Christmas Roses: Love Blooms in Winter

by Putney, Mary Jo

  With a whoop, both boys ran off, content to be keeping busy.

  "Perhaps we might have mincemeat pies and a pudding, after all," Mrs. Carrington said thoughtfully. "Charles might come home, and it would be dreadful to disappoint him." She trailed after the twins.

  Sorting through the box of Christmas ribbon, Elizabeth cast a pensive glance at Diana. "Have the Drummonds heard from Jonathan? Do you think he and Charles are together?"

  Diana pasted on a smile to hide her weepy fear and started back to the ladder with a green and red plaid streamer. "The Drummonds will be here tomorrow. You can ask, but I should think they would have written if they had had word."

  "Fustian!" Sixteen-year-old Elizabeth expertly tied a bow in a red satin sash. "Mr. and Mrs. Drummond are so stiff-laced they read Marie's letters before she can post them. They won't allow Jonathan's name to be mentioned, but I know he writes. I just thought maybe Mrs. Drummond had said something to Mama."

  Perched on the top of the ladder, Diana reached down for the bow Elizabeth handed to her. If she concentrated on her task, she could almost forget Jonathan existed. It had been four years, after all. She should be very good at pretending now. "Jonathan always was one to write. Remember when they went off to Oxford together, the only way we ever heard about Charles was when Marie brought Jonathan's letters to read to us? Maybe they have had a letter and Mr. Drummond won't let them speak of it. Mama will persuade it out of him tomorrow, if so."

  The thought of Jonathan writing to his family cheered Elizabeth but only increased Diana's dismals. She had every reason to remember Jonathan's letters. Since they hadn't been formally betrothed when he went away to Oxford, he could not in all propriety write to her, but somehow he had managed to smuggle a missive or two to her whenever he could. Of course, it was only the continuation of a childish game, she told herself, but at the time those letters from her brother's handsome friend had been like diamonds and gold to her.

  Even during the holidays Jonathan had still hidden letters in their secret cache, and she had left him flowers and favorite poems and whatever trinkets had pleased her that day. He had delighted in teasing her for her choices, but he had worn the flowers in his lapel and memorized the poems to surprise her.

  She had loved him wildly then. Too wildly, she knew now. Looking into those passionate gray eyes and hearing his deep voice speak the poem she had said only to herself, she had fallen head over heels for Jonathan's charm despite the fact that he had never declared himself.

  For the second time that evening tears threatened, and she jerked hastily on the streamer she was wrapping around the pine boughs. A loop started to come loose, and she grabbed for it just as the drawing room door bounced open again, admitting the twins.

  "A coach and four! A smack-dab-up-to-the-rigs coach and four! Come see it, Diana! It's coming down the lane now!" Both young voices exclaimed this litany of excitement more or less in unison.

  Diana steadied herself and threw an anxious look at the tall, mullioned windows covered now in heavy maroon drapery. Charles! It had to be Charles. He was the only one they knew mad enough to hire a coach and four to carry him to the back of nowhere. Her heart set up an erratic beat, but she dared not let her hopes rise too high.

  "Well, it must be some poor person out in the snow looking for shelter for the night. Or perhaps the Drummonds are here early. Go tell Goudge we're to have visitors while I try to finish this up. Hand me the apples, Freddie."

  Diana's disinterest didn't douse the twins' excitement, and even Elizabeth deserted her to run to the windows and look out. Drawing back the draperies revealed a winding country lane filling with snow, the flakes white and dainty against the velvet backdrop of the night. Within minutes the carriage lamps grew brighter and the crack of a whip and a faint "Halloo!" echoed down the road. The twins dashed for the foyer, screaming with delight.

  Determinedly, Diana continued hanging the ribbons amid the greenery. She dearly wished to see her brother again, safe and sound and at home at last, but she could not bear the thought of some stranger descending from that carriage.

  "Two gentlemen, Diana! I see them climbing out!" Elizabeth reported from the window where she peeked discreetly from behind the draperies. "They've tall beaver hats and greatcoats and mufflers and Hessians, Di! Oh, they look very grand, just like they must in London. Oh, Diana, do you think I will ever be allowed to go to London with Marie?"

