by M C Beaton
“They have already done so much for us,” said Jilly. “I do not know how we can ever repay them. Do you like my gown, my lord?”
“Very fine.”
“Lady Harrington had the muslin gowns made for us, just for this evening, and she has ordered the dressmaker to alter our gowns.” A shadow crossed her eyes. “I do not know what Ma will say when she sees the result, but I do know she will be very angry.”
“It is always possible to stand up to people. You must make yourself feel brave inside as well as out,” said Lord Ranger. “You must say very firmly, ‘I like my gowns, and do not dare punish me.’”
“All very fine if one is an independent gentleman of independent means,” said Jilly. “Did I really eat all those tartlets or did you have some?”
“I had some, I assure you. Do you not think we should make more coffee as we have drunk all that was in that jug?”
“Then we can take it upstairs with those sandwiches.” Jilly got to her feet. “Now I must fill the kettle. How helpless I feel. I do not know where the pump is.”
“Allow me. There is usually a pump in the scullery.” He poked the kitchen fire into a blaze, went out, and returned a little time later with the kettle, which he hooked onto the idleback and swung over the flames. “I could hear the wind rising outside,” he said. “Perhaps we shall have snow.”
Those odd green eyes grew dreamy. “There is a hill above the pond,” said Jilly. “Do you think the Harringtons have a sleigh? One could sledge down that hill and straight across the ice. Once when I was out walking with Abigail, our maid, I saw some boys sledging down a hill. They were so merry and it looked such fun.”
He took her hand in his. “I promise you, Miss Jilly, that if it snows, I will find a sledge and bring it over.”
Jilly laughed and clapped her hands. “Then it must snow. I must see now.”
She ran to the door and opened it and went through the scullery and tugged the outside door open. She ran out into the night, the thin white muslin of her gown fluttering in the darkness, and stared up at the heavens. He came and stood beside her. The wind rushed about them. “Come inside,” he said. “You will catch your death of cold. Besides, it is so black, you cannot see anything.”
“What was that?” whispered Jilly, feeling something soft brush her cheek. “I am sure that was a snowflake.”
He took off his coat and put it about her shoulders. “I’ll see if I can find a lantern.”
Jilly stood after he had gone, holding his coat tightly about her shoulders, gazing ever upwards. Then he came out and stood next to her again and held up the lantern.
“Look! Oh, look!” said Jilly. In the circle of light thrown by the lantern, which Lord Ranger held high, could be seen delicate snowflakes, fluttering down.
“Then you shall have your sledging party. But we must go indoors. The others will be wondering what has become of us.”
They returned to the kitchen, where, suddenly shy of him, she took off his coat and handed it to him. He put it on and then made a jug of coffee and put it on the tray with the sandwiches. They added milk and sugar to the load and then he carried it upstairs, with Jilly following.
Lord Paul studied his friend’s face as Lord Ranger put down the tray and explained they had ended up having a private party in the kitchens. “And we are to go sledging with Lord Ranger tomorrow,” cried Jilly. “Oh, please say yes, Lady Harrington.”
“How can you sledge with no snow?” asked Lady Harrington.
“But it has begun to snow,” said Jilly.
“In that case,” said Lord Paul quietly, “we had best make tracks for Colonel Tenby’s while we still can.”
“Stay the night,” invited Sir John.
“We cannot go sledging in our evening dress,” protested Lord Ranger. “We will return tomorrow.”
They all saw the guests to the door and waved good-bye to them.
Lord Ranger picked up the reins and said to Lord Paul as they drove away, “Why so thoughtful, my friend?”
“They are an endearing pair of young ladies,” said Lord Paul, “and have led quite a dreadful life. We should not add complications to it.”
“Meaning, don’t raise hopes of marriage?”
“No, I do not mean that. They are too unworldly to be socially ambitious. I mean, do not break any hearts, Ranger. As it is, they will have a hard enough time returning to their own world when Christmas is over.”
“Look how the snow falls! Paul, I only know one thing. That child’s heart will be broken if I do not take her sledging tomorrow.”
