"I don't wish to discuss Emily tonight, Harriet," Nigel announced, walking toward the staircase to his bedroom.
"Nigel Manning, I have waited up specifically to find out what has happened. I let you join our house party against my better judgment, and you have behaved no better than Roger. I demand an explanation," Harriet insisted, her blue eyes alight with anger.
Henry stood between the pair, obviously torn. On one hand, Harriet was entirely correct. On the other, Nigel looked ragged and definitely unfit to have any sort of conversation. All in all, he reasoned, it could wait until morning. "Harriet, Nigel doesn't seem to be feeling quite the thing. I think this can wait until morning."
Harriet turned to her husband, still very angry. "Yes, well, Emily wasn't feeling quite the thing, either, thanks to this scoundrel," she replied vehemently, her eyes never leaving Nigel.
Nigel leaned against the mahogany banister. "Harriet, the only person I wish to explain anything to is Miss Winterhaven. Since she has already retired, I'll bid you both good night," he said simply, and began to walk slowly up the stairs.
Harriet was about to call up the stairs to him when Henry took hold of her arm. "It can wait, my dear," he said in a soft voice, and Harriet finally conceded.
"All right," she replied, following him up the stairs to their chambers.
"Do you want your hair put up in curling papers, Lady Susan?" Jane, Susan's abigail, asked calmly, studying her employer.
Lady Susan was obviously very bosky. She was in the best of moods, and was thrown into a fit of giggling when Jane helped her into the silk nightgown she had demanded to wear. Her cheeks were bright red, her hair fell down her back like a golden curtain, and her generous curves were more than apparent in the enticing gown.
"No, not tonight," she giggled, then added, "I expect you to wake me at dawn."
Jane frowned. That was dashed unusual. Lady Susan never appeared before the noon hour, especially after a major fete. "Yes, Lady Susan."
Susan giggled again as Jane ran the brush through her tangled hair. "If I'm not in my bed, you must be certain to find me, even if you have to search every room in the house."
Jane raised an eyebrow, and continued combing her hair. Lady Susan expected to be spending the night with Lord Stratford. What she didn't know was that Lord Stratford would probably not be spending the night in his bedroom, so all of her scheming was going to waste. I hope he won't be spending the night in his bedroom, Jane thought, still rhythmically brushing Susan's golden tresses. If he is caught in bed with Lady Susan after being warned, he deserves to be leg-shackled to her, she decided with a slight smile…
"That's fine—you may leave now," Susan ordered, her eyes bright with anticipation.
As Jane left the room, she wondered if that nice Miss Winterhaven might need another abigail in her household, for life with Lady Susan was getting more taxing every day.
The hour was very late, or very early, depending on one's opinion, when Lady Susan padded silently down the hall. She was clad only in her sheer nightdress, but wasn't worried about being seen. Nigel's room was in the same wing as her suite, so she only had a short distance to walk.
The hall was as black as night, save for a few candles, and Susan was smiling in anticipation of the next morning.
Tomorrow morning I'll become engaged and soon I'll be a countess, she thought, silently opening the door to Nigel's room.
Moonlight flooded the room, penetrating the thick curtains. Susan could see the bed, and the figure bundled under a large mass of covers.
As silent as a jungle cat, Susan walked through the room to the far side of the bed. The figure was sleeping as if he were dead, which suited her purpose ideally.
So she simply got under the covers on the other side of the bed, trying not to disturb the sleeping figure next to her. He'll be disturbed enough tomorrow morning when I announce that we anticipated our vows, she thought with glee, settling under the blankets. She fell into a drunken sleep almost immediately.
A single, blood-curdling scream pierced the early morning light that filtered through the heavy draperies of the Ashton country home.
The response to the obviously feminine shriek was immediate; Henry, followed by Harriet, appeared first. Their butler Coverdail, and Henry's valet Glover, appeared almost simultaneously in the long, winding hallway, trying to find the cause of the disturbance.
The small group stood rooted in their steps, looking up and down the hall. Emily appeared from the north wing, as did Lady Markston.
