A Countess by Christmas

by Annie Burrows

  Helen settled back on her heels, drawing off her gloves with profound relief. Her aunt was drying her eyes, though she had known that she was much more her old self when she had mimed wringing Mr Ritson’s neck. Helen could not help admitting to herself that a great deal of her relief stemmed from knowing her faith in Lord Bridgemere had not been misplaced. For a moment, when she had feared he might have refused to help her aunt in her hour of need, it had felt as though her whole world had turned upside down.

  ‘I had been so afraid, Helen, that he would insist my brother resume his responsibilities towards me, even though we have been at daggers drawn all these years. After all, he must be in some kind of trouble himself, or he would not be here, would he? And I thought the price Lord Bridgemere would make him pay for bailing him out would be taking me under his wing again.’ She shuddered eloquently.

  ‘Thank heaven it was no such thing. To begin with, His Lordship has offered to look into my finances for me, and see if anything may be salvaged,’ she said, dabbing at her nose. ‘And if I am really as poor as I fear, he will make arrangements for me to find a new home in which I may be happy. What do you think of that?’

  ‘That,’ said Helen, untying the strings of her bonnet, ‘it is most thoughtful of him…’

  A wave of tenderness towards him swept over her. How tactfully he had dealt with what could have been a most painful interview for her aunt. Aunt Bella was a proud, independent woman. It had not been the poverty so much as the prospect of having to beg for help that had been making her ill. ‘He is thoughtful, Helen.’ Aunt Bella frowned. ‘You know, I had gained the impression that he had grown hard and unapproachable in recent years. But perhaps it was just my reluctance to have to approach anyone for help after I had fought so hard to maintain my independence from my overbearing brothers which coloured the way I regarded him.’

  In short, she had resented having to humble herself. And therefore resented him.

  And she, Helen, had absorbed those same views. Her aunt’s bitterness had made her suspicious when she need not have been, and angry with him without cause. He had never been intentionally unkind. It had not been his fault that her aunt had worked herself up into a state about casting herself on his mercy. It had not been his fault that she had ended up in that little tower room untended, either. She recalled his chagrin upon discovering the mistake which had resulted in his elderly relative lying up there unattended for hours.

  She really had behaved dreadfully, Helen reflected, yet another wave of self-disgust churning through her. She remembered the coldness of his eyes after she had slapped him, now piercing her deeply in such rebuke that it was all she could do to keep her chin up.

  The only fault she could find with him now was that he tended to be rather aloof.

  She groaned inwardly. But if she had a family like his would not she, too, take care to steer clear of them from one year’s end to the next?

  ‘Oh,’ said Aunt Bella, leaning back and shutting her eyes. ‘It feels as though an enormous weight has rolled off my shoulders.’

  ‘I am so pleased for you, Aunt Bella,’ she said. But a wave of sorrow swept through her. Everyone was here because they wanted something from him. But where did he turn when he needed help? She shook her head at the ridiculous notion. A man like him would never need help from anyone. Least of all her.

  ‘Before I forget,’ said Aunt Bella, sitting up and opening her eyes, ‘I should tell you that a letter has arrived for you.’ She pointed to the console table just inside the door. ‘I put it over there.’

  Getting to her feet, Helen went and picked up the single sheet of paper, and broke open the wafer.

  ‘It is from the Harcourts,’ she said, quickly checking the signature. ‘They want me to go to them straight away. Some domestic crisis.’ She frowned at the few lines scrawled upon the page, which explained very little.

  ‘Oh, Helen, I shall be so sorry to see you go.’

  ‘I shall be sorry to have to leave,’ Helen admitted. It was ironic that only a few minutes since she had been wishing she could leave Alvanley Hall, and the agonising pain of becoming increasingly infatuated with a man so very far out of her league. Yet now the Harcourts had summoned her the prospect that this was it, she must bid him farewell and never see him again, felt perfectly dreadful. As though a huge dark cloud was hovering above her.

