A Partridge in a Pear Tree (3 page)

Allison laughed at the memory of the bird swooping around with the plume in its mouth. “Indeed! But we cannot count on him and his family being so—dare I say it?—bird-witted with their objects. They have promised to present their turtle doves tomorrow morning, and they might come up with something quite clever.”

“Do you think so?”

“
Anything is possible.” She stopped in front of her chamber door. The twins were already inside, she could hear them running about and giggling. “This is my room here.”

William looked down at her, his shadowed face serious in the flickering light from her candle. “Miss Gordon. I...” His voice faded, and he glanced away, as if he longed to say something but could not quite find the words.

She wondered what it could possibly be. “Perhaps you could all me Allison. When we are not in company. Miss Gordon sounds so very formal.”

He gave her a dazzling smile, and leaned closer, so close she could smell the fresh, clean scent of his lemony cologne. She wanted to breathe him in deeper. “And you should call me William. Since we are such old friends now.”

Allison scarcely dared to breathe. “Are we friends?”

“
Do you not remember the last party we attended here? We spent much time together then.”

“
Time where you pulled my braid and called me 'Ginger',” she said crossly, trying to banish the spell his warmth wrapped around her. She had her family to look after, a scavenger hunt to think about. She couldn't afford to fall under William Bradford's distracting spell.

He laughed. “I only wanted to get your attention. And I was too young to know that was not the way to do it. I am most sorry I called you Ginger. Am I forgiven?”

“Perhaps,” Allison murmured, leaning back against the door to smile up at him. “Now, I should go in before the twins destroy the room. I have French hens to think about.”

“
Oh, yes,” William said with an exaggerated sigh. “The scavenger hunt. I must think about that, too. And I should go look in on Bertie and Susan, see if they are happy with the chambers Lady Kirkwood gave them for the night.”

“
They seemed quite content with the cakes and ale they were consuming with all the upper servants!” Allison said with a laugh. “They were certainly having more fun than we were in the grand drawing room.”

“
So they were, though I don't think anything could be quite as much fun as watching that bird steal Letitia's plumes. Good night, then—Allison.” It was the first time e had called her by her given name. The sound of it was so very sweet in his deep voice.

“
Good night, William.” Allison gave him one last smile, then ducked into her chamber to close the door between them. She wished with all her might she didn't have to do that.

Kitty and Jane, already clad in their nightdresses, were chasing each other around the room, swinging pillows and laughing. They stopped in mid-run to stare at Allison with wide eyes.

“Allie!” Kitty cried. “You are blushing.”

Allison pressed her palms to her cheeks, which did indeed feel too warm. “Don't be ridiculous, Kitty dear.”

“It's because she
likes
Mr. Bradford,” Jane sang. “She was talking to him out in the corridor for ever so long.”

“
Allie likes Mr. Bradford!” they chorused, joining hands and dancing around in a circle. “Allie likes Mr. Bradford!”

Allison forced down the urge to giggle with them. Instead, she went and took the girls by the hands, leading them briskly toward the connecting door to their own room. She had to be the older one, after all, the sensible, practical one. No matter how silly she felt just hearing his name. “What nonsense. You girls should employ your energies toward figuring out where we can find three French hens, not conjuring up romances for me.”

**

William stood in the corridor for a long moment, staring at Allison's closed door. He could hear muffled laughter and chatter from within, and he longed to go inside and join them in the merriment.

His life had been devoid of laughter for so long, and Allison Gordon and her sisters radiated it so effortlessly. He was drawn to it like a warm fire on a frozen day.

But he knew he could not. He was in no position to take care of a wife properly. His estate was falling about his ears, and its gray halls were no place for Allison and her merriment. He had his sad sister to take care of, and a scavenger hunt to win.

As if to confirm those solemn thoughts, a small, cool hand slid into his. He looked down to see Gertrude had joined him, slipping up as silently as she usually did. She was still looking very solemn, but he thought her thin cheeks looked a bit pinker. The exercise of the day must have agreed with her.

“
Hello, sparrow,” he said. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“
I wanted to wait and say good night to you.”

“
Aren't you very tired?”

She shook her head with another ghost of a smile.

“I was just off to check on Bertie and Susan in the servants' hall,” he said. “Would you like to come along?”

Her eyes widened. “Won't there be
lots
of people there?”

“
Very probably. They were having some Christmas ginger cakes. Maybe they would share with us.”

