A Christmas Betrothal

by Carole Mortimer

  Her mother said nothing at all, unwilling to acknowledge either their destination or the extra passenger they had accrued for the short journey. The Clairemont family had moved to the largest house in Fiddleton proper, with five servants and room enough to keep both a carriage and horses, but it was nothing compared to the manor. Returning to it as guests was obviously a source of irritation that they would conceal only when absolutely necessary.

  But Anne seemed to feel less of it, looking from one to the other of them with a kind of desperate enthusiasm, as though she could imagine nothing better than visiting her old home only to leave it again at the end of the evening. ‘Joseph says the chestnuts are particularly good this year. He has sampled them already.’

  ‘I imagine he would have,’ her father retorted. ‘He goes to excess in all other things. If he is not careful he will be prone to gluttony.’

  ‘I doubt it will come to that,’ Anne assured him. ‘He will not sit still long enough to grow soft. It is more likely that when he is in the throes of work he will need to be reminded to eat.’

  Her father muttered something barely audible beyond the word ‘trade’.

  Anne fell to silence again, and Barbara could almost hear her thoughts. She was wishing that she had not brought up the subject of her prospective fiancé having an occupation at all. It was clearly another sore spot in the conversation.

  She looked desperately to Barbara, who said gamely, ‘He seems a most solicitous gentleman. When I was struggling in the shop yesterday he offered to transport myself and my basket in his carriage.’

  Anne gave an approving nod, as if to say she would not have thought any less of him.

  Her mother responded, ‘That might just as easily show a fickle nature. What is he doing, offering courtesies to others when he is promised elsewhere?’ She narrowed her eyes at Barbara. ‘Unless you were angling after a ride?’

  Anne sucked in her breath, but Barbara managed to keep her reaction invisible to the other passengers. She knew Lady Clairemont’s opinion of her. But she’d hoped to see no obvious demonstration of it tonight.

  ‘Mother,’ Anne said quickly, ‘I am sure it was nothing of the kind. Though you might not think it so, Joseph has a kind and generous heart. I am not the least bit surprised that he should offer to aid Miss Lampett.’

  ‘Until his ring is on your finger you had best be less generous and more sensible,’ her mother informed her. ‘This party would be an excellent time to finalise the arrangement between you.’

  ‘I cannot very well demand that he make the announcement,’ Anne said, obviously embarrassed by her mother’s bluntness.

  ‘But his inviting other young ladies to this ball does not bode well.’

  ‘I think there is someone he wishes me to meet,’ Barbara said hurriedly. ‘He was quite clear about there being eligible gentlemen in attendance.’

  ‘Probably that Breton fellow,’ Anne’s father grunted. ‘He’s a bit high in the instep for you, my dear. But a bit low … Second son … ‘ His comment trailed off into inaudibility again.

  ‘You have not even met him, Father.’ Anne gave Barbara another silent apology. ‘He is really very nice. A true gentleman—neither too high nor too low.’

  ‘And no concern of yours, no matter what his birth. He will do for Barbara, here, if that is what Stratford intends for them. But he cannot be much of a man if he lets a business associate make such decisions for him.’

  Anne stared out of the window, as though searching for another topic of conversation. ‘I hope the weather favours us this evening. It seems likely that the rain will turn to snow.’

  ‘Then we shall be forced to remain at the manor,’ her mother said, showing the first signs of cheerfulness. ‘I assume that Stratford has taken the master bedroom. But we shall make do in the next best suite, and you shall have your old room back, Anne.’

  ‘Then I hope that travel is not made difficult,’ Barbara said, considering the awkwardness of the situation. ‘I am quite unprepared to stay the night.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lady Clairemont gave a sad little moue that ended in a smile. ‘Do not worry upon it, my dear. I am sure there is a maid that can lend you a nightdress, should we be stranded.’

  When they had arrived at the manor, the Clairemonts’ behaviour grew no warmer. Lord and Lady Clairemont swept into the ballroom as if they still owned it, greeting other guests as though they were old friends. Anne trailed along in their wake, polite and silent.

