by Buck, Gayle
Judith was taken aback. “Cecily, do I perfectly understand what you are saying about your father?”
“Oh, yes. Before Papa died, he was a bit of a rake. And though I do not know precisely, I suppose it meant he was quite fond of maids,” said Cecily with an innocent and inquiring glance.
Judith sat back against the seat, her breath quite knocked out of her. “Indeed, I suppose so,” she said weakly, clearing her throat. When Cecily turned her head away to glance out of the carriage window, where the day could be seen as fast growing dim, Judith studied her profile with a mixture of astonishment and bewildered estimation. She was fast coming to realize that Cecily Brown was not an ordinary miss. Cecily presented the appearance of a schoolgirl, naïve and trusting, and yet Judith had seen depths of character and experience that belonged to someone several years older.
Her determination not to fall in with her guardian’s wishes was perhaps nothing much out of the common way, but coupled as it was to her ability to act upon her decisions made Cecily unusual indeed, thought Judith, remembering a young girl who had not had the same courage of her convictions. As for Cecily’s casual reference to her father’s peccadillo and her acceptance of it, Judith thought she was never more shocked in her life. She herself had known nothing of the opposite sex until her engagement. Her cheeks flushed warmly at her unbidden memories and she hastily returned her thoughts to Cecily.
Despite herself and knowing that she should not become involved more than she already was, Judith turned over in her mind what Cecily had said of her situation. There had to be something she could do to aid the girl in establishing herself happily. Judith felt that she must make some sort of effort in Cecily’s behalf, or she would always wonder what had happened to the girl.
The carriage slowed and stopped. Judith put down the window as her coachman came up to it. Snow swirled briefly with a gust of cold wind. “What is toward, Edward?” she asked.
“We have come to the posting house, miss,” said the coachman. He threw a look at the dusk sky. “I mislike the weather, Miss Judith. The wind is sharpening a bit and the snow is heavier.”
Judith made a quick decision. “I shall step down with Miss Brown for a quick cup of tea while you report the accident to the innkeeper, Edward. Then we shall go on as quickly as possible to reach Elmswood before nightfall.”
She and Cecily walked into the inn. The innkeeper’s wife recognized Judith and she expressed surprise to see her. “Miss Grantham, it is a pleasure, I am sure. It is that rare that you honor us with your company, what with Elmswood so close and all. What may I do for you?”
Judith looked about the coffee room, which was nearly deserted at that hour, and decided against bespeaking a private parlor. “I think that we shall have a strong cup of tea, and perhaps a light repast for my young friend.”
Cecily looked alarmed. “Really, I do not wish supper. I feel as though I could not swallow a bite. It is rather warm in here, is it not?”
Judith stared at her, frowning. The coffee room was warmed by the fire in the grate, but it was not so warm that Cecily should become flushed by the heat. She hoped the girl was not becoming ill. “We shall have just the tea, then.”
“Certainly, miss. It is shaping up to be a bad storm tonight. I know that you ladies will be wishful to get on to Elmswood, so I will bring the tea straight away,” said the innkeeper’s wife.
“Oh, but I shall not be going with Miss Grantham. I wish to bespeak a room for the night so that I may catch the mail coach in the morning,” said Cecily.
The innkeeper’s wife looked at her in dismay. “I am sorry, miss, but we haven’t a room to spare. What with the weather and all, we’ve had more than our share of travelers who have decided to stay until first light. If you was a gentleman, I might see if there was someone who would not mind sharing his room with a stranger. But as it is, I haven’t even a closet for a decent young lady.”
Cecily stared at the woman, speechless. She did not seem to know what to do. Judith took matters into her own hands. “My dear child, you must certainly come home with me.”
“But I cannot impose on you further, Miss Grantham. You have already been so kind,” said Cecily.
“Nonsense. It will be you who will be doing me the favor. Elmswood is very quiet this Christmas. Indeed, I would not mind it in the least if half a dozen more personages chose to become marooned on my doorstep. It would make for quite a jolly little party, don’t you think?” asked Judith in a reassuring way. Cecily responded to Judith’s jest, though her smile wavered a little.