“Miss Jilly is far from being a child,” said his friend severely, but Lord Ranger had urged his team to a gallop and did not seem to hear.
* * *
Mandy and Jilly sat on Jilly’s bed that night and told each other everything that had happened. With one exception. Mandy did not tell Jilly she had fallen in love.
Chapter Three
And just where do you think our leaping lords are off to today?” demanded Lady Harriet to her friend, Lucinda, as they stood together at the window of Colonel Tenby’s drawing room and watched Lord Ranger and Lord Paul loading a long sledge onto the roof of their carriage.
Snow covered the rolling parkland outside the colonel’s mansion. The sight of the snow had cheered Harriet and Lucinda because they thought it would keep the gentlemen indoors to amuse them.
Harriet and Lucinda could have been taken for sisters instead of friends. Both were beautiful brunettes with liquid brown eyes, straight noses, and tiny mouths. For some reason, neither had “taken” during their last Season. Mrs. Tenby, who was a friend of both their parents and considered herself a clever matchmaker, had invited them as soon as her husband had told her about the visit of Lord Ranger and Lord Paul.
Harriet rang the bell by the fireplace, and when a footman answered its summons, she ordered, “Find out where Lord Paul and Lord Ranger have gone.”
“They were at the Harringtons’ last night and did not arrive home until the small hours,” said Lucinda. “Surely they cannot be going back there. What is the attraction in a couple of drabs?”
Harriet bit her lip in vexation. “Perhaps Sir John Harrington has other houseguests, prettier houseguests.”
The footman returned. “Well?” demanded Harriet imperiously.
The footman, who was very tall and good-looking, bowed obsequiously low. “Lords Ranger and Paul have gone to Sir John Harrington’s. A sledging party, I believe.”
“Thank you, Peter,” said Harriet, “that will be all.”
When the footman had left, Lucinda sighed. “Such legs. I think he adores you, Harriet.” And Harriet gave a little complacent smile.
“Mark my words,” said the footman, Peter, in the servants’ hall, “those chilly-faced antidotes will be off in hot pursuit.”
“Do not speak like that of your betters,” admonished the butler. “But Sir John’s boy was in the kitchens the other day saying as how there are two pretty little misses in residence at Greenbanks.”
“Do you think they will come?” asked Jilly.
“I do not know how many times you have asked me that,” said Lady Harrington indulgently. “But do remember they are Colonel Tenby’s houseguests, and he may have had something planned for them.”
“Here they are!” cried Mandy from the window where she had been posted for the last hour. “And they have a sledge, a large sledge on the roof of their carriage.”
“Go upstairs and change into your warmest clothes,” ordered Lady Harrington. The girls ran out. Lady Harrington rang the bell, and when her maid answered it, she said, “Peg, go and help the young ladies dress warmly, but find two of my best bonnets for them, and make sure they do not wear their own. And tell them they must not stay out too long, for they have to be fitted for ball gowns and learn some more dance steps. Tell the schoolmaster and the curate to come for dinner. We can have some dancing after that.”
Soon Lord Ranger, Lord Paul, Jilly, and Mandy wer
e climbing the high hill above the pond. Lord Ranger looked up at the steely gray sky. “More snow, I think.”
“Oh, I hope it snows and snows and snows,” said Mandy in a quiet voice, “so that Ma and Pa can never come to take us away.”
Lord Paul felt a tug of tenderness at his heart. “Enjoy today or you will spoil everything by worrying about the future,” he said.
Lord Paul sat in front of the sledge with Mandy behind him, then Jilly and Lord Ranger at the back.
Lord Ranger gave the sledge a mighty push and then scrambled aboard and clutched Jilly’s shoulders. The girls screamed with delight as the sledge hurtled downward. It must be like flying, thought Jilly. Then the sledge struck the ice of the pond, flew across it like an arrow, hit the bank on the other side, and sent them flying over the ice.
Lord Ranger stumbled to his feet and slid over to where Jilly was lying in a heap on the ice. He helped her to her feet, saying anxiously, “Are you all right?”
She turned a radiant face up to him. “That was so wonderful. May we go again?”
