Lady Joy and the Earl: A Regency Christmas Novella

by Regina Jeffers

  “Your mother is as well as either you or I,” he would insist in a fit of exasperation.

  “Mama says she is ill,” his daughter would counter. “Tell him, Mama.”

  His wife would then place a self-satisfied smile, the expression she knew he despised, upon her lips. “Your father knows enough of my opinions and of my poor health without your assistance, my darling.” Louisa would lift her chin in defiance before saying, “Merry, dear, you should remember, like most men, your father thinks himself superior.”

  It was then he had made the difficult decision to send Meredith away to school, before Louisa could sour his daughter against him.

  But that day in mid-May 1795, when he had stormed from the house after another row with Louisa, he did not regret having done so, for he had encountered Jocelyn picking her way back to Powell Manor. A rabbit, darting across the path, had frightened her mare, and the animal had unceremoniously dumped Jocelyn from her seat. He had rescued her, returning her to Powell Manor, but not before he convinced her to permit him to examine her ankle and before they could spend part of the afternoon together speaking of their lives and him stealing more than one kiss, for what he termed “an experiment” to prove their marrying others meant nothing existed between them, when, in reality, it meant everything, for the intimacies they shared that day had declared them still hopelessly in love with each other.

  “Lord Hough,” Lady Powell greeted him after finally releasing Jocelyn and her grandsons. Tears misted the woman’s eyes. “How can we ever thank you for opening your home to us during all this nasty business?”

  “We are glad to have you with us, ma’am. My mother and aunt await you in the drawing room. They did not wish to intrude upon your homecoming, but are looking forward to renewing your acquaintance.”

  “Nonsense,” she chastised lightly. “I am thrilled to be in Lady Hough’s company again, but before I do, permit me to make you known to Mr. Lionel Effrom and his brother, Mr. Charles Effrom. Hopefully, Powell informed you I was not traveling alone.”

  “The marquess did so, ma’am. Powell sent a note around earlier this morning.” James nodded to the two men. “Welcome, gentlemen.”

  “Thank you for the kindness, your lordship. My brother and I are honored to be included in your festivities,” the elder Mr. Effrom said with a bow.

  Jocelyn appeared confused. “I apologize, gentlemen. I was so happy to have Lady Powell with us that I neglected to acknowledge your presence. How are you acquainted with my mother?”

  Lady Powell caught her daughter’s hand. “Like you, my love, I was caught up in the moment of looking upon your lovely countenance after so many years apart. Lionel is my husband. We were married more than two months prior in Chelsea.”

  Chapter Five

  Bring me a constant woman to her husband,

  One that ne’er dream’d a joy beyond his pleasure,

  And to that woman, when she has done most,

  Yet will I add an honour—a great patience.

  - William Shakespeare, Henry VIII, Act III, Scene i

  Lord Hough had smartly directed her mother and a stunned Jocelyn to her mother’s quarters, while he ushered her sons and the Effroms into the drawing room to take the acquaintance of his mother, aunt, and the other guests.

  Jocelyn held her opinions until they were behind closed doors. “Does Emerson know?”

  “Your brother makes it his business to know something of mine,” her mother responded with a heavy sigh of testiness before sitting in a chair near the fire that had been set for their arrival.

  “Are you insinuating I care nothing of your welfare?” Jocelyn accused.

  “Sit, Jocelyn. I despise speaking to someone who means to lord over me.”

  With a huff, Jocelyn sat. “Why was I not informed of your marriage?”

  “Because I knew you would not endorse my joining,” her mother stated matter-of-factly. “Although I did not approve of our ostracism while Lathrop still lived, there was nothing to keep us apart after your husband’s passing except your need to blame me for permitting Francis to arrange your marriage.”

  Jocelyn frowned at the assertion. “I realize my marriage was not of your choosing. You have apologized often enough for something not your doing.”

  Her mother went very still. “I could not prevent Francis’s contract. I pleaded with him, but to no avail.”

  “I know,” Jocelyn stated mutinously.

  “Yet you hold on to the betrayal practiced against you,” her mother pronounced in bitter tones.

