“If you please.” She spoke quietly, her eyes meeting each of theirs, then dropping to the wrapped parcel in her hands. “I have been thinking of the Cringlewoods and how very kind they’ve been to us. I wanted to do something. To give them a Christmas gift.”
“A fine idea, dear,” Kathleen said.
Jane held up the package. “Maryann, I purchased these rabbit fur mittens for you, but if you don’t mind—”
“Eliza could use them more than I,” Maryann finished for her.
Jane nodded. “Yes.”
“Very thoughtful of you,” Maryann said. “And I have a contribution of my own.” She hurried from the room and returned with a package as well. “Jonathan, I’d intended this scarf for you, but Simon . . .”
Jonathan nodded. “I heartily approve.”
Kathleen jumped up. “And I have just the thing.” She hurried into her bedchamber and returned with her own package. “I knitted this blanket for Miriam Pemberley’s new baby, but I’m sure she would not mind waiting a few more weeks for another.”
Archie’s heart warmed. Jane felt exactly as he about the Cringlewoods, yet instead of simply wishing she could do something in return, she’d taken action.
Jane beamed as she looked at the pile of gifts. “Oh, yes. They will be so happy. Can we deliver them tonight?” She clapped her hands together. “What if we knock on the door and hurry away before they answer?”
“Jonathan, you and Archie can deliver the gifts while we decorate the cottage.” Kathleen started to gather the dishes from the table. “Jane and Maryann, if you please, will you bring in the greenery from the sled?”
Maryann started toward the door, but Jane remained where she was. “I’d hoped to deliver the gifts as well.” Archie could see her hands clenched behind her back.
Kathleen and Maryann exchanged a concerned glance, then looked at Jane. They both stepped toward her. Jane winced as if bracing herself.
“My dear,” Kathleen said.
“Jane,” Maryann began.
“Absolutely!” Archie spoke up before the others could finish. “The proposal was Jane’s, and she should be the one to execute the plan.”
The entire room turned toward him, alarm on their faces, save for one whose expression shone with gratitude, and hers was the only one that mattered to Archie.
“But, Jane, are you certain you should go into the forest?” Maryann asked.
She nodded. “Yes. I will be all right. There is nothing to fear. Not when Archie is with me.”
Their cloaks weren’t fully dried, but Archie grabbed them anyway. He didn’t think anything could chill him after Jane’s declaration of confidence in him. And he wanted to leave immediately, before anyone talked her out of going.
Once they were bundled again in their outerwear, the pair stepped back into the snow. Jane stopped at the sled and pulled off bits of holly, tucking them into the ribbons on the gifts. She held the packages against her and smiled at Archie.
“Shall I carry the parcels?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’d like to bring them, if it’s all right with you.”
“Very well, then.” He lifted a lantern, and the two set off. Archie felt most ungentlemanly walking through the dark forest without taking her arm or carrying her load. But he could feel Jane’s resolve and knew that, though it was a small errand, to her it signified much more.
He held the lantern high and kept pace with her. The pathway was marked by the Cringlewoods’ footprints as well as his own, but it was still far from an easy walk. The snow was deep, and in the cold of night, a layer of ice covered it, making it not only difficult to step in and out of the uneven pathway, but slippery as well. He rested a hand at Jane’s waist, ready to catch her if she should lose her footing.
Above them, branches swayed as the wind howled. The lantern’s shadows played off the moving trees, and Archie found himself jumping at every sound—whether startled himself or worried the noises might frighten Jane, he wasn’t certain.
Jane walked in silence, and he glanced at her each time she paused or changed her breathing. He strained his ears and tightened his nerves, wondering if, at any second, Jane would have an attack of panic and drop the parcels and run off into the woods. Would she weep? Call out? Would he have any warning?
“I am all right, Archie,” she said after they’d walked a few minutes. “You do not need to be so tense.”
“I am not tense.”
“Your knuckles are white, and your jaw is clenched.” She hugged the parcels closer, cutting her eyes at him. “I can do this.”
“Jane.” He held on to her elbow, stopping her. “I know you can. I would never have recommended that you make the trip if I didn’t believe you to be capable.” He waited for her to lift her gaze to his. “But believing in someone does not free you from worrying about them.”
“You pity me.” Her face looked so hopeless he wanted to gather her in his arms.
“Jane, I feel concern, but it is not pity.” He took a breath. You are one of my dearest friends. I care for you.”
“The others care—Kathleen, Jonathan, and Maryann—but . . .” She winced. “I do not mean to be unappreciative. They have been nothing but good to me, but I know they don’t trust me. I have to try, Archie. Push myself to do things I fear, otherwise—”
“Otherwise, you will never know what you can do.”
She nodded, lifting her chin, even though her bearing looked far from confident. “I am stronger than any of you think.”
“Being strong doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I will help you. And when you feel as if you can’t be strong anymore, I will be beside you, ready to catch you.”
A tear slipped from her eye, and she bowed her head. “Thank you.”
When they reached the cottage, light still shone beneath the shutters. Jane set the packages on the porch, arranging the bows and sprigs of greenery. She stepped back, apparently satisfied with the presentation. “We should extinguish the lantern,” she whispered.