  When Barbara made to follow, Lady Clairemont turned, giving her a cold and very deliberate look. The direct stare seemed to change as she held it, to look past Barbara and then through her, as though she did not exist at all. The cut was so beautifully made that for a moment Barbara longed for a mirror, convinced that it was she who had faded to transparency. With a single look, Lady Clairemont had made it clear to her that, whatever Joseph Stratford might think, Barbara Lampett was an unwelcome guest here. If there were introductions to be made, he had best appear and make them himself, for the Clairemonts planned to pretend she did not exist.

  She had to admire the perfection of the revenge Lady Clairemont had devised. The room was full of strangers. And, if she wished to be thought a well-mannered young lady, Barbara could hardly introduce herself to any of them. She would spend her first night in ages as a sort of social ghost, separated by a glass wall of propriety from the merrymaking.

  Nor would Anne come to her aid. Though she did not hold the deep animosity for Barbara that her parents did, she lacked the spine to stand against them.

  She was sure that Joseph Stratford would help her, if she could find him. But there was no sign of him, and she assumed that he must be in a card room somewhere, talking business. She could expect little else. To him, that was the only purpose for the gathering. Even if he had meant to be a proper host, it should be Anne standing at his side and not her.

  But it was just as well Mr Stratford did not see her. Having taken a moment to admire the other women, she could see that she did not belong amongst them. While her dress had seemed quite nice in the cheval glass at home, it looked dowdy compared to the pale silks and fine embroidered shawls she saw tonight. And the loveliest amongst them was Anne Clairemont. Her net gown was trimmed with tiny pearls, her hair held in place with diamond pins. She glided through the room like a swan: pure white, slender and graceful.

  In comparison, Barbara’s retrimmed blue gown managed to be both too bright and too plain. Her neck was bare. Her hair was dressed simply, with no jewels to ornament it. Even if Joseph were to see her he would look on her with pity rather than desire. She was little better than a charity case here—just as she had been the last time she saw him. She must learn to face the reality of it and not let the disappointment show. Invited or not, she did not belong here.

  She must remember not to call him Joseph—to his face or to others. Anne Clairemont had that right of intimacy. She did not. But she quite liked the sound of the name in her head.

  After receiving a secret kiss from him, and being alone with him on two occasions, in the privacy of her thoughts she did not need to think of him as Mr Stratford.

  To save herself the embarrassment of another cut, Barbara withdrew, pretending to admire the hangings in the ballroom nearest the door and then easing through it to stroll towards the portrait gallery, as though engrossed in the quality of the art. She considered herself fortunate that the manor was so large, and she so familiar with it. She would steal her share of the refreshments and then wander away by herself to relive happier times in her mind.

  When she went home she would concoct a story for her mother about the fine food and the dancing, and the courtly gentlemen who had paid her attention. None so specific as to make her expect a call, but she would claim that it had been a delightful night, and that she had enjoyed herself most thoroughly.

  A group of gentlemen passed her in the hall, carrying heaped plates of cakes and sandwiches, clearly on the lookout for a quiet place to sit. Lord Cla
iremont was amongst them. To avoid further awkwardness she withdrew to one of the many hiding places she’d known as a girl—a chair behind a statue of Mars, which had been decorated in a most undignified manner with garlands of holly.

  ‘Has anyone seen our esteemed host this evening?’ asked the first, a rather large man with a lurid pink waistcoat.

  ‘Still trying to do business,’ the next remarked. ‘He would not let me alone before. Stratford is a most persistent fellow.’

  ‘Little else can be expected of his sort,’ the other responded pityingly. ‘In trade, you know. It seems they can think of nothing else.’

  Unlike some, who thought of nothing but filling their bellies. Barbara looked hurriedly down at her empty glass and the plate of crumbs beside it. Of all the sins of which Joseph was guilty, she could not fault his hospitality to his guests. The portions were generous, and any whim would be indulged for one so fortunate to have been invited into his home.

  It made the absence of the villagers more keenly felt. She was sure, had he bothered to include them, that he would have rewarded any stranger from the village with the same casual generosity.

