For every day spent in his company made her love him just a little bit more.
And, she had discovered, love was a most painful emotion.
The sleigh was pulled by a single white horse which was in no great hurry. His lordship flicked the ribbons with hands sheathed in beautifully made fine leather gloves. His boots, too, were made of soft brown leather. She found it ironic that his woolen muffler matched her cape. Except his claret was not faded.
It suddenly struck her that even though they had supposedly been married for more than two years, she had never before sat so close to him, never before been so aware of his manliness. His greatcoat flapped open in the front to reveal two muscled thighs that were twice the size of hers.
Against all her resolve and in complete contrast to her heretofore exceedingly chaste existence, Elizabeth thought of his last words to her the night before. "If your bed needs warming, I will be happy to oblige." She found herself wondering what it would be like to lie with him, to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands on her bare flesh.
The very thought fissured her heart.
"Are you cold?" he asked a short time later.
"Of course, I'm cold. It is snowing."
He chuckled. "For someone who looks like an angel, you can be blisteringly honest."
"Is it wrong to prize honesty?"
"It must not be because I know the parson's daughter would not do anything that was not right."
Despite the nobility of his character, he must really be dwelling on her humble origins. Why else would he keep referring to her father's vocation? "It was my father who was the holy man."
"Then you're telling me you're not holy? Come, come, Elizabeth, I don't believe you."
Hearing her Christian name upon his lips sounded so intimate. It stirred something deep inside her. "All right. I suppose I am respectably religious, and I assure you, I've brought up Fanny to go to church every Sunday and to say her prayers every night."
"I could not have found a better mother for Fanny than you have been."
She prayed he would not see her eyes moisten. "Thank you, my lord. It has always been my object to be as good of a mother as was possible."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you about Fanny's Christmas present."
She felt wretched she had left London in such a hurry, she had not gotten her daughter a toy to celebrate the birth of their Savior. "Pray, my lord, what is it?"
"I've commissioned my steward's wife to make Fanny a muff from rabbit hair. She said she can have it finished by this afternoon."
"You make me feel wretched. I have nothing to give her." But she was pleased that he would not be embarrassed over using a common fur like rabbit. She found a small measure of satisfaction that she was not quite as dowdy as she'd thought.
"Then we shall say the muff comes from you," he suggested.
"We will say no such thing," she protested. "I despise lying. And deceit. Besides, I think it an excellent idea for you to do everything you can to ingratiate yourself with your daughter."
"Like telling her bedtime stories?"
She turned to him, her smile wide and her eyes flashing with mirth. "All the children enjoyed your story ever so much last night. Even though I've read the story hundreds of times, I even enjoyed it. You're a remarkable storyteller."
"I like being with children." He flicked a smiling glance to her. "I gave those epaulets to the lads this morning."
"I would have loved to have seen their faces."
"They're great lads. Remarkable how much Robbie looks like me."
"Indeed. He and Fanny could easily pass as brother and sister."
"Speaking of sisters, what do you think of now having three?"
It made her heart ache. Her entire life she had lamented that she had no sisters, and now she had three wonderful sisters, but she must leave them. How it would hurt! Susan had won her admiration with her generous heart, and Sarah with her love of many of the same books Elizabeth poured over, and pretty Diana with her exhilarating exuberance was a delight to be around. "I wish I could be with each of them always."
"I will miss Susan when she returns to Woodhead, and Mother and I both will miss Sarah and Diana when they marry and leave."
She would wager his mother would not enjoy having to live at Farley with no other female than she.
"I wish you could see Farley in the spring when everything's green and the rhododendron are in bloom."
Her gaze fanned across the barren trees and hills and dales blanketed with crisp white snow. "Winter has its own charm—provided one is properly bundled and doesn't actually have to trod through the snow."
He turned north and pulled to a stop. "I wanted you to see Farley from this view."
She was overwhelmed by the sight of the stately home rising from a smooth bed of white, smoke curling from its many chimneys. Despite its vast size, it presented an incredibly comforting presence. "Oh, my lord." Without realizing what she was doing, she began to stroke his forearm. "It's so lovely."
His arm enclosed her, and once again his head lowered to hers for a thorough kiss. And, once again, she could no more stop the kiss than she could stop loving Fanny. She had fallen slave to her feelings.
When she finally summoned enough presence of mind to realize what a complete goose she was, she pulled away from him and made a display of arranging loose strands of her flaxen locks.
He did not relinquish his hold on her. His face close to hers, he whispered huskily. "Your new home my lady. I hope you will one day love it as much as I do."
She had never thought she would like so large a house, but she found so much of Farley comforting. How she would hate to leave it now! How she would hate to return to her cottage alone.
But she knew what she had to do. Because she loved him. She had to allow him free choice of a wife. Dear, noble soul that he was.
"It's a wonderful home," she said, afraid each second that she would burst into tears. "It's very much a family home." Too bad I'm not part of that family.
Even if Fanny was.
He took up the ribbons again and headed to the folly, a decidedly Palladian structure on a slight mound that he explained overlooked the lake.