“Devils for punishment,” laughed Lord Ranger, seeing that Mandy, too, was unhurt. “But your bonnets are sadly crushed.”
“Oh, dear, not our bonnets,” cried Jilly. “Lady Harrington’s bonnets. Let us take them off and hang them on a branch, Mandy, so that we may not damage them further.”
The men looked on, amused, as the girls unselfconsciously hung their bonnets on a branch. Then they all went up the hill again.
“Let’s see if we can steer this thing properly,” said Lord Ranger. “Off we go!”
But try as they might, the sledge once more flew straight across the ice of the pond like a bird, hit the bank, and sent them sprawling on the ice. The pins flew out of Jilly’s red hair and it tumbled down her back.
They were laughing and slipping and helping one another up from the ice when they all became aware of Harriet and Lucinda, standing at the edge of the pond watching them.
“Dear me, what vulgar little hoydens do we have here,” said Harriet to Lucinda. Both Harriet and Lucinda were wearing thick velvet dresses under fur-lined cloaks. Both carried fur muffs and had fur-lined bonnets out of which their disdainful faces stared at Jilly and Mandy.
Lord Ranger made the introductions. Jilly and Mandy immediately felt very young and gauche.
“Perhaps the Misses Davenport would allow us to take their places,” suggested Harriet.
“By all means,” said Jilly sadly. She and Mandy stood on the ice and watched as Lord Paul and Lord Ranger courteously assisted Harriet and Lucinda up the hill with as much care as if they were made of glass.
Sir John’s boy, Jimmy, who acted as page, knife boy, and pot scrubber, ran back to the house. “Oh, madam,” he said to Lady Harrington, “two fashionable ladies have turned up and are spoiling the sledging party!”
Lady Harrington told him to get out the gig and then dressed as quickly as she could and drove herself down to the pond. Lord Ranger had not sent Harriet and Lucinda off with any tremendous push. The sledge had moved slowly down and then cruised gently over the ice.
“That was very pleasant,” Lady Harrington heard Harriet say. “You will take us again.”
“Just one more time,” said Lord Paul. “This is the Misses Davenports’ party.”
“I am sure they don’t mind a bit,” Lucinda said, and turned away.
Lady Harrington scowled awfully. Mandy and Jilly looked so wistful. The red sun was setting behind the hills. Soon it would be dark.
She turned and saw Jimmy standing by the carriage. “Jimmy, run as hard as you can up that hill and give that sledge the biggest push you can.”
“Right, my lady.”
Jimmy was able to get ahead of the party because Lucinda and Harriet were taking mincing little steps up through the snow.
He crouched down behind a stand of trees and waited. Lord Ranger climbed on the back as he was not going to give the sledge any push and send it flying the way he had done with Jilly and Mandy.
Jimmy then flung himself forward and pushed it as hard as he could.
The sledge went hurtling forward. Lucinda and Harriet screamed and screamed. It hit the ice harder than it had ever done before, and all the occupants of the sledge were thrown out.
Harriet lay spread-eagle on the ice. A little way away from her lay Lucinda. With remarkable agility, Lady Harrington made her way across the ice, and before the gentlemen could reach them, she and Jilly and Mandy had raised Harriet and Lucinda to their feet.
“I am sure every bone in my body is broken,” said Harriet. “We are not used to such hurly-burly games. We are used to behaving like ladies. Come, Lucinda.”
They moved slowly to their carriage, where the footman, Peter, was already letting down the steps. Harriet and Lucinda did not suppose for a moment that the men would not accompany them. When they were driven off, they were quite confident that Lord Ranger and Lord Paul would be driving behind them.
“Are you unhurt?” asked Lucinda.
“Only in spirit. But we broke up that little party and showed those girls up for what they are. Did you see their clothes? And hatless. And hair tumbling everywhere. Enough to give any gentleman a disgust of them.”
But when they alighted at Colonel Tenby’s and looked back down the long, wintry drive in the fading light, there was no sign of Lord Ranger or Lord Paul.
“They have to load up that ridiculous sledge,” said Lucinda. “They will be back soon, you’ll see.”
