by Carla Kelly
I will ask her. When her aunt and uncles have left, I’ll risk it. I won’t tell her about the title, I’ll be honest about the estate and the finances. And I’ll tell her that I am...more than fond.
His mind shied away from the word love. If he loved her and she refused him, that was going to hurt more than he thought he could stand.
Years of discipline, of hardship, of fighting his way up the Peninsula, had left no space for dreams. What if and I wish led to disappointment and unhappiness in his experience. But now, surely, he could let himself fantasise a little? The warmth of family life, companionship, the laughter of the twins, the challenge of Theo and most of all the woman beside him. Warm, loyal, lovely and, he strongly suspected, passionate.
And stop thinking about that here, he chided himself as the congregation began to file out, strangers smiling and greeting each other, the glow of the season melting normal reserve.
He looked down and Eleanor smiled up at him. ‘I am so glad I placed that advertisement.’
So am I.
* * *
Drew woke to the rattle of fire irons in the grate. That was a very inept housemaid. He rolled over and sat up to find Theo on hands and knees on the hearthrug.
‘What the devil are you doing?’
‘And Merry Christmas to you.’ Theo, who was wearing a banyan and slippers, did not look round. ‘I’m on fire-lighting duty. The girls have got the water heating, so if you go down and start bringing up the cans you and I can wash when I’ve done these.’
‘You really meant it when you said the servants had the day off?’
Theo balanced coal on the kindling, then touched a taper to the result. ‘Of course. There.’ He regarded the flames with satisfaction. ‘It will be warm in here by the time you’ve got the water.’
Drew scrubbed a hand through his hair, got up, found his own robe and slippers and splashed cold water on his face. He had the direst expectations for breakfast.
Maddie and Claire, in woollen chamber robes and with their hair in plaits down their backs, were ladling water out of the copper in the scullery into large cans. ‘Good morning, Drew! Merry Christmas.’
‘And to you both. Where’s Eleanor?’
‘Here.’ She emerged from the pantry, a basket of eggs under one arm, a jug of milk in her hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Drew,’ she murmured as she came up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Can you take cans up to the front bedchamber for Aunt and Uncle, to the one opposite yours for Uncle Tal and the room next to it for Cousin Joan? Then cans for yourself and Theo? We can manage one each for ourselves.’
‘Of course,’ he said, caught off-balance by that kiss and her smile and the charm of the thick plait of hair lying over the shoulder of her old woollen robe.
I’ll ask her tomorrow when her relatives have gone. I won’t be able to pretend nothing has happened—good or bad—with them here.
But he was going to slip into the drawing room and add a little extra to his present for her.
* * *
By nine o’clock everyone was dressed and downstairs. The sisters had banished the men and the older women to the dining room while they made breakfast alongside the servants who were cooking and eating their own at leisure.
‘Phew!’ Eleanor put a platter of bacon and eggs on the table and sat down as the twins brought in the coffee and tea pots. ‘That is all for now. We can cook more if anyone is hungry when this has gone.’
They could cook, Drew admitted to himself. His forebodings about leathery eggs, burned toast and bitter coffee had been wide of the mark. Perhaps Eleanor wouldn’t mind too much being mistress of a tumbledown house with very few servants...
* * *
After they had finished breakfast Eleanor announced that clearing up could wait until presents had been opened. ‘That will give time for the staff to finish in the kitchen and for more water to heat,’ she explained, ushering everyone into the drawing room.
Drew, she noticed, was quiet, almost subdued.
He’s retreating into himself because he feels an outsider.
‘Drew, will you hand out the presents?’ she asked, with sudden inspiration.
He nodded and took up a position by the laden table.
Goodness, how handsome he looks, she thought as she saw her aunt watching him. Aunt Dorothea smiled slightly and nodded. She approves. But what am I feeling so happy about? She approves of a charade, that is all.
It was an effort to keep her smile steady as Drew picked up the first parcel. ‘Sir Gregory, this is for you.’
