by Martha Keyes
As for him, Lydia, and his sisters-in-law, they had agreed that they would spend the day relaxing in the house and making do with the bread, cold meats, and soup that Cook had spent the past few days preparing. After their time in the cold at the Foundling Hospital the day before, no one seemed eager to leave the warmth of the house.
Diana and Mary would, as usual, be staying abed late, so once Miles had finished distributing the servant bonuses and bid the last of them good day, he lingered in the kitchen for a moment, looking at the array of food available for breakfast. An idea occurred to him, and he took one of the stacked silver trays on the table and set about filling it with food items he thought might appeal to Lydia and Thomas. It was an idea he would have brushed off if it weren’t for Thomas’s presence in the household. He gave Miles courage he might not otherwise have had—and an excuse to see his wife.
A few minutes later, he made his way up the kitchen stairs, down the corridor, then up the second set of stairs, a little smile hovering on his lips at the picture he presented, tray in hand. When he came to Lydia’s room, he ran a quick hand through his hair and tapped lightly upon the door, stifling the urge to fidget as he waited. He could just barely hear the sounds of Thomas’s cooing.
The door opened slightly, and Lydia appeared in the gap, the frown on her face transforming to surprise.
“Miles,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine whom it might be, for I thought you gave the servants the day off.” She was wearing only a shift, and she wrapped an arm over her body as if to hide it, rubbing the other arm as if she was cold. Her eyes went to the tray in Miles’s hands, and she looked back up at him. “What is this?”
“Breakfast? I thought you and Thomas might be hungry.”
She looked back over her shoulder, where Thomas was lying on a blanket on the floor, holding his toes with his hands and babbling, a sound which seemed to be increasing in volume. She laughed. “Yes, I think he especially is.” She opened the door wider, and Miles gave her a thankful smile as he stepped in.
He walked over to where Thomas lay and hesitated for a moment, while Lydia went to her armoire and pulled out a wrapper, slinging her arms through the sleeves and tying it in place. Miles didn’t miss the hurriedness of the gesture, as if she was afraid of what he might see. As though he hadn’t seen it all before.
He set the tray on the floor, and Lydia gave him a funny look.
He shrugged. “I am embracing the casual nature of this breakfast.”
She laughed and followed him down to the floor so that they were on either side of Thomas. Lydia tucked her legs beneath her and leaned on a hand, smiling down at the baby.
“All right,” she said to him. “Yes, we hear you.”
Miles reached for one of the loaves of bread left over from Cook’s preparations for the Foundling Hospital and tore off a tiny piece, offering it to Thomas. The baby’s eyes widened as they focused in on the bread, and the noise stopped, his attention too much taken up by the task of reaching for what Miles was extending toward him.
“Here,” Lydia said, pulling Thomas up to a sitting position.
“Can he sit by himself?” Miles allowed Thomas to take the small piece of bread and put it in his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Lydia said.
“Why not let him try?”
“What if he falls?”
“He won’t. We shall catch him.” He scooted closer. “We can both put a hand behind him.”
Lydia nodded, but she looked a bit nervous. Miles set a hand just behind Thomas’s body, which bounced up and down as he reveled in the food he had been given.
Miles gave a nod, and Lydia slowly pulled her hand away from the baby’s back. There was a moment of apprehension and a slight rocking backwards by Thomas which brought his feet off the floor, but he managed to right himself.
“He did it!” Lydia said. “You’re sitting all by yourself, Thomas. Look at you! Look at him, Miles!”
Thomas turned his head toward her, wobbling slightly as he redistributed his weight.
“What a clever boy you are,” she said, and Miles found that his own eyes insisted upon flitting back to Lydia again and again. She wasn’t nearly as guarded when she was around Thomas, and watching her smile and behave without any affectation was like stepping back into the past—a past he ached to return to.
Thomas seemed to be enjoying his newfound independence, and his eyes roved about the room, finally landing upon the food on the tray before him. Miles laughed at the way his eyes widened at the sight.
