A Promise Beneath the Kissing Bough

by Tabetha Waite

  For some reason, picturing that very scenario caused Cornell no end of frustration. He had to focus so as not to clench his fists and pummel this phantom husband for dishonoring her — and then claiming her for himself.

  Pleasant paused beside him in all her glorious beauty, both inside and out, and a brilliant smile lit Althea’s face as she joined her husband. “You’re under the mistletoe.”

  Cornell glanced overhead and had to smile as he looked back down at Pleasant. “We seem to be doing that a lot lately,” he teased.

  She smiled. “Indeed, we have.”

  He brought her within the circle of his arms. “We mustn’t disappoint our hosts,” he murmured, but when he would have kissed her, the butler interrupted.

  “Pardon me. A Mr. Niall is at the door, urgently asking for Miss Hill.”

  Cornell followed Pleasant as she instantly rushed to the door. When her brother spied her, his face washed in relief. “Pea, come quick! It’s Mama.”

  Chapter Eight

  Niall had told them, on their rushed trip back in Lord Haverton’s carriage, that his mother had suffered a severe coughing fit and had fallen over unresponsive. Now, as Pleasant paced the room, still dressed in her finery, she waited for news from the doctor who was examining Aine upstairs, while the morale below was rather bleak. Fiona was sitting on Cornell’s lap, for after tonight, he was so much more than just Mr. Reed. She was clutching her rag doll, dried tears on her face. Connor and Niall were sitting near the fire, as quiet as she had ever seen them.

  Finally, the physician, an older man with a bushy moustache, came back downstairs carrying his black bag. He shook his head sadly as he addressed the assembled. “I’m afraid it’s consumption.”

  Pleasant covered her mouth with her hand as tears instantly pricked the backs of her eyes. Tuberculosis was a death sentence, yet, she couldn’t help but swallow the lump in her throat and ask, “Is there anything that can be done?”

  His expression was grim. “I’m afraid it has progressed too far. At this point you must prepare yourself.”

  She put a hand to her stomach, but she refused to break down in front of her siblings. She had to be strong for them, for they were about to lose their mother. “I see. Thank you, doctor.”

  He nodded and took his leave.

  Once he was gone, the shock of his prognosis began to sink in. While no one wanted to address the issue directly, Fiona, in all her innocence asked, “Is Mama going to die?”

  Pleasant tried to speak, but her throat had closed up. Thankfully, Cornell turned Fiona to face him and said softly, “Death doesn’t always have to be sad. I fought in many battles where men I respected and admired were taken from this earth much too quickly, but then, I started to imagine that perhaps they were spared from something even worse.”

  “What could be worse than death?” Connor sniffed.

  He didn’t even hesitate. “Living a life in misery.” At this, even Niall glanced at him. Once he had their full attention, he continued, “Your mother has been suffering from this illness for quite some time. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to lie in bed for the rest of her life. So, do you really want her to stay here and suffer unnecessarily when she could find some relief from her disease?”

  “But I’ll miss her,” Fiona said with a pout.

  “As you all will.” He tugged on one of her red curls. “But that’s where the memories will continue to live on in your hearts. You will remember your mother when she was strong and lively.”

  “Come on, Fi.” Connor walked over and took his little sister’s hand. “Let’s go see, Mama.”

  Niall reluctantly trailed behind, but he turned his head and said, “You coming up, Pea?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be right there.” Once they were out of sight, she started to breathe more rapidly and deeply than normal. She covered her face with her hands knowing the sobs were coming. “What am I… going to… do?”

  A pair of comforting, warm arms surrounded her, and she melted into Cornell’s strength. She cried heavily for a short time, but then composed herself quickly enough. When she drew back, he lifted her chin gently.

  “I can’t go back to the shop,” she whispered. “Mama is committed to finishing several more gowns and—”

  “Don’t worry about me or the shoes,” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to work extra hours to complete an order. Take the time to be with your family.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Thank you.”

