A Gerrard Family Christmas

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Yes, Colin!” Kit hissed excitedly. “I had the same thought this morning!”

  That was frightening. Kit wasn’t supposed to be particularly excited about anything Colin suggested. Ever. Wary, apprehensive, doubtful, reluctant, any of those or similar reactions were more along the lines of a usual behavior.

  This was unequivocally foreign.

  “It’s not a particularly English thing,” Colin went on, wishing his brother would stop trying to squeeze the life out of his shoulders. “Our wives won’t understand, but…”

  “They will when we explain that Mother always had us have one!” Kit interrupted. “Marianne is always wanting to know more about her and wanting to honor her, so she will love this!”

  “Well, as long as Marianne is happy,” Colin quipped, removing one of Kit’s hands.

  The jab was completely lost on Kit. “I don’t even know if we have the right sort of trees nearby,” he muttered to himself.

  “I sent one of the farmhands out to scour the land,” Colin informed him with a proud smile. “If he finds something, I was thinking you and Freddie and I could go out with them to bring it in.”

  Kit was nodding before Colin finished. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

  “Good.” Colin moved for the door of the room, then turned back as he gripped the knob. “Why couldn’t I tell Marianne any of that?”

  “Oh,” Kit said with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t want her knowing I’d hired Morris men with longswords to come dance in celebration with the carolers.”

  Colin gaped at his brother, then let a slow, mischievous grin cross his face. “Kit Gerrard, I’ve never been more proud to be your brother.”

  Kit smirked and folded his arms. “I do have my moments, don’t I?”

  “Not many.”

  “Well, someone has to make sure you stay the troublesome one.”

  That was hardly fair, considering Kit’s stuffy nature and reserve had caused them more problems than Colin’s antics ever had. Kit’s choice in wife was proof enough of that, though admittedly she was now the best version of herself that she had ever been, and Kit had actually lost some of his reserve. Colin, however, had lost none of his mischievous nature, even with his marriage and fatherhood, so he supposed…

  No, that was enough. There was no point identifying just one of them as troublesome; they shared that task.

  There was a sudden crashing sound and a screech, though the emotion behind said screech was not immediately identifiable.

  Ah, there were the other troublesome Gerrards now.

  Colin made a face and looked at his brother. “Was that one of yours or one of mine?”

  Kit was still listening, and held up a finger.

  Giggles erupted and subsequent smaller crashing sounds followed.

  “Ours,” they said together with the same sound of resignation mixed with determination. Colin opened the door and moved back out to the hall, Kit following with a heavy sigh.

  To absolutely no one’s surprise, the stairs were crowded with children, a few of whom were not technically children anymore, but that had never stopped them. All of them had the same brown hair, and all had some shade of blue eyes, depending on who their mother was, and they laughed in an almost unnerving chorus, as they were doing now.

  If someone did not know any better, they would think all of them were from the same parents.

  It was enough to drive anyone completely mad.

  But in the world of Gerrards, everyone was mad.

  It was a family requirement.

  “Colin!” Bitty shrieked, pointing up at the holly boughs being strung up. “Colin, look!”

  “My goodness!” he exclaimed, pretending he had never seen them before. “What has happened to our house, Bitty?”

  “Christmas!” Ginny said, jumping up and down excitedly. “Colin, is it Christmas?”

  Rosie made a loud scoffing sound that had both of her brothers looking up at her with a warning look. She immediately began coughing instead, which prompted Freddie to pound her back in a would-be-helpful manner.

  It sounded painful enough that she wouldn’t need any other consequence or punishment.

  “Could be, Ginny,” Colin mused, coming to the stairs. “What do you think, Kit?”

  Kit made a thoughtful noise. “It certainly looks like Christmas cheer. But maybe if there was a bit more…”

  “More!” Livvy suddenly chirped, dancing. “More! More!”

  All of the children laughed and Colin scooped up his oldest daughter. “You think so, Miss Livvy?”