The innkeeper’s wife saw that the matter was settled and she nodded in satisfaction. She bustled off at once for the promised tea and she was soon back, saying that she always kept a hot pot handy. Judith declined sugar but accepted milk for her tea. She saw that Cecily was fond of a very sweetened tea and it almost made her teeth hurt to watch the girl sip at the resulting syrup.
Before the ladies had quite finished their cups of tea, Edward the coachman came up to inform Judith that the innkeeper had promised to send out help to the stranded mail coach passengers. “The snow is becoming that heavy, miss, that I think it best that we get on as quick as we can,” he said, casting an anxious glance at his mistress’s cup.
“We shall go at once. Miss Brown will be accompanying us after all, Edward. I hope that you have not set down her baggage,” said Judith, rising from the table. Cecily immediately leaped up, not wishing to delay their departure and thus be any more of a burden on her benefactress.
“No, miss. That is to say, I will put it back in the carriage this instant,” said Edward.
Judith nodded and walked out of the coffee room to find the innkeeper’s wife so that she could pay the bill. With the woman’s good wishes ringing on the air, the carriage bound for Elmswood once more turned onto the icy road. Snow swirled about its dark moving shape, then it was gone into the dusk.
Chapter Three
The welcoming light and warmth of Elmswood Hall were all that Judith had hoped. The scent of fir and pine and warm wax wafted out the open door, drawing the travelers inside.
Judith was glad to step into the hall and hear the butler’s welcome. “I am happy to be home, Withers. This young lady is Miss Cecily Brown. The coach she was on had an unfortunate accident and so I have offered the hospitality of Elmswood to her. Pray see that a room is prepared for her,” she said, beginning to draw off her gloves.
“At once, Miss Grantham,” said Withers, motioning for a footman to take up the portmanteau and bandbox that had been brought in from the carriage. “I took the liberty of setting up a cold collation in the drawing room in anticipation of your arrival and I shall bring in tea in a quarter hour.”
“Bless you, Withers. That will be just time enough to change from this damp travel dress,” said Judith, bestowing a grateful smile on him. She turned to Cecily and took her hands in her own. Again she noticed how cold the girl’s slender fingers were. “The footman will show you the way to your room. I shall meet with you again in the drawing room for supper in a few minutes.”
Cecily smiled her acquiescence and then followed the footman carrying her baggage up the stairway that occupied one side of the entry hall. Her weariness was underscored by the droop of her slim shoulders. She was in no mind to demur at whatever was proposed, only wishing for rest. Through the fog that had settled over her, she noticed the festive loops of holly and fir that decorated the graceful lift of stairs. Her wavering spirits were comforted by the cheery sight. She was safe here, she thought gratefully, and stifled a yawn.
Judith watched her guest ascend, a tiny frown between her winged brows. She pulled her gloves through her fingers without being conscious of it.
The butler was thoroughly familiar with Miss Grantham’s moods and he observed this sign of perturbation with interest. He wondered what there was about Miss Brown that should prove disquieting to Miss Grantham. “Miss Grantham, will there be anything else?” he asked quietly.
Judi
th was startled out of her thoughts. “No, not at the moment, Withers,” she said. She walked to the stairs and swiftly went up them and thence to her bedroom. Her maid, who she had sent off earlier in a separate carriage with all of her baggage, had arrived some time before her and was waiting to help her out of the heavy travel dress. In moments, Judith was freshly attired in a long-sleeved merino gown of a soft dove gray that enhanced the smoky shade of her eyes. Her hair, freed at last of the confines of her bonnet, had been brushed into soft waves.
Judith went downstairs, thinking to join Cecily. Instead, she discovered a small group of strangers who were loosely clustered about her butler in the entry hall and besieging him with loud statements. Judith paused on the last step, her hand resting on the banister, surprised.
The woman in the group spied Judith and surged forward. “You must be Miss Grantham, then. I was just telling this fudsy-faced butler of yours that you had left word at the posting house that any who could not find a bed there would be welcome at Elmswood Hall,” she said firmly.