  He rose to his feet. “I’ll call on you tomorrow.”

  ***

  For the next several days, Niall and Connor didn’t sweep chimneys. They stayed close to their mother’s bedside, along with Fiona, and read her stories while she lay there and listened. Whether or not she actually comprehended what was being said, Pleasant didn’t know, but the contented smile on Aine’s face showed that at least she was happy to have her children near.

  Pleasant, on the other hand, stayed busy sewing downstairs from dawn to well past dusk, creating fine dresses like the one she’d carefully folded and returned to its box, where it now sat tucked under her bed with the gold shoes.

  She found that her eyes welled up with moisture several times, for she missed her stepmother sitting in this very chair. And while Pleasant wanted to give her family the Christmas that they deserved, she feared that was no longer a possibility. If it wasn’t because of Aine’s poor health, now that the boys weren’t working, the holiday season was looking rather bleak.

  Already, their funds were starting to deplete, the cost for the physician’s call and the money she put aside for Aine’s burial taking the remainder of the advance Pleasant had received from Cornell. Anything else she made from sewing was going to cover the rent and what little food they could manage.

  The only bright spot to Pleasant’s current existence was the daily visit from Cornell. The day after Aine’s episode, he brought some scones from the bakery. The next, he’d bought woolen scarves for Pleasant and her siblings. Each time he appeared, he brought something new, and Pleasant could tell that, although Aine’s health was a constant concern, they looked forward to these thoughtful gestures from him.

  It was during one of these visits that Pleasant went upstairs to show her stepmother the carved miniature that Cornell had given her.

  “Mama?” she said softly.

  Aine slowly opened her eyes. When she saw Pleasant, she smiled, but didn’t speak. Her strength was quickly waning with each passing day.

  She held up the small, wooden elephant. “Isn’t it wonderful? The others will be up shortly. We all have something different.”

  When Aine finally spoke, it was soft and slightly raspy. “Mr. Reed is a… good man.”

  “He certainly is,” Pleasant agreed.

  “Do you… love him?”

  Until then, Pleasant hadn’t allowed herself to fantasize about a life with Cornell, but now she found her lips curving upward. “I think so.”

  “Then you… have my… blessing.” She paused, as if to gather her remaining energy.

  “Shh. Don’t tire yourself unnecessarily.”

  Aine’s eyes were fierce as she concentrated on Pleasant’s face. She held out a pale hand. “I may not have… given birth to you, but you have always…been a true daughter… to me. I love… you.”

  Pleasant fought against a wave of growing emotion as she clutched Aine’s hand. “And I love you. Thank you for being a true mother to me,” she whispered. “I will always be grateful for the home you provided for me.”

  “I fear that… I will have to leave you… soon. Take care of… the children.”

  “You know I will,” Pleasant vowed, tears starting to course silently down her face. “As I always have. But I don’t intend for you to leave me just yet.”

  Aine smiled and her eyes drifted shut. “Your father would have… been proud of you.”

  Pleasant brushed a stray curl from Aine’s forehead and waited for her stepmother to speak agai
n.

  It wasn’t long before she realized Aine had closed her eyes in eternal sleep.

  ***

  Mrs. Aine Hill was laid to rest on a Thursday, the twenty-first of December.

  Other than Pleasant, her siblings, and Cornell at the graveside, the earl and his family had arrived to pay their respects.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” The earl bowed respectfully to Pleasant.

  “Thank you both for coming,” Pleasant said sincerely, but then she found her attention was drawn to Fiona and Louisa, who were huddled together a short distance away. It appeared as though they were inspecting her little sister’s rag doll.

  “They seem to have attached quite easily to one another,” the countess remarked.

  About that time, the girls ran toward them. Louisa addressed her father. “Papa, I’d like to give Fi one of my dolls. I honestly have more than I can play with.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Louisa,” the earl replied with a smile.