Everyone watched as Uncle Gregory, who was one of those infuriating people who had to carefully untie every knot and smooth out the paper, eventually revealed a pair of embroidered slippers. ‘Madeleine, my dear, how thoughtful. And so beautifully stitched.’
Maddie, who had muttered and grumbled through weeks of sewing, beamed and took her own gift, one of Drew’s endearingly lumpy offerings. ‘Oh, how pretty! Thank you, Drew.’ She held up a charming little box, decorated in pink and cream and a dark brown pattern. ‘This will be perfect for handkerchiefs.’
He explained who had made the box and Aunt Dorothea, opening her own version of the same thing, remarked, ‘I am sorry that I cannot patronise such a worthy cause myself. Let me have the direction of the store, Captain, and I will include it in the letters I am writing to friends before my departure.’
Drew seemed surprised to find there were gifts for him, too. Claire, the best of them with a needle, had embroidered ‘D’ in the corner of six large linen handkerchiefs, Ellie had wrapped a handsome pair of calfskin riding gloves which he tried on immediately and thanked her warmly for her skill in finding just the right size. Eventually there were only two parcels left, one for Ellie and one for Drew.
She knew what his was: Maddie had framed a small watercolour portrait of her elder sister with cardboard and gilt paper and she held her breath as Drew unwrapped it. Maddie was better at landscapes than people and she hoped he would not show any amusement at her lack of skill.
He was so quiet as he looked at it that Maddie was becoming anxious. Then Drew smiled at her. ‘This is wonderful. Almost as lovely as the sitter.’
‘You like it?’ Maddie was beaming now, used to the teasing with which her siblings normally greeted her artistic efforts.
‘You have caught the sweetness of her heart and the intelligence of her mind,’ Drew said simply and Ellie had to swallow hard before she disgraced herself with tears.
He handed her the final present and she realised it was from him. Another of those lovely little boxes by the feel of it. She opened it and saw it was decorated in green and gold and, as she moved it in her hands, something shifted inside. ‘This will be perfect for ribbons,’ she said, lifting the lid. Inside was a small tissue paper parcel that contained a pendant made of a green stone, heart-shaped, a little worn and chipped. It looked very old, very lovely.
‘Drew, this is exquisite.’
‘It is rather battered, I’m afraid. I found it in the mud beside a ford in Spain,’ he said. ‘I’ve carried it ever since. It was my good-luck piece.’
‘But I cannot take your luck,’ she protested. ‘It has kept you safe all this time, even at Waterloo you survived those horrible wounds—’
‘I don’t need luck now,’ he said quietly, for her ears only. He seemed almost serious, despite the smile. ‘What I want is more important than something that can be trusted to providence.’
Did he mean her? ‘Drew?’ Ellie whispered.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said as he sat beside her. The others were showing each other their presents, talking loudly enough across each other for them not to be heard. ‘If I am disappointed, or if I am joyful, I will not have to hide it from your aunt and uncle.’
He intended to propose, he could mean nothing else. ‘I hope you will not be disappointed,’ she said, carefully,
then stood up. ‘The clearing and dishwashing party must assemble. Uncles, Aunt, Cousin, please make yourselves comfortable and try not to be startled at the sound of crashing china.’
‘It was only one plate, three years ago,’ Theo grumbled on his way to the door.
‘And a cracked tureen last year,’ Maddie said, following him.
‘I’ll clear,’ Drew said. ‘I doubt I’m to be trusted with good china and glass in soapy water.’
He fits in so well, Ellie thought, watching while she dried dishes.
Drew was bringing in fuel for the copper and stoking it up for more hot water and she tried not to stare at the way his arm muscles flexed or the ease with which he lifted the heavy coal bucket. Maddie was elbow-deep in the water, Claire was scraping and stacking, Theo was putting things away and from the servants’ hall came the sound of laughter and yelps of pain.
‘They are playing snapdragon, I expect,’ she said when Drew sent her a questioning look. ‘You know, raisins soaked in brandy, set alight and everyone tries to grab as many as possible.’
