“I must go say hello,” she said, and moved across the room to Catherine’s side.
“How glad I am you came down,” said Catherine. “I felt a bit odd with only Lord Glencairn and Lord and Lady Francis here. Will you help me keep an eye on the children this evening? I want their father to be proud of them.”
“I think he is always pleased with them,” said Harriet, watching as the earl beamed at his children, who were gathered around a table spread with cakes, their eyes wide. “But yes, their high spirits may get the better of them tonight. After all, it is a party and that is to be expected.”
The butler entered and paused in the door to announce Sir Colin and Lady Leithly. They were quickly followed by other local gentry, who crowded into the room, their voices raised in greetings and laughter.
“A very pretty scene,” observed Harriet.
“It is indeed,” said Catherine quietly. Harriet turned to look at her friend, and was surprised to see that she was blushing. She followed her gaze, and saw a tall, red-haired gentleman had entered the room. He was dressed well, if not in the pink of fashion, and, while he was a bit gangly, his face was pleasant and open, and his blue eyes reflected a thoughtful nature.
“That is Mr. Beattie, the curate from Kilfarclas is it not?” asked Harriet.
“It is,” said Catherine.
“I did remember him correctly,” Harriet said, giving her a sideways look.
Harriet regarded Catherine more closely, and then glanced again at Mr. Beattie, who was clearly making his way across the room to them. She gave a little crow of delight.
“Catherine! He is certainly interested in you.”
The governess turned even pinker. “Hush, Harriet, you must not say such things. Mr. Beattie and I have found we have similar taste in literature, and, on occasion when I have a half-day, we take a walk and discuss our interests.”
Harriet clasped her hands together. “Then he is courting you!” she exclaimed.
Catherine looked around anxiously, but no one appeared to be listening to her. “We have not spoken of anything yet, for as I told you, he has no expectations, and his income simply cannot support a family,” she said cautiously.
“Oh, but I can see that you care for each other on your face—and on his!” said Harriet. “I am so very happy for you.”
“Hush, do not say anything in front of him!” protested Catherine.
“As though I would,” Harriet replied.
Mr. Beattie had reached them, and greeted Catherine with evident relief. “Miss Dalburn, I am so glad to find you here. I feared I would find no sensible conversation this entire night.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beattie,” said Catherine. She turned to Harriet. “May I present Mr. Beattie to you, Miss Walcott?”
“I am so pleased to meet you,” said Harriet as Mr. Beattie bowed politely over her hand. “I somehow missed making your acquaintance this past summer.”
“I regret that as well,” said the curate. “Miss Dalburn has sung your praises to me, and I can only be glad that she has such a good friend.”
“We have found many things we share in common,” agreed Harriet. “It is rare to feel that particular closeness and I missed her dreadfully when I returned to London.”
“I missed you as well,” said Catherine.
Harriet looked from Mr. Beattie to Catherine and smiled. “If you will excuse me, I believe Sophy is eating too many cakes. I would not want her to be unable to eat dinner, or, far worse, become ill.”
“I should go to her,” said Catherine, looking across the room to where Sophy stood, a cake in her hand.
“Not at all,” said Harriet. “Please allow me to do this. You deserve some time without the children. I, on the other hand, am so seldom near them that even telling them not to gorge themselves is a treat!”
She moved away, glad to give Catherine and Mr. Beattie some moments alone, and was pleased when she glanced back to see them talking happily, their heads close together. What a wonderful occurrence, she reflected. Happiness came into one’s life when one least expected it.
She swooped down upon Sophy and wrested the cake away, and then convinced the girl to stroll about the room with her, in the hope that this might induce the sweets she had eaten to settle a bit before dinner. As they walked, dinner was announced and the party repaired to the dining room for a magnificent repast. Harriet found herself seated between Lord Leithly and Mr. Beattie, and enjoyed the conversation, discovering that the curate had a lively wit.
After dinner the ladies repaired to the drawing room, but were soon joined by the gentlemen.
