The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1)
Page 16
“Alice,” Alonyius whispered as he settled her half-sitting onto the bed. When only a slight moan could be heard above the chattering of her teeth, he began unwinding the frozen scarf from around her head. Meanwhile, his mother regarded him with an odd expression before suddenly stepping forward to undo the buttons down the front of the redingote.
“So, she is the reason you look as if you’ve been tumbled three ways to Thursday,” she remarked with a wan smile.
“Mother!” Alonyius scolded again, glancing around to be sure none of the servants were about. He had to hope Alice hadn’t overheard the comment.
“You needn’t deny it, dear,” she went on, her expression changing before she sighed and said, “Like father, like son.”
Alonyius helped his mother remove the redingote, but he paused as he considered her words. “It’s true. She is a lady’s maid,” he murmured as he rested the front of Alice’s chilled body against him. He was about to undo the buttons he had done up only the hour before but realized he really shouldn’t undress the maid with his mother standing there. Instead, he leaned down and pulled off her half-boots.
The citrus scent from her soap wafted past his nostrils, reminding him of how he had washed her hair the night before. Of how she smelled when he had made love to her. Of how she had looked that morning, her sleep-tousled hair curling around her face and her skin glowing. But worry quickly replaced his reverie when Alice didn’t seem to be responding. She was shivering though. He was sure her teeth were still chattering. And he wanted nothing more than to simply hold her until all of his warmth seeped into her body.
Where was the foot warmer?
“For whom is she a maid?” Mrs. Banks asked in a whisper. She moved to pull down the velvet counterpane and the bed linens. Heartened to see there were blankets atop the linens, Alonyius lifted Alice onto the bed and quickly covered her. The scent of citrus once again wafted past his nostrils.
Giving his head a shake, Alonyius realized he hadn’t introduced his mother to the woman he had been holding as if she were as delicate as bone china. “For my master’s wife, Lady Torrington,” he replied. “Her name is Alice Simpkins. She’s been employed by her ladyship for nearly twenty years,” he added, knowing his mother would appreciate hearing of her loyalty. He didn’t add that he had no idea how she knew where he was, or why she had come. Why she had come and simply taken a seat on a cold, stone bench.
Had something happened back at The Black Swan?
Why hadn’t she knocked on the door? Certainly his footprints in the snow showed that he had come in that way.
“She smells heavenly,” Mrs. Banks said as she sniffed the air. “Why, she smells just like you do. Did you share a bath, perhaps?”
Alonyius didn’t miss the sound of hope in her voice. He shook his head. “Only the bathwater,” he replied in a whisper.
“Oh, well, you’ll have to give bathing together a try. Your father proposed to me after our second bath together—”
“Mother!” Never once in his life had he wondered why his father had decided to marry a lady’s maid. Now he would wonder for the rest of his life how they had ended up in a bathtub together.
“We had already made love several times by then,” she whispered, her manner most sober as she ignored his expression of shock. “Why, I think I was expecting your brother when your father finally showed up at her ladyship’s door and told her he had come for me. Lady Torrington was ever so gracious, though—”
“Lady Torrington?” Alonyius repeated as he swung around to regard his mother, his brows furrowing in confusion. For a brief moment, he thought she might have lost her faculties and become a candidate for Bedlam.
“Why, yes. Your master’s mother. I had been her lady’s maid since her come-out, you see, and she had just married Torrington. Your master’s father. That’s when your father decided he wanted me to be mistress of Mill House. Can you imagine?”
He really couldn’t at that moment, but he was spared from having to respond when a footman appeared at the door. The servant carried a foot warmer wrapped in a bath linen and held it out as if he didn’t know quite what to do with it.
“I’ll take that,” Alonyius said as he hefted the large water bottle from the servant. His mother lifted the bed covers at the end of the bed, and he settled it in place. Before pulling the covers back over the top of it, he carefully moved Alice’s stockinged feet so they rested next to it. At least she had pulled on an extra pair of stockings, he noticed.
With nothing more to do but wait, he found he had to sit down. He did so on the edge of the bed, one hand covering Alice’s where it lie hidden beneath the counterpane.
Returning his attention to his mother, he realized he had never been told how his parents knew each other. “How, pray tell, did you two even meet?” He was struggling with trying not to imagine his mother in a bathtub with his father.
“Why, at the drapers, of course,” she replied in a huff, as if her son should have known. “Marcus had just delivered the most spectacular bolt of deep red Merino to Howell’s...” She held out the skirt of the gown she wore to emphasize her point. “And Lady Torrington saw it and demanded she be sold the entire bolt. It took an entire bolt to make a gown back in those days,” she added with an arched eyebrow.
“The whole nine yards?” Alonyius countered. My, how fashion has changed. He was fairly sure there were at least two gowns in every bolt these days. Maybe three.
“Indeed. So, your father gave me the bolt and stared at me for the longest time. Like he’d been struck by lightning.”
Alonyius wondered if his mother was playing some poor joke on him. “As in a bolt of lightning?” he whispered. He couldn’t help but grin at his mother’s tale. Daring a glance down at Alice, he was heartened to see her eyelids fluttering open and her expression indicating she was following every word of his mother’s story.