  “Yes, Papa!” she cried, patting his cheeks. “Yes, more!”

  Colin grinned and kissed her cheek quickly. Then he turned to the footmen, who watched in amusement. “You heard the lady, men. More!”

  “Yes, sir!” they replied.

  “Kit?” Colin asked, turning back to him.

  Kit was outright grinning, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “If I can find any helpers willing to assist me…”

  Six hands shot into the air, two of which were too young to know what they were volunteering for, but that didn’t stop them from joining the others.

  Colin looked at Kit with a grin. “I think they might be Gerrards, Kit.”

  “Well, there’s a surprise,” Rosie commented with a laugh. She picked up Matthew and looked at him very seriously. “I think your papa might be a little slow, darling. I pray you get your sense from your mother.”

  “Surprise!” Matthew called out in delight.

  “Surprise!” Rafe echoed, unsure why he was doing so.

  Rosie sighed and looked at them both. “Never mind, you two are Gerrards through and through.”

  Freddie hooted a laugh that Bitty echoed. Ginny, Rafe, and Livvy looked confused, but smiled anyway.

  “Frederick,” Colin said stiffly, clearing his throat, “if I were you, I would proceed very, very carefully.”

  His son clamped down on his lips, but it was clear he would continue to laugh given the slightest opportunity.

  “I agree,” Kit said with a shrug as he picked up Rafe and tossed him into the air, making the boy squeal. “Susannah is definitely the more sensible of the two of you.”

  “Not helping,” Colin muttered with a glare.

  Kit smirked and moved past him, leaning in to kiss Livvy’s cheek. “This one is absolutely your daughter,” he informed Colin. “Watch out.” He quirked his brows and nudged his head towards the kitchens, and all of the children followed.

  “Well, your girls are their mother’s daughters,” Colin called after him. “Good luck sleeping easily for the next fifteen years!”

  Kit didn’t respond, but the footmen seemed to find it amusing enough.

  He glared up at them. “That’s much worse, right?”

  They nodded obediently, still too amused for his liking.

  “You two behave, or I’ll make you help Mrs. Fraser get the supper ready,” he grumbled.

  Tom looked at Harry with absolute horror. No one was laughing now.

  Colin grunted. “That’s right.”

  “Papa!” Livvy protested, tugging at his cravat.

  He looked into the blue eyes of his daughter, who was going to be a near replica of Susannah, and sighed. “Are you starving, sweetheart?”

  She nodded, playing with the knot. “Breakfast, Papa. Then more!”

  He groaned dramatically. “Blast it, your uncle Kit is right. You are mine.”

  Livvy grinned at him, and he, ever helpless to resist, grinned right back.

  “I am in so much trouble with you, aren’t I?” Colin sighed. “I’m blaming your mother, despite your uncle’s ridiculous assertion.”

  “I heard that!” Susannah’s voice came from one of the nearby rooms.

  “And that’s a good thing!” he called down to her. “She is the most fortunate girl!”

  He didn’t hear a response, and he winced at his daughter.

  “That was close,” he whispered.

  “Papa in tro
uble?” Livvy asked, not looking particularly concerned about the notion.

  “Probably,” he admitted bluntly, “but that’s a given.” He glanced up the stairs, then back at his daughter. “Where are your little cousins?”

  Livvy shrugged, her dark curls bouncing. “Upstairs. Cat poked Amelia in the eye. She cried a lot.”

  Colin fought a smile. “That sounds like something Cat would do. No wonder Mama had Amelia down here.” He chuckled, then heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. Should we go see if breakfast is ready for you?”

  “Yes!” Livvy cried jubilantly, always eager for food, which should have marked her parentage quite clearly.

  “I quite agree, love. And Mrs. Fraser says…”

  There was a pounding knock on the main door, and Colin looked at it in surprise. It couldn’t be his friends already, they weren’t due in until closer to luncheon. If Kit had told those carolers to come straightaway, he was going to have a serious conversation with his crazed brother about proper timing.