  “Such is not my intent,” Jocelyn protested. “I wanted you in my life then. I still do now.”

  “Then who do you protect?”

  Jocelyn steeled her courage against the shadows that steadily crept up her spine. She wished to wrap herself in an iron blanket, where nothing could penetrate her defenses. She ignored her mother’s question. She would never admit why she kept everyone at arm’s length. Instead, she asked, “Tell me something of Mr. Effrom.”

  Wordlessly, her mother studied Jocelyn for several minutes. “Very well, we shall set our differences aside for the time being. I shall permit you your superiority.” It bothered Jocelyn to note the haunting despair in her mother’s eyes, but Jocelyn could not confide the facts of Harrison’s death to anyone.

  “I have known Lionel Effrom my entire life. His father was the steward on my father’s estate. He was my first love. My only love.”

  “Not papa?”

  “Francis was kind, and we marched along together well enough, but neither of us would have chosen the other without our parents’ influence. Perhaps such was the reason your father took no notice of your reluctance to marry Lathrop.”

  “Papa owed Lathrop an outrageous sum. My dowry proved more than enough to appease my husband,” Jocelyn corrected. “Moreover, Harrison received the connection of the marquessate.”

  Her mother appeared shocked. “I was unaware of the reasons.”

  Jocelyn did not wish to discuss her father’s disloyalty. “How did you reunite with Mr. Effrom?”

  The smile of contentment her mother assumed when she spoke of her new husband softened Jocelyn’s objections to their speedy joining. “I traveled to Chelsea to stay with my sister during her most recent illness. Little did I suspect, Lionel often returned to the area to spend time with Charles and to provide his brother legal advice. Lionel is a well-established barrister in London. We, quite literally, bumped into each other on the street. He is a widower, and I no longer was tied tightly to the marquessate or to any other of the objections which once kept us apart, and so we began the courtship we had once been denied.” Her mother laughed through a flush of color upon her cheeks. “What can I say? The depth of our love never knew satisfaction. We will not have as many years together as we should have known, but we have agreed to permit no one to sour our days.”

  “Is that a warning, Mother?”

  Her mother shrugged her sorrow. “I would not wish it to be, Jocelyn. I love you dearly, but I insist on a bit of selfishness in my old age. I will not take second to anyone again. I would suggest you do the same. Are you prepared for another fifteen to twenty years of loneliness and misery? When your sons marry, they will no longer require your advice or your serving as the mistress of their households. You shall be displaced, and then to whom shall you turn?”

  * * *

  “Lady Lathrop and I think it time we prepare the house for Christmas,” Lord Hough announced over supper the following evening.

  His lordship’s children had arrived earlier in the day. It had fascinated Jocelyn to watch his whole-hearted welcome. Lord Hough had been outside, waiting impatiently, once word had been received of his son’s carriage entering the park.

  With happiness marking her features, his daughter had jumped from the open coach door into James’s waiting arms. Jocelyn had heard from Lady Mary that there was a time when Lady Meredith had shunned her father’s affections, but such no longer appeared true. The girl clung
to him, tears misting her eyes, but not tears of anguish, rather of relief at having her father’s arms about her again.

  But the most telling moment was when Lord Bluffton stepped down from the coach. Hough caught his son up in an embrace that appeared initially to embarrass the young man, who quickly smiled and gave himself up to the moment. Manly slaps on the back followed. And as she looked on, Jocelyn cursed her sons’ fates, not to claim James Highcliffe as their father. Lathrop had never shown either Andrew or Michael the least bit of affection.

  “Meaning what exactly?” Lord Bluffton asked from his place along the table.

  Hough glanced to her. “Her ladyship and I have some ideas, but we are intelligent enough to realize what we might consider as entertaining may not be to your tastes.” He glanced to his guests and smiled. “Keep in mind, this house holds three generations, and I will not tolerate the neglect of any of my guests or of my family. Moreover, there are some traditions we will accept as a given, such as the annual hunt, a roast turkey, Yorkshire pudding, and most obviously, a yule log.”