Poor thing.
His mother tittered before her attention went to Alice. “There you are, dear. Why, I was just telling my son that I thought he looked as if he’d been—”
“Mother!”
“—Struck by lightning, and here you are.”
Alice allowed a wan smile. “Hullo,” she managed, the word sounding rather hoarse. Her eyes suddenly widened as she inhaled sharply and moved to sit up. Alonyius placed a hand at her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.
“I think it’s too soon to sit up just yet,” he whispered.
Wondering where she was, Alice gave him a nod before she taking a moment to review the scene around her. The bed on which she lay was rather comfortable, and the furnishings she could see from her vantage had her thinking she was in an aristocrat’s home. She suddenly remembered why she had come—Alonyius was there to see about a position—and realized just why everything seemed so elegant. So why was the woman referring to Alonyius as if he was her son?
And how would she explain the reason for her visit?
“I wish to apologize, milady. I—”
“Oh, nonsense, darling,” Mrs. Banks said with a wave of a hand. “I had to meet you. And you didn’t think my son had enough sense to bring you with him, of course, so I appreciate you doing it for him.” She screwed up her face a bit. “Or something like that. Let’s get you some tea, shall we?”
As if on cue, Regan entered the bedchamber with a small tea set. Alonyius moved out of the way, his gaze directed at Alice as he watched the color return to her cheeks.
Due to embarrassment, no doubt.
“Oh, he wanted to bring me, I think,” Alice murmured in the valet’s defense. “He offered, you see, but thought it would be too cold for me to walk this far. I don’t have the proper boots.” The walk hadn’t been so terribly bad. It had been the waiting on the cold stone bench for him to come out of the manor house that sapped what little strength she had left. She hadn’t eaten anything before making her way to Mill House. Then she had passed out from hunger and the cold before he found her.
The old
woman angled her head to one side, her confusion apparent. “Then why did you decide to come by yourself, dear?”
Alice gave Alonyius a beseeching look before turning her attention back to the old woman. “I thought he was here about a position. That he was to be interviewed for the valet’s position. To be hired by the man of the house, and leave Lord Torrington’s service,” she explained with a shake of her head. “I found I couldn’t abide the thought, but by the time I arrived, it was already too late.” She turned her attention back to Alonyius, realizing she must sound like a lovesick schoolgirl. If only she could take back those last words, even if they did have Mrs. Banks beaming in delight.
Alonyius stared at Alice for a long time, stunned by her words. That she would brave the cold and snow and risk her very life because she thought he was leaving the Earl of Torrington’s employ had him realizing two things.
Make that three.
Despite her reputation at Worthington House, she was merely a passionate woman whose frustration at an impossible situation had finally boiled over in the form of complaints. He was pretty sure he knew what she had been doing and what was causing her poor disposition. The change of scenery and the company on this trip had her behaving in what he realized was probably her normal manner.
She obviously cared for him. Perhaps she even felt affection for him. Why else would she balk at the thought of him taking a position in a different household? One that was hundreds of miles from London?
His immediate reaction to seeing her nearly frozen on the stone bench had been carried out without thought. Panic had him realizing he had to get her into the house. Warm her up. Keep her safe.
Would he have reacted the same for any other woman? For there was a moment when he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Certainly that must mean he felt something for her. Something that wasn’t just lust.
“Why, I do believe my son owes you an explanation,” Mrs. Banks said in a huff. “He wasn’t here about a position at all. At least, I don’t think he was.” She turned her gaze on Alonyius. “Although your brother is in need of a valet,” she said sotto voce, suddenly wondering how the lady’s maid knew of the position. Alonyius certainly didn’t seem to know.
Rolling his eyes, Alonyius gave his head a shake. “Only if my brother was on his death bed, I suppose, and I had to take over running the mill.” He hadn’t realized until just then that he needn’t worry about taking over Banks Textiles, at least not yet. His brother was apparently on the mend and back at the mill.
Mrs. Banks angled her head. “So, you weren’t considering the valet’s position? Your brother’s been looking for one,” she repeated.
Alonyius shook his head. “No, Mum.”
“Well, at least I know you’ll come home when you’re needed,” his mother said brightly. “You two will stay for luncheon,” she insisted suddenly. “Something tells me you haven’t eaten, and all those tumb—”
“Mother!”
“—Lightning strikes and such probably have you both on the verge of fainting.”
Having already drained a cup of tea and well aware she needed to eat something, Alice could only agree. As for the lightning strikes, she had no idea what the woman was talking about. She hadn’t seen any lightning during her walk to the house. “Until the coach leaves for Northumberland in the morning, I have no place I need to be.”
Alonyius nodded. “It is the same for me,” he agreed, pausing before he added, “But I should probably spend a bit of time with my brother.” He wondered if Thelonius was truly recovered enough to be back in his office at Banks Textiles. “I suppose he’s at the mill now?”
