The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance (15 page)

An hour later
she stood by the doors that opened to the terrace, breathing a bit heavily, for
she had danced not only with Lord Glencairn, but also Lord Leithly and Lord
Francis, and Mr. Beattie had solicited her for the next. As she gazed through
the glass, she saw the light of lanterns bobbing through the white of the snow.
A group of villagers was approaching, swathed in greatcoats and hats and
scarves, their faces ruddy from the cold. As she watched, they mounted the
steps to the terrace, and, forming a semicircle, began to sing.

“Oh,” Harriet
breathed, and turning the handle on the door, pushed it open. The cold air hit
her, but she did not mind, for the carolers’ voices as they sang “Whilst
Shepherds Watched their Flocks by Night” wafted through the still night and
drove all other thoughts from her mind. In the drawing room, the dancers
noticed the cool air flowing through the room and heard the sound of singing,
and the musicians slowly stopped playing, until the only sound in the room was
that of voices raised in song.

The guests
crowded up to the doors, and viewed the scene as snow drifted gently down onto
the shoulders of the carolers. They sang “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,”
continued on to “The First Noel,” and then produced a rousing rendition of “The
Holly and The Ivy.” When they had finished, Lord Glencairn stepped forward.

“I thank you,
good friends,” he said. “But now, you have earned a reward. There is a meal set
out in the Great Hall for you, and I hope you will honor me by sharing it.”

With many
cries of Merry Christmas and hearty exclamations of thanks, the villagers
trooped through the doors and into the Great Hall. The guests followed them, and
Harriet gasped to see the repast that had been set out while the company had
been dancing. Bread, meats, cheese, oranges, apples, and sweetmeats were laid
out on an enormous table spread with a white cloth, as well as a barrel of beer
and a huge bowl of steaming mulled wine. The carolers set to with good cheer,
and many of Glencairn’s guests joined them, thirsty after the dancing. For a
few minutes the distinction between gentry and villager fell away, and everyone
conversed cheerfully as they ate and drank. At the earl’s urging, the household
servants joined the crowd as well, and soon the mood was festive indeed.

Harriet looked
up to see Lord Glencairn standing next to her. “It’s lovely, my lord,” she
said.

“Another
tradition here at Glencairn,” he said. “The carolers always come to the castle
last, and we fortify them for their return home. It’s a cold night to be out,
but I am always glad to hear them singing. It is one of my very first memories,
listening to the villagers sing on Christmas Eve.”

“You are lucky
to have such a strong family, and the love of your tenants and neighbors,” said
Harriet.

Glencairn
looked at her thoughtfully. “I am lucky indeed,” he said. “And yet—”

Harriet
glanced up at him questioningly, and he nodded towards the empty drawing room.
“If I might have a moment of your time, Miss Walcott?”

Harriet
hesitated a moment, looking around, and saw that Isobel and Francis were
chatting cheerfully with the vicar, while Catherine and Mr. Beattie had found a
dim corner, and were chatting over cups of mulled wine.

“Very well,”
she said in a small voice. She followed Lord Glencairn into the drawing room,
where he closed the terrace doors as she stood by the fire anxiously. She eyed
the doors to the Great Hall, but no one appeared to paying the least bit of
attention to her and the earl.

Glencairn
approached her, and stood a moment, gazing down at her pensively. “Miss
Walcott, I believe you know in what great esteem I hold you,” he began.

“Oh, no,” said
Harriet, her eyes welling with tears. “My lord, I beg of you, please do not do
this. I am very honored indeed, but I believe you made your sentiments quite
clear this past summer.”

Lord Glencairn
shook his head. “Miss Walcott, you must allow me to beg your pardon for my lack
of gallantry toward you some months ago. I spoke the truth when I enumerated
your many fine qualities, but I did not express appropriately the depth of my
emotions. You rightly rebuked me, and I have had a great deal of time to regret
the way I phrased my proposal to you.”

Harriet peeped
up at him. “The depth of your emotions?” she repeated.

Encouraged,
Lord Glencairn relaxed a bit and smiled. “Yes, the depth of my emotions. I had
thought of myself as long past such things, that my feelings for my first wife
were of such a nature that they could never be replicated. And indeed, they
cannot be, nor would I wish them to. Any other love I have must be new, and
only for the one I have chosen, not a shadow of something that is long gone.”

Harriet
appeared momentarily perplexed. “My lord, are you attempting to say that you
have some feelings for me?”

At that,
Glencairn laughed. “Yes, Miss Walcott, I am attempting to do that, though
apparently with something less than the glib tongue of a young man. I have
learned the lesson you taught me this summer well; in your absence I have been
less happy, less pleasant to others, and sunk in what I can only call
melancholy. I neglected to finish the folly, and my children have called me
dull. I have come to understand that your kindness, your gentleness, and,
indeed, your affection are all things that I cannot live without.”

