Emily's Christmas Wish

by Sharon Stancavage

  "My pendant is missing. The mermaid is missing," Emily said in hushed tones, glancing suspiciously down the hallway.

  Harriet relaxed a trifle, her panic subsiding. "You probably just misplaced it. Would you like me to have my abigail help you search your room?" she said in a concerned voice.

  "Harriet, it's not in my room. That's why I wasn't at breakfast. Eliza and I have spent the past hour and a quarter searching the room. It's not there," Emily replied stubbornly, her eyes large and pleading.

  The panic that filled Harriet gradually began to return. At first, she suspected that Emily had some sort of unpleasant confrontation with Susan or Lady Markston. But nothing like this had ever crossed her mind. "Are you sure? It couldn't have fallen off the day you showed it to me?" Harriet asked nervously, wringing her hands.

  Emily shook her head. "I saw Eliza put it away that day, and I haven't worn any jewelry since."

  "Is Eliza… trustworthy?" Harriet said hesitantly, pushing a stray lock of blond hair away from her face. The idea that the pendant was stolen was preposterous.

  "Without a doubt. Eliza was born into our household, and it would be an insult to question her integrity!" Emily said passionately, then added, "And I suppose you have a house full of loyal retainers?"

  Harriet nodded. "Yes."

  The pair stared at each other until Harriet suggested, "Let me speak with Henry about this. If the pendant has been stolen, the thief is still in the house. You know no one has been out since this atrocious weather has hit," Harriet explained, valiantly trying to keep her wits about her.

  "That's true. Talk to Henry and see what he says. I'll just die if Grandpapa's gift has been stolen," Emily said with uncharacteristic drama, and Harriet felt as if someone had hit her.

  There was only one person in her home who was motivated to steal Emily's mermaid. Nigel.

  As Henry approached Nigel's bedroom, he heard quite a flurry of activity, followed by a rather impolite curse. A very loud, impolite curse that involved Nigel's valet doing something with that (curse) animal.

  Henry steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation, and knocked on the oak door.

  "One moment," Nigel's valet said, and Henry could hear quite a bit of movement on the other side of the door.

  Moments later, Hughes, Nigel's valet, opened the door a crack. To Henry's utter astonishment, he was holding Victoria's energetic puppy Wellington in his capable arms. Wellington wagged his tail at the sight of Henry, who cautiously asked, "Is Nigel available for a word?"

  From inside the room, Henry heard Nigel utter another epithet before replying, "Yes, Hughes, let Henry in and be sure to get rid of that infernal animal!"

  Hughes opened the door for Henry to enter, and Henry was surprised to find Nigel standing in a blue brocaded dressing gown. Nigel wasn't the earliest riser in the house, but it was past noon and he usually made an appearance downstairs by that time.

  As Hughes disappeared with Wellington in his arms, Henry discovered something else. On the far side of the room, all of Nigel's shoes were haphazardly strewn across the floor. And, as Henry walked over to them, he noticed that they all bore the impressions of Wellington's teeth. "Gads, don't tell me that Wellington has developed a penchant for chewing shoes," Henry remarked with a frown.

  Nigel sighed and leaned against the steel dressing table with brass and copper ornaments. "Why, yes, he actually has developed a taste for my footwear," Nigel said with a sigh. "Every single pair, in fact."

  Henry stood gaping at the shoes in disbelief. Nigel was having the most unusual streak of bad luck. "So all of your shoes are ruined?"

  "Yes, that's essentially the problem of the day. Until the next chapter in the ongoing saga of the Manning Curse," he said dispiritedly, a look of complete disgust on his face.

  Henry casually walked over to the dressing table and pulled the chair away. "Do you mind if I have a seat?"

  "Not at all," Nigel said, staring at all of his shoes. His ruined shoes. And boots. And slippers. "Do you know what's ironic, Henry? I spoke with Emily last night about the pendant and she said she wouldn't part with it for the world. And I really don't care. She's much more attached to the damned thing than I ever was," he finished.

  Henry was now completely confused. "You told Emily you wanted to buy it? And the curse? You told her about the Manning Curse?" he asked in disbelief.