"There's a lake here?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's frozen over. When we were little we often skated on it—until Susan fell through the ice and nearly froze to death before we could get her out."
"That must have been terrifying."
"Especially for Sue. Papa never let us skate after that."
"It sounds as if he was exercising his fatherly authority well."
"Spoken like a true mother." He took the reins again. "Allow me to show you the mews. They're our pride and joy. Do you know, I've never asked if you ride."
"What is your guess?"
"My guess is that you don't."
"You are correct, my lord. Keeping a horse in an expense a clergyman cannot afford." She was not in the least ashamed of her background; she merely wanted him to be able to choose a woman from his own world.
"If you are not afraid of the beasts, it would be my pleasure to teach you to ride."
He was so kindly. "I expect you're a Corinthian."
"You will have to judge for yourself one day—when you have enough knowledge to make that distinction."
As their sleigh continued to cut its path through the crisp, fresh snow, she looked ahead at a two-story stone edifice. "Do not tell me that building is the mews! Why, it's larger than both my Papa's house and church put together."
"That is the mews we're so proud of." The horse leading their sleigh just trotted right through the open door. Elizabeth was astonished that all of this could possibly belong to one family. The first chamber they passed housed a luxurious carriage, a phaeton, and a larger sleigh. Then came the actual stables where horses of every color were stalled. There must be at least thirty. "You must show me which horse is yours, my lord."
He came to a stop, leapt down, then assisted her. Taking her hand, he
led her to a stall mid-way down. "Isn't she a beaut?"
Elizabeth did not know the first thing about horses. All she could tell was that his horse was very large, very black, and had the most beautiful white ankles and hooves. Did horses even have ankles? "Oh, she really is! It looks as if she's wearing white boots."
"I've been gone so long, it's a wonder she hasn't been put to pasture." He patted the beast lovingly.
The horse responded to his touch with a whinnying noise.
"She remembers you!"
"Should you like me to saddle 'er, milord?" the groom asked.
Harry spun around to face the young man who was probably not yet twenty. "Jeremy? My God, boy, you've grown a foot!" He offered his hand to the groom, and they shook hands like a pair of men on equal footing.
"It's mighty good to 'ave ye back, milord."
Her husband turned to her. "Lady Broxbourne, may I present Jeremy? He's spent his entire life at Farley, and nobody knows horses better."
The groom bowed, and they exchanged greetings.
"Actually," Harry said, "neither of us will ride today, Jeremy. I just wanted to show my bride the stables."
His lordship set his hand to her waist and led her back to the sleigh. "This afternoon, we'll need the big sleigh brought around to the house. I promised the children a bruising sleigh ride."
"Don't forget to bring the rugs," Jeremy cautioned as they were led from the stable.
Neither she nor her husband spoke on the way back to Farley. She was so utterly content, she was not aware of the cold anymore. Nothing had ever affected her as profoundly as riding beside this man she so admired. So loved. How fortunate would be the woman he would select to share his life with.
* * *
Elizabeth was to discover that in the Tate family the gathering of greenery was limited to women and children. Susan had informed her that their husbands were in the billiard parlor.
Elizabeth felt ever so shabby in her faded red cloak next the real Lady Broxbourne whose cloak was trimmed in ermine, just as Elizabeth had surmised. Susan's was almost identical to her mother's, and the two youngest sisters wore velvet capes that were lined with a soft white fur she had never before seen. Each of them looked exquisite. And Elizabeth felt as attractive as a chimneysweep.
Jeremy had brought around both the large sleigh and the small one. "Come with me," Susan said to Elizabeth. "I'll drive the big one, and you can sit beside me. Mama will sit in the back with the children on her lap."
Sarah and Diana hopped onto the small sleigh, and they all took off for the holly bower just south of the folly. As Susan drove the pair of matched grays, Elizabeth faced backward to watch Fanny. Lady Broxbourne had Fanny on her right knee and Tommy on her left. Their smiling faces bracing against the wind, each of them wore woolen mittens, thick wool coats, and bright red mufflers. Their grandmother had spread the rug over their laps and that of Robbie, who sat beside her.
When they reached the holly bower, the dowager demonstrated to the children how to snap off useful pieces of Christmas greenery.
Fanny attempted to listen to her grandmother, but she had no idea of what they were trying to accomplish. She was most interested in the little red balls. She snapped one off and went to put it in her mouth.
"Oh, no, no," Lady Broxbourne said, removing it from her mouth and throwing it away.
"No, no," Fanny said, snapping off another and throwing it the ground.
Elizabeth smiled to herself as Harry's mother carefully explained to Fanny what they were doing. Susan and Tommy went ahead a bit and began to collect boughs.
"Why do you not look for some pine cones, Robbie?" his grandmother suggested.
He scurried off.
Elizabeth once again felt as useless as a third leg, but she was overjoyed that Lady Broxbourne was accepting Fanny so thoroughly.
It was obvious that Fanny belonged at Farley Manor, obvious that she adored her cousins, and they seemed taken with her, too. Elizabeth could not have hoped for Fanny to have received a more hearty welcome.