  Helen smiled bravely. ‘At least I shall not be worrying about your future, now that Lord Bridgemere has turned out to be so very kind.’

  She crumpled the letter in her hand.

  ‘I am just going to take off my coat, Aunt Bella,’ she said, darting into her own room to conceal the fact that there were tears in her eyes. ‘And then I will see about getting you some luncheon.’ She removed her bonnet, hastily dabbing at her eyes with the ribbons. ‘This afternoon,’ she called, ‘I have promised to help Reverend Mullen again, with the theatricals for the children.’

  ‘That is fine by me, dear,’ she heard her aunt reply from the other room. ‘I shall have forty winks and then go down and join Lady Norton in a hand or two of piquet.’

  Helen scrabbled in her coat pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose. There. She was fine again. Fixing a smile on her face, she returned to the main room.

  ‘I should not be a bit surprised,’ her aunt said, ‘if His Lordship does not try to see if he can somehow kill two birds with one stone by housing me with her.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Lady Norton,’ her aunt said, lowering her voice and leaning towards her niece, ‘has such a passion for gambling that even here her husband watches her like a hawk. We play for ivory counters, from some old gaming boxes we found, because he has forbidden her ever to play for money again. And she seems quite scared of disobeying him. His Lordship may well agree to pay off her debts, if that is what they are asking for, in return for taking me in. Though of course that is only conjecture.’

  ‘Would you like to go and live in such a household?’

  ‘Do you really want to go and work as a governess for strangers?’ Aunt Bella fired straight back at her. ‘What we both want,’ she said, her lower lip quivering, ‘is to be able to go back to the way things were in Middleton. Living simply and quietly, dependent upon nobody, and able to please ourselves. But if you can go out to work for a living,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘without uttering one word of reproach to me or anyone else, I can certainly go and act as companion to a woman who is in need of a steadying influence in her life. Not only against her addiction to gambling, but also as a shield against that overbearing husband of hers. And if that is the solution His Lordship finds for me, I shall certainly consider it quite seriously. I always liked Sally. After all these years, it is amazing to find that I still do.

  ‘But in any case, I have no need to rush into a decision. Although His Lordship will not be remaining here long after Twelfth Night he has said I may as well stay on, since there are umpteen empty rooms and a small kernel of servants who keep the place up.’ A determined look came over her. ‘Though you may be sure that if I do stay on here I shall find some way to make myself useful. I dislike the thought of being a charity case.’

  Helen was quite sure that Lord Bridgemere would make sure Aunt Bella never felt that way. She sighed. There was really no need for her to stay at Alvanley Hall any longer now that her aunt’s future was assured. There was no excuse she could give to put off answering her employer’s summons.

  ‘I had better write to the Harcourts straight away and tell them I shall make my way there as soon as is practicable.’

  ‘I wish you need not go,’ said Aunt Bella, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘I am quite sure that His Lordship would make some provision for you, too, if you were not too proud to ask him.’ She held up her hand as Helen opened her mouth to make her objections known. ‘No, you do not need to say it. You have no claim upon him. I know how hard it would be for you to accept his help, since I have found it so difficult to come here
myself, and it is his duty to look after me. But this one thing I will say. It would be foolish of you not to ask his help with the travel arrangements. You have already partaken of his hospitality, and this would only be an extension of that.’

  Helen thought he would probably be so relieved to know she was leaving he would be tempted to load her into the coach himself. He would think it well worth a little inconvenience if it meant ridding himself of a woman he regarded as a conniving hussy who prowled round the house in her nightwear, hoping to lure him into her clutches.

  ‘Do you know?’ Aunt Bella continued. ‘He said that if we had written to confide the difficulties we were experiencing he would have sent his own coach to fetch us here. He said he was mortified to think of the struggles we had endured, the deleterious effect the rigours of our journey had on my health. Imagine that.’

