A Cotillion Country Christmas

by Carolynn Carey

  He made a point of placing his quill in its stand. Perhaps he could redeem himself with Dunworthy by pretending that he was more interested in his new spouse than in the letter he’d been writing to his Suffolk estate manager. “Of course I’ll make time for my countess. Is she waiting for me in her sitting room?”

  “No, my lord. She’s standing behind me, out in the hallway.”

  Robert jumped to his feet. “Well good grief, Dunworthy, show her in.”

  The butler bowed. “Yes, my lord.” He stepped back and to one side. “You may go in, my lady.”

  Robert forced a smile and hurried around his desk, determined to show his bride the respect she was due even though he resented the time he was bound to lose in responding to whatever request she might wish to make of him.

  Not, he had to admit, that she had made any requests of him in the three weeks since they’d married in a large ceremony that had been one of the most elaborate events in the city in recent years. That, of course, had been according to the wishes of his bride’s family, one of the wealthiest and largest in all of England. The sheer number of her siblings and the extremities of their enthusiasms had exhausted him in the weeks leading up to the wedding but he’d been promised to the young lady since before either of them was born and the earls of Maulton did not cry off once they’d committed themselves to a course.

  Or, more accurately in this case, once their fathers had made that commitment for them.

  But that was in the past. For the present he had to deal with— Aha! Now he remembered her name. Alethea. Or Thea, as her family fondly called her.

  She stepped into the room and paused just inside the doorway. She held herself with the pride and reserve he’d always noted in her demeanor in the few times they’d met since their betrothal was finalized. Her diffidence had pleased him during his almost nonexistent courtship of her but today there was an expression in her deep blue eyes that appeared at odds with the image he’d carried of her in the days since their wedding.

  Three weeks. Three weeks in which he’d been forced to devote himself exclusively to making up the time he’d frittered away in the silly social obligations his future mother-in-law had felt was incumbent upon her daughter’s fiancé. But unlike his wife’s family, Maulton had no immense number of brothers and nephews to help him oversee his vast holdings. He was alone except for the men he hired as estate managers and he was well aware that he couldn’t depend on anyone but himself.

  He had assumed his bride understood that fact and thus was not insulted because she had not laid eyes on him even once since the wedding ceremony. On the few occasions when her existence had occurred to him, he’d placated his conscience by reminding himself that his bride had hordes of family members in the city and would not be at all lonely without her husband by her side.

  So surely she had no reason to be regarding him with an expression that suggested she was considerably less than happy.

  He squared his shoulders. “Good day, my lady. Can I be of assistance to you in some way?”

  She nodded once, drawing his attention to the mound of luxurious hair piled on top of her head. Had he noticed before that her hair was such a striking shade of gold and that it appeared to be shot through with silver? No, he didn’t think so. Surely he would not have forgotten that.

  He forced his eyes away from her hair and instead examined her face. Beautiful blue eyes. Creamy white complexion. His wife was actually prettier than he remembered, now that he took the time to look at her. Of course he had always remembered her as being pretty. More than pretty actually. Quite lovely as a matter of fact.

  He swallowed a sudden excess of saliva. “Very well. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering, my lord, when you plan to leave for Maulton Manor.”

  What a strange question. He couldn’t imagine why she would care. But of course he would respond anyway. He owed her that courtesy as his wife. “I hadn’t actually given the matter any thought, my lady.”

  Her eyes widened. “But, my lord…” She paused and stared as though at a loss for words.

  He frowned, more in confusion than for any other reason. “But what?”

  “Today is December the fourth.”

  “I’m well aware of the date, my lady. I’m extremely far behind with much of the paperwork related to my estates and can only wish the year were not quite so far advanced. But why is the date of concern to you?”

  “Christmas is only three weeks away.”

  “And this is important because…”

  She stared at him for several seconds, as though once again she was at a loss for words. Finally she responded. “It’s important because I have a great deal to do between now and Christmas.”

  “You have a great deal to do? I’m afraid I don’t understand you, my lady. What could you have to do?”

  “What could I have to do? My lord, I sincerely hope you jest.” Her shapely lips formed into a perfect O of apparent amazement.

  Robert slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid my question was far from being a jest. I have no time for jests. I’m a busy man.”

  Her lips transformed themselves from an O into a very firm, very straight line. “I’m quite aware that you’re a busy man, my lord. You’ve been far too busy in the past three weeks even to dine with me, let alone join me in the drawing room in the evening for a brief bit of conversation.”

  Robert frowned at her in total confusion. “I apologize, my lady, if my behavior gave the appearance of neglect but I had assumed you would be busy with your various family members. There are certainly enough of them to keep you occupied.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “True, my lord, if they had been in town. However, my family members, like everyone else I know, left for the country two and a half weeks ago so they could start preparing for Christmas on their estates.” She paused, took a deep breath and grasped her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Preparing for Christmas?” Robert asked. “Preparing for Christmas? What is there to do in preparing for Christmas that takes so much time?”

