One Foggy Christmas

by Barbara Miller

  "Yes, I must have been a sight with my beard and ragged uniform. I took refuge in the stable until I cleaned up." Stephen sat back down and turned to his mother. "I see my hunters are still here. I thank you for keeping them."

  "It was Henry's doing. He knew you would want them when you came back. Your father spoke of selling them, but Henry said you had put them in his charge and would not permit it. They had a terrible row about it."

  * * * * *

  The door swung open and Lord Summerhill stood in the opening.

  Stephen made deliberate eye contact with his father and saw the old man's eyes widen in surprise. Cousin Bertram, who appeared much taller from the last time he'd seen him, peered over his father's shoulder. Stephen wondered where Aunt Agatha was but recalled she liked to sleep in late.

  Suddenly the room felt crowded.

  "I say, Stephen. Good to have you back." Bertram pushed in and clapped him on the shoulder. "So very good." His cousin went straight to the food and loaded a plate. He was not as pudgy as he used to be and hardly seemed like an interloper. In fact Stephen got an impression of relief from Bertram.

  "So you're back." Lord Summerhill pronounced the words like a reprimand. With his dark brows and grim mouth it was hard to say what he meant by the phrase.

  "As I promised in my last letter to Mother, which she did not receive."

  His father pursed his lips and looked toward the sideboard. "I didn't think a mere rifleman could get leave, even for a funeral. But of course you did not arrive in time."

  Stephen noticed his mother cringe at the word funeral. "An officer can request leave, when not in the thick of battle. I received Mr. Chadwick's letter at St. Pierre on this side of the Pyrenees. It was already a month old. Once the battle was ours, my second lieutenant was happy to take over for me. Since we are pushing the French back to Paris, my service is not required."

  "So you mean to stay?" His father's eyebrows arched in surprise.

  Stephen thought it an odd response even for a parent who was so alienated from him. "I'm not sure."

  "Of course he's going to stay," his mother said, and laid a hand on Stephen's. "Where else would he go?"

  "I'm sure Father and I will have a chance to discuss my future after breakfast, now that I have a future."

  * * * * *

  Though Jane enjoyed the meal more now that things seemed to be going in the right direction, she did not like the scowl on Lord Summerhill's face. She had to do her bit to make sure their marriage would be accepted as the best course. She did not want them pushing her onto Bertram even if he might inherit from his uncle.

  When Stephen left the table with his father, she took her mother into the vacant morning room. No fire burned in the hearth and she drew her shawl about her for warmth. "This changes everything."

  "Yes, clever girl," her mother said. "You have already found favor with Stephen. Can you contrive to engage his interest?" Her mother paced and rubbed her hands together.

  Jane stifled an impatient sigh, but knew it was useless to speak to her mother of true love. "I am doing my best. Recall, I was not yet seventeen when he left, but now he sees me as a woman. What would Father say to such a match?"

  "He will agree, of course. I will see to it." She rubbed her bottom lip.

  "Then I am content."

  "Jane, you need to let Bertram down easy."

  "What? Oh, I will." She was surprised her mother had so much sensibility, but in her opinion Bertram needed no consolation.

  * * * * *

  Though Stephen had followed his father into the estate office, when the man had beckoned, there appeared no urgency on his parent's part. Lord Summerhill dealt with two supplicants and a letter before turning to Stephen who stood in front of the cold fireplace. He rested his arm along the mantle and regarded his parent as though the delay was of no concern.

  He had faced the French guns and snipers, had been pursued by cavalry and laughed in their faces. Toward the end, he had taken far too many chances and had been wounded in the shoulder because of such foolishness. If his father had expected him to throw his life away, he had almost done so.

  Lord Summerhill looked up. "You come back here and expect everything will be as it was."

  "No, nothing will ever be the same again with Henry gone."

  "You never cared about Henry," his father accused.

  "Of course I cared. He was my brother, and he stood up for me and, kept you from showing your contempt for me. I will miss him for that and for his good humor and other kindnesses."

  "You'll get the title, of course," he said as if Stephen had not spoken. "However, the estate is not entailed, you know. I can leave it as I wish."

  "Of course. I think you should do as you wish. I want only one thing from you."

  His father's brows drew together in confusion, probably unable to guess what could be more to the point than the title and estate. "What is that?"

  "That you apologize to Mother for your unjust accusation."

  "How dare you." His father flew to his feet and leaned forward, his fists on the desk. "May I point out: you are not in a position to be an authority on your birth."

  "Apparently, neither are you. She has told me about your unfounded suspicion, which must have been your reason to send me away. That's when it all started, trying to get rid of me."

  "I will not apologize."

  "I believe she speaks the truth. I am your son. Why don't you believe her?"

  Lord Summerhill shook his head. "It's true you don't look like me or Henry. Bertram is more in my likeness than you are."

  "I look more like Mother, as she looked in her youth. If you continue to persecute her, I'll ask her to live with Jane and me – wherever we go."

  "You and Jane Faraday? So that's how it is. You know she has only 500 a year."

  "We have not discussed her income. In fact I have yet to speak to her father."

