Now, the thought of the huge beef roast and mince pies she had seen in the kitchen made her ill. She was starving and yet the thought of food sickened her to her very soul.
How could it have all gone so wrong?
Was there truly some basis to the superstition that a woman stepping over the threshold on Christmas day brought death and ill-luck for the remainder of the year?
Had she been the first to step foot inside Elizabeth’s house, or had Edward, indeed been the first to enter?
Chapter Four
Edward studied Caroline’s expressive face and felt his heart contract in sympathy.
What a damnable situation.
If only she had not chosen this day, of all days, to make amends with her estranged sister. And yet he knew Caroline so well that he recognized the need that had driven her here. Last Christmas her family had elected to send her on to their country home in Surrey on the pretext of preparing it for the family’s arrival. Lord and Lady Bartlett spent the holidays with their smiling younger daughter, Elizabeth, and her new husband.
Caroline—lovely, generous Caroline—had spent the holidays airing out the house and eating her supper in her room, quite alone, awaiting their arrival. They had not returned for nearly six weeks.
He could not imagine any punishment worse for a woman who preferred the company of anyone—even a rascally young man nearly four years her junior—to solitude.
It was one of many things he could not forgive Lord Bartlett.
That and the Bartlett family’s thoughtless cruelty in reminding Caroline, again and again, that she was a failure. She had been left at the altar while her younger sister made off with the prized bridegroom.
He did not know why Lady Tarlton refused to see Caroline today—perhaps it was merely the silly Christmas superstition—or perhaps she belatedly felt guilty. But it was another careless unkindness that deepened the pool of anger swirling within him. He could not forgive any of them. He had been in love with Caroline for too long to ignore her distress.
His mouth twisted. If only she would stop remembering me as a feckless youth she had to oversee. She had never seen him as a man. Some bitter days, he thought she never would.
And Lady Tarlton’s sudden decision to give birth rather complicated matters.
“Miss Bartlett,” he said, catching Caroline’s wrist. “Why don’t you order some beef broth for your sister. I’ll see to Lord Tarlton.” He hoped the simple task would give her something to do and bring some color back into her wan cheeks.
She nodded and stepped toward the door. At the threshold she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Her sad gaze rested on the man who by rights should have been her husband.
Her look pained Edward more than he thought possible.
Surely she did not love Tarlton still?
She had lost weight and some of her bloom over the last year. But instead of making her less attractive, it had refined her features, molding them into clean alabaster lines. Even her warm, dark eyes had more depth and humanity, and an underlying strength that caught at his heart.
And they still shared that strange bond of humor between them. A touch of irony that few others understood. He had never met another woman with whom he felt so easy. Or one with whom he felt free to exercise his wit.
Over the last year, he had sent many a miss running away with tear-streaked cheeks because of a simple sally he thought would amuse her.
Caroline never ran. And she gave as good as she got, if not better.
The slow burn of attraction flared anew as he studied her. He wanted to catch her in his arms and see the fire of awareness flare in her eyes. But she was too fragile and demoralized to see him as anything other than a boy she had once known. And unfortunately, he had witnessed events she must prefer to remain secret.
And there remained the question of her feelings.
Despite her words and his own confidence in the rapport between them, he was unsure if she had ever really gotten over Lord Tarlton.
If she hadn’t, he was in for the devil of a time.
* * * * *
After an hour watching Lord Tarlton sweat and pace in front of the drawing room fire, Caroline felt ready to shake him. He seemed oblivious to their presence and babbled to himself about bloodied rags and unbearable moans issuing from his wife’s room. Occasionally he paused to pull at the small tufts of hair above his ears and ask the room if his wife was dying. Edward and Caroline both hastened to reassure him but he simply stared at them with incomprehension in his eyes and resumed his pacing.
His confusion shone a new, rather disappointing light on his character. Caroline could only be grateful she had not married him, since he seemed incapable of handling any emergency more serious than a hangnail.