"I think the scream came from the west wing, my lord," Glover interjected, and Coverdail nodded his head in agreement.
"To the west wing, then," Henry commanded, pulling his maroon velvet dressing robe tightly around himself.
The mass of visitors, all still in various states of undress, moved down the hallway until they spotted Susan's abigail standing at Nigel's door.
Harriet and Emily, who looked a trifle under the weather, exchanged a telling glance.
Lady Markston, her thinning blond hair in a long braid that made her look rather like a very aged Rapunzel, stepped to the front of the group and demanded, "Jane! What is the meaning of this?"
Harriet studied the abigail, who looked as if she were going to burst into a fit of giggles. "Look!" she announced, and pointed into the bedroom.
Lady Markston threw the door open and proceeded to exclaim, "My God!" and promptly swooned into Henry's arms.
As Henry struggled with Lady Markston's enormous limp body, the rest of the party surged toward the door, overcome with curiosity.
"Goodness!" Harriet exclaimed, as she looked into the darkened bedroom.
Lady Susan, who appeared to be suffering the ill effects of being foxed, was standing in her very transparent silk nightdress at the foot of Nigel's bed. Her usually luminescent skin was pale, and she was on the verge of tears.
Curled up in Nigel's bed was a tousled but grinning Aubrey. "Susan dear, come back to bed," he said with a smile, and Susan flew into a fit of rage.
"You! You scoundrel! What are you doing in Nigel's bed?" she demanded, and for good measure, picked up a letter opener off the escritoire and flung it at the prone form on the bed.
Aubrey easily avoided the letter opener and continued to grin at her. "Susan dearest, shall we tell our guests the good news?"
"You vermin!" she shrieked, and began to hurl everything on the escritoire at him in abject anger.
Henry heaved Lady Markston's still unconscious body into Coverdail's arms and stepped into the bedroom. "Lady Susan! Control yourself!" he ordered authoritatively.
Susan flung a small book at Aubrey, then screamed, "What is he doing here? This is Nigel's room!"
Henry glanced over at Aubrey, then back at Susan, who still appeared to be in the throes of a fit of rage. "Aubrey, what happened?"
Aubrey calmly sat up in bed, as if it were the most ordinary of mornings. "I awoke to the scream of Lady Susan's abigail at my door. When I looked over, Lady Susan was sleeping ever so soundly next to me," he explained simply.
"What were you doing in Nigel's room?" Harriet asked, trying to hide her grin.
"Nigel and I were discussing our sleeping arrangements last night, and I mentioned that my mattress was, I'm sorry to say, not the most firm. He said that his mattress was firmer than what he was accustomed to, so he offered it to me. If I found it to my liking, we were going to switch rooms for the rest of the holiday," Aubrey said logically.
Henry looked at Aubrey, then back at Lady Susan, and replied, "My felicitations on your engagement. Will the wedding be in London?"
"Wedding? There will be no wedding!" Susan replied with the voice of a true termagant.
"I'm sorry, Lady Susan, but you have been compromised. Your abigail found you in bed with Lord Langely. It is our duty as your hosts to protect your reputation," Henry explained, much to his delight.
"I will rot in the bowels of hell before I marry you, you grasping fortune hunter!" Susan said
as she pushed her way past the crowd at the door and headed toward her room.
Everyone now had their eyes on Aubrey, who looked wonderfully contented. "I think a spring wedding, probably in London," he replied with a slight smirk.
Henry grinned at him. "Once again, my congratulations. We can discuss the matter at breakfast," he announced, turning toward the throng at Aubrey's door. "I believe the Cheltingham tragedy is now over," he said, and motioned for the servants to get about their business.
Everyone headed back to their respective rooms except for Nigel, who was the last to join the onlookers. He silently waited at he door to have a word alone with Aubrey.
When everyone was out of hearing distance, Nigel ran his hand through his thick, black hair and said, "I owe you a great debt."
Aubrey smiled. "Actually, it was Jane, Susan's abigail, who alerted my valet Gable. She wanted to tell your man, but he wasn't available," he said calmly. "It seems that the abigail is a hopeless romantic. She told my man that everyone knew that you should marry Miss Winterhaven, not Lady Susan."