“For what is port when there is dancing to be done?” asked Lord Glencairn. Musicians trooped into the room and set up in a corner, as servants rolled the carpets back.
“May I have this first dance, Miss Walcott?” the earl asked of Harriet.
“I can scarcely think of dancing, after all the lovely food I have eaten!” she exclaimed. “But is also seems a pity to pass up a dance with such an excellent partner.”
“I take that as a yes,” said Lord Glencairn, offering his arm, and they joined the set that was forming. Harriet was delighted to see that Catherine and Mr. Beattie and Francis and Isobel were dancing as well, and when the fiddlers struck up, she performed her part with enthusiasm.
Chapter 26
An hour later she stood by the doors that opened to the terrace, breathing a bit heavily, for she had danced not only with Lord Glencairn, but also Lord Leithly and Lord Francis, and Mr. Beattie had solicited her for the next. As she gazed through the glass, she saw the light of lanterns bobbing through the white of the snow. A group of villagers was approaching, swathed in greatcoats and hats and scarves, their faces ruddy from the cold. As she watched, they mounted the steps to the terrace, and, forming a semicircle, began to sing.
“Oh,” Harriet breathed, and turning the handle on the door, pushed it open. The cold air hit her, but she did not mind, for the carolers’ voices as they sang “Whilst Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night” wafted through the still night and drove all other thoughts from her mind. In the drawing room, the dancers noticed the cool air flowing through the room and heard the sound of singing, and the musicians slowly stopped playing, until the only sound in the room was that of voices raised in song.
The guests crowded up to the doors, and viewed the scene as snow drifted gently down onto the shoulders of the carolers. They sang “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” continued on to “The First Noel,” and then produced a rousing rendition of “The Holly and The Ivy.” When they had finished, Lord Glencairn stepped forward.
“I thank you, good friends,” he said. “But now, you have earned a reward. There is a meal set out in the Great Hall for you, and I hope you will honor me by sharing it.”
With many cries of Merry Christmas and hearty exclamations of thanks, the villagers trooped through the doors and into the Great Hall. The guests followed them, and Harriet gasped to see the repast that had been set out while the company had been dancing. Bread, meats, cheese, oranges, apples, and sweetmeats were laid out on an enormous table spread with a white cloth, as well as a barrel of beer and a huge bowl of steaming mulled wine. The carolers set to with good cheer, and many of Glencairn’s guests joined them, thirsty after the dancing. For a few minutes the distinction between gentry and villager fell away, and everyone conversed cheerfully as they ate and drank. At the earl’s urging, the household servants joined the crowd as well, and soon the mood was festive indeed.
Harriet looked up to see Lord Glencairn standing next to her. “It’s lovely, my lord,” she said.
“Another tradition here at Glencairn,” he said. “The carolers always come to the castle last, and we fortify them for their return home. It’s a cold night to be out, but I am always glad to hear them singing. It is one of my very first memories, listening to the villagers sing on Christmas Eve.”
“You are lucky to have such a strong family, and the love of your tenants and neighb
ors,” said Harriet.
Glencairn looked at her thoughtfully. “I am lucky indeed,” he said. “And yet—”
Harriet glanced up at him questioningly, and he nodded towards the empty drawing room. “If I might have a moment of your time, Miss Walcott?”
Harriet hesitated a moment, looking around, and saw that Isobel and Francis were chatting cheerfully with the vicar, while Catherine and Mr. Beattie had found a dim corner, and were chatting over cups of mulled wine.
“Very well,” she said in a small voice. She followed Lord Glencairn into the drawing room, where he closed the terrace doors as she stood by the fire anxiously. She eyed the doors to the Great Hall, but no one appeared to paying the least bit of attention to her and the earl.
Glencairn approached her, and stood a moment, gazing down at her pensively. “Miss Walcott, I believe you know in what great esteem I hold you,” he began.
