“I wouldn’t count on that,” Rosie suggested with a face. “I mean, we are Gerrards, after all.”
Susannah started coughing then, but it sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Marianne was holding herself surprisingly stiffly, her lips twitching.
Bitty turned to look at her sister. “Can we go work on the theatrical, Rosie? I don’t even know my part yet.”
“You’re a dancer!” Ginny told her in a matter of fact tone. “And you don’t have any lines.”
“What?” Bitty cried, her betrayal evident as she looked back at Rosie. “No lines?”
Rosie winced and stood up quickly. “You’ll have lines, Bitty. I just hadn’t written them yet. That’s all Ginny meant.”
Bitty sniffed harshly. “I better have lines. And lots of them.”
“She can have my lines,” Freddie offered without concern.
Rosie sneered at him. “Excellent. I wanted you to be a sheep anyway. Can you say ‘baa’ for me?”
Freddie complied in the weakest sheep impersonation possible.
“Good.” She slapped him softly alongside his face as she passed him. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you. Bitty, Ginny, I need you both for something else. Come on.”
The other two clambered to their feet and skittered on after her, their whispered questions audible for a few additional moments.
Freddie looked at Colin and Susannah then. “Can I go to the library? I really just want to read somewhere quiet for a while.”
Susannah nodded, but Freddie had already gotten up and left the room.
Kit blinked for a moment, then looked down at the boys and Livvy on the floor. “Well, do you three have somewhere else to go?” he asked wearily.
“No,” Livvy chirped with a grin. “I want to watch the fire.”
Kit stared at her, then looked at Colin. “Should I be concerned about that?”
Colin shrugged. “I’m not.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
Marianne sighed loudly and patted the sofa next to her. “Come here, Kit.”
He trudged over to her obediently and flung himself down beside his wife, feeling as though the weight of the world had suddenly dropped onto his shoulders.
Marianne leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. “I’m sorry that didn’t go the way you’d planned.”
He rolled his head on the sofa and looked at her. “You’re not going to scold me for losing my temper?”
Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. “Not tonight, anyway. You’re under a lot of stress and pressure at the moment, and it practically failed as it is.”
Kit groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. “I know.”
“Personally, I loved it when you demanded we all be happy,” Colin broke in cheerfully. “That was a most excellent touch.”
A slapping sound made Kit drop his hand and look over to see Colin rubbing at his thigh while Susannah looked perfectly proper.
“They were out of control, Kit,” Susannah said with a sad smile. “I don’t know why.”
“Rosie’s been on a strange sort of tirade this entire trip,” Colin added, serious at last. “I wondered if it might be something to do with school, but I can’t decide.”
“She and Freddie have been at each other’s throats,” Marianne agreed, looking troubled. “It’s getting worrisome. Freddie seems to be taking it in stride, but has he said anything about it?”
Colin shook his head. “Not after this morning’s attack. We all know what set him off there, but he didn’t say anything about Rosie specifically.”
Kit frowned in thought. “Those two have always had a bit of an explosive relationship, but it’s always been as loving as it was argumentative. Best of friends when not the worst of enemies, that sort of thing.”
Susannah sighed and leaned her head against Colin. “It may just have to be something that plays itself out, as much as I hate to admit that. If we have to keep them separated while they are home together, so be it.”
“And what about Humph… ah, Ginny’s goat?” Marianne corrected quickly when Kit seemed to twitch at the name.
Colin snorted a dry laugh. “I can promise you that the moment that goat would have started nibbling on her linens, she would have banished him for life and forgotten all about him.”
Kit sat forward and put his head in his hands. “I have no idea why she is so fixated on it. She’s never had any particularly fondness for animals before.”
“Maybe it is a similarity in temper,” Susannah suggested lightly. “Ginny could play a convincing goat without much trouble.”
Marianne giggled and put a hand at Kit’s back, rubbing gently. “They are kindred spirits. That’s why she loves him so.”
“I just spent several minutes with that thing not long ago,” Kit reminded her, taking his hands away from his face. “He doesn’t have much to recommend him, I can promise you that.”
Colin chuckled. “How was that, anyway?”
Kit gave him a long look. “Cold. Snowy. And not much by way of conversation.”
Colin rolled his eyes and gestured for someone else to ask.
“What did Mr. Matthews have to say?” Susannah tried.
“Not much,” Kit admitted. “He apologized for the inconvenience, promises to tend the goat until we can take him back, and swears he tried to say no to Ginny, but couldn’t.”
“Poor man,” Colin pitied with a mournful shake of his head.
“Also, he wishes us all the compliments of the season.” Kit looked up to the ceiling, his eyes tracing over the woodwork there. “I think I may have just wasted any compliments of this particular season.”
Marianne patted his back gently. “No, don’t worry about that. We’re a hardy lot, we Gerrards. We can take it.”
