Francis and Isobel, she stopped in the archway, giving a little gasp of happiness and wonder. Several enormous logs blazed in the cavernous fireplace, which had never been lit in the summer, while candles filled all the wall sconces, and massive torches were burning in the medieval holders that dated back to the earliest days of the castle, throwing dancing shadows up into the hammer-beamed ceiling, making the gold-painted carvings in the spandrels sparkle in the light. Great quantities of pine boughs and holly branches had been cut in the woods, and now formed roping that hung from the bottom of the rafters, while still more of it had been used to craft wreaths that adorned the antlers of several noble deer heads mounted on the walls. Balls of mistletoe dangled on red ribbons from huge wrought iron chandeliers full of lit tapers.

  As they crossed the floor toward the hearth, Lord Glencairn entered the hall, greeting them in the middle. “What a pleasure to have you arrive at last!” he exclaimed. “I was beginning to fear that we would not have the privilege of greeting you until tomorrow.” He clasped Francis’ hand in a strong grip, and bowed to Isobel, then turned to Harriet, saying, “How glad I am that you are here again, Miss Walcott,” as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips.

  Rather shocked by his gallantry, Harriet withdrew her hand quickly and replied, “I am very glad to be here as well, Lord Glencairn. How delightful to have the chance to experience a Scottish Christmas here at your lovely home.” She glanced about, looking a bit worried, but then saw Catherine Dalburn and her charges entering the hall as well.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed in relief. “Here are Miss Dalburn along with Lady Sophia and Lord Kincraig come to join us. I am so pleased to see them again.” She turned toward them, and opened her arms as Sophia came running forward, to embrace her in a hug.

  “Miss Walcott, I am so glad that you will be here to celebrate Christmas with us,” she said. “I have missed our painting lessons, and your conversation.”

  “Thank you Sophia,” Harriet replied. “I have missed you and Douglas very much as well. It’s far too cold for painting outdoors now, but perhaps we could set up in the gallery upstairs and paint the snow on the hills through the windows one day during our visit.”

  Catherine Dalburn had walked up as they spoke, and the women greeted each other, exchanging a glance of secret understanding, that they would have a separate conversation at a more private time.

  While Harriet greeted Catherine and the children, a cut glass bowl full of hot mulled wine had made a welcome appearance, and Glencairn appeared at her side with a generous cup of it for her.

  “Dear Miss Walcott, surely a cup of mulled wine will help you cast off the last of your journey’s chill,” he said offering it to her.

  Harriet accepted it gratefully, and took a sip, enjoying the warmth, and the sweet spicy taste of the wine on her tongue. As she sipped, Francis and Isobel joined the little group, and the news of the past months was shared as they enjoyed the wine. Soon enough, dinner was served, Glencairn and Francis had enjoyed their port, and the weariness of the travelers acknowledged so that they could all seek an early bed.

  Chapter 19

  Although the winter sun was late in arriving, it shone brilliantly on a new blanket of snow the following morning. Harriet had barely noticed her bedchamber the previous night, so tired was she from the journey, and relaxed from the mulled wine she had enjoyed before dinner and in the drawing room afterwards. But, when she awoke, a maid had already drawn the curtains, while a cheerful fire had been lit in the hearth, and she saw that her bedchamber was both large and elegantly decorated. The cream colored walls had ornamental panels with fanciful garden scenes painted upon them and were bordered with silvered paneling, and an enormous pale green and cream colored Aubusson carpet echoed the floral theme. Pale green hangings also adorned her bedstead, while an ocean of lace trimmed linen covered the quilts, and a young mountain of down pillows awaited the weary head. She reached out for the bell pull, and in short order a maid came with a tea tray that she set on the bed.

  “Will you have breakfast here, ma’am or come downstairs to the breakfast room?” she inquired.

  “I think I will join the family for breakfast,” Harriet replied.

  “Very well, I’ll bring the hot water, and would you like me to lay a dress out for you, madam?”

  “If everything is hanging in the wardrobe I think I can manage for myself,” Harriet replied. “Perhaps you can help me with the tapes when you return?”

  “Oooh, of course ma’am, and my mum says I’m a clever one with the hair brush and curling tongs if you’d like a bit of help with the hair dressing,” the young girl replied.

  “What is your name, please?” Harriet asked.

  “Janet, madam.”

  “Very well, Janet. I am Miss Walcott. You may certainly help me with my hair as well, and the hot water will be most welcome. I’ll enjoy my tea, while I wait for you to bring it.”

  Harriet leaned back against the pillows and looked around the room again. It was clearly a chamber for an honored guest, and she felt somewhat astonished, but also flattered by the marked attention Glencairn was so clearly giving her comfort. She sipped her tea, as she pondered the situation, and then slipped on her wrapper and walked to the wardrobe, where she selected the most becoming morning dress she had brought along. It was a wool and silk blend fabric, in a rosy red, with long sleeves, puffed at the top, and paisley pattern embroidered at the hem in gold. Against the winter chill, she chose a fine wool shawl, in shades of deeper red and gold to drape over her arms. She wore a little golden turban instead of a lace cap. When Harriet entered the breakfast room, Isobel thought with a bit of a shock that she looked quite 5 years younger than usual.