Finally to Caroline’s relief, Edward quietly took control. He penned a note to Caroline’s parents, informing them of the birth of their first grandchild as well as the whereabouts of their eldest daughter. With the increasingly bad weather, it would be days before the Bartletts received the letter and returned to London, but at least it would relieve any worries they might have.
Then he ordered dinner before hunger made them all as pale and wild-eyed as his host and he advised Caroline to ensure her sister ate something, as well.
She nodded and left the drawing room, remembering Edward’s suggestion. Perhaps a bowl of soup and some fresh bread would convince Elizabeth of her good intentions.
On her way to the kitchen, Caroline met the upstairs maid carrying a tray. “Is that broth for Lady Tarlton?”
The maid nodded. “Yes, Miss Bartlett. The doctor ordered it, seeing how poorly Lady Tarlton was doing after her confinement.”
“Indeed,” Caroline replied dryly. From her perspective, both her sister and Lord Tarlton ought to be “confined”. The sight of blood had sent the pair into strong hysterics despite the fact that from what Caroline understood of the matter, Elizabeth had gotten off rather lightly.
She’d only been in labor for a few hours before her infant son slipped out like a wriggling little fish. Even the doctor had finished up and left with a cheery wave and a satisfied comment about the Tarlton’s lusty new heir. And yet, despite the encouraging words, Lord Tarlton remained damply pale and tore anxiously at his hair.
“I’ll take it up to her,” Caroline offered, holding out her hands to take the linen-covered tray.
A flicker of doubt crossed the maid’s round face. “But they’s about to serve your supper in the grand dining room.”
“Then I won’t stay long.” Caroline smiled as convincingly as she could. Surely the girl didn’t think she was going to poison Elizabeth! The situation was fast reaching such a high level of absurdity that no sane person would believe it.
“Yes, Miss Bartlett.” The maid reluctantly let go of the tray before Caroline had to wrest it out of her hands.
“Thank you. Tell Lord Tarlton I’ll be down as soon as I deliver this tray to my sister.”
The maid bobbed a quick curtsey and said, “Yes, miss.”
To Caroline’s surprise, when she faced the flight of stairs leading to her sister’s room, her heart fluttered in her chest. What would she do if Elizabeth screamed at her and told her to leave again?
If her sister got hysterical, Caroline would simply stay until Elizabeth’s reason returned. Then, they would talk calmly. Caroline straightened her shoulders and climbed the stairway.
One way or the other, she intended to make peace with the Tarltons and prove she was not pining away from unrequited love. In fact, given the last few hours, she couldn’t be happier that she was not, in fact, Lady Tarlton.
Outside Elizabeth’s thick, oak door, Caroline paused, shifting the tray to hold it against her waist with her left arm. She knocked softly and waited. Through the heavy panel she thought she heard the rising inflection of a soft question.
After a deep, slow breath, she forced a smile and opened the door. “Good morning, Elizabeth, how are you feeling?”
<
br /> “Oh, it’s you…” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off like the last gasp of a dying swan. She turned her head slowly toward the door, never lifting it from the mound of pillows.
A thick, down-filled quilt of pale pink silk reflected a lovely glow onto her pale skin and in Caroline’s eyes, she appeared more beautiful than ever. She was still pale and her dark eyes were deep pools within shadowed hollows but she still radiated the charm and a luscious, creamy complexion that captivated so many men.
Her thick brown hair, bound back into a long braid, draped over her slender shoulder. A few curling tendrils slipped out coquettishly from under the lacy cap she wore and a lace-trimmed shawl of pale ivory cashmere caressed her arms.
As Caroline stepped closer to the bed, she raised the tray slightly. “I’ve brought you something to eat. Your cook made an absolutely delicious beef consommé and some fresh rolls—and there’s even a pot of tea with lemon and honey.”
