A Country Christmas (Timeless Regency Collection Book 5)

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Ah.” She assessed her pile. “I’ve about thirty snowballs . . . Sergeant.”

  “Sergeant?” Archie huffed, looking offended.

  “Lieutenant?” Jane offered.

  “Much better.” He gave a satisfied nod. “Thirty is good, but far from enough. Keep packing, Private.”

  “Private?” Jane imitated his injured tone and expression.

  He grinned. “We can’t both be lieutenants, Jane. Someone must be the superior officer.”

  “Then you may refer to me as General, sir.”

  His eyes opened wide, then he burst into a laugh. “Excellent.” He gave a salute. “Brilliant idea, General.” He returned to working on the fortification, still chuckling.

  Once the wall stretched a few yards, Archie moved in a crouch to the rock, pressing his hands and chest against it as he peeked ever so slowly out onto the battlefield.

  He pulled back, squatting down in the little space next to Jane. Looking over the pile of snowballs, he nodded. “Fine work, General.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She nodded in what she thought was a commanding manner. “And what of our enemy?”

  He moved back to the rock, glanced over, and then reached out an arm, beckoning for her to join him. He held her shoulders, moving her in front of him.

  Jane pressed her hands to the rock and, following his lead, peeked out at the hillside, trying for all she was worth to concentrate on the snowball battle and not Archie’s hands on her shoulders or his warm chest against her back. The battlefield was empty.

  “Where did they go?” she whispered.

  Archie leaned forward beside her ear, and she shivered when his warm breath caressed her cheek. She wished she weren’t wearing her dratted bonnet. He motioned to the trail of prints that led to another large rock about twenty yards away. “They’ve taken cover, probably building up their own battlements.”

  “What do we do? Attack?” She prayed that he would insist they remain here, and perhaps in this very cozy position.

  “Well, battle strategy is ultimately up to the general, but we’ve strong defenses and a fine storage in the artillery battery.” He moved back, and Jane immediately felt cold without him pressed against her. “If you command an attack, I will, of course, follow orders.”

  “I would rather stay here a bit longer.” Her cheeks heated with a blush, and she turned her gaze downward.

  Archie remained silent for a moment. When he spoke, his words came slowly. “A fine strategy, General. Wait and draw them out into the open, thus giving us the advantage.” She glanced up and saw his eyes were squinting thoughtfully.

  Jane’s blush deepened, feeling even hotter in the cold air. “But if you think we should go, by all means . . .”

  He put his hands back on her shoulders, pulling her down so they sat with their backs against the rock, his arm around her. He pulled her closer, resting her head beneath his shoulder. “I would rather remain as well.” His voice was a rumble beneath her ear, and in spite of the snow, heat spread through her, pooling in her stomach, warming her cheeks and neck.

  The emotions she feared to reveal sprang to the surface again, leaving her supremely blissful and, at the same time, uneasy. She was unsure how to respond. Was Archie treating her as a treasured younger sister? Or did he feel pity for her? She remembered the cold sting of disappointment from the night before and couldn’t bear to hope.

  With enormous reluctance, she pulled herself away from her companion’s warm chest and twisted around, trying to speak lightly. “Perhaps we could escape through the forest, Lieutenant?”

  Archie darted a look to the side, but not before she saw something in his gaze. Worry? Guilt?

  The realization hit her, tightening her throat. “You want to keep me from the forest. That is why we walked in this direction.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “You fear I will have a spell.” Jane blinked, her lips trembling.

  “No, of course I don’t.” He grasped her arms, perhaps fearing she would run. “I just don’t want to put you in a situation where you might.”

  “Archie, you think I am mad.” She whispered the word—a word she’d heard others use regarding her for years, but had never spoken herself. She pushed her wrist against her chest as if to dull the pain inside. “You, of all people.”

  “Of course I do not. Jane, I swear to you—”

  A snowball hit the rock beside him.

  They both jumped then, ducking their heads, staring in the direction from whence it came. A flash of black fabric in the trees indicated Mother Kathleen had crept around to the forest behind them. How had she moved so quietly?