  His bride heaved a sigh. “I cannot begin to tell you all I must do between now and Christmas Eve, not to mention preparations for Boxing Day. And then, of course, there’s Christmas Day itself, when my family will be joining us after church for our traditional meal. I assure you, my lord, that if you have kept me in town and prevented my spending that day with my family, well…” Her eyes widened and grew suspiciously bright. “Well, in that case, I have no doubt that one of my brothers will call you out and I wouldn’t mind one bit if he did.”

  Having practically shouted those final words at him, his openly weeping wife turned and ran from the room.

  * * * * *

  Thea ran all the way to her chamber, slammed the door behind her and flung herself onto her bed. How could her husband be so uncaring, humiliating her in this manner? And to assume that she’d been surrounded by her family after their wedding? How could he not have known that her family would retire to the country to allow the newlyweds a bit of privacy?

  Worst of all, of course, was his attitude toward Christmas. Did he not understand the importance of tradition? While it was true that she and Robert were not well acquainted, they’d been born and raised on adjoining estates and Christmas traditions in the district were relatively uniform. He should certainly have some notion of the importance of Christmas.

  Of course, after Robert’s mother passed away when he was in his early teens, his father had lived in the city practically the year round and even on the very rare occasions when he came back to Maulton Manor, Robert had been away at school and thus had not accompanied him.

  So even though their fathers had been close enough in their youth to have planned a betrothal between their children, the two men had never bothered to see that Robert and Alethea spent enough time in each other’s company to know if they would suit.

  Thea sighed, climbed off the bed and walked over to her chest. “I should never have agreed to this fa
rce,” she muttered while digging about in a drawer for a handkerchief. “I should have refused to marry a man I barely know even if I have been in love with him since I was thirteen years old.”

  She continued to rummage in the drawer until she located a handkerchief. She then dried her tears, blew her nose and walked over to the mirror to examine her face. Her cheeks were pale, her nose was red and her eyes were bloodshot. Thank heavens she was alone.

  A tap sounded on her door.

  It would be her maid, of course. Mabel was practically the only human she’d interacted with since the day of her wedding. “Come,” she called.

  The door was pushed open slowly, just a few inches. Then it stopped, quite unlike Mabel’s usual behavior. A sinking feeling caused Thea to take a quick step backwards. Surely her husband had not followed her to her chamber.

  His voice sounded from the hallway outside her door. “My, eh, that is, eh, Alethea? My lady?”

  “Oh no,” Thea murmured under her breath. She glanced back into her mirror and grimaced. Her hair had come loose from its pins when she’d flung herself on the bed and now it hung in untidy curls that brushed against her shoulders. Her blushes had turned her cheeks rosy, which might have been considered attractive were it not for the fact that her reddened nose now blended too well with the rest of her complexion.

  “My lord, is that you?”

  The door was pushed open a bit further and finally her husband stepped forward far enough that she could see him. She would have preferred that he not be able to see her but obviously he could because his eyes widened considerably.

  He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry to see that I’ve upset you. I, eh… No doubt, I’ve been a bit, eh… What I mean to say is…”

  Thea thrust her chin into the air. She’d spent the past three weeks alone except for the servants. She’d wandered around her husband’s town house from basement to attic, trying to pass the time. And she’d been homesick for her family, homesick for her big, bustling, noisy, cheerful, irritating, delightful family. Despite all this, she’d been quite patient with her new husband but with Christmas coming, her patience was at an end.

  She marched over to the doorway, faced her husband and announced in no uncertain terms, “I want to go home.”

  He merely stared at her for several seconds, much as she supposed one might stare at a Bedlamite. “You are at home,” he said at last. “This is also your house now that you and I are married.”

  Thea was tempted to stomp her foot but she didn’t want to give her idiot husband more cause to think her deranged. “I don’t mean here in the city. I mean in the country. I want to go to your—I mean our—country estate. Christmas is coming and we need to spend it at Maulton Manor.”

  “Ah, I see,” said her husband, who obviously saw nothing at all.

  “The traditions,” Thea explained, widening her eyes. “The Christmas Candle, the Yule Log, the Wassail Bowl. Aren’t any of these things important to you?”

  He blinked. “I’ve heard of them, of course.”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “Well, yes. But my father and I never bothered with such trivialities when he was alive. Then, after he died, I started overseeing all of the estates and I’ve frankly been too busy to bother.”

  “Too busy for Christmas?” Thea was aware that her tone reflected her disbelief. Obviously her husband detected the horror in her voice because he stiffened.

  “I hope you will bear in mind, my lady, that there are a great many people depending on me. I take my responsibilities quite seriously.”

  “And you think I do not?” Thea asked, her voice rising a bit at the end of her sentence.

  “I didn’t mean to imply…that is…” Her husband paused and sighed. “Frankly, I wasn’t aware that you have any responsibilities.”

  Thea gazed toward the ceiling and counted to ten, just as her brother Sheldon had advised her to do when she was a child. Sheldon was much more even-tempered than Thea. Unfortunately, she usually felt no calmer at all when she arrived at the number ten. “I pity the servants at Maulton Manor,” she said, “for I can only assume that you have never observed Boxing Day.”

