by Silver, Lily
She was dressed in green silk brocade ball gown. Her hair was swept up in a chignon. A beautiful set of pearls with matching earrings completed Elizabeth’s attire. She hoped the silk gown would not be too hot with so many people in the room. It was the tropics, after all and they would be dancing. This was her first ball as Mrs. Donovan Beaumont. She’d been dying for an opportunity to wear this lovely gown.
Donovan was dashing in his coat of blue superfine. It brought out the blue of his eyes. He wore white breeches, a white linen shirt, and of course his gleaming black Hessians. His hair was secured by a black bow. He was without question the most handsome man in the room. Elizabeth may be slightly prejudiced, but as the other men in attendance were either her family or servants, she didn’t think she was too far off the mark in ranking her husband above the rest as attractiveness went.
Elizabeth’s spirits soared as the room filled up. She was anxious to have her part over with quickly so the dancing and feasting could begin. There were over fifty people gathered in the salon; the household staff, the stable hands, the guards kept about the estate to protect the family. The villagers from the wharf were arriving as well.
Captain Jack Rawlings entered the room at the end of the line and took his cup from Donovan. He stood a head taller than most men, a rugged blond Viking with golden hair and deep blue eyes. He was several years her husband’s senior, yet the captain was still very handsome. Captain Rawlings came to greet Elizabeth. The cook informed her earlier that he had brought not one but two smoked hams for this evening’s feast, at her request and a rare goose to be roasted for the family dinner on Christmas Day.
“Captain Rawlings. You’ve rescued my Christmas Party.” Elizabeth warmed to her praises of the man. “I cannot thank you enough. Where ever did you find two hams? Fritz has scoured the markets of St. Kitts and the island of Nevis in the past days and could not acquire one for our table. And you’ve brought a goose! How did you come by it sir? I must know your secret.”
He avoided Elizabeth’s direct gaze as he looked across the room at the large gathering. “All I can say is that the governor of St. Kitts will not be dining half as well as we will this holiday season.”
“Oh, do tell.” Elizabeth pleaded, desperate to know his secret so she would be well prepared for next year.
“Cargo goes missing from time to time.” He muttered. “And pray do not repeat this to anyone. A man must have his secrets, Lady Beaumont.” With that, he stepped away from her so she could not question him further.
Elizabeth knew what he was implying. They were pilfered goods. The captain and her husband had been pirates in the East Indies. Apparently the captain still had a penchant for looting when the occasion arose. And hadn’t Donovan been the one to nudge her toward the captain and solicit his help in the matter? Oh dear, once a pirate . . . always a pirate?
As soon as everyone had been served a cup of Wassail punch by the male family members of Ravencrest, Elizabeth nodded to the violinist, who did an opening note to draw the company to order. Everyone was quiet. Donovan came to stand at Elizabeth’s side, bearing a drink for her and one for him. He handed her a cup and placed his arm about her waist, drawing her near.
As the gathering looked at them, he began the speech. “I am told there is an old tradition in my wife’s clan, the O’Flahertys. In Ireland the lord of the castle would put on a feast each Christmas Eve for the benefit of his servants and his tenants. My bride, Lady Beaumont, has decided to continue the tradition here. My lady, you wished to say something?”
Elizabeth felt a rush of anxiety. All eyes were on her. She had planned it out just so, with Donovan introducing her before she spoke to their guests. Actually standing before a room full of people, all of them waiting for her to give a speech and propose the toast proved daunting. Donovan’s hand pressed against the small of her back, offering silent encouragement. With him at her side, she had nothing to fear. He owned the island, the plantation, and he employed all of these people. Her mother had taught her to rise to the occasion in society, and so as the Countess du Rochembeau, she must now rise to her destiny. She smiled at him and took a deep breath.
“I want to thank each one of you for your loyalty to his lordship and to myself.” she began, “When I came here from England a few months ago, I had a very arduous task before me as you well know; bringing this beautiful old plantation house back to life.”