“Oh, no,” said Harriet, her eyes welling with tears. “My lord, I beg of you, please do not do this. I am very honored indeed, but I believe you made your sentiments quite clear this past summer.”
Lord Glencairn shook his head. “Miss Walcott, you must allow me to beg your pardon for my lack of gallantry toward you some months ago. I spoke the truth when I enumerated your many fine qualities, but I did not express appropriately the depth of my emotions. You rightly rebuked me, and I have had a great deal of time to regret the way I phrased my proposal to you.”
Harriet peeped up at him. “The depth of your emotions?” she repeated.
Encouraged, Lord Glencairn relaxed a bit and smiled. “Yes, the depth of my emotions. I had thought of myself as long past such things, that my feelings for my first wife were of such a nature that they could never be replicated. And indeed, they cannot be, nor would I wish them to. Any other love I have must be new, and only for the one I have chosen, not a shadow of something that is long gone.”
Harriet appeared momentarily perplexed. “My lord, are you attempting to say that you have some feelings for me?”
At that, Glencairn laughed. “Yes, Miss Walcott, I am attempting to do that, though apparently with something less than the glib tongue of a young man. I have learned the lesson you taught me this summer well; in your absence I have been less happy, less pleasant to others, and sunk in what I can only call melancholy. I neglected to finish the folly, and my children have called me dull. I have come to understand that your kindness, your gentleness, and, indeed, your affection are all things that I cannot live without.”
Harriet’s eyes widened and she clasped her hands nervously in front of her. “Lord Glencairn, I do not know quite what to say,” she murmured.
“Then please hear me out, Miss Walcott,” said the earl. “I realize now that in my proposal this summer I did you no honor, but rather offered you an insult. Wishing to repair my error, I conspired with Lord and Lady Francis to bring you here, and I have done my best over the past days to show you how much I value your company and desire that I should always have it. Please, Miss Walcott, will you now do me the honor of accepting my hand and my whole heart in marriage?”
“Oh!” Harriet’s eyes lit up, but then her doubts rapidly reasserted themselves. “Lord Glencairn, that is a very pretty proposal indeed, but—”
The earl looked at her with some amusement. “But what, Miss Walcott?” he asked.
She gazed back at him, and then a smile broke across her face. “But I can find no fault with it at all!” she said, beginning to laugh.
Lord Glencairn stepped forward hastily and took her hands in his. “Miss Walcott—Harriet!—you have made me the happiest man in Scotland this Christmas Eve.” He pressed one of her hands to his lips, and then stepped forward boldly and took her in his arms. Before Harriet could think, he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that managed to chase away any vestigial concerns about whether his declared emotions were genuine.
“Oh, my lord,” she murmured, raising one hand to her head to straighten her cap, which had come unaccountably askew.
“Euan,” he said firmly.
“Euan,” she repeated dazedly.
Lord Glencairn led her to the door of the drawing room, and faced the crowd still celebrating in the Great Hall. He walked forward with Harriet until they stood just under a ball of mistletoe dangling from one of the immense candle laden chandeliers.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he cried.
Curious eyes turned his way, and a grin came over Lord Francis’ face when he saw Harriet’s hand firmly clasped in the earl’s.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said again, a bit more quietly, as the hubbub had subsided. “I am gratified to inform you that Miss Walcott has graciously agreed to bestow her hand upon me in marriage.” Once again he clasped Harriet in his strong arms, and kissed her in front of the happy crowd
The guests immediately erupted into a chorus of congratulations, and as
Glencairn released her, Isobel stepped forward and hugged Harriet tightly.
“My dear, I am so happy for you,” she said.
“I—I am very happy myself,” said Harriet in a bemused tone. As she paused, Sophy flew across the room and threw herself into Harriet’s startled embrace.
“How perfect,” she said. “I have longed for this, and I was terribly sad when you left this summer and my father had not proposed to you.”
Harriet smiled at Sophy’s glowing face, and clasped her tightly. Lord Glencairn gazed at the two of them contentedly.