"Well, I concur with her, but at the moment, Miss Winterhaven isn't speaking to me."
"Really? That's a surprise. In any case, someone has to marry Lady Susan, and I suppose it was time to meet Jack Ketch," Aubrey said cordially.
A faint smile finally appeared on Nigel's severe features. "I do believe you're correct, Aubrey. Marrying Lady Susan is akin to meeting Jack Ketch," he pronounced with a smile.
Some hours later, the meeting that Nigel was enduring with Henry and Harriet in the parlor was less than pleasant.
Harriet, clad in a somber Devonshire brown high-necked gown, paced the room, obviously very agitated.
Nigel attempted to relax in the hideous black armchair with gilt ornaments, with limited success. It appeared to be more comfortable than the black-and-gold recamier which Henry was occupying, but barely. He simply sipped his afternoon tea and waited for the peal that Harriet and her husband were bound to ring over him.
Henry, still dazed from the morning's tumultuous events, looked bored with the whole discussion. He stared blankly out the window into the sunny, snow-covered garden, completely oblivious to the fact that his wife was in a fine state.
"Nigel, you promised me you weren't toying with Emily. What, exactly, has transpired between you?" Harriet asked formally, seating herself in the gilt chair next to her very errant relation.
Nigel let out a long, deep sigh and stared at nothing in particular. "Emily and I didn't have any sort of falling-out, per se. We were having a private discussion in the library when we were joined by Blackmore and one of his other guests."
"And?" Harriet asked, her eyes never leaving his disheveled form.
"Blackmore recognized the mermaid. And told Emily about the curse. And mentioned Roger. That was enough for Emily to jump to several erroneous conclusions," he stated firmly, running his hand through his wild hair.
"You should have told Emily about Roger, and the mermaid," Henry added, taking a pinch of snuff from a silver snuffbox.
"Yes, I know," he said, shaking his head. "But to be honest, I completely forgot about the mermaid. Once Emily told me that she wouldn't sell it, the whole curse just slipped my mind."
Harriet raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You forgot about the primary reason you decided to spend the holiday with us?"
Nigel blushed slightly. "Yes. I realize that I sound like an addlepate, but it's the truth. I was enjoying the time I was spending with Emily so much that the mermaid, as well as her relationship with Roger, never even crossed my mind," he admitted regretfully.
"So what happened?" Henry asked curiously, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"Emily gave me the pendant back and informed me that she never wants to see me again."
Harriet stared at the Aubusson carpet for a long moment before saying, "I do think you owe Emily some sort of apology."
"What for?" Henry asked, sitting up attentively on the recamier.
"Henry, Nigel has been feigning affection for Emily so he could convince her to sell the pendant back. That's a dashed dishonest thing to do!" Harriet exclaimed vehemently.
"Don't be a wet goose, Harriet. Everyone in the household knows that Nigel and Emily are smelling of April and May," Henry replied.
Harriet glanced over at Nigel, her eyebrow raised once again. "Well? Is Henry correct?"
Nigel was none too happy about discussing his private affairs with the family, so he simply met Harriet's eyes and replied, "As I've said, I haven't been toying with Emily. The mermaid means nothing to me and I'd gladly explain it all to her, but she's being devilish stubborn and doesn't wish to speak to me."
"Do you have the mermaid with you?" Harriet asked curiously, and smiled when Nigel pulled it out of his slightly rumpled, black superfine jacket.
"Here, take the damnable thing. I don't want it."
Harriet held the heavy pendant in her hands, and finally said, "First of all, we must find some way to return this to Emily."
The trio all stared at nothing in particular for the longest time, until Nigel finally asked, "Does Duke, her puppy, have a collar?"
Harriet and Henry both frowned. "I don't know," Harriet replied, then asked, "Why?"
A small smile finally appeared on Nigel's somber face. "She could hardly refuse the pendant if her puppy returned it to her, could she?"
"I don't follow you," Henry said with a frown.
