Christmas Joy

by Wilma Counts

  “Betsy, you have outdone yourself!” Meghan exclaimed when the maid had finished with her hair. It was a freer style than she usually wore, with curled tendrils framing her face.

  “I have, haven’t I?” Betsy’s pride was obvious.

  The ballroom presented a rich feast for the senses. The piney scent of the green decorations blended with a spicy aroma from discreetly placed potpourri. The rich colors of the ladies’ gowns showed to good advantage against the starker evening dress of the gentlemen. Music called forth merriment in everyone. The central decoration was the huge kissing ball in the middle of the room. Two elaborate chandeliers as well as candelabrums on the sides reflected light from framed mirrors placed between window niches.

  Despite the elegance of the surroundings and dress, the spirit of the ball was one of sheer fun. Every dance was interrupted with an abrupt pause in the music of that dance. Dancers were to stand still at that signal. The orchestra would then swing into a merry little tune to which the company chanted

  Everleigh Hall, Everleigh Hall

  Come one, come one, come all, come all,

  See who’s under the kissing ball!

  Then amidst laughter and cheering, the couple caught in that strategic location fulfilled the purpose of the room’s most elaborate adornment.

  Meghan thought a number of young ladies and gentlemen contrived their being so caught—but that, too, was part of the fun. It was late into the festivities when it happened to her. In thinking about it later, she suspected Irene had contrived her entrapment, for the marchioness had been standing near the orchestra leader.

  It was a waltz and she was dancing with Justin. From the moment he enclosed her in his arms, she had felt her senses heightened. She was already mildly annoyed with herself for, from the very beginning, she had been more aware of his elegant evening attire—and the way he wore it—than that of other gentlemen.

  Then her impatience with herself intensified. During an earlier dance Miss Hamlin had seemed to manipulate Justin under the kissing ball. With a delighted smile, the beauty twined her arms around his neck and leaned into him dramatically for her kiss. Justin laughed and gave her a quick kiss. Was he laughing at the girl? Was the lovely Georgiana disappointed at the brevity of the connection? And just why did she, Meghan Kenwick, feel a twinge of pain at watching this pair? She had had no such reaction to other couples.

  Now, here she was—in the arms of a man whose influence on her life she had once resented. And somehow it felt totally right, eminently comfortable. Lost in thought, she was startled to hear his voice—and the laughter in it.

  “I have a penny.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I have a penny,” he repeated. “For your thoughts.”

  “Oh!” She felt herself blushing furiously—and her mind went blank.

  He laughed outright now. “That bad, eh?” He pulled her slightly closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Never fear. A lady cannot be expected to share her thoughts, especially if they happen to be naughty ones.”

  Recovering, she replied with a challenge. “How can you be sure they were naughty?”

  “That blush, perhaps?”

  “A true gentleman,” she said, her laughing tone belying her pompous reprimand, “would never single out a lady’s involuntary reaction for comment.”

  “Oh, my,” he said in a groan of mock despair. “I thought I had hidden it so well, but you have discovered the ugly truth—I am no gentleman.”

  “Now you add untruths to your litany of faults.”

  “Untruths?”

  Before she could respond, the music stopped. They stood statuelike and the chanting started. Meghan looked around to see who was the focus of fun this time only to find all eyes on her and her partner.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured.

  His eyes danced with amusement as he enfolded her more tightly in his arms. She braced her hands against his upper arms, but as soon as his lips brushed hers, any idea of resisting his embrace was lost in the torrent of sensations that rocked through her. At first his lips explored softly, but then they became firm and demanding. She lost all sense of time and place as she responded with the hungry yearning she had not willingly admitted to before—even to herself.

  The laughter and cheering finally penetrated and the waltz music resumed. She looked into Justin’s eyes, which now held something other than amused merriment. He looked fully as stunned as she felt, but he swung her gracefully into the dance. They were both silent until the dance ended. He thanked her and walked away. Moments later, both took the floor with other partners.

  It was not until the wee hours of the morning when she finally climbed into bed, that she had time to try to make some sense of that kiss. To no avail. She finally gave up, half joking with herself that were she not careful she might very well turn into that “willing widow” after all—at least where Justin Wingate was concerned.

  Justin was shaken to his very core by his encounter with Meghan. He could not recall ever reacting so to a mere kiss. Hungry for more, he had also felt a need to cherish and protect. He sensed a deep vulnerability in her that belied the image of a woman in control and sure of herself.

  He admitted his deep attraction to her. However, despite his assertion to her that he was no gentleman, he had no intention of trying to edge out his friend Layton. He frowned at the image in his shaving mirror the next morning. He had observed Meghan and Layton closely. They laughed and chatted with ease, but he could not recall in the last few days their seeming to seek time alone together, as, for instance, Travers and Miss Thompson did.

  Miss Thompson’s parents had arrived a few days before and happily approved Lord Travers’s suit, as Justin had known they would. Travers was clearly besotted, and Justin found himself envying a man toward whom his usual feeling was indulgent tolerance.

  He straightened his waistcoat and prepared to go down to breakfast when there was a knock at his door. He opened it to find Irene looking very concerned.