Withers rolled his eyes in appeal as one of the gentlemen asserted that what the woman had said was so. Judith was entirely taken aback and for a long second she was speechless. Though she was unaware of it, her very immobility and the exquisite austerity of her dress lent her an air of command. The woman dropped back a pace and the others quieted, waiting.
Judith realized that she was the object of all eyes. She focused on the woman in front of her. “Who might you be, ma’am?” she asked quietly, trying to make sense of the happening.
The woman flushed, thinking that she was being gently reprimanded for her own curt greeting. “I am Mrs. Nickleby, and that gentleman is Mr. Nickleby. We were on our way to our son’s house when the mail coach was overturned by his young lordship, who, as I made certain to tell him, should have known better when anyone could tell he was tipsy as a wheelbarrow.”
“Aye, his lordship was singing at the top of lungs for some time before. All of us inside of the coach heard him as plain as a pikestaff. Very pretty it was, too,” said the gentleman who had been pointed out as Mr. Nickley. He belatedly made a bow in Judith’s direction.
Judith’s gaze traveled on to study the face of his young lordship, who had flushed when he came under discussion but whose dignity was such that he would not offer a word in his own defense. “Lord Baltor. Your servant, ma’am,” he said, making a creditable bow despite the obvious headache that he sported.
The slight gentleman who stood next to Lord Baltor, and who up to that point had not addressed anyone but the butler, also bowed to Judith and mumbled something incoherent that she took as a pleasantry of some sort.
“Miss Grantham, these persons say that according to the innkeeper’s wife, you graciously opened Elmswood Hall to unfortunate travelers,” said Withers in a wooden voice.
Judith was puzzled for only a moment before she recalled her jesting remark to Cecily about wishing for a handful of marooned guests. Looking at the motley foursome in the hall, Judith thought wryly that her offhand wish had just been granted. Certainly she could not turn them away since the inn was full. But surely there had been one or two other passengers on the ditched mail coach, she thought, when she did not see the gentleman of the bleeding brow. “Is this all of you?” she asked.
Her question seemed to relieve the tension of those who looked at her. “Aye, Miss Grantham. The others were able to double up in the rooms or bed down in the coffee room in front of the fire,” said Mr. Nickleby.
“But that was not for me, as I told Mr. Nickleby,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “I said that since a lady had been so gracious as to open her home, it would fairly rude not to give her ladyship the satisfaction of helping those less fortunate than herself.”
“I appreciate your kind thought, Mrs. Nicleby,” said Judith, a decided gleam in her fine eyes. Before her unlooked-for guests could realize that she viewed their advent on her doorstep with amusement, she gestured toward the drawing room. “A cold collation and tea is served in the drawing room. I assume that you must all be famished after such an arduous day and I invite you to make free. I shall have rooms prepared for you in the meantime.”
“There now, Henry. Did I not tell you that we would not make fools of ourselves?” asked Mrs. Nickleby complacently, leading the way into the drawing room. Her husband’s reply was lost as he followed his spouse. The slight gentleman, rubbing his hands together in obvious anticipation, lost little time in ducking after the Nicklebys. Lord Baltor alone hesitated, his lip unconsciously caught between his teeth as he looked uncertainly at his hostess.
Judith smiled serenely at his lordship. “I shall not keep you from supper, Lord Baltor.” He flushed again and went with a hasty step into the drawing room.
The butler could scarcely contain himself. “You are never sitting down with that lot, Miss Grantham!”
“Oh, I don’t know. It might be rather diverting. I have never dined with tradespeople before,” said Judith. She had divined at one glance that the Nicklebys were of the rising middle class.
“Cits, and likely thieves to boot,” said Withers sweepingly.
Judith laughed. “You have forgotten poor Lord Baltor. Really, Withers, it would be frightfully rude to abandon my unexpected guests because they chance not to run in the same circles as I do. Has Miss Brown come down yet?”
The butler shook his head. “The maid who was sent in to Miss Brown found her asleep on top of the bed, still in her travel dress. She thought she should not wake the young miss.”