  At least let them eat first, for pity’s sake.

  Harward, their eccentric Yorkshire-bred butler, strode for the door proudly, his dark hair glinting in the morning light. He swung the door open and a burly man in patched clothing stood there, looking suspicious.

  “‘Ere, is this the Gerrards?” he asked, looking as though he would spit at any moment.

  Harward seemed to ripple with discomfort. “It is, and who may I ask are you?”

  The man sniffled noisily. “Carter. I ‘as a delivery for the family.” He turned and whistled loudly.

  Colin moved forward, more curious than wary, and saw two sturdy lads jump down from a wagon, toss back the covering, and proceed into the house with several packages wrapped in brown paper. He stepped back in confusion, and Livvy watched them, mesmerized as they went back to the wagon again and again.

  Finally, the lads hopped into the back of the now empty wagon, leaving a massive pile of packages in the hall. Colin stared at Harward, gaping openly, and Harward would have gaped back, if butlers showed any emotion other than disapproval.

  “That’ll be all, gentlemen,” Carter barked, tipping his cap. “We’ve already been paid enough. Happy Christmas.”

  He turned on his heel and strode back to the wagon, whistling badly, and then they were making their way down the snow covered road, even as more snow continued to fall.

  Harward closed the door, then looked at Colin with a hint of bewilderment, which was undoubtedly breaking some sort of butler code. “Were you expecting parcels, sir?”

  “No,” Colin said slowly, turning to look at the pile. “No, I was not.”

  He came closer to the packages, Livvy silent in his arms, and studied them for a moment.

  They each had tags, and names were written there in a fancy script Colin did not recognize. There were at least two presents for every member of the family, and he could tell there was more than that beneath the rest.

  His eyes narrowed.

  This was excessive, even for Gerrards.

  And he had nothing to do with it.

  Which left only one course.

  “KIT!” he bellowed, his voice ringing off of the halls, and the freshly hung boughs of green.

  Chapter Three

  "I'm telling you, Colin, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Of course you did, you are obsessed with Christmas this year.”

  “No more than you!”

  “Was this part of your scheme all along? How are the rest of us supposed to compare with an entire pile of presents for the family?”

  Kit stared at Colin, gaping, his hands on his hips. “Compare? You think this is a competition?”

  “Our entire life is a competition, why should this be different?” Colin scoffed and continued his pacing, glaring at his twin. “You have to be the favorite, don’t you?”

  “Colin, you are being ridiculous. For all I know, it was you who had the presents delivered.”

  Colin stopped dead in his tracks at the complete idiocy his brother had just spewed forth. “Why would I be appalled by the delivery of a pile of gifts if I had arranged for them?”

  Kit folded his arms now, looking too smug, too confident. “Because it is the perfect alibi. No one would suspect you for a moment if you were so stunned and horrified. Was this why you asked what I got Marianne? Trying to see if your present was better than mine?”

  “Why would I want to give Marianne a better present than you?” Colin spat. “She’s your wife.”

  “That wouldn’t stop you.”

  Colin threw his hands into the air and whirled away.

  “Was there a present for me in there, Colin?” Kit asked in a calm voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Exactly.”

  Colin scoffed softly. “That means nothing. You would stoop to buying a present for yourself to hide your excessiveness. I know you.”

  Kit threw his head back with a derisive laugh. “Oh, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” Colin demanded. “Is it?”

  They’d been at this for some minutes now, and he was grateful the study was so far from the breakfast room. The children had no idea what was going on, and he needed to keep it that way. As furious as he was that Kit had lost all sense of self and occasion by completely spoiling every member of this family in a way that Colin could never match, he refused to let any of this ruin their Christmas. He had come too far to lose it all now.

  “Well, if you didn’t do it,” Kit continued slowly, “what did you get everyone for Christmas?”

  “I don’t need to recount my gifts for your proof!”