  Harriet settled herself at the breakfast table, with a bowl of porridge, and said, “Are Lord Francis and Glencairn about?”

  “I think they went out to shoot this morning,” Isobel replied.

  Harriet’s relief was almost palpable and she visibly relaxed before saying, “Well, I hope they get a fine brace of birds for our dinner. With the new snow on the ground, it might be a very good day for that indoor painting I proposed last night.”

  “I am quite certain that Sophia would be pleased with the notion, and likely her brother as well, if he did not join the gentlemen for the shooting.” Isobel answered.

  Harriet reached for the bell pull, and when a footman arrived, said, “Please ask Miss Dalburn if she, Lady Sophia and Lord Kincraig would like to join me in the long gallery in 30 minutes. If they do, could you please have the painting supplies and easels carried there as well?”


  “It seems the staff here is quite accustomed to taking instructions from you Harriet,” Isobel observed with a mischievous smile. “I knew you spent a great deal of time here when I was working at the excavation this summer, but I had no notion that you felt quite so at home!”

  Harriet looked a bit self-conscious, but merely replied, “There were so many events occurring, and Sophy had so many questions about how to go on, that it became quite natural. You know how I enjoy the company of young people, and her interest in painting also brought us very close together.”

  Isobel thoughtfully changed the subject rather than continuing to tease Harriet, and the two ladies finished breakfast. Harriet hurried to her chamber to change her gown, since it could not be to her advantage to stain one of her most becoming dresses on the first day of her stay. She was loathe to admit it even to herself, but it had been Lord Glencairn’s admiration that she had been thinking of when she had chosen her gown that morning.

  In her plainer dress, Harriet walked to the long gallery, a space above the great hall that was part of the original castle. However, an 18th century Earl had seen fit to modernize it, and its large windows overlooking the park, numerous rugs, capacious hearths, and comfortable furnishings made it an attractive place to walk in inclement weather, or read in a chair near one of the fireplaces. When she arrived the easels had been set up, and Sophy was waiting for her a bit impatiently as Miss Dalburn read.

  “Miss Walcott, I’m glad you are here,” said Sophy. “It is a lovely view, but how is one to deal with such a very pale landscape? I’m accustomed to painting more colorful scenes.”

  “One must seek out the colors, my dear, and work with those. It is very different than capturing a summer view,” Harriet replied, and soon they were completely absorbed in discussing the techniques to be used. When Sophia had her work well underway, Harriet stepped away, and took a seat next to Miss Dalburn.

  “I think Sophia will be occupied with her painting for some time now,” she said to Catherine. “So you must tell me all your news, and that of the neighborhood.”

  “Things have been sadly flat since Lord Francis left so suddenly, and then you and Miss Paley also removed to London after his departure,” Catherine replied. “I think we had all become quite accustomed to the excitement that opportunities to entertain the son of a duke create.”

  “It was certainly the busiest summer I have spent here,” Harriet concurred. She paused a moment. “And Lord Glencairn, how has he been?”

  Catherine, who been tempted to tease her friend about the earl, decided to spare her blushes. “He was quite abrupt and far less generally agreeable than usual for several weeks. I think a gentleman might have said he was blue-devilled.”

  “I do not like to think that I made him unhappy,” Harriet ventured. “I did not refuse him for any lack of regard, merely out of care for my feelings, were I to wed a man who could not return them.”

  “It may have been a very good thing for him, my dear,” Catherine said briskly. “Glencairn, like most men, has a high opinion of his own worth, and a few moments spent questioning how he views others did him no harm whatsoever. He seemed to be more himself a few weeks ago, about the time he heard from Lord Francis that he and Miss Paley, or I should say, Lady Francis, had wed.”

  Harriet smiled, genuine joy lighting her face. “He was so helpful to me in bringing them together,” she exclaimed. “I am truly grateful to him now, and always will be for that.”

  “Glencairn was clearly very pleased with the news as well, and he was still cheerier when he learned that your party would be here for Christmas. He has planned several entertainments, and the castle is decorated far more elaborately than usual. Sophy and Douglas are overjoyed.”

  Harriet, who felt that the conversation was approaching a topic she would rather not discuss, grasped at the mention of the children to change the subject. “I hope that they are also pleased that we are visiting, and that Christmas at Glencairn will be particularly merry this year,” she said brightly.

  Catherine smiled in return. “They were thrilled to hear that you were visiting. Sophy has been far more interested than usual in applying herself to her deportment, and has even asked whether we can begin a subscription to La Belle Assemblée, if you please!”