  “Pea,” Connor said from her elbow. “I’d like to show Freddy my tin soldiers sometime.”

  “Freddy?” Pleasant couldn’t help but smile. Even though her heart was broken, it did her spirit good to see her siblings taking to the earl’s children so easily.

  But then, she looked around for Niall and saw him standing alone, his back to the group as he stared off into the distance.

  “I worry about him,” she told Cornell. “I don’t think he’s shed one tear during all of this.”

  He rubbed her back in a comforting manner. “It happened rather quickly. He probably just needs some time to deal with his grief.”

  Pleasant sighed. “I need to try and talk to him.” Cornell nodded his understanding as she excused herself and walked toward her brother.

  “Niall?”

  He didn’t immediately turn his head, and she thought he might not reply, but then he looked at her, and the pain she saw in his gaze was enough to cause an answering ache in her chest. “Coming to London was supposed to be easier than living in Ireland. It was a new beginning.” He turned his attention back to the city beyond the cemetery, where the sky was starting to thicken with gray clouds. “But it’s only been worse.”

  Pleasant’s heart went out to him. No doubt, as the oldest of her siblings, at fifteen he thought he had to bear most of the burdens on his young shoulders. “Niall, Mama was sick before we even came to England. She’s been dealing with ill health since long before Papa died.”

  He turned to her, his earlier upset shuttered, his voice void of emotion. “I don’t care. I hate it here. I’m going back to Ireland.”

  He brushed past her and ran off.

  Pleasant let him go, feeling that perhaps Cornell was right and he just needed some room to deal with his emotions, but when night fell and Niall hadn’t yet returned home, she started to grow worried, especially after the snow that had threatened earlier began to fall in earnest.

  Cornell had escorted Pleasant, Connor, and Fiona back to their lodgings, but now he shrugged on his greatcoat. “I’ll find him.”

  ***

  Cornell wandered the streets, stopping now and again to ask about anyone that might fit Niall’s description. He had a feeling he hadn’t gone far, but it wasn’t until well past midnight that he finally gained a lead.

  Reluctantly, he walked into a crowded, local pub and found Niall there, and looking three sheets to the wind. Cornell walked up to where he was sitting at a booth with two men who looked rather willing to take advantage of a young man’s naïveté.

  “I think it’s time for you to go home, Niall.”

  The boy lifted his head and squinted through inebriated, bloodshot eyes, a nearly empty mug of ale at his elbow. “I’m no’ goin’ anywhere,” he slurred. He waved a hand and nearly smacked one of his compatriots in the face. “I don’t feel like leavin’ my new friends.”

  Cornell crossed his arms and glared at him. He didn’t want to be too hard on the young man after what he’d just endured, but he also had to see sense. He just hoped he might make this easy. “Your sister is worried sick.”

  Niall slammed his fist on the table. “She’s no’ my mother! She can’t tell me wha’ t’ do!”

  Cornell sighed. “So it’s to be the hard way,” he muttered. He reached out and grabbed Niall by his jacket collar and lifted him out of his seat. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

  One of the men rose to his feet. “’E can’t leave jus’ yet.”

  “That’s too bad, because he is,” Cornell snapped in return. “He’s only fifteen, and he just lost his mother. He’s not thinking clearly.”

  The second man stood, even larger than the first. He cracked his knuckles. “’E hasn’t paid ’is tab yet.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Cornell said curtly, reaching the end of his patience.

  The first man narrowed his eyes on Cornell. “’Ey, I know ’im.” He thumbed his finger at him while he spoke to his companion. “’E’s th’ cordwainer wot thinks ’e’s too good t’ stand wit’ ’is peers.”

  The bigger man sized up Cornell with narrowed eyes. “Is tha’ so?”

  Cornell realized that Mr. Ottfield had been right. Trouble had found him. He would have just preferred that it wasn’t while he was keeping Niall upright with one hand. The boy was quite literally on the verge of passing out from the drink.