  Helen sighed. She could imagine it all too well. Lord Bridgemere was, beneath that forbidding exterior, a good man. A decent man.

  ‘Then I will ask him if he would be so kind as to make the travel arrangements for me.’

  It would probably be best if she went to Mr Cadwallader and asked him to arrange an appointment. She did not want to have to suffer the indignity of approaching Lord Bridgemere in the blue saloon before dinner tonight, with all those beady eyes on her. All those ears straining to overhear what was her business alone. Besides, she knew only too well that it was completely beyond her capabilities to conceal the effect he had on her. And there was nothing more pathetic than females who made fools of themselves over men who were just not interested.

  He would probably not have time to schedule such an appointment before tomorrow. Christmas Eve. She frowned. The day would be packed with so many activities, he might well be too busy to fit her in at all. And had he not said that he only granted each of his guests just one appointment, anyway? And then it would be Christmas Day, and of course he would not make his coachman set out on such a long journey—not on a day which ought to be a holiday for all.

  It would be Boxing Day at the earliest before she could leave. And she would probably have to ask Cadwallader to arrange everything without speaking to Lord Bridgemere himself.

  But she rather thought that seeing their new governess draw up outside their house in a coach with a crest on the door might compensate the Harcourts for her not arriving sooner.

  Two more days. That was all she had left.

  And then the rest of her life to recover from the impact the handsome, self-contained Earl had had upon her heart.

  It was a relief to return to the noisy chaos of the schoolroom. Since the children’s costumes had all been agreed upon, and suitable materials found, her task that afternoon was to make them up. Lord Bridgemere, she discovered when she went to sit at the large table by the window, had also hired a couple of girls from the village to help out with the sewing.

  They were inclined to be on their best behaviour, until Helen explained, ‘I have only come here as companion to my aunt. She is the one who really has the right to be here. Once Christmas is over I will be going off to work as a governess.’

  After that they began to chat more freely with her as they sat tacking together swathes of velvet, calico and silk for angels, shepherds and kings.

  From them, she learned that all the villagers were really looking forward to the ball Lord Bridgemere always arranged for them on Boxing Day.

  ‘Puts on a right good do,’ said the plumper of the two, whose name was Maisie. ‘And not just for the gentry staying at the house. But for all of us ordinary folk, too.’

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ said her thinner companion, jabbing her in the side with her elbow.

  Helen looked up to see that the door to the attic room was open and Lord Bridgemere was leaning against the frame, his arms folded, watching over the activity with what looked to her like satisfaction.

  Reverend Mullen suddenly noticed him, too. He clapped his hands and said, ‘Children, children! Make your bows to His Lordship, who has most generously spared us a few minutes out of his busy day to come and visit us!’

  Was it her imagination, or did some of Lord Bridgemere’s satisfaction dim?

  If it did, it was only for a second, because as the children all stopped what they were doing and turned towards him he produced a smile and said, ‘Well, I happen to know that Cook is sending up a tray of her ginger snaps, so how could I stay away?’

  At that very moment two maids came into the room, bearing trays of drinks and biscuits which they carried to a table at one end of the room. The children, to Helen’s amusement, promptly forgot their company manners to swarm round the refreshments table.

  Far from looking offended, Lord Bridgemere was smiling again.

  His smile dimmed as he turned towards the table where Helen was working. By the time he reached them his face showed no emotion whatsoever.

  ‘I did not intend the refreshments for the children alone,’ he said. ‘I do hope you ladies will take a break from your work to sample some of Cook’s baking.’

  ‘Why thank you, Your Lordship,’ said Maisie, getting up and dropping a clumsy curtsey, her face pink with pleasure. Her friend, too, looked similarly flustered at having Lord Bridgemere address them directly.

  It seemed Helen was not the only female upon whom he had such a disturbing effect. Her heart sank as she saw that he had been as impervious to her blushes and sighs as he was to those of these village girls. In his mind he probably consigned her along with them as foolish females who were well beneath his notice! Head lowered, she followed her two companions to the refreshments table.