  Apparently she had gone too far. Her husband threw back his shoulders and positively glared at her. “I assure you, madam, that my servants are not in need of your sympathy. However, as they are now your servants too, you must feel free to attempt to alleviate their suffering. Now I suggest you begin packing. We’ll leave for the country the day after tomorrow.” Then he turned on his heel and marched out of her room and down the hallway, leaving no doubt that his irritation was extreme.

  But Thea wasn’t the least bit disturbed by his ill humor because she was going to be spending Christmas in the country at Maulton Manor with her vexing and wonderful family on the adjoining estate where she could visit them every day. And if she knew her family, two or three of her siblings would be making themselves at home at Maulton Manor on a daily basis.

  A smile brightened her face and she positively danced across the floor to the bell pull. She rang for Mabel to come help her choose the clothes she would take to the country. It was not a moment too soon to begin packing.

  * * * * *

  Two days later the Earl of Maulton, bundled up in his multi-caped greatcoat, rode just ahead of the coach that carried his bride and her maid. There would have been plenty of room for him to ride inside but he hadn’t been in any mood to make small talk with his wife. He was still downright irritated with her for dragging him to the country when he needed to stay in London where he could consult with his solicitor and his man of business as necessary.

  Still, he supposed he would have to expect his routine to be upset from time to time. Obviously taking a wife, even one with a huge family like the Presnells to help keep her occupied, was going to result in changes in his life. But all this fuss over Christmas? That was just silly.

  Of course, now that he thought about it, casting his memory back in time, he had some recollection of the Presnell family making a big to-do about Christmas the year he turned fifteen when he was out of school for the holidays. His mother had insisted they spend Christmas in the country that year. His father hadn’t been overjoyed about the idea but he’d adored his wife and could deny her nothing.

  Robert had known for years that his father and Mr. Presnell, who’d been great friends when they were young men, had decided to betroth the oldest son of one family to the oldest daughter of the other. Robert strongly suspected the two men had downed a few bottles of port before they’d concocted such a scheme but they’d taken the trouble to have a man of law draw up the betrothal papers. As it turned out, Robert was an only child, which meant he was engaged to marry the oldest daughter of Mr. Presnell.

  Robert had never expected to follow through on such a silly plan and he’d intended to tell his father so at the first opportunity. Then the Presnell family had invited his family to visit on Christmas day and Robert had seen for the first time in many years the girl he was supposed to marry.

  Although she’d been only thirteen years old, she’d already shown signs of becoming a beauty. But it wasn’t her looks that had enthralled Robert. If anything, her beauty had intimidated him. But her spirit! Ah, that was a treasure Robert couldn’t quite see himself tossing away.

  When she’d walked into the Presnell drawing room that long ago Christmas day, it was as though she somehow brought with her the illumination of hundreds of candles. The very air crackled with excitement and laughter seemed to lurk in every corner.

  Her pretty lips were almost always tilted upward into a smile that seemed to suggest she harbored fun-filled secrets she’d be willing to share with anyone who returned her smile. And her eyes! They sparkled with a combination of mischief and joy that invited all who saw her to join in her joie de vivre.

  They’d greeted each other, of course but that was the only chance Robert actually got to speak with her. Her five older brothers and six younger sister
s, a noisy bunch who amazed Robert with their energy and their shouted conversations and their laughter, kept Miss Presnell occupied. Still, by the time Robert and his parents took their leave that afternoon, he was far too fascinated with Alethea to mention ending the betrothal. If nothing else, he decided, he would like an opportunity to become better acquainted with her.

  Then, in mid-January, Robert’s mother had sickened and died and his father, who’d always been a solemn man, had become exceedingly withdrawn. He rarely smiled and grew obsessed with overseeing his estates. Where he had once trusted his men of business and estate managers, he now felt the need to supervise everything. He insisted that Robert join him in his pilgrimage from one estate to another so he could be instructed in all the matters that pertained to improving plantings and caring for the tenants and maintaining their various houses.

  When Robert’s father died some four years later, Robert was forced to face the fact that he was pretty much alone in the world. Both his parents had been only children, so Robert’s closest relatives were a couple of second cousins who contacted Robert only when they needed him to advance them a loan that they had no intention of repaying. Robert eventually cut those ties.

  If people whispered that he’d become just like his father, obsessed with his possessions, Robert paid them no attention. He understood that his interests lay more with the welfare of the people on his estates than in the riches he could glean from them. He also understood that he was not a jovial soul but he did pride himself on his conscientious care of the people who depended on him.

  In the intervening years, as he’d toiled almost continuously to keep on top of his many responsibilities, he’d nearly forgotten the Presnell family. He’d certainly forgotten that silly betrothal his father and Mr. Presnell had cooked up. And on the rare occasions when he thought of the Presnell girl he’d met that long-ago Christmas, he remembered her still as a girl of thirteen.

  Strangely, though, her memory still had the power to bring a wistful smile to his face.