"I've never seen anything quite like it," Harriet admitted, running her finger over the surface of the largest pearl.
"Wearing it would certainly help you cut a dash in Society, since it is so original," she concluded, handing it back to Emily.
Emily put the pendant over her head, and it fell onto her breast, looking rather out of place on her unexceptional gray dress. "I have no idea what possessed Grandfather to buy this piece, but I'm becoming rather fond of it," she began, then added, "Of course, it is a bit too… stylish for dinner, isn't it?" she asked in mock seriousness.
Harriet raised her eyebrows and replied, "Yes, I do think so," with a smile.
"Mama, did you know we saw Uncle Nigel? Wellington almost got run over by his horses, but Aunt Emily saved him. It was ever so exciting!" Victoria said, trying her hardest to act like a proper lady.
"Oh really? Was Uncle Nigel upset?" she asked, smiling down at her little girl.
"Oh no, Mama. Even though all of his clothes were all over the grounds, he didn't even lose his temper. He just kept smiling at Aunt Emily the whole time," she said seriously, which made Harriet smile.
"Is that true, Emily? Was my Cousin Nigel mooning over you?" Harriet asked, hoping upon hope that Nigel had taken a fancy to Emily. Then he could simply marry her and forget about persuading her to sell him the pendant back.
Emily blushed prettily and stared at her hands in her lap. "I think not. He was just being congenial."
"No, Aunt Emily, he really liked you. I could tell by the way he was looking at you while you were picking up his unmentionables in the dirt," Victoria exclaimed, with all the conviction a four-year-old could muster.
"His unmentionables? You were picking up his unmentionables out of the dirt?" Harriet said with a grin. This was wonderfully scandalous. Nigel was rather stiff-necked, and to have Emily traipsing after his small clothes was a deliciously silly thought.
Emily stared at a piece of lint on her dress. "Yes, well, you see, Wellington caused the horses to rear, and his trunk fell off the carriage and came open. Then, of course, the wind was rather severe this afternoon, so they were scattered about the grounds. I simply helped his valet retrieve his belongings," she explained, as if it were the most common of occurrences.
"And Nigel didn't go on about it? I mean, he didn't lose his temper?" Harriet asked with a frown. Nigel, who had been living with the marquess lately, did sound rather on edge in his letter. In fact, this sounds exactly like another example of the Manning Curse, she thought, which must be driving Nigel to drink. So why didn't he get upset? she wondered distractedly.
"No, Uncle Nigel was ever so nice to us," Victoria answered, and Harriet knew she probably should scold her daughter for being so forward. But her mother had tried to teach her manners when she was Victoria's age, and she was determined to try and teach the same thing to her daughter.
"Victoria, I have some matters I'd like to discuss with your Aunt Emily. Will you please excuse us? I believe Miss Turner is waiting for you out in the hall," Harriet said gently, and her heart strings tugged as she saw Victoria's face fall.
"Do I have to leave, Mama? I like talking with you and Aunt Emily," she said in a tiny voice, as if she were going to cry.
"Yes, you do. But I'll be up to see you later, and maybe, if you're a good girl, Aunt Emily will come by tonight to read you a bedtime story," Harriet said, glancing toward Emily.
"Will you come see me later, Aunt Emily?" Victoria asked in an even more pitiful voice, as if she were being banished to the workhouse.
"Of course, dear," Emily replied, and Victoria slowly walked out of the morning room, her disappointment very evident.
"So, you met Nigel? What did you think of him?" Harriet asked eagerly, noticing how red Emily turned.
"He appears to be presentable enough, but of course he is a relation of yours. All of your family is grand, except that scoundrel Roger Manning," she commented, staring out the window.
Harriet winced slightly. Obviously, Emily was not in the mood to graciously forgive Nigel's younger brother, and she didn't particularly blame her. Roger had made her Season a debacle that was talked about long after both parties had left town. She followed Emily's gaze and looked out the window framed in heavy maroon velvet drapes. It was snowing prodigiously hard. "I've always found Nigel to be rather charming, and he's always been particularly kind to Victoria," Harriet finally concluded, studying Emily.