  Since this complaint had been heard ever since Elizabeth had turned sixteen, Diana ignored it in favor of the description of the gentlemen. They knew few London gentlemen, so these must be strangers come to ask the way. They would probably drive on shortly. Or perhaps Mama would ask them in for tea before turning them out again to the cold. She really ought to climb down and make herself respectable, but her heart wasn't in it. She so much wanted it to be two other gentlemen out there that she wouldn't be able to hide her disappointment.

  "Oh my, Diana! I think they're a trifle foxed! One just slipped on the road, and the other is laughing and holding him up. Oh, Diana, it has to be Charles. I know it does!"

  Elizabeth flew from the room, leaving Diana perched on the ladder biting back tears and praying as rapidly as she knew how.

  The draft from the opening of the double front doors spun the ribbons and threatened the candle flames. Diana kept to her self-appointed task despite the excited chatter outside the drawing room door.

  Two gentlemen, Elizabeth had said. It couldn't be. She wouldn't believe it. Superstitiously, she remained where she was, doggedly reaching for the next apple and the next bough. If she climbed down, it wouldn't be them. If she stayed on the ladder, it had to be them.

  "Diana! I've brought you a Christmas present! Where in blazes are you?''

  The laughing, familiar voice filled her heart with joy, and Diana turned eagerly, nearly toppling the ladder in her haste to greet her older brother. He was, indeed, wearing a snow-dusted great coat and looking exceptionally proud of himself.

  Behind him, another caped figure emitted a curse, presumably at the sight of her swaying indelicately on the ladder.

  Before she could hasten down, an elegantly clad arm with the strength of a vise clasped her waist, and she was lifted from her precarious throne. She scarcely had time to register astonishment before she was on her feet again, staring into once familiar eyes that had turned cold and forbidding since she had seen them last. He'd been injured!

  She covered a cry of shock with her hand. He dropped his arm and turned away.

  The chestnut hair she remembered falling over a high, intelligent brow now tumbled over an ugly raw gash. The arm that had so easily hauled her from the ladder sported a hand useless in its cover of white gauze. His undamaged hand gripped a walking stick to prevent placing weight on a leg he obviously favored.

  Irrationally, when he turned away, fury swept through her.

  * * *

  The hand Diana had raised to cover her shock should have worn a ring he knew by heart, but it didn't. The knowledge hurt, but her shock at his appearance stabbed more bitterly than any wound he had suffered at the hands of Napoleon's army.

  Stiffly, Jonathan Drummond glared at the traitorous friend who had forced him here. "I told you I shouldn't have come, Carrington. The coach can take me on to the manor. I'll be on my way, then."

  "You great clodding sapskull, you terrify my sister and then expect to walk out without apology or explanation? Besides, there's no one at the manor; if you remember the letter I showed you. This is our year to do the celebrations. Take off the dratted coat, and I'll find us some brandy."

  Jonathan glowered while his friend basked in the attention from his family. Charles's hair gleamed golden in the firelight as he threw off his hat, and the elderly butler happily gathered up his outer garments. While Mrs. Carrington tearfully hugged her prodigal son, the twins and his younger sister crowded around with excited chatter.

  Charles deserved his homecoming. The two of them had seen too much war.

&
nbsp; Jonathan withdrew into the shadows, doubting his welcome given the circumstances of his departure.

  As the brandy materialized, Jonathan gripped the goblet and watched Diana deliberately turning her back on him while she hugged her brother. Jonathan studied the lovely young woman who had grown from the pretty girl he had once courted. Her soft brown curls hung in charming ringlets about a throat as graceful as any swan's. The laughter he had remembered curving mischievous lips had faded. He understood and wished only that the floor would open up and swallow him. He should never have come, not like this, perhaps not at all.

  When she left her brother's side and turned in his direction, Jonathan bowed politely. "I apologize if I frightened you, but you had no business on a ladder. You could have tangled your feet in the hem of that flimsy little gown and broken your neck."