  “They’re flanking us, General.” Archie’s brows were raised, his voice sounding hopeful, as if he might pull her back into the game.

  From the hill behind them, they heard the sound of Maryann giggling. Jane moved to rise, but he held on to her arms. “Jane, please believe me.”

  Words would not come, and she could only shake her head. Though the others looked at her with worry in their gazes, she’d always thought Archie was different, that he saw beyond her disorder.

  “On my count,” Jonathan yelled. “One. Two. Now!”

  The three attackers lobbed their snowballs high above the fort. Jane understood their plan an instant too late.

  “Take cover!” Archie pulled her toward him just as a shower from the tree above buried the two in snow.

  For a moment, there was silence, then their opponents cheered.

  Jane raised her head, brushing powder from her bonnet and shoulders. Archie had protected her face from the worst of it, but the cold still bit her cheeks. She pulled away from his embrace and rose, shaking her skirts.

  “And thus falleth the impregnable snow fortress.” Jonathan spoke with his hand over his heart, a look of mock solemnity in his face.

  Archie sat back in the snow, clumps of powder clinging to his hair. He raised his hands in surrender. “Well, General, we fought a good fight, but they had the advantage of a superior spy.” He looked up at Jane, his expression wary, but his words light, probably for the benefit of the others.

  Kathleen laughed and clapped her gloved hands together. “Oh, I haven’t had so much fun in ages.”

  Jonathan put his fists on his hips. “Mother, I’d never have believed you capable of such mischief.”

  Jane reached out a hand to Archie. “You fought well, Lieutenant.”

  He grasped her hand, pulling himself up. “As did you.” He pulled a clump from the hood of her cloak, dropping it to the ground.

  Jane felt an uneasy heaviness between them. Her heart ached, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the little cottage to hide away in her bedchamber and let her tears flow.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Jonathan said.

  The pair turned to where Jonathan and Maryann stood outside the snow fort. He was looking up into the branches of the tree above them.

  “What’s interesting?” Archie asked.

  “I believe it’s mistletoe.” He pointed. “Yes, I’m certain of it. Up near the top branches.” He looked down at Jane and Archie, a smirk on his lips. “And what do you know? It’s hanging directly over your stronghold. Seems a pity to waste it.”

  Jane realized she and Archie were still holding hands. They stood close. She glanced at him just as he tightened his eyes in a glare, directed toward Jonathan. He shook his head and yet hardly moved it. The gesture was so fleeting; it was obviously intended to be unnoticed by anyone but his friend.

  Jane looked away quickly, hoping he didn’t realize that she’d seen. Her heart compressed. I am a fool, she thought. I’ve made him ill at ease with the thought of kissing me.

  She glanced at Archie and saw that his neck and ears were red. His expression was a grimace of apology. “You don’t have to, Jane.”

  Her heart shrank further into a painful little rock. She could feel the others watching. “Oh, mistletoe.” She forced cheer into her voice. “How nice.” She placed a hand on
Archie’s shoulder and rose up onto her toes, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

  She turned without looking to see his expression. “You found mistletoe, Jonathan. Now we need to locate some holly.” Jane kept her voice light to disguise the growing ache in her chest.

  “Yes,” Maryann said. “It will be dark soon, and we’ve still gathered no Christmas greenery.” She slid her arm through her husband’s, and the two started back up the hill.

  Jane stepped out of the ruined snow fort and joined Mother Kathleen, linking arms with the older woman. She did not allow herself to look back, not when, for the second time in as many days, an encounter beneath the mistletoe had brought her to tears.

  Chapter Five

  When they returned to the cottage, the night was near to full dark. Archie released the sled’s rope and rubbed the ache at the base of his back. He was cold and wet and exhausted. He assumed the others felt much the same. He opened the door and was greeted by a blanket of warm air carrying a savory aroma. How could a mere smell raise his spirits? His mouth watered.

  Bless you, Eliza Cringlewood.