Emily continued to gaze out the window, a haunted look in her eyes. "Yes, he did seem to be rather charming, but I do hope you're not going to spend the holiday trying to make a match of your Cousin Nigel and me. I'm quite on the shelf and very ineligible," she stated flatly, not meeting Harriet's gaze.
I must talk to Henry about this, Harriet thought, absently twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. Emily might be an ideal match for Nigel; I wonder what he thinks of the idea, she pondered, watching the English countryside become covered in a blanket of snow.
"And of course you do know my Cousin Nigel, Lord Stratford," Harriet said as the party seated themselves around the circular mahogany pillar-and-claw dining table.
Emily, now clad in a dark blue, merino wool dress that had a very moderate neckline adorned with a white ruffle, blushed slightly and replied, "Actually, we were never properly introduced."
Nigel, his traveling clothes more than a bit worse for the wear, cursed his damnable luck, and practically gaped at Miss Winterhaven. He had not taken a freakish liking to little Victoria's nanny. He had been dazzled by the unspoiled charm of Miss Winterhaven, the female who was ruined by his younger brother. Of course, Roger had been a trifle inaccurate in his description. Her hair wasn't short and reddish, it was auburn, long, and luxuriant. She didn't appear to be a decided bluestocking, which really didn't bother him at all in any case, and her eyes were the most magnificent green.
"Nigel? Are you attending?" Henry asked casually as Nigel gaped at Emily.
"I'm sorry, yes, Miss Winterhaven was kind enough to help retrieve my belongings after that mishap with the carriage," he said, and a slight pink tinge could be found on his cheeks.
The meal was exquisite, and Emily ate her stuffed shoulder of veal with relish, while enjoying some of Henry and Harriet's stories.
"You're very quiet, Miss Winterhaven," Nigel commented, sipping his hock, waiting eagerly for her radiant green eyes to meet his.
Emily looked up, blushing a bit. "I'm sorry, it's just that my life is rather drab, and I don't really have much to contribute," she said, blushing even more.
Harriet raised an eyebrow and said, "That's doing it up a bit brown, Emily. Your life certainly isn't drab, since not everyone spends their time in London." Harriet paused for a moment, then turned to Nigel and said softly, "Emily has spent a good part of the last few years on the Continent, studying the pianoforte. She was even invited to play for the Czar."
Nigel's eyebrows raised and he turned to Emily in surprise. "You were invited to play for the Czar? How did that come about?"
Emily picked at her creamed asparagus. "It was nothing, really. My parents and I were in Italy, and we were at some rout or another, and I played a piece that I wrote. The Czar took a liking to my music, and issued a rather vague invitation to visit him. I rather think that he was a trifle bosky at the time and was really interested in pursuing an acquaintance with my mama. Father wasn't too enthusiastic about that idea, so we never even really considered a visit," she explained, throwing Harriet a telling look.
Nigel leaned forward in his chair, all of his attention on the remarkably beautiful woman across from him. "You write your own music?" he asked in an awestruck voice, his hazel eyes large with wonder.
Blushing furiously, Emily replied, "Oh, I've written some of my own pieces, but they're very amateurish."
"That's doing it a bit too brown, Emily," Henry interjected, finishing his hock. "I've never heard anyone play as beautifully as Emily, and I've had to sit through dozens of ghastly musical even
ings," he stated sagely.
Emily stared at her Dresden plate and said nothing. Finally, Harriet broke the silence by announcing, "Nigel plays, too, you see, so you needn't be embarrassed about it."
All eyes turned to Nigel, who flashed an apologetic smile. "When I was much younger, I used to play regularly, until my inestimable father proclaimed that it wasn't manly. I still play occasionally, but I was never really able to devote any time to it," he explained, his eyes resting on her perfect rosebud lips.
A sudden look of sympathy flooded Emily's luminescent green eyes, and when she looked at him it was as if they were alone at the table. "I understand completely. It's very difficult, isn't it, when Society expects us to be something we're not? I was very lucky to be indulged by my family, and, being a female with no expectations, I'm allowed much more freedom. It must be difficult for you," she remarked sympathetically, her words tugging at his heart.