  The dangerously tottering ladder had raised visions of all the deaths he'd seen during four years of war. He had reacted instinctively—and stupidly.

  "It looks to me as if I have learned to take better care of myself than you have, Mr. Drummond," she said with a hint of irritation. "And it's my neck, if I choose to break it, as you have so recklessly chosen to risk yours."

  "Diana! Upon my word, is that any way to greet a guest? Jonathan, give me that coat and go sit yourself by the fire. Your mother will never forgive me if I let you catch a chill. Here, Goudge." Mrs. Carrington took the greatcoat Jonathan grudgingly surrendered and handed it to the servant. "Frankie, Freddie, give Charles a hug and take yourselves upstairs to Nanny. He'll still be here in the morning when you come down."

  When the twins protested, Charles grabbed their elbows and steered them toward the hall and stairs, whispering something excruciatingly funny in their ears. Bereft of her sons, Mrs. Carrington fluttered uncertainly about the room, then hurried off on other errands, leaving Elizabeth and Diana to entertain him.

  Apparently unaware of any tension, Elizabeth practiced the formal etiquette of the tea table. Jonathan was surprised that she was old enough to do so, and that Diana allowed Elizabeth to take her place pouring tea.

  Instead of sitting down for a cup so he might join her, Diana defiantly returned to the ladder.

  "Did you stop to see your family in London before bringing Charles home, Mr. Drummond?" Elizabeth inquired politely.

  Just out of the schoolroom, she was unaccustomed to dealing with elegant male strangers, particularly ones who favored brandy to tea and glared at her sister with such ... venom? Elizabeth didn't think that was the word, and she cast a quick look at Diana, now fastening the last batch of apples on the boughs.

  Her sister looked particularly pretty tonight with her cheeks all flushed from working so hard on the kissing bough and her curls all disheveled just like in the ladies' books. The black velvet gown with the lovely violet ribbons contrasted nicely with the whiteness of her throat and shoulders, and Elizabeth wished she had thought of fastening a ribbon about her neck since jewelry was forbidden. It looked quite fashionably simple, and she had a glimmer of understanding of why Mr. Drummond kept staring at Diana.

  This near-stranger tore his gaze away from Diana to reply. "My parents apparently left before us. Since they don't seem to be here yet, I suppose they chose to rest overnight while we rode on. That's their usual style. They should be here by morning, I venture to say."

  Above them, Diana gritted her teeth at this stilted speech. The Jonathan she had known had been full of life and laughter and eagerness. He had defied his father by saving his quarterly allowance until he had enough to buy his commission into the cavalry. He had gone off to war determined to defeat Napoleon and return a hero.

  Now here he was, wounded and ill and probably half-foxed, sounding as pompous and bored as his curmudgeon father. She had half a mind to throw an apple at him where he sat sulking behind the barricade of a great wing chair.

  As if in answer to her thoughts, Charles returned, glanced from her to Jonathan, and scowled.

  "Get down from there, puss. That's my job." Charles grabbed her waist and hauled her down. Then, throwing off his long-tailed frock coat, he climbed the flimsy ladder, nearly reaching the ceiling when he stood on the top rung. "Now give me the rest of those apples. You would never have got this top branch right."

  "Charles!" Diana gasped as he swayed alarmingly. "Do come down, Charles. You do not look at all safe up there."

  Jonathan observed his friend's assumption of the role of man of the house with wry interest, and he, too, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I daresay you enjoyed the innkeeper's punch a trifle too much, Carrington. You'll make a proper botch of a perfectly good garland if you don't climb down."

  "I can hold my liquor as well as you, Drummond, and you had twice as much of the grog. You just rest there like a proper invalid and let me take care of things. Diana, where's the mistletoe?"

  "Mistletoe?" Diana stared dubiously upward at her slightly wobbly brother. He looked remarkably handsome in his crisp white cravat and linen, and she was thrilled to have him home again, but he was just a wee bit too tipsy for his own well-being. "You do remember this is a house of mourning, Charles? I don't think Mama would approve of something quite as frivolous as mistletoe."