  The caretaker’s wife unbent from stirring a pot over the fire and curtseyed as the group entered. “Welcome back, my lord, Lord Spencer, and ladies.”

  Simon joined her, giving a small bow. “I ’as nearly ready to go looking for the lot of ya. Worried ye’d gotten yerselves lost.”

  “Your concern is appreciated,” Archie said. “But as you can see, we are all safely returned.” He nodded toward the caretaker, then turned, looking for Jane through the commotion of his companions shaking off snow and removing wet outer clothing. He needed an opportunity to speak to her alone.

  She stood behind the others in the corner, untying her bonnet.

  Archie moved through the group to join her. “Jane.”

  She didn’t answer, unfastening her cloak without lifting her gaze. He moved behind her and took it from her shoulders. She shivered. The heavy garment was cold and wet. Archie feared she might catch a chill. “Come closer to the fire.”

  He touched his hand to her lower back, putting a bit of pressure to coax her forward.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but he could hear the hurt in it. She wrapped her arms around her middle but didn’t move from her position.

  Archie stepped around to face her, wishing for even the smallest bit of privacy in this wretched cottage. He settled for turning his back to the rest of the group. “Jane, I’m sorry. Please believe me. I never intended to hurt you.”

  “You’ve no need to apologize.” She turned to slip past him. “I know you meant well. You care about me, just like the others.” She paused, her eyes moving to his. “I suppose I was just surprised. I thought—”

  Archie caught her arm. “You thought what?”

  She shook her head. “It is nothing.”

  “Jane, please.”

  She started to turn away but hesitated, once again fixing him with her perfect, blue-eyed gaze. “I thought you felt differently.” Sorrow filled her eyes, and she seemed to wilt. “Sometimes, with you, I can almost forget.” Her voice was quiet. She moved past, pulling away her arm.

  Archie’s stomach sank. He stood, holding her dripping cloak, and watched as she joined Kathleen near the hearth.

  The older woman put an arm around her shoulder, moving Jane back a few steps as if worried she was standing too close to the fire.

  Jane didn’t protest, but stood silently, letting Mother Kathleen fuss over her. Archie saw no trace of the confident woman who’d directed him to refer to her as “General” in their snow fortress. Could this be the same Jane whose eyes gleamed with mischievous mirth as she winked after reading aloud Apuleius’s shocking tale?

  How must she feel with everyone walking about as if on eggshells, worried that she might suffer another attack? Did she think they all watched her, just waiting for panic to overtake her? How would it be to feel as though one’s friends didn’t trust her sanity?

  Archie’s unease grew. He’d been every bit as guilty as the others, pitying her, watching out for her, fearing what might set her off. He cared for her—of course he did—but he never fully trusted her capability. His mouth tasted sour, and a wave of shame flowed hot through him. He was an arrogant fool to believe all Jane needed was a man to protect her, to watch over her, and keep her safe from herself. When, in truth, it wasn’t what she needed at all, not really. Jane Croft needed someone to believe in her. To see past her loveliness and frailties and just trust her.

  He hadn’t been that person at all.

  “It smells divine in here.” Kathleen made her way to the hearth. “What have you made, Eliza?”

  “Rabbit stew, my lady.”

  Kathleen smiled. “Just the thing to warm us up.”

  Simon put a worn woolen cloak over Eliza’s shoulders and held his arm around her waist. “I best be getting my wife home.”

  Kathleen nodded. “Yes, you look very tired, my dear.”

  Archie looked closer. Eliza’s face was pale. She did look tired. And yet here she was, preparing their supper. He stood aside, opening the door for the couple, then followed them out, closing the door behind him. “Simon, Eliza, I cannot tell you how I appreciate your efforts on our behalf.” Knowing what a sacrifice it must be to unexpectedly care for them, especially in Eliza’s condition, filled him with a gratitude he’d rarely felt. While he’d experienced the generosity of others, it had never felt as if the other party had sacrificed so greatly for him. His thanks felt extremely inadequate.

  “’Tis our pleasure, my lord,” Simon said.

