by S. G. Rogers
When he returned to the drawing room a half-hour later, Lara wasn’t assembled with the others. He approached Mrs. Robinson, who was sipping a glass of sherry.
“Might I inquire after your daughter’s health?”
“She’s in bed with a fever, I’m sorry to say. Even in her current state, the poor dear was worried about the Coogans. Mrs. Coogan’s eldest daughter Elsie is Lara’s maid, and Lara’s fond of her. I may have Elsie go home tomorrow morning with a hamper of provisions, to ease Lara’s mind.”
“I’ll bring the hamper to the Coogans,” Miles said. “With Miss Lara ill, it wouldn’t be wise to take her maid away from her.”
“That’s extremely thoughtful, but you’re our guest, Mr. Greystoke,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I couldn’t imagine imposing on you that way.”
“It’s no imposition whatsoever. I’d enjoy the exercise, and it will give me a chance to see Blythe Village.”
“Although I refuse to set foot in the Coogans’ hovel, if it’s not too cold tomorrow perhaps I’ll walk into the village with you,” Fiona said.
“I’d be glad for the company,” Miles said, although nothing could be further from the truth.
Over breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Robinson reported Lara’s fever had not improved.
“Shall I fetch a surgeon?” Miles asked.
“Lara insists not, but she isn’t leaving her bed today. She was well enough, however, to badger me about the Coogans. I reassured her we’d see to their needs. After that, Lara was able to go back to sleep.”
“I’ll nip over with the hamper, then, as soon as it’s ready,” Miles said.
“It’s sunny out, so I’ll go too,” Fiona said. “I wouldn’t mind visiting a few shops in the village before returning home.”
“Er…Fiona, dearest, I could use your help,” Angelica said. “Nobody here draws as well as you do, and I’d love to send a drawing of Billy to his other grandparents for Christmas. Would you be a darling and oblige me this morning?”
“But I just promised Mr. Greystoke to accompany him,” Fiona said. “Can’t we do it this afternoon?”
“Christmas is in a few days, and if we don’t put the sketch in the post right away, it might not arrive in time.”
Fiona pouted. “If you insist.”
Miles hoped his relief wasn’t obvious. “Perhaps we’ll walk together some other morning, Miss Fiona.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Fiona returned to her oatmeal. Angelica caught Miles’s eye and gave him a subtle wink while William snickered silently into his tea. Do my brother and sister-in-law detect my lack of regard for Fiona, or are my feelings for Lara so obvious?
Chapter Three
Saint Nick
IN RESPONSE TO MILES’S KNOCK, a young boy opened the door to the Coogans’ cottage and peered at him. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m here on behalf of Miss Lara.” He tapped the hamper. “She asked me to deliver some food.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he gave an excited wiggle. “Food? Oh, thank you! What’s your name?”
Miles suddenly felt like Santa Claus. “Er…call me Nick. May I come in?”
The boy swung the door open, and Miles stepped inside. Two little girls clad in threadbare dresses were playing with rag dolls nearby. The boy pointed first to the youngest girl and then to the eldest as he introduced them.
“Nick, that’s Helen. She’s five. The other one is Colleen. She’s eleven. My name’s Jack, and I’m eight.”
Miles removed his hat and gave the girls a courtly bow. “Lovely to meet you, ladies.”
Colleen and Helen exchanged a surprised glance with one another, shot to their feet, and curtsied. Then all three children burst out into giggles. They flocked around Miles as he unpacked the hamper of food and put everything on the table. Inside were a crock of butter, a half-dozen scones, a roast chicken, and some fruit. While Colleen brought over plates, Miles sent Jack in to check on his mother.
In the meantime, Miles took the wooden bucket out to the pump to fetch fresh water. The pump was nearly frozen, so filling the bucket took more work than he’d anticipated. By the time he returned, Mrs. Coogan had managed to get herself to the kitchen. Right away he understood Lara’s concern for the ghastly pale woman, whose face was gaunt.
“Mum, this here’s Nick,” Jack mumbled through a mouthful of scone.