  “What about Rosie?” Kit pressed, ignoring Colin’s protests. “What did you get Rosie?”

  Colin hesitated a long moment, then turned back to give his brother a look that was almost smug. Almost because he had to wince. “A pony.”

  He ought to have been used to Kit’s look of disbelief, considering he used it on Colin quite often, but there was something so delightful in seeing his composed twin so unable to process emotion. He blinked slowly once, and then again.

  “A… pony?” Kit repeated.

  Colin nodded quickly. “You know she’s always wanted one, and I think now she’s actually responsible enough to…”

  “Who said you could get Rosie a pony for Christmas?” Kit interrupted, raising his voice.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Colin hissed, looking towards the door apprehensively. “I didn’t know I needed permission!”

  Kit ran a hand through his hair with a muffled curse. “That whole near-death experience where she asked for a pony? That was not an invitation!”

  There was no cause for Kit to lord over him about this, no matter how he blustered. Colin had thought long and hard on his gift for Rosie, and he would stand by it. “Oh, and what did you get her?” he asked with a sneer.

  Kit paused, looking as though he would retort with something truly splendid. Then he scowled. “A saddle.”

  Colin laughed once in disbelief. “For what? A bench? According to you, she’s not supposed to have a pony!”

  “I thought we could work up to one!” Kit argued, no longer sounding quite so accusatory.

  “By the time you think we’re there, a pony will be too small and it will have to go to Bitty! Who doesn’t want a pony! You could get Bitty a frilly frock and she’d be happy!” Colin laughed again and sank into a chair, the fight in him gone now that he faced even more ridiculous things than a mountain of presents. He looked up at Kit, cocking his head. “What did you get her, anyway?”

  Kit bit down on his lip hard, fighting a smile. “A frilly frock.”

  Colin grinned outright, then rubbed at his brow. “I told you we were going to be terrible at this.”

  “That was a given.” Kit leaned against another chair and sighed. “I just want to make sure the girls have a good Christmas for once. Who knows what they had with their mother? Lord knows, Loughton wouldn’t be worth much.
”

  That had Colin nodding fervently. “I agree. But a horde of presents isn’t going to do it, unless we want to make them all incredibly spoiled.”

  Kit gave him a scolding look. “I told you I didn’t do it.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “As if I believe you either.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, then Kit blinked first, which gave Colin the briefest thrill of victory.

  “Where are the packages now, Colin?” Kit asked, obviously moving on from his very bitter defeat.

  “I’ve had the footmen put them in my study,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand. “No one goes in there, not even me. They’ll be quite safe.”

  Kit nodded slowly, knowing that to be true. “Did the children see?”

  Colin shrugged a shoulder. “Only Livvy, but I’ve pacified her with extra breakfast. She’s fine, I promise.”

  That made Kit chuckle to himself. “Your daughter, Colin. In every way.”

  Well, he needn’t make it sound like such a horrible thing. Colin was a decent enough fellow, and he had managed a quite superior wife, so there couldn’t be that much wrong with him. Everybody had their faults. Even Kit.

  Especially Kit, given all that Colin knew about his twin.

  But that was not exactly the sort of thing one needed to bring up on Christmas.

  Some other day would do just as well.

  Colin shoved up out of his chair. “I will find out where those presents came from, Kit.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “And if it’s you…”

  “It’s not!” Kit shook his head and headed for the door. “I’ll look into it myself, and if I find out it’s you…”

  “Wait.” Colin seized Kit’s arm as a terrifying thought occurred to him. “What if it’s our wives?”

  They stared at each other in horror as that sank in.

  “It couldn’t be,” Kit whispered. “Marianne wouldn’t…”

  “The old Marianne wouldn’t,” Colin corrected. “The new Marianne is surprisingly generous.”

  Kit swallowed harshly. “And Susannah would.”

  “Oh, she absolutely would.”

  “But would either of them do so without telling us?” Kit asked in a surprisingly weak voice.