  Her words had an instant effect. Charles stared down at his sisters in their stiff mourning and went silent. He climbed down a few steps, then suddenly slumping over the ladder, he propped his elbows on a rung and held his head in his hands. "Do you think I can forget, Diana? Do you think for one instant of these last months I have thought of anything else but you and Mama and the children and how selfish I have been? I should have been here. I shouldn't have to be notified by letter a month after the fact. Devil take it, I left him to die alone with only women and children at his side." His voice rose as he spoke, and he pounded the trembling ladder with his fist for emphasis.

  Jonathan rose and grasped his arm to help him down. "He was proud of you, Carrington. You showed me his letters, remember? He was as proud of your accomplishments as if they had been his own. Be glad of a father like that. You could have had mine."

  Shocked by the bitterness she had never before heard in Jonathan's voice, Diana glanced in his direction—as she had tried very hard not to do since he'd entered.

  Even with the vicious scar across his brow, Jonathan was a handsome man. His deep-set eyes held wells of compassion. She had seen his heavy eyebrows frown like thunderclouds when he observed injustice. His aquiline nose and distinguished cheekbones revealed his pride, however. The years of war had worn away any forgiving softness, and the taut lines of his features revealed the man who had once been a pampered boy. She gulped back a heartbroken sob at what had once been and was now lost.

  Mrs. Carrington entered as Charles climbed down, dispelling the silence that had fallen. "I have the servants airing your rooms and warming baths for the both of you. You must be weary. Elizabeth, it's time for you to retire. I will need your help with the twins in the morning. Diana, if you would come to the kitchen, I need to discuss tomorrow's menu."

  Diana and Elizabeth exchanged glances of surprise over their mother's renewed energy, but hastened to comply. While Elizabeth trailed in their mother's wake and Charles carried out the box of ornaments, Diana gathered the nearly untouched tea tray and cups. Jonathan lingered in the doorway, watching. She studiously pretended he had left with the others.

  "I liked your father. I have not offered my sympathy at your loss."

  Diana started. His deep, masculine voice had often caught her by surprise when he came home for the holidays and spoke from behind a door or wall or tree. The same thrill went through her now when she had no right to feel it.

  She swung around to face him. He was not just a fantasy in her mind any longer but a man, a soldier returned from war, a person with dreams and a life of his own. Once, she had thought that life would include her. His cold silence since he had departed for the war had taught her differently.

  "He was ill only a brief time. Perhaps it was better that way. It just se
ems very ... strange, without him." To her disgust, Diana felt her eyes filling with tears again. She so desperately wanted to be cosseted and told everything would be all right, but as the eldest, she had been the one to comfort the others. There had been no time for self-indulgence.

  Jonathan heard the way her voice broke over the words, felt her anguish, and wished he had the power to give her the comfort that she needed. She had made her antipathy clear from the moment he had walked into the house, however, and he had too much pride to take a second rejection. He still did not understand the first.

  "Things have changed all over, Janey.'' He used the secret name they had chosen when they were children. "It's a part of life and growing up. Sometimes it's for the good, sometimes it's not." He shrugged and glanced around him. "This room, even. I like the painting of the hunt. That's new. But I miss the old secretary. Whatever happened to it?"

  At this casual mention of the old hiding place for their childish notes and secret love letters, Diana turned away. "The twins ... The twins decided to experiment with fire with the pair of candles we kept there. The blotter they were testing—" she hiccupped on what could have been a sob or laughter—"went up in a sheet of flame, scorching the desk, not to mention their little fingers. Mama always meant to have it refinished, but she never did. I suppose it's still up in the attic."

  A sudden, extremely painful thump paralyzed Jonathan's heart. It could not be. It was not possible, was it? All these years, all these confounded lonely years thinking she had rejected him ... Could she really not have known he would never have left her without a word?

  Tentatively, he probed for more information. "That must have been some time ago. They look too old for such mischief now."

  Diana gave a shaky laugh and finished gathering the last of the cups. "They are only just recovering from broken bones after falling from the apple tree, but at least they have learned their lesson about fire. It's been nearly four years since they've touched a candle, since a little after that Christmas when you left, as a matter of fact."