“A toast,” he called out to the crowd, raising his glass, “May the roof above us never fall in; may we below it never fall out.”
Everyone present raised their glasses in a toast, and someone in the crowd of carolers called out,”Pipie, let’s have a reel in honor of the Laird and his new Lady.”
A sturdy man stepped out of the throng, with his bagpipes at the ready, and stood at the end of the hall. As he began to play “High Road to Linton,” everyone formed up for an eightsome reel. Out of the corner of her eye, Harriet saw Catherine Dalburn and Mr. Beattie join hands again, and smiled. She turned to Glencairn, squeezing his hands and smiling with pure joy as he swept her into the dance.
Chapter 27
Harriet awoke the next morning when Janet came to light the fire in her bedroom and bring her a cup of tea.
“I know it’s early, madam, but you’ll want to go to church this morning with the Laird, will you not?”
Harriet sat up quickly. “Goodness, yes!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier on a Christmas morning. Of course I will join his lordship. When must we leave?”
“Oh you’ve plenty of time, madam. It’s not a long way to the church; I suppose his lordship will have arranged for the carriage in an hour’s time.”
Harriet resisted an urge to leap from her bed, and sipped her tea instead.
“The red silk and wool, please Janet,” she said as calmly as she could. “And my best shawl.”
Just one half hour later Harriet entered the breakfast room to find Lord and Lady Francis as well as Glencairn there before her. They were all looking extremely pleased with themselves.
“Merry Christmas!” said Harriet brightly. The festive red dress that she had changed out of several mornings before made her complexion glow, and the heavy silk paisley shawl she carried against the chill of the early morning added a luxurious touch.
“How well you look this morning Harriet,” Isobel said. “That dress is so becoming, and you look very modish.”
“Perhaps it is happiness,” she responded, hovering in the door.
Glencairn rose from the table and walked over to her, taking her hand in his. He looked impeccable in a well cut black coat that emphasized his height and broad shoulders. Below it, biscuit colored pantaloons rather than the riding breeches customary in the country emerged from Hessian boots polished to a mirror shine.
“Goodness, Glencairn,” Harriet said. “How exceedingly elegant you are. I hope that the parishioners appreciate your efforts.” She gaz
ed around the table and saw that Isobel and Francis were also dressed more elaborately than really required to attend services, even on Christmas morning, at a country church.
“It seems that we all have made an effort,” she added as she buttered a slice of toast, and poured a cup of tea.
“The rest of the day will be spent quietly at home, so I suppose it is time better spent to dress now, rather than worry about it this afternoon. I shall expect to see both Glencairn and Francis in gorgeous silk banyans rather than coats tonight at dinner,” responded Isobel playfully. She glanced at Glencairn. “I suppose we must make haste if we are to be there promptly.”
Glencairn nodded almost imperceptibly and rang the bell. “Thomas, have Hamish bring the carriage around. We’ll be ready shortly,” he said to the footman who promptly appeared. He turned back to his guests. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a minor matter to attend to. I will meet you in the hall in a few minutes.” With that, he strode out of the room.
The remainder of the party finished breakfast and then trooped into the hall, where Lord Francis donned a heavy wool great coat, and Isobel a fur lined cape and fetching bonnet. Glencairn walked up behind Francis just as he held out Harriet’s cloak for her and gently nudged him out of the way. In his arms he carried a new heavy winter cloak, lined with the finest sables, which he draped over Harriet’s shoulders.
Astonished by the weight and softness of the unfamiliar garment, Harriet spun around to see Glencairn smiling down at her.
“Euan,” she gasped at the luxurious gift, staring at herself in the hall mirror and touching the sable collar that framed her face, as she struggled to form a response.
Glencairn chuckled at her reaction. “You are mine to spoil now, and I wish to start by making sure that the Scottish winter doesn’t freeze my English rose.” He took her hand, and led her down the steps to the waiting carriage.
The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance Page 14