‘Lord, yes, I haven’t played that since I was a child. My fingertips still smart at the memory.’
Ellie could imagine him as a child. Curious, intelligent, a bit wild. His hair would be unruly, his pockets full of catapults and shells and probably a pet mouse or a frog or two. For the first time she allowed herself to imagine what his own children would be like.
Our children.
‘Ellie!’
‘Oh, sorry.’ She took the dripping plate from Maddie and told herself that she was allowing her hopes and her imagination to run away with her. She might be building bricks out of straw—an entire house of them. Drew might have meant something else entirely.
And there was luncheon to prepare, now they were in the kitchen, just a light buffet of cold meats and fruit to set out. Then she could relax, knowing that everyone could just help themselves as the fancy took them and she wouldn’t have to worry about food again until evening. Speaking of which...
‘What can I do now?’ Drew asked, coming back in from the yard shaking pump water from his hands.
‘Potatoes,’ Ellie said, handing him a knife. ‘There’s a sack over there and a pan there.’
‘How many?’ he asked, eyeing the size of the sack.
‘Until I say stop,’ Ellie told him with a grin.
‘Is the head cook amenable to bribery?’ Drew asked and, before she could do more than squeak, she was in the pantry, the door closed, and he was kissing her.
‘Drew!’ Ellie batted him away. Her hair was coming down, one strap of her apron had slipped from her shoulder and she was panting. ‘The girls are out there, you, you, reprobate.’
‘I’ll behave myself,’ he promised, with a glint in his eyes that she did not trust one bit. ‘Just let me fix your hair.’
It was five minutes before she emerged from the pantry to find her siblings studiously engaged in slicing cold meat and bread, filling water carafes and looking so unconcerned and innocent that she wanted to throw the rolling pin at them, the little wretches.
* * *
So that is what Christmas is like, Drew thought at midnight as he stretched his toes out to find the best warm patch left by the warming pan. I had forgotten. Next year perhaps I will be sharing it with Ellie and Theo and the twins at Ravencroft Manor. Perhaps. Don’t hope too much, he warned himself. You should ask her to wait until you have the worst of things under control, until the estate is beginning to break even at least, and that won’t be by next year.
The thought that she might believe him a fortune hunter, that he could behave like one, had him tossing and turning until the bedclothes were tangled around his legs. It took the discipline that he’d used before battle to calm the anxiety churning his guts. He made himself think about the past day, about the laughter and the friendship, about the foolish charades and the cut-throat family card games where they played for the little mother of pearl fish tokens and Lady Wilmott had proved herself as dangerous as any card sharp.
The guests were leaving immediately after breakfast, he had learned. Dr Jenkins was travelling back to Cambridge and the Wilmotts were driving down to the docks for their ship heading for Genoa. The weather looked set fine, so he would suggest a walk in Hyde Park. There would be space enough to be private with Eleanor, to hazard his future and his heart with her.
I love her, he realised, finally letting himself accept what he had been avoiding for days. It wasn’t simply liking or desire or the pleasure of a ready-made family. It was the knowledge that if he couldn’t be with this woman for the rest of his life, then nothing would ever be quite right again.
Chapter Nine
‘Bliss! My favourite chair again.’ Maddie collapsed into an unladylike sprawl in the armchair closest to the fire and picked up a stack of newspapers. ‘Not that I don’t love them all dearly, but, oh, the relief of not having to be on one’s best behaviour all the time.’
‘That was what it was, was it?’ Ellie teased.
‘It is raining,’ Drew said from the window seat. ‘I had hoped we could go for a walk in Hyde Park.’ He sounded disproportionately disappointed.
‘Perhaps it will lift. It looks quite high cloud, don’t you think?’ She found she was holding her breath.
‘Yes, I think it will.’ The smile Drew gave her made her knees feel so wobbly that she sat down with a bump next to Cousin Joan.
‘And if it doesn’t I will put on sensible boots and take an umbrella and go anyway,’ Ellie announced.