  “The Flaxen Fair,” Lady Meredith suggested with a smile the girl obviously knew would melt her father’s heart. “It has been five years since we attended.”

  “Duly noted,” Lord Hough said with an answering smile. “Do I hear objections to the fair?”

  Lady Hough explained to those not familiar with the event, “As gold was the first gift of the Wise Men to the Christ Child, all things golden are sold: necklaces, fans, combs, mirrors, and such, and even ‘gold’ foods such as gold-wrapped candies and meat pies and fresh roasted nuts. The local merchants, at the vicar’s insistence, donate a percentage of their profits to the church orphanage, making them quite creative in their offerings. Everyone finds the event, which occurs on the last Friday and Saturday before Christmas, a welcome break in the solemn season.”

  “As Christmas is but five days away, this Twelfth Night season is fast approaching,” Lady Mary added.

  Lord Hough instructed, “Lady Lathrop, please add the Flaxen Fair to our list of activities.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “A ball,” Miss Stephenson suggested.

  Jocelyn thought the girl eyed Andrew too closely. A warning to her son not to be found alone with the girl would be required. Andrew had little experience around known flirts, and Jocelyn would not have him tied to a woman he did not affect. However, if Andrew expressed an interest in the girl, Jocelyn would step aside. All she wanted was her son’s happiness.

  Thankfully, his lordship’s always-practical Aunt Mary quashed the girl’s aspirations. “A ball would be impossible to organize on such short notice, but perhaps some of the gentry could be invited to Hough House for supper. The local music teacher could be hired for the evening.”

  Jocelyn suggested, “If you wish to offer an entertainment such as Lady Mary describes, such should be arranged for a date closer to the New Year or before Twelfth Night, rather than Christmas. I would imagine many of the local families have plans; yet, they would fear offending if they did not attend to an invitation from an earl. Permit them to have their Christmas and then enjoy his lordship’s company.”

  “Excellent point, my lady,” Lord Hough said in serious tones. He presented her a look of approval. “Mother, perhaps you and I can discuss whether such an evening can be executed on such short notice. Although I think it time we invite our neighbors to Hough House again, I would not wish to place undue strain upon my servants or upon you serving as my chatelaine. If not a supper, perhaps a light refreshment and music.”

  “Will there be snow?” Michael asked. “If so, might we take out the sleighs?”

  “There was snow in Derbyshire when we departed,” Lady Meredith confided. “Mayhap you will have your wish, Mr. Lathrop.”

  “Will we collect holly and greenery?” Lord Bluffton asked.

  “Absolutely,” Lord Hough assured.

  When Andrew made his request, it surprised Jocelyn. “One Christmas I spent time with a friend in Devon.” Jocelyn knew Andrew referenced the Christmas following Lathrop’s death. “The Thompsons are a large family who spend a great deal of time in each other’s pockets.” Andrew had returned to the solemn halls of Lathrop Abbey full of happiness and hope, only to be brought low by Harrison’s brother and mother, who objected to their eleven-year-old grandson knowing any enjoyment after such a tragic event. “They orchestrated a well-planned scavenger hunt and more games than I can recall. It was a most pleasant time.”

  Her poor sons had never known family or friends. She had permitted their father to rob them of their childhood with his endless rules, and, even after his death, she had kept them close because of the scandal that marked their father’s passing. As she studied them now, Jocelyn wondered if she had done them a disservice.

  “His lordship and I have thought of several games we enjoyed when we were younger, but we can certainly add a scavenger hunt or other favorites. We are thrown together due to the illness at my family seat; yet, we are not complete strangers.”

  “Lady Lathrop is correct,” Hough said with a smile directed at her. “Our families possess common experiences and shared memories upon which to build our celebration.”

  * * *

  “I have a basket,” Miss Stephenson said with a flirtatious smile directed at Andrew. Their group had agreed to several games before the ladies performed on the pianoforte.

  Andrew, seated to the girl’s left, responded accordingly. “What does it hold?”

  “A harp,” the girl said brightly.

  Lady Meredith frowned. “It is not fair, Ophelia, to use the objects in the room as part of your response.”