There were nods all around and murmurs of agreement.
“I could not have accomplished this without your help. The entire first floor has been opened, cleaned and many of the rooms have been refurbished. I’m grateful to each member of my staff for their contributions to this endeavor.”
She paused, and then looked at her paid companion, the woman who started out as her personal maid. Chloe Ramirez was raised in position due to her loyalty during the difficult times when Elizabeth was struggling to assert herself against the very imposing housekeeper who had checked the new mistress at every opportunity. The housekeeper had been fired when Donovan learned what was happening. “Miss Ramirez, I’m grateful each and every day that you came to apply for a position within the household. Since that time you have become my dearest friend.”
Chloe Ramirez was radiant. Her cheeks blossomed, matching the deep rose colored gown she wore as everyone looked to the woman and nodded. Chloe’s dark hair was adorned with tiny white flowers. She nodded at Elizabeth’s praise, but Elizabeth didn’t miss the shimmer of moisture in the woman’s eyes. Chloe had had a very difficult life here growing up. She was the child of the former steward and a slave woman. Chloe was lovely, vivacious and intelligent. Yet most of the islanders had scorned her for her mixed heritage. Elizabeth didn’t care what the islanders thought of her companion. She knew she had found a true friend in the woman and it pleased her to acknowledge that fact before the others and put Chloe first among them.
“Giles,” Elizabeth addressed the butler next. “I am thankful that you came here from Basseterre to apply for the position of footman. I could not have accomplished all of this without your staunch support. You remained loyal when others within the household, who are no longer in our employ, worked against me. I thank you, sir . . . you are indispensible to me.”
The butler, who was dressed in a fine bottle green coat and matching waistcoat with gleaming gold buttons, remained tight lipped. He nodded at her words. He looked very different, dressed as a well to do merchant and not an upper servant. His neck was crimped with fine linens and his dark and silvered hair had been dressed for the occasion. Giles St. Vincent could have been quite the dandy in his younger days in England, causing a stir with the ladies.
She continued on, personally thanking each member of her staff for their service to her in the past months. Each one beamed with pride as she acknowledged their contributions before the gathering. There were twenty household servants, and each one deserved their moment of glory.
When Elizabeth arrived as a new bride every room had been closed up in the manor house, save the handful used by Donovan or his uncle. The housekeeper was in fact a useless trollop, so the house was neglected and infested with spiders and centipedes. Donovan had given Elizabeth free reign in the endeavor regarding funds. Still, it had been an exhausting undertaking. The rooms had to be scrubbed and painted. The chimneys had to be cleared of bird’s nests or rodents. The drapes all needed to be replaced due to moths. Thanks to her army of maids and footmen, every room on the first floor had been reclaimed. These faithful people all had a hand in the resurrection of the plantation house. They deserved this night feasting and celebration.
And thus she told them so, each and every one.
When Elizabeth finished with the staff, she turned the focus to her elder brother, Kieran. “Few of you may be aware that my family lost someone very dear to us many years ago. Mr. Kieran O’Flaherty, my elder brother, disappeared when he was just nine years old. My family believed he was dead. Tonight we are celebrating the return of my brother to the Wentwo
rth family. Kieran O’Flaherty is not dead, as we believed. We are blessed to have him restored to us and we as a family are celebrating Christmas for the first time together under one roof.”
Everyone looked at Kieran. He stood at the punch bowl, his ladle at the ready. His cheeks turned ruddy. He bowed to the audience and then to Elizabeth. “I’ve the best spot in the room.” He quipped, waving the ladle for all to see. “I’ll be getting into the punch soon, dear sister and then we’ll see if you still count me among your blessings.”
Everyone laughed and murmured welcome to him. Kieran didn’t imbibe in spirits. He was playing the part of the merry Irish host, just as their father would have if he were alive.