Archie blew out the flame, and they were plunged into darkness.
Jane gasped, and he moved closer, taking her hand. The moon gave a soft glow, and within a few moments, his eyes adjusted enough that he could make out the shapes of trees and even see the shadows of the footprints marking the path.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Archie spread his hand toward the door.
She nodded. “Are you ready to run, Lieutenant?” Though he could hardly see her face, in her voice, he could hear an excited smile.
He gave a salute.
Jane knocked, then spun, running along the path, her feet making a crunching sound.
Archie stayed directly behind her. When he heard the sound of the door opening, he pulled her behind a clump of bushes, spinning and crouching down so they could both see.
A splinter of light shone on the snow, then grew into a rectangle. Simon Cringlewood stood in the doorway. He took a step forward, looked in both directions, then down. His face was shadowed, but Archie thought he could see a smile on the man’s face. Simon stooped, lifted the packages, and called over his shoulder. “Eliza, you’ll not believe this. Father Christmas ’as come.”
When the door closed, Jane clapped her hands. “I wish we could see what was happening inside right now, don’t you?”
He grinned at the delight in her voice. “I do.”
She rose and started along the path. “I can see quite well now. I don’t think we need the lantern after all.”
He walked beside her, enjoying the quiet and the pure pleasure that came from doing a good turn for someone who genuinely deserved it. Glancing to the side, he could see that Jane was pleased, even though her face was shadowed. Her happiness showed in the way she walked, the set of her shoulders, the lift of her chin. Her silhouette reminded him of the laughing woman of earlier today.
As they continued, the path led through a particularly thick section of trees. The wind sounded louder, and the air felt colder.
He glanced again at Jane as her shoulders hunched slightly.
“Jane?”
Her hand slipped into his. “I am all right. I can do this.”
“I know you can.” He squeezed her hand, feeling her small fingers through their thick gloves. He thought of their first walk through the darkness when the carriage had arrived and the manor was deserted. He’d felt worried and anxious, but Jane’s soft touch had brought reassurance. He hoped their connection now provided her the comfort she needed.
She leaned closer to him as they walked. Her breathing was quicker, but she kept her pace steady—well, as steady as possible in the uneven snow. And before long, they could see the glowing windows of the cottage.
Jane relaxed, and Archie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
At the door, she stopped, turning toward him. A slice of light shone from inside, giving her face a soft glow. Her pretty lips bent in a gentle smile, but it was the look in her eyes that brought him up short. It was warm and grateful and . . . trusting. He couldn’t have put words to the expression if he’d wanted to. And he found he didn’t need to.
He gazed back, hoping his own eyes would convey the depth of his feelings. How deeply he cared for her, worried for her, ached for her pain, and delighted in her victories. How he’d not completely realized what it was to love a person until today as he watched her feel pride in herself.
She stepped forward, her arms going around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.
Archie held her in a tight embrace. Her body was soft and warm against his, and he noticed how nicely she fit in his arms. He cupped her head and decided it was exactly the perfect height to rest his cheek on. Tightening his arms the slightest bit produced the welcome effect of moving her head to lean into the hollow beneath his shoulder.
She belongs here.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Chapter Six
Jane entered the cottage in a state of extreme contentment, still warm from Archie’s embrace. But her happiness went much deeper than simple enjoyment of his physical closeness. She’d stayed in the shadows for so long, worried about people discovering her condition and worrying herself about losing control of her mind. She could hardly remember a time when fear hadn’t been forefront in her thoughts. But today had been different. For a few brief periods, she’d felt free, completely able to act as her nature dictated, instead of tempering her reactions lest exerting herself brought on another spell.
And she attributed it to Archie. His belief in her had given her confidence she’d not felt since . . . possibly since she was a young child.
She smiled and stepped forward as Archie helped her remove her cloak. His fingers brushing over her shoulders sent a tingle over her skin, eliciting a sigh. Even as she tried to talk herself out of it more times than she could remember, she was falling deeper in love with Archie Clawson with every passing hour.
But, of course, it was all foolishness. She had only to remember the fiasco of the kiss in the Cringlewoods’ kitchen the night before and Archie’s face when Jonathan had pointed out the mistletoe to know that her feelings were one-sided. Archie certainly cared for her, but his affection was friendly, not romantic.
Yet there were times when she imagined she saw something in his eyes, felt there was more to his attentions. She sighed again, this time frustrated at her imagination. Perhaps she only saw what she wished to see. She untied her ribbons and slid the bonnet from her head.
Maryann and Kathleen hurried toward her with worried expressions, and Jane drew back, bracing herself and feeling her defenses rise into place.
Archie put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “I am pleased to report a successful mission.” He spoke in a loud voice to the entire room.
His words stopped the others before they could fuss over her, and she felt a wave of relief at his intervention. She looked up, giving him a grateful smile, then turned to face the room. “Yes, a very successful mission.” She liked the feel of the two of them acting as a pair.
“And all credit goes to the general, here. This young woman is quite adept at the role of Father Christmas, I’ll have you all know.”