  Harriet laughed. “Oh, dear. I suppose it is because I mentioned last summer how a young lady just coming out would dress quite differently from a lady like Miss Paley with several Seasons behind her. It must have piqued her interest.”

  “It did indeed! I have had endless speculation on the subject from her.”

  “You may be well advised to order the subscription, my dear,” Harriet continued. “For in addition to fashion plates it contains poetry and fiction, both of high quality, and suitable for a young lady approaching adulthood. There are also discussions of science and politics that both Douglas and Sophy could learn from. I suggest you ask Lord Glencairn to consider it.”

  “Well, if you recommend it, Harriet, I am quite sure his lordship will be delighted to comply. He sets great store by your familiarity with the ways of polite society, and your refining influence on Sophy.”

  “She seems to have matured even since this summer, and has a natural ease with people. I don’t think she needs a great deal of assistance from me,” Harriet replied.

  Catherine looked over at the girl, her head bent intently over her painting. “I think Glencairn still hopes that you will exercise a great deal of influence over her in the future,” she murmured with a smile.

  At that moment, Sophia looked over at them. “Miss Walcott, I have a few more questions for you,” she said. “Would you please take a moment to see how I’m getting on with this?”

  Harriet arose, and went to help Sophia.

  Chapter 20

  Some hours later the painting had been completed, and the ladies had just enjoyed a light luncheon when Glencairn, Lord Francis, and Douglas returned from shooting, bursting with enthusiasm and ruddy from the cold air and exercise. Harriet gazed discreetly at Glencairn’s strong shoulders, broad chest, and the powerful thighs rising from his boots, and felt a matching blush rise to her own face.

  “Will there be pheasant at the dinner table tonight?” Isobel asked playfully, interrupting Harriet’s contemplation.

  “Indeed there will,” Francis replied. “Douglas is an excellent shot. He has a good eye, and the knack for following the birds. He bagged more than I did, to be sure.”

  He glanced over at the table. “I see that you ladies have not consumed the entire lunch. Several hours in the cold have given me an appetite, so perhaps we can see what inroads we may be able to make on the remainder.”

  The gentlemen looked eager to eat, so the ladies drifted away, Miss Dalburn reminding Douglas that he was expected to join Sophy for lessons when he had eaten. When they had finished, Douglas, with some grumbling, disappeared to the schoolroom as requested and Glencairn rose from the table.

  “Perhaps a game of billiards and a little whiskey will rid us of any lingering chill,” he suggested.

  “It sounds like just the thing,” Lord Francis replied cheerfully. “Otherwise, you will soon find me snoring in the library.”

  They repaired to the billiards room, where Lord Francis racked the balls and spent a few minutes choosing a cue from the selection that hung on the wall. Glencairn poured two whiskeys, and handed one to Lord Francis, who idly shot the cue ball a few times to assess the table.

  After the break, the two gentlemen played for a few minutes in companionable silence, the roar of the fire in the hearth a pleasant counterpoint to the clicking of the balls. After missing his shot, Glencairn gazed thoughtfully into his glass as Lord Francis concentrated on the table.

  “I’m glad that I didn’t suggest we wager on the outcome, as I can see that you are a far better player than I,” observed Glencairn after the ball had dropped.

  “I played a great deal with my brother,” Lord Francis said. “But with such good company, I don�
�t need a wager to add interest to the game.”

  “The company is the point in more ways than one,” said Glencairn slowly. “We haven’t had a moment to speak directly of this until now, but I’m sure that my objective in asking you to make this journey at such a difficult time of year cannot have escaped you.”

  “Certainly not,” Lord Francis responded with a smile. “Although when we received your letter, Isobel and I were surprised; both of us had been quite unaware of your interest in Miss Walcott until that moment.”

  “You were not alone in that,” Glencairn answered a bit heavily. “I was also in the dark about the true nature of my interest in Miss Walcott until she turned down my offer of marriage.”

  Francis’ eyebrows rose. “Sometimes being parted from the object of your affections brings the realization that your emotions are stronger than you thought. When I left Kitswold last spring I thought the future Lady Francis a very handsome woman with a lively wit. But within a week of returning home, I knew that I must seek her out and make her mine. I assume that you discovered that you missed Harriet after she left Ballydendargan.”

  “Her departure certainly made me realize what a fool I had been to think she was nothing more to me than a female who met all my requirements in a wife.” Glencairn responded.

  “Miss Walcott has spent a great deal of time with Isobel,” Francis observed. “I expect that she has acquired more of her point of view than you might expect of a lady long on the shelf.”

  “Perhaps that is it,” Glencairn answered. “For as you must have realized, she turned me down quite firmly. I must own that I was astonished.”

  “Don’t lose hope,” Lord Francis advised him cheerfully. “Lady Francis turned me down twice, assuring me that she would never put her head in the parson’s mousetrap to become some man’s chattel, before I won her over.”

  Glencairn appeared rather shocked at this revelation. “She turned you down twice, and still you pursued her?”