Harriet’s eyes
widened and she clasped her hands nervously in front of her. “Lord Glencairn, I
do not know quite what to say,” she murmured.

“Then please
hear me out, Miss Walcott,” said the earl. “I realize now that in my proposal
this summer I did you no honor, but rather offered you an insult. Wishing to
repair my error, I conspired with Lord and Lady Francis to bring you here, and
I have done my best over the past days to show you how much I value your
company and desire that I should always have it. Please, Miss Walcott, will you
now do me the honor of accepting my hand and my whole heart in marriage?”

“Oh!”
Harriet’s eyes lit up, but then her doubts rapidly reasserted themselves. “Lord
Glencairn, that is a very pretty proposal indeed, but—”

The earl
looked at her with some amusement. “But what, Miss Walcott?” he asked.

She gazed back
at him, and then a smile broke across her face. “But I can find no fault with
it at all!” she said, beginning to laugh.

Lord Glencairn
stepped forward hastily and took her hands in his. “Miss Walcott—Harriet!—you
have made me the happiest man in Scotland this Christmas Eve.” He pressed one
of her hands to his lips, and then stepped forward boldly and took her in his
arms. Before Harriet could think, he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that
managed to chase away any vestigial concerns about whether his declared
emotions were genuine.

“Oh, my lord,”
she murmured, raising one hand to her head to straighten her cap, which had
come unaccountably askew.

“Euan,” he
said firmly.

“Euan,” she
repeated dazedly.

Lord Glencairn
led her to the door of the drawing room, and faced the crowd still celebrating
in the Great Hall. He walked forward with Harriet until they stood just under a
ball of mistletoe dangling from one of the immense candle laden chandeliers.

“Ladies and
gentlemen!” he cried.

Curious eyes
turned his way, and a grin came over Lord Francis’ face when he saw Harriet’s
hand firmly clasped in the earl’s.

“Ladies and
gentlemen,” he said again, a bit more quietly, as the hubbub had subsided. “I
am gratified to inform you that Miss Walcott has graciously agreed to bestow
her hand upon me in marriage.” Once again he clasped Harriet in his strong
arms, and kissed her in front of the happy crowd

The guests
immediately erupted into a chorus of congratulations, and as
Glencairn released her, Isobel stepped forward and hugged Harriet tightly.

“My dear, I am
so happy for you,” she said.

“I—I am very
happy myself,” said Harriet in a bemused tone. As she paused, Sophy flew across
the room and threw herself into Harriet’s startled embrace.

“How perfect,”
she said. “I have longed for this, and I was terribly sad when you left this
summer and my father had not proposed to you.”

Harriet smiled
at Sophy’s glowing face, and clasped her tightly. Lord Glencairn gazed at the
two of them contentedly.

Everyone
present raised their glasses in a toast, and someone in the crowd of carolers
called out,”Pipie, let’s have a reel in honor of the Laird and his new Lady.”

A sturdy man
stepped out of the throng, with his bagpipes at the ready, and stood at the end
of the hall. As he began to play “High Road to Linton,” everyone formed up for
an eightsome reel. Out of the corner of her eye, Harriet saw Catherine Dalburn
and Mr. Beattie join hands again, and smiled. She turned to Glencairn,
squeezing his hands and smiling with pure joy as he swept her into the dance.

Harriet awoke
the next morning when Janet came to light the fire in her bedroom and bring her
a cup of tea.

“I know it’s
early, madam, but you’ll want to go to church this morning with the Laird, will
you not?”

Harriet sat up
quickly. “Goodness, yes!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier
on a Christmas morning. Of course I will join his lordship. When must we
leave?”

“Oh you’ve
plenty of time, madam. It’s not a long way to the church; I suppose his
lordship will have arranged for the carriage in an hour’s time.”

Harriet
resisted an urge to leap from her bed, and sipped her tea instead.

“The red silk
and wool, please Janet,” she said as calmly as she could. “And my best shawl.”

Just one half
hour later Harriet entered the breakfast room to find Lord and Lady Francis as
well as Glencairn there before her. They were all looking extremely pleased
with themselves.

“Merry
Christmas!” said Harriet brightly. The festive red dress that she had changed
out of several mornings before made her complexion glow, and the heavy silk
paisley shawl she carried against the chill of the early morning added a
luxurious touch.

“How well you
look this morning Harriet,” Isobel said. “That dress is so becoming, and you
look very modish.”

“Perhaps it is
happiness,” she responded, hovering in the door.

Glencairn rose
from the table and walked over to her, taking her hand in his. He looked
impeccable in a well cut black coat that emphasized his height and broad
shoulders. Below it, biscuit colored pantaloons rather than the riding breeches
customary in the country emerged from Hessian boots polished to a mirror shine.