“Too right,” Susannah chimed in, giving him an encouraging smile. “You missed the part of the day where I yelled at the children for sneaking back into the study where the gifts were. I think I made Bitty cry.”
“Bitty cries if she doesn’t have a handkerchief,” Colin reminded his wife. “That doesn’t count for very much.”
“True,” Susannah replied with a smile, “but still, she did cry a little.”
“With this group we’ve got, we may all cry before the night is over,” Marianne laughed.
Kit shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, everyone. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, and I shouldn’t have put so much emphasis on…”
“Being happy?” Colin offered with a cheeky grin.
Kit leveled a dark look at him. “Don’t say that again.”
Colin held up a hand and nodded. “I just had to get it out one more time.”
“You were not helping matters, you know,” Kit pointed out. “How anybody could keep from laughing in my face with you doing whatever it was you were doing over there is beyond me.”
“I didn’t mean to take you from your moment of towering fury,” Colin teased. “It really was something.”
Finally Kit found himself smiling and relaxing. “Good thing we burned the log after all of that, right? Washes everything away and I have a clean slate?”
“You’re the Yule expert,” Colin scoffed. “You tell us.”
Kit laughed softly and leaned back. “I’d like a fresh start. There’s more in store for us this Christmas, and it would be wonderful if I didn’t have that hanging around my neck.”
Colin grinned and gestured grandly. “Then go and be free, good sir, and may the compliments of the season attend you.”
Kit stared at Colin and shook his head slowly, then looked at Susannah. “How in the world do you put up with him?”
Marianne giggled beside him, and Susannah just sighed. “It’s not easy, I grant you, but he has his moments.”
“He’d have to have a few, otherwise he’d be quite worthless.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Beg away.”
“And you two wonder why Rosie and Freddie can’t get along?” Mari
anne asked, laughing again.
A loud crashing and the sounds of arguing could be heard from upstairs, but no wailing in distress.
“What in the world?” Susannah asked, rising partially out of her seat.
Colin and Kit shook their heads, and Colin pulled her back down.
“You don’t want to know?” she asked them.
Kit shook his head one more time. “No, I really and truly don’t.”
Rosie
Chapter Thirteen
Colin had lost his mind.
Putting her in charge of theatrical for the children? Her? And expecting a functioning theatrical from them at all?
Complete and utter madness.
Granted, Rosie could certainly write a theatrical, and probably a fairly good one. She had read several plays and novels, many short stories and fairytales, and had secretly written bits and pieces of her own. The foundation was certainly there for her to be able to accomplish the task quite well, and her imagination really did not need much prodding in order to be able to do it.
The trouble was that Rosie’s sisters were absolutely helpless, and her patience with them was growing thinner by the moment.
That wasn’t too surprising; her patience was rather thin with everybody these days, and in general, but she’d always managed an extra measure where her sisters were concerned.
She loved her sisters immensely and would always be the elder sister who tried to make sure everything was perfect and right for them. Their lives had been filled with upheaval for years, and despite the stability they had found in living with their half-brothers, it wasn’t exactly traditional. Oh, she loved her brothers very much, and their wives were the best stand-in mothers she could have wished for herself or her sisters.
But she was worried more and more these days that she and her sisters would somehow get pushed aside again as their brothers’ own families increased and grew. They would become less and less important as the children required more and more attention. It was only right, she supposed, that it should be that way. They probably should focus on their children instead of their sisters.
It didn’t make her feel any better, but she thought it ought to be acknowledged.
And Rosie, being Rosie, was feeling rather defensive about her position and that of her sisters.
Which made the notion of her preparing the family theatrical one of the worst ideas Colin had ever had, and Colin had a lot of bad ideas.
No direction, no guidance, and not a single worthwhile idea between the three sisters.
Bitty would want to do everything about fairies and fancy dresses, parties and dancing, and probably want to sing a song.
There would be no singing of songs, if Rosie had anything to say about it.
Which she did.
Ginny wasn’t so bad. She generally went along with almost everything, except for when she was being particularly stubborn.
As she was now.
But that had nothing to do with the theatrical, and everything to do with Ginny.
“No!” her youngest sister shrieked. “No, you will not cut my hair!”
Rosie rolled her eyes and huffed. “Ginny, I don’t want to cut your hair off. I wouldn’t even cut all of it. I just need a very small lock of it for my presents.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Rosie. “You first.”
Rosie shrugged and took the shears she held to a lock of her own hair. With a crisp snip, the end of the curl fell to the floor. She picked it up and held it out for Ginny to see.
“There,” Rosie told her. “Satisfied?”
Ginny frowned, apparently still unconvinced. “Not really.”
Bitty groaned dramatically and marched across the room. “Ginny, please! We don’t have much time, and we’re supposed to be rehearsing the theatrical! I don’t even know my part!”
“That’s your problem, Bitty.”
“Yours too, if the theatrical fails because I didn’t get enough time to rehearse,” Bitty snapped.