  Nigel shook his head. "No, I was much more subtle than that. I just struck up a conversation and she happened to mention the mermaid. I mentioned that I know of someone who would be interested in purchasing it, and she balked like an untrained horse," he said, then paused. "And it really doesn't matter any longer. Roger caused this mess, so let him find his way out of it. I wish Emily joy of the mermaid," he concluded, looking rather haggard in the harsh afternoon light.

  "So you're giving up?" Henry asked, still not quite sure what was going on.

  "Most assuredly. If my father and Roger are determined to retrieve the pendant, they both have my blessings. I'll be too busy refurbishing my shoes to bother with it," he replied with a smile.

  Henry was now completely confused. "Then you don't have the pendant?"

  Nigel frowned, his brows furrowing together. "No, of course not. Why would I have it?"

  "Emily came downstairs to breakfast in a panic this morning. The pendant is missing. Emily and her abigail searched the room, then Harriet recruited her abigail and a few maids. It's gone," he concluded, hoping Nigel wouldn't jump to the wrong conclusion.

  Nigel began to pace the room. "So naturally you and Harriet thought that I nabbed it."

  Henry sighed. Nigel had immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. Well, not entirely the wrong conclusion, he thought wryly. "No, not really. Harriet wanted me to speak with you about it, that's all."

  "I don't have it. In fact, I've never even seen the devilish thing. It's missing?"

  "Yes," Henry began, stretching his long legs out in front of him as Nigel returned to the dressing table. "Her abigail admits she hasn't even looked at Emily's jewels for a few days, so they have no idea how long it's been gone. The mystery is that she had other, more valuable pieces in the same place, and they weren't touched. Someone was after the mermaid."

  Nigel frowned. "So you both immediately thought that I was the culprit. That's not a very good compliment to my character, Henry," he said in disgust.

  Henry flushed in embarrassment. "No, Nigel, it's not like that at all."

  Nigel stared at his shoes strewn across the floor and said nothing for a long while. Finally he looked Henry in the eyes and said, "Henry, I have the deepest respect for Emily. She's a charming, attractive young woman with a kind heart. I could never intentionally hurt her," he said in a somber tone.

  Henry studied the grave look in Nigel's eyes and realized two very important facts. First of all, Nigel didn't steal the mermaid, which was evidenced by the fact that he was still under the supposed curse. The fact that Nigel didn't have the mermaid was a vast relief to Henry, who was now able to digest the second fact he had learned that afternoon.

  Nigel's eyes practically glazed over when he spoke of Emily. In fact, Henry was certain that Nigel had developed a full-fledged tendre for her. Which was inevitable, since they had so much in common. And Emily did look dashed attractive and charming next to Susan Claredon.

  "So I suppose I'm going to have to ask for your help. I promised Harriet I'd find the mermaid for Emily," Henry said, then added, "How are your detective skills?"

  "As good as anyone's, I suppose. Do you still think it's in the house?" he asked curiously, his golden eyes fixed on Henry.

  "My guess is yes. As far as I know, none of the servants has left the house since the day Aubrey arrived. Emily's abigail remembers seeing it the first day of the snowstorm, but hasn't seen it since," Henry finished.

  A very thoughtful expression appeared on Nigel's face. "What have you told Emily?"

  "Nothing. We've convinced her to wait until the storm breaks to call
the authorities. I hope we'll be able to keep everyone in the house until we can find it," Henry concluded.

  "And she's agreed?"

  "For now. I'm planning on talking to all of my servants and making sure that they discreetly search all of the rooms until the mermaid is returned to its rightful owner," Henry said, rising from his seat and moving toward the door.

  "I'll help in any way I can," Nigel said, following him to the door.

  Henry looked over at the pile of shoes. "For now, just let me know if you hear anything about it," he said, and added with a smile, "I'll have my valet come over with some shoes, since you do seem to be in dire straits."

  Nigel smiled back, his anger completely gone. "I would appreciate that. And please try to keep Wellington out of my room," he asked with a grin.

  "I'll try," Henry replied, and as he walked down the hall one thought nagged at his brain. Who would want to steal Emily's mermaid?

  "We're almost in the house, my lord," Henry's butler Coverdail announced, as the entire party dragged the enormous ash Yule log across the glistening oak floor.