Elizabeth’s long lashes fluttered. She looked up at Caroline and frowned. “Am I supposed to eat? So soon? Did the doctor—”
“You must eat to keep up your strength. You’ve done so well, Elizabeth. We’re so proud of you and your new son! Congratulations! You must be so excited.” Caroline placed the tray on a small table near her sister’s canopied bed. Then she pulled off the linen cover with a flourish.
Elizabeth frowned although her small, pink tongue slipped out briefly to touch her upper lip. Her expression wavered between hunger and the desire to appear too fragile to eat.
“Come, Elizabeth,” Caroline said, adopting a bracing, coaxing tone. “Your husband and son need you. You know how delicate you are. You must at least drink some tea and have a small bite of the roll.”
Deliberately breaking open the warm roll, Carline buttered it, letting the steam carry the heavenly fragrance of the yeasty bread to her sister. Elizabeth licked her lips again, her gaze focused on the roll. Her slim, white hands shifted on the silken covers of her bed.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “I’m so tired. I’ve never been as strong as you.”
“I know, dearest. And that’s why you must eat.” After drizzling a spoonful of honey into a cup of tea, Caroline firmly set the entire tray on her sister’s lap.
Elizabeth picked up the cup of tea and took a sip, her long lashes fluttering with satisfaction. However, despite her brief surge of energy, she wasn’t quite ready to give up her wilted flower appearance so quickly.
“I’m just so exhausted,” she complained. After her slight exertion, she lay back for a moment with her eyes closed.
“Thank goodness all the women in our family were built to have babies easily,” Caroline said with a smile. When she saw her sister’s expression darken, she added hastily, “Of course, you were always delicate. You are not as ‘broad in the beam’ as the rest of us. I’m just relieved that your…confinement was not worse.”
The appeasing words smoothed some of the irritation from Elizabeth’s face. She glanced obliquely at Caroline and then dropped her gaze to the coverlet where her fingers picked at the smooth, pink silk.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said.
Caroline stared at her in surprise as her mouth grew dry with sudden, bashful nervousness. She was not ready to talk about the past. In fact, she wanted to pretend time had never existed before the moment when she walked through her sister’s bedroom door.
“Please, Elizabeth, you shouldn’t worry, especially not today. You’ve just given birth to a beautiful son. It’s Christmas. Don’t you remember how much we always loved this season?”
Elizabeth smiled and her warm, brown eyes rose to meet Caroline’s. “I know, but it was the pain, you see. I thought I should explain. I didn’t want you to see me like that. It might frighten you into avoiding marriage and children and I’ve been so worried about you. We have all worried about you.”
“You’re concerns amount to naught.” Caroline laughed in relief and bent over, catching her sister’s hand. “I was only worried about you. The rest was sheer nonsense. You should not have had to think about my wretched feelings. I’m just sorry to have arrived at such a difficult juncture.”
As she studied her sister, a rush of affection and love filled her, leaving her momentarily speechless.
At last, this is why I came.
This day finally felt like Christmas, full of gratitude and joy to be with her family and friends. Her thoughts flickered to Edward. Once again, she felt a startled recognition of him, not as a troublesome boy, but as a man.
But that frisson of awareness could not change her situation. She was still older and he would someday inherit an earldom. He was not ready yet to take a wife. When he was, he would look for a younger and wealthier woman, someone more appropriate to his position.
For now, he was practicing his flirting at her expense, just as he had used to exercise his wit on her when she watched over him. They had been two of a kind then and she had enjoyed his keen sense of humor.
Nonetheless, she could not entirely suppress the new, growing ache in her heart or her desire to go downstairs and see his smile once more.
Smoothing her heavy skirts, she gave her sister’s hand a squeeze before drawing her attention once again to the food.
“Come and eat, Lizzy. No more fretting over foolishness which I’ve already forgotten.”
“You were always so much…stronger than I,” Elizabeth smiled wanly and pulled the candle on her bedside table closer. “I can hardly see it’s so very dark in here.”