  It seemed Lord Clairemont viewed the abundance with less charity. ‘There is too much of everything here.’ He picked a leaf from Mars and flicked it to the floor. ‘When Anne is mistress, I trust she will teach him manners. He is rich, of course, but quite common. Did you see what he has done to the ivy on the south side of the house? He has stripped away great patches of it and brought it here.’

  ‘Decorations, man!’ Pink Waistcoat laughed. ‘It is hardly Christmas without the stuff.’

  ‘But there is a time and a place,’ Lord Clairemont said primly. ‘One does not go about denuding houses.’

  Barbara was in two minds about that. The rooms looked very nice with the fresh greens. And now that some of the troublesome vines had been removed from around the windows she suspected there would be daylight in the library and the ballroom. Both had been gloomy places even by day, and she recalled being quite frightened of them.

  ‘Stratford and your daughter do make a lovely couple,’ one of the men remarked grudgingly. ‘It seems that birth does not show on one’s face.’

  ‘But it is plain enough in his conversation,’ Lord Clairemont remarked. ‘He goes to the best tailor in London, but he tells people that the fabric for his coat was woven by himself—on his own modern loom.’

  ‘Perhaps we will find him in the parlour, knitting a muffler?’ said Pink Waistcoat. The men around him laughed, moving on.

  Barbara leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, wishing she had stopped her ears, before hearing a word of that conversation. She was ashamed of herself for eavesdropping, and embarrassed for Joseph as well. How awful must it be for him to be an object of ridicule amongst his guests and a source of amusement in his own home. She felt a rush of kinship with him. Of all the people in the manor tonight, maybe neither of them belonged.

  ‘Playing at hide-and-seek, Miss Lampett? I understand it is a common game here at Christmas.’

  Her eyes flew open to find her host, leaning against the wall at her side, scant inches away, smiling down at her.

  ‘I was doing nothing of the kind. I was simply—’ she searched for a plausible explanation ‘—resting for a moment. The dancing is most strenuous.’

  ‘It must be, for you to grow tired just by watching it. But you have not even done that, have you? I have been in and out of the ballroom all evening, and have not seen you there at all. Explain yourself.’

  ‘Before I stand up to dance I must be asked,’ she said. ‘And before that there must be introductions.’ She smiled politely. ‘But I am having a lovely time, reacquainting myself with the house. It is beautiful—especially done up for Christmas. I thank you for your invitation.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ he said sharply. ‘You came with the Clairemonts, did you not?’

  ‘They were kind enough to give me a ride in their carriage.’

  ‘But they did not make you known to the other guests?’

  She could think of no proper answer for this, so she remained silent.

  ‘And I was negligent in my duties as host and let you wander, alone and abandoned.’ He swore then, a short colourful vulgarity that she had never heard before. She supposed she should be shocked by it, make some comment about his low birth and stalk off. But he had had enough of that reaction, she was sure, and she did not have the heart to add her censure to the rest.

  He collected himself quickly, and gave a curt bow of apology. ‘Come, Miss Lampett. We are going back to the ballroom so that you might dance with me.’

  ‘Really, that is not necessary,’ she whispered.

  ‘There you are again, trying to tell me what is needed and what is not.’ He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out from behind the statue. ‘You must know by now that it is quite hopeless to stop me once I have an idea in my head.’

  ‘But I must try,’ she said, pulling her arm from his grasp, and permitting him to escort her properly. ‘I know that your invitation here was little more than a sop to gain my father’s silence. But if we dance the Clairemonts are likely to think it was something more.’

  ‘Do not ascribe such dark motives to me,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I merely thought that you would enjoy the opportunity of socialising and devised an excuse so that you would not refuse my invitation. Instead I see you are wedded to the wall because my future in-laws are unable to behave like the lady and gentleman they purport to be. I do not know what the gripe is between you. But it ends now.’

  ‘This is a waltz,’ she said, tripping along at his side as he stalked into the ballroom. ‘And I do not know how. Perhaps if we waited … ‘ But it was hopeless. He was tugging her very gently towards the dance floor.

  ‘It is the simplest of all dances, and you will learn it as we go,’ he said, swinging her about to face him. ‘People will call me rude and brash and inappropriate. But I am quite used to that already and will not be bothered.’