"I can't believe you have no expectations, Miss Winterhaven," Nigel replied softly, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. Miss Winterhaven was the most charming, original female; Roger must have been insane to try to ruin her, he thought, still gazing longingly at her.
Emily giggled. "You are as charming as Harriet said, Lord Stratford," she began, then added, "I'm sure Henry and Harriet will agree that I'm most assuredly on the shelf. Not only that, I'm four-and-twenty years old and my father is in trade. There are few females in polite Society who are more ineligible than I am!" she declared heartily, finishing her glass of hock.
"Emily, you can be such a widgeon!" Harriet exclaimed, frowning. "If you continue disparaging yourself, I'm going to have to have Victoria's nanny discipline you!"
Henry chuckled and glanced over at Nigel. "Dearest, you must learn to contain yourself. Nigel, are you ready to retire for our port?" he asked, glancing at the table.
"Of course, Henry," he replied, and as they left, Harriet called to Henry, "Don't be long—I thought we could play a round of whist."
"Nigel, I do believe that Emily is a regular Captain Sharp," Henry declared, as the pair of men lost their third consecutive trick.
Harriet giggled and gathered the cards up from the table and began to shuffle, the enormous Langely family diamond very prominently displayed on her delicate hand.
"We really should tell them, Harriet," Emily said in a slightly guilty tone, and smiled at her close friend.
"And what should we gentlemen know?" Henry asked in a serious voice, and Emily was certain that Henry wasn't serious at all.
As Harriet dealt the cards, she smiled benignly and replied, "Emily and I loved to play whist while we were at Miss Haversham's School for Young Ladies."
Nigel frowned at the cards in his hand, and looked hopefully at Henry. His partner was frowning as well.
Emily looked at both men and smiled. They are obviously not gamesters, she thought, since they let all and sundry know that they both have a bad hand.
The hand began, and once again, as if by some unknown forces, the ladies took another trick. Another hand was dealt. The ladies won again.
Nigel shuffled the deck and proclaimed, "Henry, I certainly hope you don't take any offense at this suggestion, but I do think the game would be more interesting if I were paired with a different player. Miss Winterhaven, would you consider forsaking your lucky streak and partnering with me?" he asked softly, and she immediately noticed the golden glow of his hazel eyes.
Emily blushed, embarrassed by the singular attention that the peer was paying her. He's just trying to be polite, Emily thought; he doesn't really care about me. He's a guest of Harriet and Henry's and wants to make the holiday as pleasant as possible, she decided, and finally replied, "If Harriet doesn't mind being paired with her husband, of course I'll be your partner."
Harriet chuckled. "I'm sorry, Nigel. You see, when we were in school, Emily and I did play whist quite regularly, and found that we were excellent partners. In the evenings, we would have competitions and fleece the other girls of chocolates and ribbons and whatever else were the stakes for the evening," she explained with a smile.
Henry frowned. "You were a Captain Sharp and you never told me? Did Miss Haversham know about this?" he demanded in mock severity.
Emily smiled at the pair who were so obviously in love with each other. They laughed and joked easily, as if they had been together their whole lives. Harriet had never looked better, and Henry wore an air of complete contentment. How I envy them, she thought a bit sadly. It's too bad I'll never be able to have that sort of relationship with a man.
"I personally suspected this sort of thing," Nigel said, loosening his cravat. "Harriet was always a very precocious little girl, always trying to lure the male members of the family into some sort of mischief."
"Harriet isn't a gamester and neither am I," Emily said, rising to Harriet's defense. "We just happen to be prodigiously good partners at whist."
Nigel smiled at the suddenly vocal Miss Winterhaven. "I congratulate you on your loyalty, Miss Winterhaven."
Emily's mind was whirling as she pretended to study her hand. What in heaven's name was he talking about? Men abhorred females who displayed any sort of bottom, she was certain of that. Roger had informed her of that numerous times, and she was careful to be very retiring when she was out in any sort of company in England. On the Continent it was different. Women could be witty and interesting and not suffer from being labeled a bluestocking.
"And it would do you well to remember that I'm just as loyal to Emily," Harriet began, and added, "She's practically family, and runs tame in our house."