“Not all the credit.” Jane gave a small smirk, turning her head so only Archie could see. “I’d not have managed without my very skilled lieutenant.”
He returned the teasing expression, and she felt a thrill at their private joke.
“I am glad you are safely returned,” Kathleen said.
“Oh, it truly looks like Christmas.” Jane only now noticed the holly and ivy adorning the corners of the windows and decorating the hearth. She spun, taking in the entire cottage and its new festive appearance.
“Funny how a few leaves and twigs can brighten up a place, wouldn’t you say?” Maryann took the cloaks and head coverings.
“It’s splendid.”
Jonathan was sliding the kitchen table to the side, and Archie moved away to assist him.
Maryann returned to her sister, taking her hand. “Are you truly well, Jane?” She spoke in a soft voice, and Jane felt guilty hearing her sister’s concern and seeing the worry in her eyes.
“Completely well,” Jane said.
Maryann squeezed her hand. “You’ve been different on this trip—happier. More like the sister I remember.”
Jane smiled. “Perhaps I am getting better.”
Maryann opened her mouth as if she would say something, but stopped when Archie spoke.
“What’s the consensus?” Archie asked, standing in the space before the fire and motioning to the sofa and chairs. “Furniture? Or should we spread the blankets again?”
“I, for one, enjoyed sitting on the floor,” Kathleen said.
“Agreed.” Jonathan nodded. “If the other ladies are of the same mind, I think the blankets are much more appealing than the lumpy furniture.”
The others concurred, and the group set about moving furniture and spreading blankets. They settled onto the floor, returning to their earlier positions, and the men removed their coats.
“I could permanently adopt this practice,” Archie said, pulling off his neck cloth and loosening his collar. “Perhaps I could convince Mother to amend the holiday fashion policy.”
He rested an arm on his bent knee, the other leg tucked beneath. The sight of him so casually dressed made Jane’s breath catch. She had no brothers and had never experienced a man behaving so informally. His collar loosed, she could see the dip where his neck met his chest, and blushed, hoping no one else noticed her glance.
Archie appeared utterly at ease, and sitting beside him on the floor with their arms nearly touching seemed intimate. She felt special, knowing the memories from their time in this little cottage in Chiddingfold Forest were something that they shared—something that belonged only to the five of them. She wondered for a moment where they would be next Christmas. Would she be invited to Ashford to attend Lady Bromley’s Christmas Eve ball? Even if she was Archie’s guest next year, the experience wouldn’t be the same. He’d be obligated to his family and friends, spending time with them, planning the festivities, and acting as host with his parents.
And she . . . Jane tried to imagine what the coming year would mean for her, but came up short. She had no future plans of her own, and that knowledge felt extremely discouraging.
Archie bumped her arm, shaking her from her reflections. She realized she was staring at the blanket, running her fingernail along a seam. When she looked up, he was holding a large earthenware mug toward her.
“Tea?”
She took the mug, inhaling the hot steam and comforting smell. “Thank you.” When she glanced back, she saw Archie still watched her. He cocked his head and lifted his brows.
She smiled. “Excuse me, my mind wandered.”
“Somewhere nice, I hope.”
Taking a sip of tea, she shrugged off the question.
Archie watched her a moment longer as if to ascertain that everything was all right, t
hen he scooted forward on his knees and placed more wood onto the fire. It spewed and crackled with the new logs. “Well, it isn’t a roaring fire, exactly, and I am a bit disappointed that we haven’t a Yule log, but the requirement was for a merry fire. And I’d consider it merry, wouldn’t you?”
He spoke loud enough for the group but watched Jane as if her approval was the one that mattered.
She pushed away her thoughts, determined to focus on the here and now. Pursing her lips, she contemplated the fire for a moment and tapped her chin. “I think one more branch, a smallish one. Yes. That one there.”
Archie placed it onto the fire where she directed, and Jane gave a nod of approval.
“Now that is what I call a merry fire,” Archie said.
“I have never seen merrier,” Jane agreed solemnly, then smiled.
He smiled back and stood before the hearth, facing the room. He cleared his throat, and the others grew silent.
“Thank you, each of you,” he said. “Thank you for being here with me for this . . . ah, unconventional, yet very special Christmas.”
Jonathan raised his mug. “Hear, hear.”
“Special, indeed,” Kathleen said, and the others lifted their tea and voiced their approval.
Archie clasped his hands behind his back. “And now, I yield the floor to Maryann for our Christmas program, along with my apology for the lack of a Bible or a pianoforte.”
Maryann stood. “No apology necessary.”
Archie inclined his head and moved back to join Jane, sitting a bit closer than he had before. He rested back on his hand, leaning so he barely brushed against her shoulder.
Jane was tempted to rest against him. It would be quite easy to do. With her legs tucked to one side, she was already slightly off-balance. She glanced up at him and saw him watching her thoughtfully.
Maryann told the story of the Lord Jesus’s birth from memory. While Jane quite loved the scriptural account, her sister’s words gave the story a simple beauty that touched her heart. Between segments of the narrative, Maryann paused and Kathleen led them in an appropriate Christmas hymn.
A Country Christmas (Timeless Regency Collection Book 5) Page 22