  “I didn’t once consider how our surprise arrival might have affected your own holiday plans, and yet you’ve shown us the most thoughtful care. I truly don’t know what we would have done without your generosity.” And, indeed, he did not. Stranded as they were, without the couple’s assistance, they’d likely have spent the last twenty-four hours cold and hungry in the stables.

  “Thank you.” Eliza dipped in a curtsey, her eyes wincing in pain.

  Archie experienced a moment of helplessness, wishing he knew how assist her. “Will you—Are you able to walk? I’m sorry, I’ve no carriage to offer.”

  Simon tightened his arm around her waist. “Don’ trouble yerself, my lord. A strong’un is my Eliza. She’ll be right as new in the morning.”

  “Yes, well, I’m glad to hear it.” Archie scratched behind his ear. “That brings me to another concern. I hate to impose on you further, but Christmas supper . . .”

  “Not to worry. I’ve a fine goose,” Eliza said. “The bird’s rather on the small side, but Simon brought in some fowl this morning.”

  “And Eliza’s been preparing ever since ye arrived: stuffing, pudding, potatoes, squash, mince pies.” Simon’s grin shone in the dark. “’Twill most certainly be enough for all.”

  Archie’s throat tightened at the sight of these two good people and their selfless actions. His family had always taken special care of the poor at Christmastime, and he realized he’d never been on the receiving end of that type of charity. He felt extremely humbled. He swallowed hard, finding himself unable to speak for a moment.

  “O’ course, I realize your lordship is used to much finer foods—venison and roast beef and such.” Eliza twisted her hands, apparently mistaking his silence for disapproval. “I’m afraid—”

  Archie shook his head, clearing his constricted throat. “Eliza Cringlewood, I forbid you to apologize.” His voice sounded rather choked, and he blinked at the moisture in his eyes. “You have done more than I had any right to expect, and I cannot begin to thank you.” He stepped forward and took each of their hands, feeling the strongest urge to embrace these good people, but resisted, knowing it would only make them more uncomfortable. “I wish I knew how to repay your generosity.”

  “’Tisn’t necessary, my lord.” Simon said. “Happy to help, we are. After all, it’s Christmas.”

  Archie pinched the bridge of his nose. Once he’d regained a
bit of his composure, he spoke. “Please, you will join us for Christmas dinner?”

  The two looked at each other, then at him.

  “I would consider it an honor,” Archie said.

  “Thank you, your lordship,” Simon nodded his head solemnly. “Now, if ye please, Eliza needs to rest.”

  Archie stepped inside a moment later and saw Kathleen and Jane were preparing the table.

  “Oh, look, Jane.” Kathleen pulled a loaf-shaped pan from the basket. “Bread pudding.”

  Jane didn’t say anything. She nodded, then fetched more plates from the cupboard.

  “Are you feeling all right, Jane dear?” Kathleen asked.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Jane responded in a quiet voice.

  Archie’s chest was tight. He crossed the space and took the plates from her, trying to catch her gaze as he set them on the table. After a moment, he resigned himself. Regaining Jane’s trust wouldn’t come easily.

  The rabbit stew tasted every bit as good as it smelled. Eliza had brought peasant bread and honey, and the bread pudding with clotted cream could have competed with the creation of any chef in London. Archie would never have believed such simple fare could taste so delicious.

  As they ate, Archie told the group about the Cringlewoods’ preparations for a Christmas feast and his invitation for the couple to join them.

  They discussed the best way to arrange the furniture to accommodate the larger party. Kathleen assigned the men to fetch tablecloths and dishes from the manor, as well as some chairs and another table.

  Jonathan looked as if he’d protest, but Archie agreed. If they were going to do this, they’d do a fine job of it, in spite of the inconvenience. Besides, the sled would make the trips much easier.

  Maryann reminded the men to invite Tom from the stables as well.

  Jane remained quiet throughout the meal. From her expression, she seemed to be listening closely, but did not contribute more than a few comments, despite Archie’s attempts to draw her into the conversation. When the meal was finished, she excused herself, then returned a moment later holding a small package.