Emily giggled and stared at her cards. "You make me sound like a young buck, Harriet. Run tame in your house? I think not," she said, playing her final card and winning the trick.
As Henry gathered the cards, Nigel aimed a telling look at Emily. "You're an excellent partner," he said in a soft, intimate voice that sent a very pleasant tingle up Emily's spine.
"Aunt Emily, Aunt Emily, wake up, it's snowing out," a small voice from the foot of Emily's enormous four-poster bed declared.
Emily snuggled under the covers, delightfully warm.
Henry has a marvelous house, she thought hazily. I can't feel any sort of a draft at all.
"Aunt Emily, look outside, it's snowing ever so hard!" little Victoria said, and Emily opened one eye hesitantly.
Victoria, her brown hair curled into perfect little ringlets, stood at her bedside, her blue eyes wide with anticipation. "I've never seen it snow so hard," Victoria said softly, looking anxiously toward the window.
Emily sat up in bed and smiled, still a bit groggy. "So, it is snowing, Victoria? And have you seen it snow before?" she asked, contemplating giving the child a set-down for waking her from her slumbers.
Victoria scampered away from the mahogany four-poster and pulled back the heavy blue velvet drapes. "Look outside," she said in a challenging voice, and Emily craned her neck to peer outside.
"Why, it's a blizzard," Emily exclaimed, rising out of bed and putting on her pale pink dressing robe embroidered with small flowers. She joined Victoria at the window, and they both gazed over the countryside.
Actually, Emily didn't see much of anything. Except snow. It was the first actual blizzard she had seen in her life, although her parents often told stories of particularly treacherous winters.
"Look, isn't that a carriage over there?" Victoria asked, pointing toward the road.
Emily squinted, and could see some sort of movement, far in the distance, that could have been a carriage. And it was heading toward the house. "Victoria, go tell the butler—what is his name?" she asked, a frown marring her delicate features.
"Coverdail."
"Go find Coverdail and tell him that there is a carriage coming up the drive—he'll know what to do," she finished, still staring into the bright blizzard.
Victoria toddled out of the room obediently, and Emily knocked on the door adjoining the room next to hers. "Eliza, you slugabed, it's time to join the r
est of the family downstairs," she called to her abigail, who was taking a well-deserved rest.
Instantly the door opened, and Eliza, her beautiful red hair concealed under a white mobcap, appeared. "I'm ever so sorry, Miss Emily. I must have dozed off waiting for you to wake up," she said apologetically.
Emily smiled fondly at her petite servant. "That's quite all right, Eliza. I think it's time to go downstairs, since I do believe that the family is going to be receiving visitors soon," she said, absently wondering what kind of person would be out in weather that wasn't suitable for man nor beast.
"Aubrey, deuced bad weather we're having, isn't it?" Henry asked, pouring his cousin a glass of claret.
Lord Aubrey Langely rubbed his hands together and stood closer to the warm glow of the hearth in the study. "It is dashed freakish," he lamented, staring down at his ice-covered boots melting on Henry's Aubusson carpet.
Henry handed him the claret, which Aubrey immediately downed, putting a hint of color into his pale cheeks.
At four-and-twenty, Aubrey is fast on his way to becoming a wastrel, Henry thought, sipping his drink. Once again he is dressed rather ridiculously, this time sporting a striped puce waistcoat, a cravat tied in some sort of style that was utterly unrecognizable, and a pair of buckskin breeches that belonged to a man of less sizable proportions. But, on the positive side, Aubrey is quite tolerable at cards, is fairly amiable, and the ladies find him amusing, so I suppose I should be glad of his company, Henry concluded wearily. "How was the traveling?" he asked, staring out the window, watching the snow fall like mad.
"Quite tolerable, until the snows," Aubrey replied, running his hand through his blond hair done in the fashionable Brutus style. "There were a few other carriages about, from what my coachman says, so you may be getting some unexpected visitors. The weather is making it rough going," he concluded, sitting down opposite Henry in the black armchair adorned with gilt ornaments.
"So, you've escaped your mama for the holiday season?" Henry asked casually, still rather distracted by the weather.
Emily's Christmas Wish Page 4