“And I brought two barrels of fine ale.” Captain Rawlings put in, lifting his cup of punch high like a trophy. “If the room isn’t spinning for every one of you by the end of the night, it’s your own fault, not mine nor Lady Beaumont’s!”
“Aye!” The men cheered, lifting their cups in response.
“To Lady Beaumont.” Captain Rawlings said, pirating away her toast to the the gathered staff. “Without her, none of us would be here, celebrating, as his lordship is not one for parties.”
“To Lady Beaumont.” Donovan echoed his friend’s sentiment as he lifted his cup in agreement. “Without my darling wife, my life would bleak and gloomy indeed.”
Everyone lifted their cups, toasting her. Donovan gave the signal to the musicians behind him to begin playing. As the song began, he took the cup from Elizabeth and set it aside. He took her hand and led her out into the middle of the room. The gathering parted for them, allowing them to begin the dancing as Bride and Groom, as if it were a wedding dance. Elizabeth was relieved to be rescued from her meandering speech by Donovan and his old friend, Captain Rawlings, aka Black Jack the pirate.
Everyone clapped when their dance ended. The musicians began playing the country dances she had specified to help the servants and villagers feel at ease. It was their party, after all.
As the evening progressed, the kissing ball Chloe Ramirez made was a popular target many of the men used to advantage. Captain Rawlings stole more than one kiss from the Spanish beauty because of it. Chloe didn’t appear to mind the captain’s persistence in spiriting her beneath it, much to Uncle Gareth’s chagrin. Few knew Uncle Gareth and Chloe were lovers.
Donovan’s hired men gave the captain stiff competition with the women. They danced with each of the household maids but Elizabeth noticed the men kept lining up to dance with the beautiful Miss Ramirez and whirled her under the implied mistletoe through the night.
Aside from Donovan’s Uncle Gareth, Captain Rawlings was the only man bold enough to ask Elizabeth to dance with him. She was uncertain about accepting his offer but Donovan insisted, citing that Jack was his oldest friend. That settled it. The awkwardness between Elizabeth and the captain was officially behind them if Donovan could approve of a dance between them. Captain Rawlings had offered to help Elizabeth when she’d briefly considered leaving Donovan some weeks ago. Donovan and the captain come to blows over the incident, and the captain had given Donovan a black eye.
“How are things?” Captain Rawlings asked her when they were out of Donovan’s hearing.
“Wonderful. Donovan is devoted to me.”
“I guess that leaves only the sea as a mistress for me, doesn’t it?” Rawlings replied with a sigh. “Unless your handsome companion would let me pay court to her? Miss Ramirez is a fine, elegant woman. Think she’d have an old salt like me?”
“She has formed a tendre for Uncle Gareth. They’ve been courting for some time.” Elizabeth told him as they came together and walked in a circle with palms raised together after a brief parting.
“My ill luck.” Rawlings complained. “All the attractive women keep getting snatched up.”
“Then you’d best stop lingering in my parlor pining for what you cannot have and set about snatching a woman of your own.” Donovan’s deep voice intruded behind them. He took her hand, cutting in to take the captain’s place as Elizabeth’s partner.
Donovan surprised Elizabeth as he appeared cheerful throughout the evening. He dragged her out to the dance floor several times with genuine enthusiasm to dance simple country dances. Elizabeth had no idea her husband actually liked to dance. She expected him to stand on the sidelines and brood, as he hated society gatherings. And yet, this was a simple party, with plain folk, not the nobles who betrayed him in the French court.
*******
Donovan was happy to encourage his bride in her generosity towards his retainers. The new staff had helped Elizabeth make the old plantation house into a true home. He whirled Elizabeth about the brightly lit salon as the musicians played another English country dance.
Elizabeth was brilliant in the candlelight. Her face was flushed, her red hair glimmering, and her sweet lips were pink and moist, ready to be kissed. Donovan guided his bride to the kissing ball hanging in the doorway, intent upon plucking yet another berry from the sphere to add to his pocketful. He had a wager to win with his uncle, after all.