‘Oh, no,’ Claire declared. ‘I’m not coming in that case.’
‘Nor am I,’ Maddie declared. ‘Look, Uncle left all these newspapers.’ She opened one. ‘I will read all the Court Circulars and fashion advice.’
‘I’ve got work to do,’ Theo said. ‘I can’t believe I really can go to Cambridge. There’s so much reading...’
‘Oh, good,’ Maddie said. ‘This is one of the papers we don’t usually get and it has a gossip column. But how provoking—all the names have initials and dashes. I wonder who Lady P. is, who is rumoured to be enamoured of a certain Signor A—L—, the world-famous tenor.’
‘Those columns are nothing but nonsense,’ Drew said sharply.
‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Drew,’ Claire said. ‘Read some more, Maddie.’
‘“The blank Regiment of Foot is reputed to be moving to camp near Brighton as soon as the weather improves... Colonel Y is selling his string of racehorses...” This sounds more interesting. “Where has the Vagabond Viscount vanished to for the festive season? Captain A—P—S—has not been sighted at the clubs or at Albany this past week. Can it be that the gallant but cash-tight Captain has been courting among the heiresses over Christmas? And when will we see Viscount R—, his fortunes restored, gracing society?”’
Behind her she heard Drew move and then go still. Maddie lowered the newspaper. ‘Captain A—P—S—, who lives at Albany?’ she said slowly. ‘Captain Andrew Padgett Something, perhaps? A viscount?’
A shiver ran down Ellie’s spine as though traced by a cold finger.
No. Coincidence. Drew was not a fortune hunter. Drew was not some impoverished aristocrat hunting for an heiress.
‘I am Andrew Padgett Stanton. Viscount Ravencroft as of mid-January,’ Drew said behind her. His hand, large and warm, touched her shoulder and she shook it off with a violent twist. She couldn’t look at him. ‘I was going to ask you to marry me today.’
‘A viscount,’ Ellie said, staring at the fire. Anywhere as long as it was not at her family. At Drew. ‘A viscount only marries an illegitimate granddaughter of a coal merchant for her money.’
‘I was going to ask you to wait until I had the estate on its feet, at least.’
At least he has the grace not to make protestations of love.
There was a gasp from the woman beside her.
‘Twins, Cousin Joan has fainted.’ She stood up then, made herself turn. Drew was white about the mouth, his stance rigid. ‘I think you had better go now. Apply to Mr Ague for the balance of your fee. You have, after all, earned that in full.’
She thought he might protest, try and explain, tell her something that she could accept, although goodness knew what that might be.
Drew—Viscount Ravencroft—made a small bow, turned on his heel and walked out.
Behind her someone swore. ‘Theo, mind your language,’ she said automatically, then, ‘And stay where you are. I’ll not have you brawling in this house.’
When the front door banged closed Ellie put down Cousin Joan’s hand that she had been chafing, gently shrugged off Claire’s arm that was around her shoulders and stood. ‘The charade achieved what was needed,’ she said. ‘That is the main thing. And I may answer Uncle Gregory honestly when he asks me why the marriage has not gone ahead.’
She went into the study, found pen and ink and wrote a note to Mr Ague, requesting that he investigate Viscount Ravencroft. If there were repercussions from this incident she needed to know what she was dealing with. Then she went slowly upstairs and looked into Theo’s bedchamber. The gloves she had given Drew lay neatly in the centre of the bed.
One of the maids came when she rang. ‘Change the sheets and move Mr Theo’s things back into this room at once, please.’
‘The Captain has left his gloves, Miss Jordan.’
Ellie picked them up and put them in the trunk on the landing. They would serve as a reminder not to trust any man, if she was ever so foolish as to listen to her heart over her head again. Then she went downstairs. Hobson was in the hall, his expression rather less neutral than usual.
‘Miss Jordan, has—?’
‘The Captain has left. For good.’ She glanced up. ‘And have that mistletoe removed, Hobson.’