“Good morning, Mrs. Coogan. Miss Lara is ill, but she sent me to help out,” Miles said.
“She’s an angel, and that’s the truth.”
“Yes, she is. I couldn’t agree more.”
While the family ate, Miles filled the tea kettle with water and swung it over the flames in the fireplace to boil for tea. As he straightened, he was struck by how little the Coogans possessed. The family was indeed in dire straits, and in need of far more than a simple hamper of food. He’d told Lara efforts on behalf of the poor were often wasted, and perhaps that was oftentimes true. In this instance, however, he couldn’t turn a blind eye. I know now what Lara’s Christmas gift will be.
He picked up his hat. “Mrs. Coogan, I’m going out to get a few things. I’ll be back soon.”
Three days after she first began to feel ill, Lara’s fever broke and her sore throat improved. She began to feel restless and cooped up, particularly when she realized Christmas Eve was the next day and Miles’s muffler was only half finished. Elsie propped her up with extra pillows and fetched her knitting basket so she could work.
“How is your mama?” Lara asked. “Have you seen her?”
“No, Miss Lara, but she sent word that Saint Nick has been taking good care of her and the kids.”
“Saint Nick?” Lara smiled. “How awfully strange!”
Elsie laughed and shrugged. “That’s what she told Ned when I asked him to look in on her. I don’t know if maybe her condition has muddled her thinking or not.”
“I’ll be well enough by tomorrow to pay her a call, I think. I’ll get to the bottom of it then, but the important thing is she’s being taken care of.”
That afternoon, Lara was delighted when Angelica came for a visit. She brought a chair closer to the bed, and they chatted for a long while about the baby, London, and married life.
“I’ve missed talking with you so much,” Lara said finally. “And now that you’re home, I’m stuck in bed with a cold.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Angelica said. “I’m glad you’re feeling a little better because I wanted to ask you about coming to London for a visit this spring. I’ve already spoken with Papa, and he’s agreed to let you and Fiona stay with us for the entire Season.”
Lara was filled with excitement. “You’ve discussed the matter with William?”
Angelica laughed. “I allowed him to think it was his idea. You girls need to find husbands, despite Papa’s notions that such things grow on trees. It was a miracle I chanced to meet William, actually. If I hadn’t, perhaps Sir Harry would be eying me.”
“This is uncommonly generous, particularly since you and William have a new baby and everything.”
“Nonsense. We’ve plenty of room, and you may even bring your maid if you like. Now there’s something else you should know. I want Fiona to come with us when we return to town after the New Year. It will do her good to come out from underneath your shadow for a few months.”
“My shadow?” Lara echoed. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“She’s told me in several letters over the years that she’s jealous of you.”
“What?”
“She resents your pretty face and sweet temperament.”
Lara averted her eyes so her elder sister wouldn’t see the deep hurt her revelations had caused. “I truly had no idea Fiona felt that way.”
“I believe if she can enjoy a little time in Society by herself, she just may blossom.”
“Have you told her about London yet?”
“I’m planning to tell her on Christmas Eve, as a sort
of present. So mum’s the word.”
“All right. Obviously, if Fiona wants to go to London without me, she should go.” She gave Angelica a crooked smile. “In the meantime, I’ll stay at Blythe Manor and stave off Sir Harry’s advances as best I can.”
“It won’t be for long, dearest. Spring will be here before you know it.”
Angelica deposited a kiss on Lara’s cheek and left. Disconsolate and troubled by a sense of betrayal, Lara dropped back onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling overhead. Fiona and I haven’t always been close, but I didn’t think she was jealous of me. She even wrote letters about it behind my back! Fiona hasn’t even bothered to visit me once since I became ill. Perhaps Angelica is right and we need some distance.
Christmas Eve morning dawned bright and cheerful. Lara managed to eat most of what Elsie brought her on a breakfast tray. A long hot bath did wonders toward making her feel better. While she waited for her hair to dry, she finished knitting Miles’s muffler. Afterward, she wrapped it in a square of brown paper and tied the package with a lacy ribbon.