  "Then you are hardly in a position to dictate terms to me. You wouldn't even accept the cavalry regiment I negotiated for you."

  "I had two very good reasons for not accepting."

  "What are they?"

  "I am a much better shot than a rider, hence the rifle corps. Also I did not want to take our horses into the maul of war. I hear I have Henry to thank for the care of mine. Jane and I can leave on those if no other option comes our way."

  His father stared at him in amazement as though digesting these statements proved a difficult task. Stephen thought it a good moment to leave him and seek his beloved.

  Chapter Six

  Jane thought she had managed her mother well. With her on the side of marriage to Stephen, her father would have to capitulate. She realized she was thinking of their situation as a war campaign, probably because she had read so much about strategy in books and the newspapers.

  She found her former suitor in the library hiding behind a newspaper.

  "Bertram, I must speak to you."

  Bertram jumped to his feet with a stunned look on his face. "Well yes, I was meaning to seek you out." He cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. "This changes everything, you know."

  Since it looked like Bertram was about to disavow his desire for her, she decided to let him have the moment. "Does it?"

  "Stephen is back. There is no need for me here now, and I…"

  "Yes?" She tried not to enjoy his discomfort. Clearly pursuing her had not been his idea. Perhaps it was why he had been so inept at it.

  "I wish to withdraw my offer of marriage," he said with a rush as he moved around the chair as if the barrier would draw home his point.

  "You have not spoken to my father, so no blame will be attached to your withdrawal. No one knows of it except the two of us, or of my refusal."

  "Well thank God you did not agree. If you had, we would be in a pickle."

  "Quite right. I understand and accept your withdrawal."

  "That was a near miss, wasn't it?" He wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

  Jane l
aughed and then Bertram joined in.

  "Yes, a very near miss," she agreed.

  Jane left him and strode into the gallery that connected the main house to the east wing where Bertram and his mother now had rooms. She wanted to see the row of portraits of the St. Giles heirs, hoping to see a resemblance between them and Stephen, but they were all dark-haired. Stephen's portrait had not yet been taken since he'd been away on his 21st birthday. Henry was the most comely of the St. Giles' heirs with softer black hair and a generous mouth.

  Near his portrait was one of Lady Summerhill and – Stephen? But that could not be. This was painted when she was much younger and Stephen would have been a child or not yet conceived. Besides, he had told her there was no likeness of him.

  Booted steps arrested her examination of the portrait. When she saw Stephen she ran to him and put her arms around his neck.

  "Have you spoken to Father?" she asked.

  "Yes and he seems in favor of our marriage, even though I am unsure of my prospects."

  "That is because I convinced Mother it is a good idea."

  He kissed her cheek. "I see you have been scouting the flank."

  "I actually know what that means," Jane said. "Yes, it is good to know who is with you or against you."

  "We could not talk settlements since I've no idea of my worth. Besides my pay, which I have saved, I have two horses and nothing much else so far as I know."

  Jane smiled at him. "I have been saving my pin money. We can rent a cottage and open a small school. I can teach literature, history and watercolor; you can teach geography, French and Spanish."

  He laughed. "Sounds peaceful."

  "This portrait, who is it?" She pulled him across the hall and pointed at the likeness. "He looks so much like you."

  "That is Felix, my mother's brother. He died soon after this portrait had been done."

  "But he looks just like you or you like him. Doesn't that prove you favor your mother's side of the family?"

  "It proves nothing except she is my mother."

  "Oh, I see." She looked away from the portrait, which had been no help after all.

  Stephen turned her chin toward him. "Don't despair. At least we have a plan. Your parents are on our side."

  She forced herself to smile. "True. Your father is the only impediment."

  "He may yet see reason. Now, they are setting the dining room table for more than are here. Do you know who is coming?"

  She sighed. "The days of big Christmas celebrations are over at Summerhill, but I believe the Chadwicks and the vicar and his wife are always invited for dinner." She took his arm as he walked her to the main part of the house.

  "Aunt Agatha and Cousin Bertram will round out the numbers then. We will all be thrown together for the whole day."

  Jane heaved a profound sigh. "Do we have time for a walk before our confinement?"

  "Yes, and there is someplace I want to share with you."

  * * * * *

  While Jane went for her cloak, half-boots and gloves, Stephen grabbed a large market basket from the pantry and a jug of cider. Jane stared at these items but did not question him. He led her to the orchard where the snow of the previous night barely covered the ground. The apple and pear trees he and Henry had planted were mature now, but they were bare at this time of year, their dry leaves crunching under his boots. There were eight rows of trees plus grapevines trellised along the side of the orchard near the stable. He anointed as many of the trees as he could with the jug of cider.

  "An offering?" she asked as she followed him, holding the basket.

  "Something like that. I can't remember any of the Wassail songs. They've all been stamped out of my mind by war songs."

  "Here we go a wassailing among the leaves so green," she sang. "That's all I remember. It feels good to think of these trees blooming and being bountiful in the new year even if we will not be here to see them."

  "It feels good to have a future especially with you."

  "What is the basket for?"

  "Come, we have a stand of holly a little ways into the wood grove. It was always my job to cut the low branches and take them to the house."