Rosie and Ginny looked at Bitty in surprise. Bitty never snapped at anyone or anything, and rarely raised her voice at all. She had always been the most cheerful and tenderhearted of the sisters, for whatever reason, and while she had the tendency to be a bit silly and frivolous, she also balanced the other two, who could be notoriously difficult.
“What’s wrong, Bitty?” Rosie asked, setting aside the shears and the lock of hair.
Bitty sank onto the floor with a sad sigh. “We’re trying everything you said, Rosie. I tried to bake a pudding for my present, because I thought it would be something special to make a gift myself. And you’re not even supposed to bake puddings, according to Mrs. Fraser! I ruined my present, and I have nothing else to give them.”
“And they didn’t want Humphrey,” Ginny muttered, sitting next to Bitty on the floor, leaning against her. “I thought they would find him amusing, but they didn’t.”
Rosie winced. “I don’t think that’s much of a surprise, Ginny. I could have told you that if you’d confided in me about Humphrey before you purchased him.”
Ginny shrugged without concern. “He was supposed to be a surprise for all of us. Telling anyone would have ruined it.”
“There is that, I suppose,” Rosie conceded with a smile.
Bitty looked up at Rosie, her eyes wide and sad. “Rosie, you said we have to make Christmas special so we can be a real family. But we don’t know how to do Christmas. We don’t know how to make anything special. Maybe we’re not a real family after all.”
There were not many things that Rosie found herself being ashamed of, but her speech to her sisters about being a real family and making Christmas special for their brothers might have been one of them. She’d never intended to bring this much trouble to the family, or to cause the havoc that had been on a never-ending cycle since they’d come to Benbridge.
All she’d wanted was to prove to their brothers that they deserved their place in the family, and convince them not to think otherwise.
Things had been bad enough in London after she’d returned from school with Colin practically shoving Christmas down their throats. They’d acknowledged Christmas in the past, of course, but it had always been a quiet time, aside from various births and Gerrard antics. His energy surrounding Christmas traditions and activities had made Rosie apprehensive.
They’d never had Christmas before they’d come to stay with Colin and Kit, aside from small gifts that their mother had managed. Loughton had never treated any of them as though they were family, and there hadn’t been much money for anything fine. They hadn’t even gone to a church on Christmas as children, and if that wasn’t indicative of a problem, she didn’t know what was.
How could her brothers expect them to take an active role in participation in Christmas if they didn’t know how to do it?
Rosie had therefore come to the conclusion that real families celebrated Christmas this way. With all of the fuss and insanity.
The girls at school seemed eager enough to return home for the Christmas holidays. She’d heard more stories than she’d care to admit about favorite traditions and customs, some of them truly ridiculous, and had had none to share in return.
Her imagination had served her well there.
According to the girls at school now, the Gerrard family had Christmases truly worth envying.
Not one of those so-called traditions had happened yet, and Rosie didn’t know if the things she had shared were even Christmas traditions at all. To be perfectly honest with herself, she only remembered one or two of the things she had shared. She was willing to bet that no one would inquire after them when she returned to Kent, but as of this moment, she would have nothing to share about what her family really had done.
Real families celebrated Christmas together in meaningful ways.
What did that make them?
“Come on,” Rosie said to her sisters, shaking her bleak thoughts away. “Colin wants us to put on a theatrical, and we can do that. Maybe that wi
ll make Christmas real.”
“You think so?” Bitty asked, seeming close to tears.
“I don’t know, Bitty,” Rosie answered honestly. “I don’t know much about Christmas. But we can make this our gift to Colin, right?”
Her sister smiled. “Yes, we can.”
Ginny twisted her mouth. “What about my hair?”
Rosie gave her a look. “I will make you give me some, little girl. Mark my words.”
Ginny smirked and clambered up from the floor. “You can try.” She tilted her head. “Will we have costumes tonight?”
Blast. That was something Rosie hadn’t considered, and it seemed a rather stupid omission at this moment.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, as soon as we finish rehearsal, I will go and get some.”
Ginny nodded primly and moved to stand in an open area of the room, which would serve as the stage for now.
“She’s turning more into you every day,” Rosie muttered to Bitty, who was watching Ginny curiously.
Bitty gave her sister a distinctly derisive expression. “Did you hear her when she snapped at Colin and Kit? That girl is all you, Rosie, and you know it.” Bitty left her side to go to Ginny, pretending to have Ginny tell her where to stand.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rosie muttered under her breath. She heaved a heavy sigh and walked over to her sisters. “Ginny, you remember how the show starts?”
Ginny nodded and took a measured three steps to her left. “I stand right here, and let the little ones be adorable.”
Bitty snorted a laugh and covered her mouth quickly when Rosie glared at her.
“Very good, Ginny,” Rosie told her as she returned her attention to her youngest sister. “Go ahead then.”
A Gerrard Family Christmas Page 15