But when Harriet and Lucinda descended the stairs that evening for dinner in their very best gowns and wearing their very best jewels, they found to their fury that neither lord was present.
Jilly and Mandy did not know that Lord Ranger and Lord Paul had been prepared to follow Lucinda and Harriet but that Lady Harrington had taken them aside and said, “Do not spoil my ladies’ fun. Lady Harriet and Miss Lucinda are, I am sure, used to all sorts of entertainments. So that things like this, which mean so very much to Jilly and Mandy, mean nothing at all to them.” Both lords had then turned and surveyed the disconsolate Jilly and Mandy. Mandy’s hair had come down as well and they both looked very young.
“Then we must not spoil their party,” said Lord Ranger. “But it was most odd, Lady Harrington. I could swear that someone gave that sledge the most enormous push.”
“Hardly,” said Lady Harrington. “Who would do a thing like that? You are welcome to join us for dinner. We are informal this evening. No need to change.”
She turned away before they could find time to refuse and then shouted back over her shoulder, “I shall tell Jimmy to ride over to Colonel Tenby with the news.”
“Now, why do I feel we have been efficiently trapped?” said Lord Ranger. He and Lord Paul walked back to Mandy and Jilly. “Come, ladies, a few more times before we all die of cold.”
Lord Paul saw the way their faces shone with pleasure. He could see no love light in Jilly’s eyes and felt reassured. The fact that Mandy might have fallen for him never crossed his mind.
Jilly treasured every moment. They moved away to another hill which ended in a long, sloping field so there was no fear of hurts or spills.
Lord Ranger, who had considered himself long past enjoying such childish pleasures, was surprised to see Lady Harrington’s Jimmy calling to them from the bottom of the hill that dinner would be served in an hour. He had not noticed the time pass.
They cruised down the hill and then Lord Ranger and Lord Paul pulled the two girls in the sledge back to the house.
Jilly and Mandy went upstairs to be fussed over by Peg, washed and dressed in more newly altered gowns, hair brushed and put up, and then downstairs again, faces glowing with health, looking forward to the evening.
Sir John saw nothing wrong in having the curate and the schoolmaster at his dinner table with two noble lords. Although both he and Lady Harrington hoped Lord Paul and Lord Ranger would instruct the girls in the intricacies of the new dance steps, the invitation to Mr. Par
se and Mr. Tawst was not canceled as Sir John and Lady Harrington had kind hearts and knew that both men would be disappointed if the chance of a good dinner were snatched away from them.
Lord Paul was fastidious and hated sitting down at dinner in top boots and riding dress, which is what both he and Lord Ranger had chosen to wear for the sledging party. He told himself they would have been better off to return to Colonel Tenby’s, where the company was elegant and the conversation witty. But he could not help finding the shy schoolmaster entertaining as the Harringtons skillfully drew him out to tell funny stories of the misdemeanors of the village boys. Soon Lord Paul forgot to be so high and mighty and was joining in the general conversation, flattered at the way little Mandy hung on his every word.
Dinner was slightly marred for Jilly when Sir John asked Lord Ranger about the two ladies he had heard had joined their party in the afternoon and Lord Ranger said easily that they were a couple of charmers who were houseguests of the Tenbys’. Jilly did not like that word charmers.
Mandy and she were wearing the sludge-colored gowns, but both had been embellished with soft collars at the low necklines of old lace, and Lady Harrington had lent Jilly a pearl necklace and Mandy a coral one. Apart from fob watches, the girls had never been allowed to wear jewelry before.
Sir John began to talk about Christmas. They followed German tradition, he said, by having a Christmas tree. A decorated tree had been a tradition in Germany since 1604, the Germans believing that Martin Luther first decorated the Christmas tree. The story goes that he was walking one Christmas Eve under a clear night sky lit by millions of stars, and the sight so moved him that he uprooted a fir tree and decorated its branches with candles to remind children of the heavens from which Christ descended. The King Georges of England were not only German, but had brought a lot of German settlers to England, particularly George II, who did not trust the British army and preferred his own troops. Some villages in England were still mostly German. So with them came the Christmas tree.