  “Gentlemen,” Cornell attempted to placate them. “Can’t we discuss this after I see the boy back to his lodgings?”

  The first man shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s no’ possible, guvn’r.”

  “Very well.” Cornell released Niall, letting him slide to the booth in a heap, while he turned his attention to his adversaries. After all, it wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d ever been in a brawl.

  The click of a pistol broke the silence, and a man strode forward. Although garbed in common clothes, when his commanding voice rang out, it was anything but simple. “I’m afraid I can’t let you harm this man.”

  Several other men surrounded Lord Haverton as his gaze remained fixed on the two men before him. “And neither can I allow you to continue your quest to tear this city apart.” He gestured to one of the men at his side. “Lieutenant, add these miscreants to the rest of the men we took into custody this evening.”

  As the agitators were led away, Lord Haverton lingered to speak with Cornell. “It turns out that your concern over Miss Hill and her family was the break we needed to find out who was responsible for trying to spark a rebellion within the guilds. Those two men were the last of a handful of others, including your Mr. Ottfield.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Cornell said. “But I can’t guarantee that you’ve seen the end of it.”

  “I have no doubt of it,” the earl countered. “But maybe by then someone else will be tasked with cleaning up London. To be honest, I prefer a more peaceful route.”

  “As do I,” Cornell returned, as he reached down and tossed Niall over his shoulder. He looked at the man who was becoming much more than just a half-brother, but rather, family. “I don’t suppose I could prevail upon your goodwill again?”

  Lord Haverton shook his head. “I really should just give you my carriage as you seem to have more need of it than I do.”

  “I’m not sure I could drive it across the channel to Ireland.”

  The earl’s brows rose. “Thinking of relocating?”

  Cornell shrugged. “All the fine shoemakers don’t have to be in Paris or London. I think it’s time Ireland had a master cordwainer.”

  “You know,” the earl murmured. “I happen to have an estate near Galway, non-entailed, of course, that has been sadly neglected.” He glanced at Cornell. “Interested?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Nine

  Several hours passed while Pleasant paced the floor and kept checking the window for any sign of Niall or Cornell. Connor and Fiona had fallen asleep hours ago, tucked into their beds upstairs, although t
he frowns they wore during their slumber proved their unrest at their brother’s absence.

  When she heard the door suddenly open on a gust of brisk, night air, Pleasant flew down the stairs and nearly fell to her knees in relief upon seeing Cornell, but when she spied Niall’s unconscious form, she gasped.

  “He’s fine,” Cornell assured her, but then he added, “Although he may not be so in the morning.”

  This time Pleasant gasped for an entirely different reason. “You mean he’s… drunk?”

  “As a lord,” Cornell muttered dryly.

  Pleasant shook her head but led Cornell up the stairs where they laid her brother down on his cot, and after removing his boots and jacket, left him in his clothes. He didn’t even stir as a soft snore came from his parted lips.

  They went back downstairs, and Pleasant stood in the middle of the floor, a hand on her forehead. “I can’t believe he did this.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him,” Cornell said gently. “He’ll suffer enough when he awakens. Something tells me it will be awhile before he imbibes ale again.”

  Without warning, Pleasant’s face crumpled and she sank down in Aine’s chair by the fireplace. “I’ve failed them,” she whispered. “Mama hasn’t even been in the ground for one day and already, Niall is out of control.”

  Cornell crouched down beside her and forced her to look at him. “People handle their grief in different ways, even children. And Niall is in a difficult place as it is. He’s struggling between remaining a boy and becoming a man.”

  She knew she was being selfish, but she couldn’t help the words that fell from her lips. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  He reached out and slowly began to remove the pins holding up her hair, until it finally fell down her back in a shimmering, copper wave. “But, my love, you seem to forget that you’re not alone.”

  Before she could ask him exactly what that meant, he brought her mouth to his. After that, she didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted the pain to go away, to pretend once again that she was someone else, someone worthy of being… desirable.