  ‘Did you enjoy the ice this morning, children?’ he asked, when they were all seated with their beakers of milk.

  There was a rousing chorus of yeses and thank-yous through milk-moustached smiles.

  ‘Do not forget,’ he said solemnly, ‘that tomorrow, Christmas Eve, I am relying on you to gather enough greenery to decorate the Great Hall. I need holly and ivy, and mistletoe if you can find it. I think there may be one or two boughs in the apple orchard…’

  He frowned, as though uncertain, when Helen was sure he knew exactly where it was to be found. He was deliberately turning the ritual of bringing greenery in for Christmas Eve into a kind of treasure hunt for the children.

  The boy who was playing the part of Gabriel, the younger Swaledale, was wriggling where he sat. ‘We’ll find some for you, sir!’ he said earnestly.

  ‘Why, thank you, Charles,’ Lord Bridgemere replied, bringing a flush of pleasure to the lad’s thin cheeks.

  ‘I know that some of your older brothers and sisters may stir themselves, and there will be a few servants free, but without your help…’ He shook his head in mock solemnity.

  ‘We’ll do it!’ several of them shouted.

  Helen couldn’t help smiling. It would be servants and perhaps some of the ladies who fashioned the gathered greenery into garlands and wreaths. But after the way he had just spoken the children would feel a real sense of achievement. When Christmas morning came, and they saw the house festooned with the greenery they had helped gather, they would really feel a part of the Christmas celebrations.

  No wonder those who had visited before had such fond memories of Christmas at Alvanley Hall.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said solemnly. Then, ‘Now, make sure you wear suitable clothing. Holly is very prickly. I do not want anyone to forget their gloves. Reverend Mullen, could you perhaps find a few spare pairs of gloves, in case anyone forgets to bring their own?’

  Helen could have kissed him. None of the children would want to be left out of the adventure from lack of proper clothing. Yet a few of them, as she had discovered during that morning’s outing, simply did not have any. Peter, the little boy who was to play the part of Joseph, for instance, had come back from the skating party with the joints of his fingers horribly distended by angry looking chilblains. If she was being charitable, she would hazard a guess that his parents, Lord and Lady Norton, had so many worries o
f their own that outfitting their only son for winter had slipped their minds. Except that every time she saw Lady Norton she acted as though she had not a care in the world. It was her husband who went about looking burdened with woes.

  She shook her head, her lips pursed. Peter’s mother, she feared, did not care about her son, and even if his father did he was such a bellicose kind of man that in all likelihood nobody would dare approach him and remind him of any oversight he might have committed.

  Still, once his son left Alvanley Hall Helen had no doubt that he would have been discreetly supplied with enough warm clothes to see him through the rest of the winter. She was convinced that nobody would demand any child return their ‘borrowed’ gloves.

  Lord Bridgemere had such a tactful way of providing for those in need without making them feel like paupers.

  She sighed.

  It was at that moment, while she was sighing adoringly at his back, that he turned round abruptly and looked straight at her.

  Her cheeks flamed guiltily. She swiftly lowered her head and stared fixedly into her half-empty beaker, but she was all too aware of him stalking towards her.

  Oh, heavens. After all the lectures she had already given herself about the inappropriate nature of the way she looked at him, he had caught her doing it again!

  ‘Miss Forrest? May I have a private word with you?’

  He motioned with his arm to indicate his wish that they step outside.

  Her heart sank. She could feel another stinging rebuke coming her way. Yet she placed her beaker on the tray and followed Lord Bridgemere across the room to the doorway. He held the door open as she passed him, then stepped out into the passage, leaving it open behind them. Nobody would be able to hear what they were saying, but since they were in full view of Reverend Mullen, the children, their nurses and various household staff, there would be no possibility of anyone accusing either of them of the least hint of impropriety.