“Precisely how I feel about food,” Miles said.
Thomas leaned forward, and, just in time, Miles reached out a hand to prevent him from falling forward onto the silver tray.
“Oh my!” Lydia said, coming to Thomas’s aid as well, as his nose hovered just inches above a plate of ham. Together, they pulled him back to a sitting position,.
“Well,” Miles said, “if either of us are to have a moment’s peace, I had better hold this little chap”—he picked him up and set him in his lap—“so we can eat.” He pulled Thomas’s hand away from the tray. “Yes, yes, I will share with you. Not as though I shall have any choice in the matter.”
The three of them shared breakfast together, and there were smiles on all their faces as they watched the baby’s antics, and his reactions to the bits of food they felt they could offer him.
“He doesn’t seem to be terribly fond of that marmalade, does he?” Lydia said, wiping some of it from Thomas’s lips with a napkin.
“No, he does not. Don’t worry, Thomas. We shan’t tell Cook, for she is quite proud of it. A family recipe, I believe.”
Never had Miles lingered so long at breakfast, but he would have gladly remained there through the morning, laughing and talking with Lydia, taking turns holding Thomas, if there had not finally come a knock on the door.
Lydia frowned. “Who could that be?” She handed Thomas back to Miles and rose to her feet, hurrying to the door in a graceful but quick-toed maneuver—she had always been light on her feet.
“Here you are!” Diana said, trying to look beyond Lydia into the room. “I knocked on the door of the other room, but there was no answer, and then I thought I heard voices in here. We thought to find you in the dining room for breakfast.”
“Oh, well, Miles brought up a tray from the kitchen, so we decided to take it in here with Thomas instead.”
Diana’s head peeked into the room, and she smiled widely as her eyes landed upon Thomas. “Good morning, little ray of sunshine.”
Mary’s head appeared next, and she smiled too. “What a cozy breakfast you are having.”
Miles smiled, but if Diana and Mary believed that this was representative of his and Lydia’s life, they could hardly be more mistaken. She only hoped Diana wouldn’t ask her any more questions about why they were in this bedchamber rather than Miles’s.
“If you’d like some of the food, I’m sure Miles and Thomas wouldn’t mind,” Lydia said.
“I wouldn’t,” Miles said. “But I cannot speak for this fellow. He will gladly offer you the marmalade, but I think he might consume all the bread and butter himself if given the opportunity.”
“Oh, I am not hungry,” Diana said with a wave of the hand. “I only wished to ask Miles if he might consider inviting his brother—and his friends, perhaps—to join us for games later today?”
Miles set Thomas on his back on the rug and rose from the floor. “I could, I suppose. If he doesn’t already have plans, that is, which, knowing Harry, I admit I should be surprised to discover.”
Diana shrugged. “Well, it can’t harm to ask, can it?”
“I shall send a note and see what I can discover.”
Diana gave a satisfied smile. “Thank you, Miles. You are the greatest of brothers-in-law.”
“Not to mention the only one,” he said wryly, but Diana and Mary were both already chatting about what games would do best for a group of three or four men and three women as they shut the
door behind them.
Lydia gave a great sigh and turned back toward Miles and Thomas. “I fear that the two of them are turning into silly girls. Oh, Miles,” Lydia said, covering a laugh with her hand while her eyes were trained on his face.
“What?”
She picked up a napkin from the tray and took a step toward him. “Either you are a very messy eater, or Thomas must have flung some of the marmalade onto your chin when he was trying to rid himself of it.” She reached it to his face, rubbing gently at a spot on the right side of his chin.
He submitted to her ministrations with a quickened heartbeat, staring at the way her brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in concentration. He never had the opportunity to study her face anymore. He thought he had memorized it, an indelible engraving in his mind after all the hours he’d stared at her. But as he studied her now, he realized he had forgotten many of the little details.