  "Henry, couldn't you have chosen a closer room? Possibly the library?" Aubrey asked, as they all heaved the log toward the parlor.

  "Yes, yes, I know. Blame Harriet—she's the one who found the ash tree," Henry replied, his face beet-red from the strain.

  "I think it's great fun," Susan announced as she adjusted the bright yellow plumes on her brown velvet bonnet. It matched her pelisse perfectly, and, as usual, Susan was the epitome of the fashionable London lady.

  Lady Markston, who had an unfortunate back injury that prevented her from doing any sort of lifting, helped guide the enormous log into the parlor. "Just a bit more to the right, then you'll be in the door," she announced, standing far away from the straining men and ladies.

  Harriet, determined that the holiday was going to be festive no matter who was at her house, had turned the parlor into a veritable forest of evergreen, holly, mistletoe, ivy, and red silk bows in every corner. The mantel was adorned with thick garlands of bay, fir, rosemary, and pine twigs accented with enormous red velvet and silk ribbons. Small cakes hung from the ceiling, just waiting for the festivities after the lighting of the Yule log. A kissing bough, much larger than the one Emily made, was positioned in the center of the room, just waiting for its candles to be lit; a veritable feast sat on the rosewood side table supported by ormolu mounts. Negus, "rack" punch, and the traditional wassail were the preferred beverages, and Harriet expected her guests to indulge themselves. A wide range of subtleties shaped like animals, ships, castles, and the Wise Men sat next to the drinks, as did mince pies, plum pudding, and a bowl of fresh apples.

  As the merry group huffed and puffed and finally forced the log into the fireplace, Henry looked around the room, as if he were searching for someone. Finally he spotted Nigel on the far side of the room, frowning prodigiously at Emily, who was definitely subdued this evening.

  "Nigel, I need your assistance," Henry called, as he waved the servants out of the room.

  Nigel frowned even more. "Yes?"

  Henry walked over to the sideboard and picked up the waiting bottle of wine. "I was wondering if you would do the honors," he asked, holding out the bottle of wine.

  This was the first time that Nigel had spent the holidays with Harriet and Henry, and he fully expected Henry to do the traditional prayer. So Henry's request was more than a slight surprise. "You want me to do the prayer?" he asked incredulously.

  From the other side of the room, Harriet piped in and added, "Nigel, you're a full nine months older than Henry, so it is your duty as the oldest member of our household. And I do think you'd do a much better job of it than Stephen, our head groom. At five-and-sixty he's literally the oldest member of the household, but I don't know if he could come up with an appropriate prayer," she finished, her blue eyes twinkling.

  "Oh yes, Nigel, please say the Yule prayer," Susan chimed in, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

  Nigel smiled slightly and replied, "I suppose I have no choice," and took the bottle of French wine out of Henry's hands.

  Henry and Nigel took their respective places at opposite sides of the fire screen, and the rest of the party gathered around them, Emily shyly hugging the far side of the room.

  "Lord, in the coming year, we ask you to bestow the gifts of health, wealth, and happiness to all of your humble servants gathered here tonight," Nigel intoned, and poured the wine three times on the log, completing the traditional Yule prayer.

  Henry then lit the large ember left from last year's log and leaned over, igniting the newly blessed log. The new Yule log, which had been chosen months earlier and had been sitting in the barn, drying out, lit up immediately, dazzling the onlookers.

  And so the impromptu Christmas Eve gathering began. Henry, determined that everyone was going to have a jolly good time, made sure that every glass was filled to the brim with wassail (which of course included a hearty portion of wine) and the small party was soon enlivened with a variety of games.

  Aubrey, much to everyone's amazement, showed a definite penchant for diving for apples, and, as his prize, stole a kiss from Susan under the mistletoe. He also received a dark look from Lady Markston, who was obviously displeased with his behavior.

  Harriet and Lady Markston were the winners of the sack races, and everyone was glad to see that Lady Markston didn't censure the traditional family games. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the festivities as much as everyone else. But then she did drink a prodigious amount of wassail, which might have had something to do with her enthusiasm.