"Hughes, my valet, has been helping Emily train her puppy, with some success. I sincerely doubt that she'll sever her relations with Duke because of my digressions. Well, at the earliest opportunity, I'll simply attach the mermaid to Duke's collar and send her in to Emily. She has to accept it back then. And it is rightfully her piece of jewelry," he concluded.
A smile quivered on the edge of Harriet's lush red lips. "She can't argue with Duke—that fact is certain."
"Especially if Nigel's valet—what is his name? Hughes? Especially if he sends the animal into her room, then makes himself scarce," Henry added helpfully.
"And if she still doesn't want to speak with you?" Harriet asked doubtfully.
Nigel shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But this situation will eventually be resolved, mark my words."
Much later in the day, a soft rapping could be heard at Emily's bedroom door. Emily had announced to the family that she was indisposed for the day (but promised to appear at dinner) and was curled up in bed reading a rather badly written Gothic.
"Shall I answer the door, Miss Emily?" Eliza asked, popping out of her seat near the window.
"I suppose," Emily replied in a lackluster voice, perfectly reflecting her state of mind.
Eliza trod over to the huge oak door and opened it slowly. Hughes, Lord Stratford's butler, stood there holding Duke.
"Yes?"
Hughes smiled gently at the perky, redheaded servant. "Please inform Miss Winterhaven that Duke is through with her lesson today. I thought she might want to spend some time with her," he said, and purposely put his finger on the mermaid that hung on Duke's makeshift collar.
Eliza raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she said with the ghost of a smile.
"Yes. And the pendant is to stay with Duke or Miss Winterhaven," he said in a hushed voice, and Eliza nodded in agreement.
"Of course," she said, and opened the door wider as Hughes placed the puppy on the floor.
"Go find Miss Emily," Hughes said softly, and gave the reddish-brown puppy a slight push on the behind to urge her toward Emily's bed.
Duke didn't need any encouragement, and moments later was standing next to Emily's bed, her paws on the covers, yapping to be picked up.
Emily looked down from her bed and grinned. "Duke, are you done with your instruction for the day?" she asked, and was rewarded with a yap.
She actually giggled slightly. "Yes, I see that you are. Here, let me help you up," she said, as Duke wagged her tail furiously.
Lifting the squirming puppy up onto the bed
, Emily immediately noticed the brand-new collar she was wearing. "What is this you have on?" she asked the puppy, and, as she brought Duke onto her lap, she noticed something else.
The Manning Mermaid was dangling from Duke's collar, its jewels sparkling in the subdued light of the bedroom.
Fourteen
"Lady Markston and Lady Susan won't be dining with us this evening," Henry announced as the now-intimate party sat down at the large mahogany dining table.
Aubrey, clad in a pair of yellow stockinet breeches, a gold-and-Pomona-green-striped waistcoat, and a dark green coat, was in good spirits. He smiled cheerfully at Emily and Nigel, ignoring their obvious discomfort. "I'm sure Lady Susan needs some time to adjust to her newly found status as an engaged lady," he said with a grin, sipping his glass of burgundy.
Henry and Harriet exchanged a grin, and Henry casually added, "You know that word of this incident will never leave this house, if that's what you want."
Aubrey smiled merrily and replied, "And let Susan chase Nigel to the ends of the earth? I think not. Lady Susan has chosen her bed," he said with a cough, "and now she must suffer the consequences."
"So you really wish to wed Lady Susan?" Emily asked in a small voice, momentarily forgetting that she was planning to stay silent for the entire meal, since she was cajoled into sharing it with the awful Lord Stratford.
"Oh yes, Lady Susan and I actually rub together remarkably well. Once she is resigned to the fact that she won't be spending her life as a countess, then a marchioness, she'll calm down," he replied matter-of-factly, much to Emily's astonishment.
She stole a look across the table at Nigel, who looked as dreadful as she felt. Once again his unfashionably long, dark hair was a bit unkempt, and dark circles had now found a home under his glistening golden eyes. He still looks handsome, she thought to herself as she ate a stewed mushroom.
Emily's Christmas Wish Page 18