When she was properly dressed and coiffed, she took the package down to the drawing room, where several presents were already nestled under the tree. As she placed Miles’s gift alongside the others, Lara squelched the temptation to check the labels. Her mother appeared in the doorway.
“No fair peeking.” Mrs. Robinson gave her a hug. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
“I’m glad to be on my feet again. Where is everyone?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I believe Angelica and Fiona are in the nursery with the baby, and your father and William went riding.”
“And…Mr. Greystoke?”
“He’s been going out every morning for long walks. I must say, Mr. Greystoke is an ideal house guest. He seems to keep himself amused without any effort from anyone.”
“Since it’s such a fine day, I think I’ll take a basket down to the Coogans.”
“But you’ve been ill, Lara! You shouldn’t overdo on your first day out of bed.”
“I promise I won’t stay long, but I must satisfy my curiosity. Rumor has it the Coogans have had Saint Nick dropping by.”
“Really?” Mrs. Robinson laughed. “Well, ’tis the season for it.”
Miles and Helen emerged from the cobbler’s shop, hand-in-hand. The little girl could not stop staring at her new boots, which made it difficult to walk properly. She nearly barreled headlong into Fiona, who was passing by.
“Oh excuse us, Miss Fiona,” Miles said, nudging Helen. “We were quite excited and weren’t looking where we were going.”
“Excuse me, Miss Fiona,” Helen echoed.
“That’s quite all right. There’s so much bustling going on today, I’ve nearly been trod upon several times this morning.”
“Look at my shoes!” Helen thrust out her foot for Fiona’s benefit. “I’ve never had a new pair all my own before.”
Fiona smiled. “Your shoes are quite lovely, Helen. No doubt your mama will love them too.”
Helen pulled on Miles’s hand. “Oh, yes, let’s show Mum!”
Miles remained rooted to the spot. “Patience, Helen. Before we go home, I must pick up a bundle of laundry from Mrs. Fitzgerald for your mother.”
Helen jumped up and down in frustration. “Can’t we do it later? I want to go home now!”
Miles exchanged an exasperated glance with Fiona.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“That would be wonderful, actually.” Miles fished money from his pocket to pay the bill. “I never realized before how squirmy children can be. Mrs. Fitzgerald is the third door down from the church. It’s painted yellow.”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find it by the smell of soap alone,” Fiona said. “I’ll be along to the Coogans directly.”
“Thank you! I’ve been fixing up the place over the last few days.”
Miles and Helen headed off down the walkway, but as he passed a sweet shop he remembered one last errand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we pop in here for a moment, do you? It’s Christmas Eve, and I promised to bring your brother and sister some hard candy.”
Helen’s eyes grew wide, and her rosebud mouth formed an O. “You can’t break your promise then!”
“Most assuredly not.”
As Lara set out with a basket of fruit, cheese, and bread, several inches of milky white snow coated the landscape on either side of the road. Sunshine sparkled off the icicles dripping from tree branches, giving the trees a bejeweled dazzle. As she approached the Coogans’ cottage, the sound of boisterous laughter reached her ears. To her surprise, a cheerful holiday wreath accented with red holly berries and a colorful bow decorated the door. Colleen answered her knock, dressed in a new pinafore frock and boots. Her hair was tied back away from her face, and her usual downcast look had disappeared.
“Oh, my! Colleen, you look like a perfect little lady,” Lara exclaimed.
“Christmas came early this year! Come see!”
As Lara entered the house, she was taken aback. A small Christmas tree graced the corner, a large rag rug now covered the floor in front of the hearth, and freshly laundered curtains hung from the windows. A wooden doll house, complete with furniture, was pushed up against the wall. Jack was kneeling on the rug, playing with a brightly painted set of toy soldiers. His hair had been cut, and he wore a warm jumper, a pair of corduroy breeches, woolen stockings, and new shoes. He gave her a huge grin. “Hello, Miss Lara!”
“Jack, I mistook you for a gentleman,” Lara managed. “What’s all this?”
“It’s Saint Nick’s doing,” Colleen said. “He said you sent him.”
“Did he? I can’t imagine why he’d say such a thing. Where’s Helen?”