  Henry could tell that Emily was trying her hardest to actually enjoy Christmas Eve, but her heart didn't seem to be in the festivities. But she still participated in every game, even though her mood was very subdued. It was obvious to him that she was very blue-deviled about her pendant.

  It also surprised Henry that Nigel was patently ignoring Emily, instead attending to Susan's every whim. Actually, the only person who appeared to be more subdued than Emily was Aubrey. Henry watched in interest as Aubrey's eyes remained fixed to Susan.

  "Come on, Emily, we're going to eat the cakes. Aren't you going to join in?" Harriet cajoled, a worried look haunting her blue eyes.

  Emily smiled hesitantly. "I don't know if I'm really up to this, Harriet," she explained, her burgundy velvet gown making her look a trifle pale in the candlelight.

  "You have to play, Emily," Henry explained, and gently took her arm, placing her under one of the small cakes hanging from the ceiling, and tying her hands behind her back with an old scarf.

  "All right," she replied with a smile, glancing across the room at Nigel. He was having a private coze with Susan, who was standing under a cake beside him.

  "Does everyone have their hands tied?" Henry asked, and a chorus of yesses was heard. "Then we'll start at the count of three. One, two, three!" he exclaimed, and everyone began their attempt at eating the cakes in front of them.

  Emily was completely disinterested in the game, and just calmly stood nibbling her cake, a look of slight boredom on her pale features. Strangely enough, Emily's cake wasn't swinging back and forth like the rest. It stayed fairly still as she nibbled delicately at it, while the others struggled with their cakes.

  "We have a winner!" Henry announced triumphantly, walking over to Emily, a glow of satisfaction on his face.

  Emily looked over at him, a bit dazed. "I can't be the winner," she said softly. "I wasn't even trying."

  Henry smiled indulgently at her. "Nonetheless, you are the winner. What would you like as your prize? A kiss under the mistletoe perhaps?" he asked, and there were giggles heard at the far side of the room. "Or do you fancy something else?" Henry asked, his brown eyes dancing with mirth.

  Emily was silent as a dozen expressions flashed across her face. Finally, she softly replied, "For my prize, I would like you to kiss your wife under the kissing bough, since you certainly deserve it."

  "Here, he
re," the others agreed, and Henry whisked his wife under the lit kissing bough and kissed her as if she were his new bride.

  "Now, if everyone will relax for a moment, we're having the table set up for snapdragon," Henry announced, motioning toward a pair of servants bringing in a large mahogany table.

  While the servants were preparing the room for snapdragon, Henry noticed that Susan and Nigel were still in a private coze. Lady Markston, on the other side of the room, looked as if she were ringing a peal over Aubrey. Emily, alone near the door, quietly slipped out into the hall, her dark, fringed Kashmir shawl on her arm. Henry almost went after her, but thought better of it. From the looks of things, Emily wasn't having the most pleasant evening and deserved to retire early, he decided, walking over to supervise his staff. Fortunately, no one else took notice of her absence. Or so he thought.

  Nigel was enduring one of the most dreadful evenings of his entire life. If it weren't for the fact that his father was on good terms with Lord Markston (which in itself was a miracle, since his father was forever involved in some sort of brangle with everyone) he would have given dearest Susan a much-needed talking-to. In fact, he was still seriously considering that idea when Aubrey strolled over, his bright blue-and-green-striped waistcoat looking a bit tight on him.

  "Nigel, can I have a word with you alone?" he asked casually, noting the possessive way Susan had her arm draped through Nigel's.

  Nigel smiled brightly, relieved to have an excuse to detach Susan from him. "If you'll excuse us, Susan," he said with a smile, taking her arm away from his.

  The look that Susan wore as Nigel and Aubrey walked toward the other side of the room wasn't attractive; her lip was curled into a pout, and she looked as if she were ready to throw a full-fledged tantrum.

  "Sorry to bother you, Nigel, but I wanted to talk to you about Lady Susan," Aubrey said formally, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

  Nigel frowned. Had Aubrey gone mad, or simply had too much Negus, he wondered, before replying, "Yes?"

  "Do you both have an understanding?" Aubrey blurted out, turning a deep shade of red that made him look even more pale and foppish.