“That is some very sticky marmalade,” she said with a final wipe. She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “What? What are you smiling at?”
His brows drew together. “Was I smiling?”
She nodded.
“Then I was smiling at you,” he said, and his own daring frightened him.
Immediately, a shyness took over her, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear with an uneasy chuckle. “Am I so amusing?”
He shook his head. You are adorable and beautiful. It’s what he would have said if he hadn’t seen the wariness creep into her eyes while he was looking at her. “You are simply very thorough.”
“Well, perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything. Should I, Thomas?” She picked up the baby. “Then Miles could have gone all day with dried marmalade on his face.”
“That reminds me,” Miles said, “I need to send a message to Harry, though he is undoubtedly still abed. I hope your sisters are not expecting too much of him and his friends. They are likely to be disappointed. My brother could certainly compete with your sisters for silliness.”
To Miles’s great surprise, a response from Harry arrived within an hour of his note being sent over, and he felt the eyes of Lydia’s sisters watch him intently as the servant delivered it to him in the morning room.
The women were engaged in making decorations out of colored paper. At first, Thomas had been mesmerized by the mere sight of the paper, but now he seemed intent on participating in the folding—and consumption—of the paper. Despite the distraction he was, Lydia maintained that she preferred to hold him.
“I want him to experience it all,” she had said as she pulled his hand away from his mouth a second too late.
“Well, he certainly is doing just that,” Miles had responded with a quivering smile as he opened Harry’s letter.
His eyes ran over it quickly, and his mouth quirked up as he reached the end. He looked up and paused, eyes moving between Diana’s, Mary’s, and Lydia’s faces, all staring at him. Only the baby seemed disinterested, taking advantage of the lack of supervisions to slam his hand on the table, as if in demand that the paper be moved closer to him again.
“What, Thomas?” Miles said. “Have you no desire to know whether or not Harry intends to come for games?”
“Well?” Diana said impatiently. “What did he say?”
Miles said nothing for a moment. He was enjoying the power he held over the Donnely sisters too much to relinquish it right away. But, even more than that, he wanted to see whether he could make Lydia smile. “He…said….” Miles said the words with exaggerated deliberation.
Diana prompted him with her head and eyes, and Lydia’s efforts to stifle her amusement were less and less successful by the second.
Miles pretended to notice a spot on his sleeve and focused his efforts on removing it. He looked up and found Lydia watching him with an expression of half-enjoyment, half-censure. It was enough to satisfy him, and his mouth drew into a wide grin. “My apologies. What was I saying? Ah yes, he said he and Robinson will come at five. So we may expect him close to six, I’d wager.”
Both Diana and Mary let out relieved sighs. “You are an unbearable tease, Miles,” Diana said, and she took Mary by the hand. “Now we must settle on what games to play.”
Chapter 10
Christmas Eve 1809
Lydia watched with a smile as Miles looked around at the boughs of greenery that hung above each doorway, her hand held within his.
“You are certainly more festive than we have ever been at Lynham Place,” he said. “I am beginning to feel as though I have been deprived my whole life. It is amazing how such a little thing can change the entire atmosphere of a place.”
She cocked her head to the side, admiring the nearest bough. “It does make things feel more cheery, doesn’t it?”
“Certainly. I hope your parents won’t be offended if I follow their lead in the future at Lynham Place.”
She shook her head. “We are meant to start our own traditions now that we are to become a family, are we not? But you haven’t even seen the best part of the decorations yet.” She shot him an enigmatic look and led him to the next doorway, where a kissing bough hung.
He raised a brow at her. “Is that what I think it is?”
She only smiled as he glanced furtively up and down the corridor then pulled her into his arms. “I understand we are meant to take a berry for every kiss,” he said.
Lydia shrugged, chills running up her arms and down her neck as his face grew nearer. “So they say. I have never availed myself of the bough before.”