  “Joy’s kitten has gone missing,” she said immediately. “She is inconsolable. We have looked everywhere in the nursery. We now have people checking elsewhere—even the stables. But perhaps you should speak to Joy to reassure her.”

  “Right away.”

  He accompanied Irene back to the nursery, where he found Joy, her face reddened and stained with tears. She began to sob anew as her father picked her up and held her to him.

  “Don’t cry, poppet,” he soothed. “We shall find your Snowflake. You’ll see.”

  Her sobs were heartbreaking and then she wrenched his heart even more when she cried, “I tried to be good, Papa. I tried not to be bad. Really, I did.”

  “There. There.” He patted her back and kissed her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. “You must not cry anymore, my sweet. He will be found. I promise.”

  She took several deep breaths and her crying eased off. She had cried herself into an exhausted state.

  “I shall take her now, sir, if you’d like,” the nursemaid said, holding out her arms. “Let us go and wash your face, Miss Joy, and see about some breakfast for you.”

  “Thank you, Cookson,” Justin said.

  Joy seemed listless, but she went willingly with the maid and Justin went to check the progress of the hunt for the missing feline.

  By noon the kitten had still not been found and Joy had once again drawn a cloak of silence about herself.

  The following morning, Justin faced far more devastating news.

  Joy herself was missing.

  Again, it was Irene who brought the word. The maid charged with getting the three girls readied of a morning had brought the news even before Irene had dressed. She had obviously merely tossed on a dressing gown and gone immediately with the maid to tell Justin.

  “What do you mean, she is gone?” Justin’s voice rose in alarm. He had barely awakened and had not yet arisen when they came. He stood in the doorway barefooted and wearing only a hastily donned dre
ssing gown.

  “She was not in her bed when the others awoke,” the maid said. “I checked on the girls soon after midnight and she was sound asleep. All three of them were. But now she is gone. So is her blanket.”

  “We thought perhaps she came to you,” Irene said.

  “No, she did not.” His mind produced images of kidnappings and children attacked by wild beasts, but he quickly quelled such ridiculous notions. “Let me get properly dressed and I shall join you in the search. She cannot have gone far. And she is bigger than that infernal kitten, so should be easier to find.”

  An hour later, she had still not been found and fear was beginning to gnaw at his innards. When had she left the nursery? The weather had turned bitter cold of late and a light snow had fallen in the night. A small child, clad only in a nightdress, would not fare well in the elements. He refused to consider all the possibilities.

  Meghan, along with the other guests, had been informed the day before of the crisis in the nursery produced by the missing kitten. Irene had minimized the incident for the company at large, but privately she shared her concern with Meghan.

  “Joy is beside herself—nearly hysterical. I have never seen a child so distraught.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Her heart went out to the little girl who had lost her mother and now a beloved pet. Meghan knew a thing or two about loss.

  “She seems to like you,” Irene said. “Maybe you could speak to her. Reassure her about the kitten?”

  “I shall do what I can.”

  She went to the playroom, where she found the loss of the kitten had produced a rather subdued atmosphere. Joy sat in a window seat clutching her blanket and merely watching some of the younger children engaged in a game of pickup-sticks. Others were in the neighboring schoolroom.

  Meghan greeted the other children, then went to sit on the window seat next to Joy.

  “Hello, Joy,” she said softly. “I heard about your kitten.”

  Joy turned stricken eyes toward Meghan, but did not say anything. Meghan decided to go on as though this were a totally natural reaction. She spoke in a conversational tone.

  “You know, when I was a little girl, I, too, had a kitten. Her name was Clara. I named her for my favorite doll, but then I used to get them mixed up.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh and looked down to see a shade of amusement in Joy’s eyes. So she went on, “And, do you know? Clara used to disappear on me, just as Snowflake has. I truly think she was playing hide-and-seek with me!”

  Joy smiled at that idea, but then looked serious again.

  “Sometimes,” Meghan continued, silently hoping she was saying the right thing, “my Clara would be gone for a very long time. Once, I think it was over two days! Of course, I was very worried, as I am sure you are for Snowflake.”

  Joy looked up and nodded. Then she moved closer and Meghan put her arm around her to hug her. She felt her heart full to bursting with love for this small, hurting child. The door to the playroom opened and Justin came striding in.

  Joy looked at him, her eyes full of hope. He squatted on his heels before the two in the window seat. He took one of Joy’s little hands in his and shook his head sorrowfully.

  “No. I am sorry, poppet. We have not found him yet. But everyone is still looking. He is sure to turn up.”

  Meghan thought there was more hope than conviction in this assertion.

  He then looked at Meghan and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Kenwick. I appreciate your trying to help.”

  She gave the little girl a gentle squeeze. “Joy and I have become friends, and it is important for friends to stand by each other.”

  “I see,” he said gravely, looking from one to the other.

  It was late afternoon now and in keeping with short December days, it grew dark quite early. Nurse came to light the lamps in the playroom. Joy glanced out the window and seemed alarmed to realize how dark it was. Panic shone in her eyes as she looked from Justin to Meghan.