  ‘And if people think ill of me because of it? Dancing so intimately with a man I barely know?’ Although she quite liked the sound of the music and the feel of his hand on her waist. She liked even better the look of shock she saw on Lady Clairemont’s face as she spun past her.

  ‘I am your host,’ he said, giving a gentle push on her hand to guide her. ‘You can hardly refuse me. It is Christmas, which is traditionally a time for small latitudes. No one will say a word.’

  ‘Even if they do, they are all from London and I will never see them again.’ She sighed in satisfaction.

  With his hand upon her ribs, he noticed. ‘That was a happy sigh, I trust?’

  She gave a hesitant nod. ‘I have not had many opportunities to dance. Sometimes it seems as though I went directly from the schoolroom to the shelf, with no stopping between.’

  He snorted. ‘You? On the shelf? I should say not.’

  ‘I am twenty-four years old,’ she said, with a purse of the lips. ‘There are few gentlemen in the area. And girls who are younger, prettier, more biddable … ‘

  He laughed again. ‘You make those sound like virtues.’

  ‘Are they not?’

  ‘Young and biddable is often synonymous with naive and without a fully moulded character. Easier at first, perhaps. But it would make for a most dull union to marry such a girl.’

  Which was strange. Because it was exactly how she would have described the object of his own matrimonial plans, had she been called to compare with her. ‘And beauty?’ she asked. ‘Surely you have no problems with that?’

  ‘At your worst, you are quite pretty enough to suit even the most discriminating men,’ he said, looking down at her with an appraising eye. ‘Tonight you are looking most charming indeed. If you hear any complaints on the subject you must send the offenders to me.’ His fingers flexed on her waist and his hand squeezed hers. Just for a moment his face dipped closer to hers, sharing a conspiratorial smile.

  And she thought, wit
h a sudden flash of insight, If I allow it, he is likely to kiss me again. Right here on the dance floor. Or in a dark corner, when we can be alone.

  She knew, if the opportunity presented itself, that she would let him. She stumbled and broke the moment of intimacy.

  He concentrated on the steps, easing her gently back onto the beat until they were steady again, pretending that the mistake was his to put her at her ease.

  It made her feel quite awful. She had accused him of all manner of horrible things, directly to his face. She had thought even worse about him. But it was becoming plain that, though his nature seemed brusque, he was quite capable of behaving like a gentleman when he wished to. It was a shame that he was not being treated as such.

  Though it was the height of bad manners to repeat what she had heard, neither did she feel right about keeping the truth from him. ‘They are all laughing at you, you know. The other guests. Even Anne’s family.’ Then she realised that it might sound as if she was sabotaging a rival. ‘Not Anne, of course. She is much too good for that.’

  ‘Oh, of course not,’ he answered back with sarcasm. ‘But she and the rest are not too good to accept bread and board from likes of Mr Joseph Stratford. They lack the strength of their convictions. Some of the people I’d hoped to see tonight refused me outright. I have more respect for them. They are incapable of pretence.’ There was no tension as he said the words, sweeping her further out on the dance floor, twirling her effortlessly with the other dancers.

  ‘You realise what they are saying about you?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘You did not honestly worry I’d be hurt, did you? What a sensitive creature you must think me, Miss Lampett. I do not shrink from their displeasure, nor do I acknowledge their gossiping. I am willing to stand against your father and his armed mob, my dear. But to my knowledge no one has ever bled to death from the cut direct.’

  ‘Maybe people would not act that way to you if only you were not so … ‘ She could not seem to find a word to describe it.

  He sighed and smiled at her. ‘I am too much of everything, I fear. But it is hard to explain the novelty of a full larder to one that has always had their fill.’ He looked out of the window at the snow falling in the gardens, as though he could see past it into his own future. ‘This is nothing compared to what it will some day be. Two years ago it was a few machines. Now it will be a factory. And before I am through? An empire.’ He waved a hand towards the hall they had left. ‘They may laugh behind their hands, if they like. But the gentleman in the horrid pink waistcoat has promised me ten thousand pounds. And the gentleman beside him another five. Both will see a good rate of return on their investments. Neither of them need fear that I will reveal our association or bother them with my presence in London. It will work well for all of us.’