Heavy swathes of lush pink damask hung around the bed, keeping out the watery, gray light from the window. The room did seem stuffy, almost stifling with the fire behind them and heavy draperies protecting them from winter’s chill.
“Should I pull back the bed curtains?”
“No,” Elizabeth shook her head. “There’s always a draft in this room.”
“But it’s quite warm now,” Caroline glanced at the roaring fire across the room. When she glanced back, Elizabeth had shifted the candle even closer. A white silk scarf, carelessly wound around the bedpost, fluttered in the current of warm air from the flame. As Elizabeth brought spoonfuls of broth to her lips, her movements caused the candlelight to flare wildly.
“It’s too close,” Caroline said in sudden trepidation, reaching toward the candle.
Elizabeth, concentrating on her soup never glanced up. “Nonsense. You worry over nothing.”
Before Caroline could shift the candle back, the flame leapt and touched a soft fold of the scarf.
In an instant it caught hold, a small, yellow streak of fire running up the silken material.
She snatched the scarf away, her mind imagining the bedclothes and curtains catching fire. The flame leapt up the scarf toward her fingers. She could feel the scorching heat as she quickly shifted her hold. She glanced around frantically.
The fireplace was too far away—she might drop it on the carpet. Then she saw the window beside her. In one swinging movement, she thrust open the window and dropped the burning scarf outside. The wind caught at it and it soared into the air. The flames exploded over the material, eating it to ashes in a matter of seconds.
Relieved, Caroline gripped the sill and watched the faint remnants of gray-white ash swirls away. The crisp air smelled of fresh snow and the comforting scent of wood smoke from distant chimneys.
“What are you doing?” a harsh voice called from the doorway. Lord Tarlton strode into the room, slamming the door behind him. “I knew you were not to be trusted alone with my wife. Thank God I arrived when I did!”
Caroline stared at him. Her wits scattering as uselessly as the ash on the wind. “I beg your pardon?”
“I feel a draft,” Elizabeth said in a quavering voice. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Why is it suddenly so cold in here?”
Elizabeth had never noticed Caroline’s quick action.
“Oh, no,” Caroline looked over her shoulder, appalled as she f
ocused on the open window. No sign of the burnt scarf remained. She glanced down at her clean, white, unburned hands with a sinking feeling before she reached out and pulled the window shut.
Lord Tarlton reached out to his wife and grabbed one of her hands, rubbing warmth into it. “I’m sorry, my dearest. Are you chilled? Shall I call for the doctor?”
“It is a little cold in here.”
He glared at Caroline. “Had I known your sister would do such a foolish thing, I would never have allowed her to enter your room”
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth replied. Her eyes, filled with apology, caught Caroline’s. “She brought me this lovely tray—”
“Have you eaten from it?” he asked, his face mottled red with anger. He tried to pull the bowl of broth out of his wife’s grip but Elizabeth held fast to it.
“Tarlton!” she said. “Please, what’s wrong with you?”
He stood and eyed Caroline with such rage she took a step back.
“I didn’t try to poison her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Or give her a chill—” Caroline stuttered.
Elizabeth laughed, although the sound was uncertain. “You’re acting quite foolishly, my love.”
“Am I?” he turned and stared at his wife, his color returning to normal as his gaze grew tender. “Thank God I listened to Wexley before it was too late.”
“Too late?” Caroline repeated, unable to understand the remark. She felt almost numb from the constant emotional buffeting.
What had Edward said?
“He convinced me I was about to marry the wrong sister.” He stroked his wife’s soft cheek and smiled down at her with such fondness that Caroline felt like an unwanted intruder. “Wexley was correct.”
“How fortunate. Most especially since you think me capable of murdering my own sister.” Caroline muttered, stepping toward the door. So that was what happened two years ago.
Her words were spoken too softly for the couple to notice. They never glanced her way when she softly opened the door and left.
A Cotillion Country Christmas Page 14