  “He will be fine, I am sure,” Justin said, patting Joy’s hand and apparently trying to sound confident.

  “He probably decided to visit his brothers and sisters,” Meghan said, keeping her voice even. “Maybe they are all playing hide-and-seek with us.”

  Joy smiled, but it was a sad little smile. Nurse soon came to announce it was time for the children to prepare for their supper, and Justin and Meghan took their leave.

  He thanked her again and he spoke of the search as they descended the stairs to the floor on which their own rooms were located. Occasionally, their arms brushed and she was intensely aware of him.

  The rest of the evening progressed rather quietly through dinner and card games, music, and scattered conversations afterward. Meghan retired early to write some letters and then she went to bed to read “for just a little while” but quickly became engrossed in the Chapman translation of The Iliad. It was well after midnight and she was empathizing with Achilles’ grief over the death of his friend Patroclos, when she heard a sound in the hall. Wondering, she got up and opened her door. There stood Joy, holding her blanket and shivering in a thin nightdress in the cold hallway. She simply gazed at Meghan for a moment; then she pushed into the room, and climbed into Meghan’s bed. Meghan closed the door and stood in amazement as the child scooted over and patted the bed, clearly inviting Meghan into her own bed!

  “Joy! What are you doing here? You should be in your own bed.”

  Joy shook her head, looked imploringly at Meghan, and again patted the bed.

  “Very well. You may stay for a few minutes,” Meghan said slowly, thinking that as soon as Joy fell asleep she would return the child to her own bed. “But I have only this one book, so you will just have to endure the Greeks with me.”

  She began to read aloud and soon enough she saw Joy’s eyelids begin to droop. As soon as she was well and fast asleep, Meghan would take her up to the nursery. Meanwhile, she would just finish this next section.

  It was morning when Meghan awoke to great commotion in the hall and then a knock at her door. She came out of her sleep somewhat groggily and was suddenly conscious of the small body snuggled close to hers.

  “One moment,” she called as she reached for her dressing gown. She opened the door to find Irene looking very distracted.

  “Joy has disappeared,” Irene said. “We have looked everywhere for her. Have you any idea where she might have gone?”

  Meghan stepped back and pointed to her bed.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Irene murmured, then stepped back into the hall and called, “Justin! We have found her. She is here.”

  A moment later Justin Wingate thundered into Meghan’s bedchamber, seemingly oblivious to the impropriety of his being there.

  “What in God’s name is she doing here?” he shouted, clearly angry.

  Meghan felt her hackles rising at his tone. “She was sleeping. We both were.”

  He spoke through a clenched jaw. “I ask you again, madam, how did she get here?”

  Meghan looked helplessly at Irene. “I—we—fell asleep. She appeared at my door . . . after midnight, I think it was. And she . . . She just climbed into my bed.”

  “And you lacked the good sense it would have required to take her back to the nursery?” he shot at her with no apparent attempt to keep his voice under control.

  A noise from the bed drew their attention. Joy looked frightened and began to sob.

  “Oh, now just see what you have done.” Meghan glared at him and they both moved to comfort the child, but it was in Meghan’s arms that Joy sought refuge. “Don’t cry, darling. Your papa is not angry with you. He is just a big brute who became afraid when he could not find you.”

  She heard Justin snort in disgust at her shoulder, but he patted Joy’s back. “That’s right, Joy-of-my-life. Papa was just worried.”

  Joy sniffed and became calmer and Justin said, “Come, let Papa take you back to the nursery.”

  Meghan kissed her cheek and said softly, “It’
s all right. Everything will be fine. I shall come to see you later.” She released the child into the arms of her father, who immediately took her from the room.

  Meghan stood for moment feeling decidedly bereft. She looked at Irene, who was considering her with a very bemused expression on her face.

  “Never mind,” Irene said. “He will get over it. You were right. He was just frightened.”

  Seven

  Later in the morning, Justin sought Meghan out to beg her pardon for his anger at her earlier. She could tell that he was a man unaccustomed to rendering apologies. She accepted his and tried not to harbor resentment at his having immediately found her at fault over the incident. Nevertheless, there was a certain stiffness between them that she regretted but could not seem to get beyond.

  In the afternoon, having finished the Chapman book, Meghan went to the library to return it. Seeking something else to amuse her, she found three volumes that looked interesting. She took them over to a high-backed settee that faced away from the door and settled into her decision-making process.

  A few minutes later she heard the door open and someone entered. Perhaps it was merely someone wanting to return or retrieve a book. But whoever it was seemed to linger near the desk. She peered around the back of the settee. Justin. Well, he was the last person she wanted to confront at the moment. If he did not leave in a matter of minutes, though, she would make her presence known to him.

  The door opened again and then closed. Had he left then? She started to look and quickly drew back when she heard the dulcet tones of Georgiana Hamlin.

  “Oh, Justin. I am so glad we have this moment together.”

  “Miss Hamlin? Was there something particular you wanted? It is not quite proper for you to be here alone with me. But then you probably know that, do you not?” There was a touch of irony in his voice.