His mother opened a tiny locket that dangled from her chatelaine and aimed it toward the light from the window. Alice realized she was looking at a pocket watch. “If he’s keeping track of time, he’ll be home in a half-hour. If he waits until he’s hungry, he will have been home a few minutes ago.” She gave a giggle, apparently amused by her own joke. “In the meantime, let’s get you settled in your bedchamber, darling,” she said as she turned her attention on Alonyius.
He frowned. “I wasn’t planning on staying the night,” he replied.
Lifting her chin in a show of defiance, his mother shook her head. “Of course, you weren’t. But you will. And I won’t abide any arguments from either one of you to the contrary,” she added as she included Alice in her edict. “Besides, the beds here have got to be better than any at The Black Swan.”
Goodness, but with what they’d been doing in one of those beds, Alice hardly noticed if it was comfortable or not. “But, I... I have no clothes with me,” she argued.
The older woman’s tiny hands flitted about. “Oh, I’m sure we can find you something to wear, dear heart. If not a gown, then we’ll simply wrap you in our finest wool. We’re in possession of a textile mill, you must know.”
Well, I know that now.
What Alice still didn’t understand is why Alonyius worked in service in London when his family owned Banks Textiles. She dared a glance at the valet, rather liking his look of amusement. His mother was quite a charming woman.
The maid reappeared at the bedchamber door, giving a curtsy when Mrs. Banks acknowledged her. “Luncheon is served, ma’am.”
Allowing a sigh, the old woman said, “Well, I think we’ll just have to start without your brother,” she said as she stood up. Alonyius was quick to stand and offer his arm.
As if on cue, a slight commotion sounded from the ground floor. “That will be him now,” Mrs. Banks said with a grin. She turned to Alice. “Are you feeling well enough to come down to the dining room, my dear?”
Alice nodded. “I think so, ma’am.”
Mrs. Banks turned and gave her son a quelling glance, as if she expected he should already be seeing to their guest. He was already helping Alice off of the bed. He knelt and slipped her half-boots back onto her feet, tying the laces before sliding a hand surreptitiously up the back of her calf. He told himself he was merely ensuring she was no longer chilled, but he thrilled at the sudden start she gave in response.
When he was sure Alice could walk on her own, he offered his other arm, and the three made their way to the top of the stairs.
A man who looked as if he could be Alonyius’ twin brother appeared from the vestibule, his top hat held in one hand as a butler saw to removing his great coat. “Al?” he called out, a grin splitting his face. “I expected you three days ago.”
Alice dared a glance at Alonyius and then back at the man who was obviously Thelonius Banks. A bit on the portly side, the man displayed blondish-gray hair trimmed quite short and wore a suit of clothes that had been beautifully tailored.
“I don’t know why you would,” Alonyius replied. At the bottom of the stairs, he left the ladies and held out a hand, as if expecting to shake his brother’s. “I am at the mercy of my employer when it comes to these visits, and we only left London Tuesday last.”
Thelonius ignored the hand and wrapped a beefy arm around his brother’s back. “I see you’ve finally taken a wife. Now you’ll have Mum expecting me to be courting. I’m always saying I haven’t got time for it, though,” the man said as he let go his hold on his brother and moved to stand in front of Alice.
She inhaled as if to counter his claim, but he was quick to lift her cold hand and brush a kiss over her knuckles. “How do you do? I am Thelonius. My, but you have a cold hand there. But you know what the French say? Mains froides, coeur chaud.”
Alice nodded as she took back her hand. “Oh, they’re not usually this cold,” she murmured, balling her hand into a fist at her side as she felt a blush color her face. “Miss Alice Simpkins,” she added, dropping a curtsy. “Lady’s maid to the Countess of Torrington. It’s very good to meet you, sir.”
Thelonius dared a glance at his mother, who seemed to beam in delight as she angled her head, her attention on her younger son. Meanwhile, Alonyius looked as if he wished a chasm would open up in the floor and swallow him whole.
Alice’s eyes widened. Such a generous employer! She always had the day after Christmas off, of course, but never so many days before!
“What my brother really means is that the looms will be cleaned and oiled on the morrow, so there won’t be much work for the others to do,” Alonyius explained as he once again offered his arm to Alice. “And it’s not fair that the lacemakers have to work if those making the fabrics do not.”
His brother had already stepped up to offer his arm to his mother, and the four made their way to the dining room.
Her head swimming in wonder at the strange manor in which she found herself, Alice dared a glance up at Alonyius. He seemed so at home, so at ease. But she supposed if he had grown up here—she still wasn’t sure if he had ever called Mill House his home—he would be comfortable. Indeed, to see how he carried himself, how he wore his clothes, the cut of his hair, the shine on his boots, she thought him to the manor born.
And yet he looked no different from when he was at Worthington House. Why hadn’t she noticed his bearing before?
As for the manor itself, Alice was only beginning to take in the vast great hall and the rich detail of the place. Every bit as elegant as Worthington House in both furnishings and art, Mill House differed in that it was rather wide and three stories in height, while Worthington House was thin and deep and four stories tall. Here, the dark paneled walls of the hallway were adorned with paintings all the way to the end, where carved doors led to a library and what she thought might be a salon. Her attempt at making out the signature on a painting was cut short when they were suddenly in the elegant dining room.