  Ignoring the girls’ bickering, her stoic son obligingly said, “I have a basket.” As was expected, the group boo-hooed his acting of carrying the imaginary receptacle. Surprisingly, her eldest good-naturedly pantomimed placing an object into the basket.

  Lady Meredith pretended to respond in serious tones. “What does the basket hold?”

  Jocelyn gasped when Andrew said with a straight face, one she recognized as being her son’s determination to follow the game’s rules. “Inexpressibles.”

  “Andrew!” she and Michael protested while the others called, “Lathrop!”

  Her son knew instant outrage, rather than regret or embarrassment. Unfortunately, Andrew had learned many of his social skills from her late husband, and Harrison Lathrop was not an affable person.

  “What am I to say?” Andrew argued. To which the others loudly expressed their objections to his mention of men’s undergarments.

  Although the others wished to argue their protests, Lord Hough took control of the situation. “Lathrop has done nothing wrong,” he declared in complete ease. “The letter ‘i’ is a difficult one. Other than ivy or ice or insects, the choices are limited.”

  The elder Mr. Effrom agreed. “I thought young Lathrop creative.”

  Jocelyn appreciated both men’s efforts at saving Andrew from an awkward moment. It was good to witness the compassion displayed by both James and her new stepfather.

  Hough’s daughter cut the discussion short. “I have a basket,” she announced over the hubbub, and the group fell silent.

  Lord Bluffton chuckled. “Merry means the debate is over.”

  Constance, who sat to Sebastian’s left said, “Ice would have been a foolish response. Lord Lathrop was only being practical.”

  Jocelyn eyed her niece. Perhaps something was brewing between Constance and Andrew that Jocelyn had failed to notice until this moment. Andrew actually presented his cousin an appreciative smile.

  Lady Meredith sighed heavily. “May we continue the game?”

  Hough again catered to his daughter. “Merry is correct. Let us continue. I want to hear the other responses.”

  Lady Meredith said in frustrated emphasis, “I have a basket.”

  Her brother’s smug expression said he had dealt with his sister enough times to know when to tease and when not to irritate her. “Wha
t does the basket hold?”

  Lady Meredith drew herself up in an imposing manner. “I intended to say jackboots, but I think I prefer jackanapes instead.”

  Rather than insulting her brother as the girl intended, Lord Bluffton broke into laughter. “Lathrop or me, Merry?”

  “Both!” Lady Meredith asserted.

  “Enough!” Lady Hough declared with a rap of her knuckles on a nearby table. “We do not perform as such before guests.”

  Hough laughed—the rich baritone sound that reached into Jocelyn’s soul and stoked her memories. “Is it not delightful, Mama, to have the children home? The house has been too quiet.”

  Lady Hough shook her head in disbelief. “Reminds me of you and Emerson Powell tormenting our dear Jocelyn. You two were relentless.”

  Hough chuckled. “Lady Jocelyn gave as good as she received.”

  The game began again with Lord Bluffton smartly saying, “I have a basket.”

  Without drawing notice, Jocelyn leaned closer to Hough to whisper, “Thank you for your defense of Andrew.”

  “It is of no significance,” he murmured.

  “It is to me,” she confessed, “and I suspect it is so to my son.”

  Around them their party progressed through the game, but Jocelyn was caught in his lordship’s eyes.

  “Knight.”

  “Livery.”

  “Madeira.”

  “Necessaire.”

  “I would do anything for you,” his lordship said on a breathy exhale.

  “Orangery.”

  “Parasol.”

  “Quizzing glass.”

  Jocelyn did not know how to respond. One moment the man seated upon the settee beside her was her long-time friend, James Highcliffe, and in the next, he was a man set upon a courtship that intimidated her.

  “I am serious, Joy,” he said ignoring the game.

  “Reticule.”

  “Snuff.”

  “Tippet.”

  Jocelyn knew her bottom lip trembled. “All this is frightening. There is so much at stake.”

  “Mother,” Michael’s voice interrupted her conversation with Hough. “It is your turn.”