And Miss Ramirez shouldn’t expect to have all the kisses this night.
The maids were being priggish about the mistletoe tradition, he noted. When strategically placed beneath the mock mistletoe ball by their dance partner, they turned their heads, offering a cheek to kiss. Perhaps they were concerned about their reputations as they were among the family they served. Donovan imagined if the same women were at a party in the village, they’d be much more robust in their responses to the men seeking their affections.
All except bold Sally and young Johnny O’Reilly. Those two were giving Miss Ramirez and Uncle Gareth a run for their money--or berries, as it were. Johnny was infatuated with the buxom maid, who was a few turns around the dance floor past his green, untried age of eighteen. Donovan hoped Sally wouldn’t break his stable master’s heart, but such vexations were part of growing up for a young man, part of learning how to dance with the fairer sex.
Donovan had much to celebrate this Christmas. His home had become more than a cold, shadowy refuge. It was now a warm, welcoming place, thanks to the woman in his arms.
And as for his many houseguests, Donovan knew that in the coming months their numbers would shrink as they returned to their homes. Soon he would be alone with his darling again, he mused as he maneuvered Elizabeth under the hanging berry sphere.
“How many berries are in your pocket? I’ve lost count.” She teased, giving him a dimpled smile. “Not counting the two you stole this morning, my lord.”
“Six.”
“And how many does Uncle Gareth have?”
“A lot more.”
“Then you’d best get busy, my lord.”
“I decided to be the better man and let him win.”
“Surely you jest?” Elizabeth’s adorable smile brought an answering call in his loins.
“What good are a handful of berries? I have something better, right here in my arms.” He leaned in to capture her lips in a sensual kiss, and was surprised when she didn’t rebuff him.
Lizzie seemed to have lost her reluctance regarding kissing him in front of others this evening. Her kisses progressed in length and passion each time he guided her to the kissing ball. Alas, she’d had several glasses of wassail punch--not that he was counting, mind you.
With a little persuasion, he might spirit her away for a secret tryst in the garden.
First, he had to give her the gift he smuggled into the house yesterday.
“Let’s go to the library. It’s quiet there and you can rest for a few moments.”
Elizabeth gave him an exasperated sigh. “My lord. We’ve discussed this. We cannot keep sneaking off to empty rooms and . . .” She paused, blushing profusely.
Yes, as he recalled it, she discussed his propensity to sweep her away and have his way with her many times in the past weeks. Donovan ignored her lectures, as any man would do. His only response was to just keep kissing her until she
succumbed to their rising desire. And he was careful with his darling. They hadn’t been discovered in an embarrassing pose, not once.
“I have a surprise to give you.” He whispered, grinning down at her.
“I’d hardly call your amorous attentions a surprise any longer.”
He shook his head, amazed at the path her mind moved easily down. “I’m not teasing, love. There was a package delivered here yesterday. It arrived from England. It took four men and a boy to move it.”
The look of pleasure and surprise on her sweet face was worth several fortunes. Donovan’s pleasure had a bitter tang as he recalled her recent poverty while living in exile with her stepfather. The thought came that this lovely young woman hadn’t been given any presents, not for a very long time.
“Let’s have a look, shall we?” He took her by the arm, urging her to accompany him to the solitude of the library so he could present her with the gift he knew she would adore.
*******
Elizabeth allowed him to spirit her away from their guests.
She had her own surprise, and she wanted give him the news when they were alone.
They hurried down the corridor arm in arm to the library at the back of the house. Once they were outside the door, Donovan prevented Elizabeth from entering. He stood in front of her and took her hand. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”
“This is silly.”
“I’ve been planning this for some time. Just indulge me a little. Close your eyes.”
She did as he asked. She heard the door latch and then he took her hand to lead her forward.
Elizabeth kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t imagine what would be so large that it would require four men to carry it here.