“Saint Nick took her to the village. It was her turn to buy clothes and shoes today.”
Stunned, Lara blinked. Who is Nick and why is he saying I sent him?
Mrs. Coogan waddled into the room, clad in a new gown. The woman was still too thin, but she radiated far more energy than she had before and her cheeks had regained some of their bloom. “Good morning, Miss Lara.” She lowered herself into a chair. “I hope you’re feeling better? I heard you’ve been ill.”
“Yes, but I’m fine now. Can I get you some tea?”
“Thank you, but Nick already made me eat a big breakfast. He’s been spoiling all of us something dreadful the last few days. He even sent my laundry out to be done, just like I was a real lady!”
“I can’t wait to thank him personally.” Lara realized she was still clutching the basket. “I’ll unpack this in the kitchen for later then.”
As she crossed to the corner of the house where the Coogans prepared their meals, the front door burst open and Helen ran inside. The child wore a new heavy coat over a pink woolen dress, knit cap, and mittens.
“Hello, Miss Lara! Mum, look at my pretty boots! They even have tassels!”
Mrs. Coogan bade Helen turn around so she could admire her outfit. “You’re absolutely splendid, Helen.”
A tall man stamped snow off his feet on the mat outside and doffed his hat as he ducked through the front door. “Hello, Mrs. Coogan. We—” Miles broke off when he met Lara’s gaze. “Miss Lara! You’re up and about.”
“Nick!” cried Jack and Colleen. “Did you bring us sweets?”
The two eldest children rushed toward the man they knew as Nick and began searching the pockets of his coat. Miles laughed and fended them off. “You won’t find anything there, but let’s see…” He made a big show of looking in the lining of his hat. “No, it’s not here. I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten where I put it.”
More squeals. Finally Miles reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bag of sweets. “Ah, here it is!” The kids jumped up and down until he dropped the bag into their waiting hands. “Be sure to share with your sister.”
Completely charmed, a smile crept onto Lara’s lips. He’s Saint Nick?
“You’re too good to
us, lad,” Mrs. Coogan said.
After a brief knock on the door, Fiona burst into the house with a large wrapped bundle in her hands. “Sorry I’m late with the laundry. Mrs. Fitzgerald was helping someone else when I arrived.”
Lara gaped. “Fiona!”
“Oh, hello, Lara. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Her sister dropped the bundle of laundry into a chair and took Miles’s arm. “Mr. Greystoke and I have been fixing up the Coogans’ cottage. Isn’t it cozy now?”
At the sight of Fiona and Miles together, Lara’s smile froze on her face. A knife to Lara’s heart could not have felt more painful. “It’s lovely.” She lowered the basket onto the table with trembling hands. “Mrs. Coogan, your husband will be home for Christmas, I hope?”
“His last letter said he would try. That would make everything perfect.”
“Well, I must be going,” Lara said.
Miles disentangled himself from Fiona. “Let me escort you to Blythe Manor.”
“No, thank you.” Lara wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’ve some shopping to do first.”
Feeling as stiff-necked as one of Jack’s tin soldiers, she marched from the house.
Blythe Village was bustling with ebullient shoppers purchasing last minute gifts and food. Although Lara dearly wished she could share their holiday cheer, her good mood had collapsed. She ducked into the yarn shop to escape the fray, and pretended to admire the pretty skeins of wool tucked into the cubbies lining the wall. When she’d lingered long enough, she purchased several cherry red skeins, wished the merchant Merry Christmas, and left.
The sunshine had disappeared when she emerged, the temperature was dropping, and snowfall was becoming heavier by the minute. Lara trudged toward Blythe Manor, sparing only a single glance for the Coogans’ cottage. Miles and Fiona had taken great pains to make sure the family was clothed and fed when she could not. Although she was happy for the Coogans, when she remembered how Fiona had taken Miles’s arm, an avalanche of unhappiness welled up within her. It seemed clear the two had formed an attachment, and Lara couldn’t bear it. I’m the jealous one now, not Fiona. I should be ashamed of myself and yet all I feel is pain.