Miles reached up and plucked a berry from the bough. Then another. And another. And another.
“Miles!” Lydia said in a scandalized whisper.
“What?” he continued pulling berries until she grasped his hands and held them down. He laughed and leaned in toward her, close enough that they would have been kissing had both of their lips not been pulled into laughing smiles. Their noses touched, though, and he nuzzled his against hers. “I am merely planning ahead. I assure you, these will all be used.”
Berries gripped in his hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist and closed the remaining distance between them, locking their lips together.
The Present
By a quarter after six, Diana was tapping a foot on the ground, unable to hide her impatience at the tardiness of their visitors. Mary sat on the sofa, holding Thomas so that he stood on her legs, something which delighted him greatly, and Lydia too, as a spectator.
Approaching footsteps and muted voices sounded outside the room, and the door opened. Under the kissing bough Diana and Mary had together created—and its berries still untouched—Harry stepped into the room, followed by Robinson. Harry was a handsome young man of twenty-six, with little thought of marriage and every thought of enjoying the many entertainments available to him as a bachelor. He was narrower of face than his elder brother and freer with his smiles.
Miles had been right when he had said that Harry was accounted the more handsome of the two, but Lydia had never subscribed to such a belief. She liked Harry and enjoyed his company on the infrequent occasions when it was offered, but he was like an exaggerated version of Miles. She liked short and infrequent doses of Harry, where she could spend hours with Miles and never tire of his company.
Or she used to be able to, at least. It had been some time since they had spent such a substantial amount of time together.
Harry gallantly kissed Lydia’s hand, earning him an impatient rolling of the eyes from Miles, who performed the introductions between Harry and his friend and Lydia’s sisters. Lydia didn’t miss the admiration for both gentlemen in Diana’s and Mary’s eyes, and she was glad for it. They needed some excitement, and Harry and his friend were just the people to provide it. She certainly didn’t begrudge them a bit of flirtation. They were both intelligent enough to know it for what it was.
Harry was naturally full of questions about Thomas, but he seemed to take the responses Miles provided without batting an eye.
Miles invited Diana
and Mary to take charge and inform the group of what delights were in store, and Harry and Robinson took seats, the former stretching out his legs in front of him with his ankles crossed, very much at home. Miles came to sit beside Lydia, offering to take Thomas for a time, which she allowed him to do. She liked watching Miles care for Thomas nearly as much as she liked holding Thomas herself.
Diana and Mary stood in front of everyone, looking for all the world as though they were about to commence a grand affair in front of thousands.
“Tonight’s entertainment,” said Diana with a smile that promised an irregular treat, “will begin with a game of Musical Magic.”
Lydia and the other three looked at one another, each of them evidently as confused as the others.
Diana watched them, awaiting a proper reaction, then frowned. “Have you never played Musical Magic?”
The four of them shook their heads, and Diana and Mary shared a look of eager anticipation. Mary gave her sister a nod.
“One person will be sent out of the room,” Diana explained. “Those of us remaining will decide upon an object in the room and a task that must be performed with that object. When the absent person returns, it is his or her job to determine which object and what task we have selected. Mary here”—she put out a hand to display her sister—“will be at the piano, playing a tune that will get louder as the person strays away from the object and softer as he or she approaches it. Once the correct object is discovered, the music will recommence—loud if he or she is incorrect in discovering what task must be performed with the object, soft as the task is detected. Are there any questions?”
Robinson raised his hand immediately. “Who goes first?”
Diana smiled widely. “You. Thank you for volunteering.”
He threw his head back with a laugh but rose to his feet. “Very well. I shall just go out of the room, then? And you will retrieve me in the corridor when you have hit upon the object and task?”
Diana gave a nod, and Robinson left the room. Guided by Diana and Harry—who seemed to be reaching a quick understanding—it was a matter of just two minutes before the rest of them had decided upon just what object and task Robinson should be assigned, Thomas being the object and a waltz the task.