  As he handed her the branches with their glossy leaves and red berries she said, "The berries against the green leaves are so vivid." She placed them gently in the basket as Stephen used his knife to cut them.

  Along the lane stood a windbreak of pine trees. Stephen stopped to cut some boughs to bring back to the house with them.

  When they came around behind the stable, he placed his bundle on the ground and clipped some ivy growing wild along the stone wall. "If we had more time we could go to the oak grove on the hill for mistletoe."

  "We don't need it." She dropped the basket and he kissed her.

  When he drew back he looked at her in amazement. "I can scarcely believe I am here and you are to be my wife. It seems like a dream."

  "Believe it." She stood on her toes for another kiss, but they heard a carriage come around the house.

  "We had better stop dallying and get these inside or it will be too late to decorate before dinner.

  They ditched their outer garments in the back cloak room and hurried to the dining room where they decorated the epergne with holly sprigs and the mantel with ivy. Next they twined ivy along the banister in the entry hall and made a nest of pine boughs on the hall table. Then they entered the drawing room where the others were gathered and found Foster in the act of lighting the Yule log with help from the footmen. "Is that from last year?" Stephen asked.

  "Yes, sir. Mr. Henry saved it."

  "Wonder of wonders." Henry had saved a bit of log because he knew it would mean a lot to Stephen. He felt for a moment closer to his brother, but also sadness weighed heavy on his heart. His brother should be here, standing beside him. He felt his loss more keenly than when he'd first heard of his brother's demise. Henry's absence from the drawing room, where he belonged, made Stephen confront the permanence of this loss more vividly than the fresh grave in the churchyard.

  "I'll take that, sir," Foster said of the remaining greenery he still held. "I am glad you remembered."

  "Shall we go in to dinner?" his father asked as he jumped to his feet and interrupted the moment.

  Chadwick hung back and on the way across the hall, he clapped Stephen on the shoulder and said, "We need to speak, but not today. Call on me tomorrow."

  Stephen nodded, but wondered what the solicitor had to tell him.

  The meal was not as uncomfortable as Stephen feared. There was too much food, of course, starting with a large pike, moving on to roast goose and all the requisite side dishes, and then ending with fruit and nuts. Food aplenty, and it made him remember the days his soldiers had gone to sleep hungry.

  He saw that his father could still fake cordiality. It wasn't until Mr. Faraday proposed a toast to the happy couple that his father's expression turned mutinous. Lord Summerhill did not drink to Stephen and Jane, though even Bertram drained his glass. Aunt Agatha stared at her plate, which she had hardly touched.

  When it was time for the ladies to leave the gentlemen to their port, Stephen rose and went into the hall to speak to his mother.

  "I am to meet with Chadwick tomorrow at his home and I believe I shall have a better idea where I stand then. If Jane and I can set up household in a reasonable place, would you wish to live with us? Jane would enjoy your company as much as I would."

  "That is kind of you. What are your immediate plans?"

  "To return with the Faradays to London to set things in order. We cannot be married for a good four months. Mourning must be observed."

  "I will come for a visit when it gets closer to the wedding," she said, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes. "This has turned out to be a joyous Christmas after all." She kissed his cheek and went in to talk to the other ladies who were exclaiming over the added greenery.

  Stephen still stood in the hall, thinking how little it took to make some people happy when his father came
to find him.

  "What the devil do you mean by leaving the room?"

  He gave a heavy sigh. "If we are to have an argument, I'd prefer it in your office rather than in front of company."

  "Very well."

  Stephen followed him into the cluttered room and stood in front of the cold fireplace. How many times had he been called to task for some minor offense that had not been his fault? He knew how often Henry had intervened on his behalf, and what it had cost him.

  "The marriage between you and Jane is unacceptable," his father spat. "For the sake of the family honor, Jane, who was known to be engaged to Henry, must marry Bertram."

  "She was never officially engaged to Henry. However, what does that matter and what has it to do with family honor?"

  "I will talk Faraday out of this madness," his father continued his rant as if Stephen had not spoken. "She should marry my heir, Bertram."

  "Jane is nearly twenty-one and not a commodity. In a few months she can marry whom she chooses."

  "I will not have all my plans subverted by you," he blustered.

  Stephen paced in front of the fireplace. "Yes, I have been a disobedient child. First, I went into a regiment of my choosing, and then I survived the war, which you thought would kill me. Unfortunately, Henry did not survive. I have been wondering how you would blame me for that."

  His father glared at him. "He as good as committed suicide over worry for you."

  "Nice try, but Henry loved life too much. He just wanted to live his own, not the one you designed for him. If not for Henry I would have had no letters at all."

  "Henry was an obedient son except in the matter of the letters. He insisted on reading them at the table or I would have intervened."

  "Are you admitting you hid my letters to Mother and destroyed hers to me?"

  "It was better that everyone stopped thinking about you. Perhaps the talk would have died down."

  "What talk? Henry was not in love with Jane. He would never have married her. He wanted his freedom." Stephen stopped and folded his arms with finality.

  "And how was he to manage this…" his father threw up his hands. "Freedom you speak of?"