“Quite right. I could see that the poor girl was dead on her feet. I shall look in on her later to see that she is comfortable,” said Judith, nodding. With every expectation of being entertained, she went into the drawing room;
It always pleased Judith to see her home done up for the holiday season and in particular the drawing room. Garlands of bay, fir, rosemary, and pine twigs offset by red silk bows looped across the mantel and several branches of candles burned with cheery light. From the ceiling hung the traditional kissing bough of fragrant greenery adorned with candles, red apples, rosettes of colored paper, and various ornaments. A bunch of gray-green mistletoe laden with white berries was at its center. All in all, the scene was a decidedly cozy one, what with the addition of her unexpected houseguests to complete the atmosphere of seasonal cheer, Judith thought.
Her guests had taken her at her word and had helped themselves to the cold meats and cheeses and bread that had been meant for her own supper. Mr. and Mrs. Nickleby had established themselves well in front of the fireplace where they could be certain of feeling the heat. The slight gentleman, who had not yet introduced himself, Judith remembered, had taken up a place a little separate from the others, apparently preferring to stand in the shadows of the curtained windows and holding his heaping plate in his hands. Lord Baltor sat on the settee, obviously ill at ease and with only a meager cup of tea.
Mrs. Nickleby was recommending in almost a maternal fashion that he should eat at least a crust of bread. “For I know for a fact that one does not sleep half as well on an empty belly, your lordship,” she said authoritatively, carrying a generous portion of lavishly buttered bread to her mouth.
“Quite right, pet,” said Mr. Nickleby, nodding.
Upon catching sight of Judith, Lord Baltor leaped up from his seat with an expression almost of relief. “Miss Grantham!” he uttered.
Judith went forward, an easy smile on her face. “I trust all is to satisfaction,” she said with an encompassing glance about her guests.
“Indeed it is, miss,” said Mr. Nickleby. He was making inroads on a heavily loaded plate and he barely glanced up. Mrs. Nickleby, her mouth full, satisfied herself with a vigorous nod and a wave of what remained of her thick slab of bread. The slight gentleman nodded deferentially, but he did not vouchsafe a syllable.
Judith turned her smile on Lord Baltor. Without seeming to stare, she took notice of his reddened eyes and haggard face. “Pray join me in getting a plate, my l
ord. I am persuaded you must be at least as famished as I am.”
Lord Baltor turned a shade green at the thought of putting food into his queasy stomach. “No, I think not at the moment. I-I prefer the tea, thank you.”
“Then you must have a refill. Allow me to pour it for you,” said Judith, turning to the sideboard and the tea pot. Lord Baltor followed her, voicing disjointed phrases of thanks. Judith responded soothingly as she poured tea for his lordship and of herself. She sipped at her cup and then asked in a lowered voice, “My lord, you appear a trifle pale. May I offer you a headache powder before you retire tonight?”
Lord Baltor flushed. “You are most kind, Miss Grantham.” He summoned up a wavering smile and met her curious gaze frankly. “It was only a bit of a lark, you know. I never intended – that is to say, the coach swung too wide in the turn and before I knew it, we were all flung into the drift.”
Judith did not comment on the young gentleman’s obvious state of inebriation at the time, but instead asked, “Where are you bound, my lord?”
He seemed relieved that she did not pursue the cause of the accident. “I was supposed to visit with friends the entire break between terms, but I am going home for the remainder of the holiday. It is to be a surprise to my aunt, who is all the family I have in the world. She is a wonderful old lady.”
“I am certain that she shall be most happy to see you,” said Judith. She was on the point of saying something further, but her attention was claimed by Mrs. Nickleby, who proposed that a card gave be got up as the evening was still young. Judith thought there was a point at which even she drew the line. “Thank you, but you must not count on me, ma’am. It has been a rather fatiguing day, as I am persuaded you must understand, having traveled also. I shall say good night to you all now, and my butler will show you up to your rooms whenever you are ready.”
“Well, that is as strong a hint as I ever heard,” said Mrs. Nickleby, somewhat affronted.