She set about gathering some larger pieces of holly to augment the meager snatches Tommy and Fanny were gathering.
She heard Robbie exclaim as he began to chase as black kitten that scurried off away from him toward the folly.
She knew there was no way a five-year-old lad could catch the speedier cat, but she wished he could for she knew Fanny would love to hold the kitten.
A minute later she thought she heard a child's cry. Her heartbeat thumped. She dropped her greenery and straightened up instantly from bending over a bush, her gaze arrowing straight to Fanny. Fanny was fine. Her little face was screwed up with great seriousness as she concentrated on her task of severing a limb of holly.
Elizabeth gathered the greenery she had dropped and began to return to her task when she heard a second cry. This one of desperation.
This time she knew something was wrong with Robbie, and she started for the folly.
From some distance behind her, Elizabeth heard Susan's strangled cry. "Robbie! Robbie!"
"This way!" Elizabeth said, racing off toward the direction of the child's cries. As soon as she broke free of the bower, she realized what must have happened.
Robbie had broken through the ice and fallen into the icy lake.
"Go for a rope!" Elizabeth instructed as she sped forward.
Within the sea of stark white snow, all she could see was a tiny hand waving.
From fifty yards behind her, she heard Susan's anguish. "Oh, my God, he's fallen in the lake!"
Elizabeth knew if the thin ice could not support a five-year-old child, it would not support them. She threw off her heavy woolen cloak. She was the best hope of saving the child since she was easily the smallest adult. And her father had made sure she knew how to swim. If she could just get to him in time, she could tread water, holding him, until someone could toss them a rope and pull them away.
She ran as fast as her legs could propel her, and when she got to within twenty feet of the child—now she could see the top of his dark head as it plunged beneath the surface of the frigid water—she lay on the ice and began to slither toward the break in the ice in order to better distribute her weight.
The cold shocked her system. Pain pulsed from the outside in. Her flesh felt as if it were burning. She began to shiver uncontrollably.
She kept watching the hole in the ice, the place where she'd last seen his tiny hand as it plunged beneath the water's surface.
"Don't Susan! You're too heavy!" warned Lady Broxbourne. "Let Elizabeth get him. You go for a rope."
"No, I will!" Sarah called. "Be careful Elizabeth."
By now Elizabeth was numb to her own discomfort. Her only thoughts were of getting the boy. He had been underwater for several seconds. She decided speed was more important now than finesse. She put her weight to her knees and went to stand up when the ice cracked, then broke into shards, plunging her beneath the surface.
She flailed about in the water, feeling for Robbie. But she got nothing except for fists of piercingly cold water. She knew she would have to go head first next time. This time she would go against her natural instinct—which was to close her eyes against water—and open them beneath the icy surface of the lake, praying she would be able to see Robbie before it was too late.
Her first plunge, all she saw was blackness. The sheet of ice over the lake kept light from penetrating. Her heartbeat galloped at the same time her stomach sickened. She was not going to find him.
She found the cutaway hole and came up to draw deep waves of air into her exploding lungs before she plunged back underwater again. This time she rocketed herself lower, her arms flailing wildly, praying her hands would come in contact with the precious little boy before it was too late.
Please, God. Please.
That very second, she felt him. She still could not see him. It was too dark. She enclosed one arm around him and kicked against the heavy water, propelling both of them toward the area of
light.
She barely had enough air left in her lungs to make it. Breaking the water's surface, she gulped for air at the same time as she elevated Robbie's lifeless head above hers. He still did not move. "Dear God, no!" she cried.
And that very second, he started coughing.
No sound had ever been more welcome. Now, she could call for that bloody rope! "Help!"
If help did not come soon, both of them would freeze to death. They were half way there already. Her body shivered so savagely, her teeth cut her lips.
Despite her size, her strong legs allowed her to continue treading water with little effort, but her arms were extremely tired from holding Robbie above her shoulders. She couldn't last much longer.
Then she heard Harry's voice.
Chapter 6
He refused to leave her side even though he knew she was not in grave condition. His mother had seen to it that she dressed warmly and stayed beneath the blankets to bring up her body temperature. She'd been in that cold water for so damn long.
For a brief few minutes that afternoon, he'd thought he lost her. He hoped to God he never again had to endure anything as painful as that. During those moments, he lamented that he'd never told her how much she had come to mean to him, never told her he had fallen in love with her. He meant to tell her now.
"I wish your family would quit treating me as if I'm a heroine," she told him as he sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand.
"First, love, it is not my family. It's our family. For better or worse, you're part of us."
There was a knock on her chamber door. "It's Susan. May I come in?"
"Of course," he said.
Sniffling, his eldest sister entered the chamber. His heart went out to her. She'd become hysterical when her firstborn had fallen into the frigid lake. Not only was she paralyzed with fear, but she was likely traumatized by reliving the same horrifying accident from her own youth.
She came straight to the bed. "Oh, Elizabeth, my dearest sister, I had to come and tell you how very glad I am to have you in our family. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have lost my precious Robbie—and no telling how many of us would have perished trying to save him."
Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) Page 19