“Goodness,
Glencairn,” Harriet said. “How exceedingly elegant you are. I hope that the
parishioners appreciate your efforts.” She gazed around the table and saw that
Isobel and Francis were also dressed more elaborately than really required to
attend services, even on Christmas morning, at a country church.

“It seems that
we all have made an effort,” she added as she buttered a slice of toast, and
poured a cup of tea.       

“The rest of
the day will be spent quietly at home, so I suppose it is time better spent to
dress now, rather than worry about it this afternoon. I shall expect to see
both Glencairn and Francis in gorgeous silk banyans rather than coats tonight
at dinner,” responded Isobel playfully. She glanced at Glencairn. “I suppose we
must make haste if we are to be there promptly.”

Glencairn
nodded almost imperceptibly and rang the bell. “Thomas, have Hamish bring the
carriage around. We’ll be ready shortly,” he said to the footman who promptly
appeared. He turned back to his guests. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a minor
matter to attend to. I will meet you in the hall in a few minutes.” With that,
he strode out of the room.

The remainder
of the party finished breakfast and then trooped into the hall, where Lord
Francis donned a heavy wool great coat, and Isobel a fur lined cape and
fetching bonnet. Glencairn walked up behind Francis just as he held out
Harriet’s cloak for her and gently nudged him out of the way. In his arms he
carried a new heavy winter cloak, lined with the finest sables, which he draped
over Harriet’s shoulders.

Astonished by
the weight and softness of the unfamiliar garment, Harriet spun around to see
Glencairn smiling down at her.

“Euan,” she
gasped at the luxurious gift, staring at herself in the hall mirror and
touching the sable collar that framed her face, as she struggled to form a
response.

Glencairn
chuckled at her reaction. “You are mine to spoil now, and I wish to start by
making sure that the Scottish winter doesn’t freeze my English rose.” He took
her hand, and led her down the steps to the waiting carriage.

New snow had
fallen overnight, and sparkled in the winter sun as only fresh flakes do, as
they made the short drive to the parish church. Its grey stone also benefited
from the sunshine, glowing gold in the morning light, as the bells rang a merry
peal for Christmas morning. While small, the church was of a classic gothic
design, with high arched windows along the nave, and an oriel window above the
entrance, given by some long gone Learmouth ancestor. The light streaming
through the stained glass painted the interior of the church with a patchwork
of color, which bounced off of the vaulting, and illuminated a medieval
altarpiece of the Madonna and Child. Harriet walked on Glencairn’s arm to the
family pew at the front of the church, conscious of the many eyes upon them, as
Francis, Isobel, and Glencairn’s children followed them. While the organist
played a prelude, she silently prayed for blessings on the new life that lay
before her.

When the vicar
strode in, she rose with the rest of the congregation and let the ancient words
of the Common Prayer order of service roll over her.

When it was
time for the reading, the vicar stepped forward.
“And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people,’” he intoned.

 Harriet couldn’t help feeling that he had selected
the text just for them. She reached out to Glencairn, squeezing his hand, and
they exchanged a smile.

When the service was over, Lord Francis slipped out
of the pew, and whispered to the vicar as he prepared to greet the
parishioners. With a nod and a smile, he waited with Lord Francis, watching
Harriet and Glencairn.

Isobel had also left the pew, and now Glencairn
looked down at Harriet and held out his hand.

“Since we are in Scotland, there is no need to call
the banns,” he said. “And, as we are in my own parish, there is likewise no
need to find a blacksmith in some nearby town to marry us over the anvil. If
you will, we can be married right now. I even took the liberty of bringing a
wedding ring for you, my dear.”

Harriet looked around the sunlit church, taking in
the smiles on the faces of Lord and Lady Francis and the villagers milling
about in the aisles, and nodded mutely, too full of emotion to speak. “Oh,
yes,” she finally whispered.

The six of them walked up to the altar steps, and
the organist, seeing the vicar open his prayer book once again, began to play
from Handel’s Messiah, as they gathered. Harriet and Glencairn stood facing
each other, while Sophia and Isobel stood next to Harriet, and Francis and
Douglas joined Glencairn.

The vicar cleared his throat loudly. “Dearly Beloved,
we are gathered here today in the sight of God and this company, to join this
man and this woman in holy matrimony,” he began, and the congregation realized
what was afoot and turned to watch. They listened silently to the brief
ceremony, and when the vicar indicated that groom could kiss the bride, they
erupted into cheers as Glencairn embraced Harriet, who radiated joy. She smiled
at him, and then turned to hug Douglas and Sophia, who were clearly pleased to
know that Harriet was now truly part of their family.