“
Really? Ginger cakes?” Her head tilted to the side like she was a sparrow indeed, and much to his surprise, she nodded. “I would like that.”

Chapter Four

Three French Hens

“This is intolerable! Completely intolerable.” Sir Reginald slapped his hand against his bedroom window, as he watched the Gordons and the Bradfords go tripping off down the graveled driveway in the pale morning sunlight. “I am meant to be the heir to everything. What good is this house with no money?”

Letitia did not even look away from her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She leaned forward and carefully dusted rice powder over her cheeks. “You said if we came here we would be sure to be the heirs. I did not want to leave Town to travel in the middle of winter, but you said...”

“I know what I said!” he interrupted impatiently. “How was I to know she would make us play some silly game? Or that she would invite
them
.”

“
She seems to like them. More than she likes our dearest Edward.”

Reginald's eyes narrowed. “We shall soon see about that.”

**

“
We have looked everywhere, and no French hens.” Allison sat down at the last empty table in the village teashop, wearily reaching down to rub at her tired feet.

“
No hens of any sort, I fear,” William said, signaling to the serving maid for tea and cakes. “None alive, anyway.”

“
We could back to the confectioner's shop again, and see if they have any marzipan hens,” Kitty suggested.

“
We already did that,” Jane said, with a playful shove at her sister's shoulder. “We can't have candy birds again.”

Kitty shoved back. “There is no rule that says that.”

The two of them giggled, while Gertrude looked on with wide eyes.

“
Girls, please,” Allison said. “You are not helping matters.”

“
I fear they may be right,” William said ruefully, stirring his tea as Allison poured and passed cups around. “We may have to repeat ourselves if we have no new ideas today.”

Allison shook her head. She was most determined to do this game right. “There must be something.”

“Yes. Or the game may be over before it really begins.”

**

Gertrude bit her lip as she studied her brother's worried expression. William never looked tired or worried, at least not in front of her. He usually maintained a merriment, a lightheartedness that reassured her in the darkest hours.

And, in the last year, there had been many dark hours indeed.

She'd hoped that this journey to Kirkwood Manor would help take away all of that, help her forget. Last night, she
had
forgotten, caught up in the fun of making the pear tree and the excitement of the parakeet and the feathers. She had felt like a part of a group again, not like an outsider always peering into life. It had felt like a true Christmas spirit, as she had once felt when her mother was alive, and William would come home from school, and all was well.

Now she looked around the tea shop table, at her solemn brother, at quiet, pretty Miss Gordon, and at the laughing twins she wished so much might like her. If there was only something she could do to help...

As if in answer to her hopes, she heard voices from a nearby table. They seemed to float to her ears above all the other conversations in the crowded room.

“
As-tu vu le bonnet qu'elle portrait hier?
' a woman's high-pitched, excited voice said.

Gertrude, who enjoyed her French lessons with her governess, translated in her mind. “Did you see the bonnet she was wearing yesterday?”

“
Cinq annees demode!
” another woman said with a soft tsk.

A third chimed in. “
Je ne l'aurais pas cree!
”

“
Des plumes oranges
,” the first woman clucked in disapproval.

“
Tout a fait ridicule
.”

Gertrude wished she could have seen the unfashionable bonnet with the orange plumes. It sounded most interesting. She craned her neck to try and find the speakers.

The three ladies sat at a table not very far away, next to the window. They seemed a matched set, almost like the twins except they were obviously of different ages. All three were short and plump, with glossy dark curls and stylish pelisses and gowns. Each wore the same style but different colors, violet, yellow, and bright blue.

As she watched them, sipping their tea and disapproving the orange plumes, a wonderful idea too shape in Gertrude's mind. She slid off her chair and walked over to them, weaving her way past tables and chairs. She was so caught up in her idea she quite forgot to be shy.

She stopped beside the lady in violet, and gave a little curtsy when the ladies looked at her in curiosity. “
Excusez-moi, mesdames
,” she said. “
Mais etes-vous peut-etre de la Bretange?
”

The women laughed in delight, and clapped their white, plump hands. “
Ah, quelle jeune fille intelligente!
” the one in yellow said.

Gertrude blushed at being called a clever girl, which sent them into more peals of merry laughter.

“
Et si jolie, aussi!
” the one in blue, the youngest of the three, said. “
Tu es francais, ma petite?
”

“
Non
,” Gertrude answered, then went on in English. “I am English, but I am studying French. I knew you were from Brittany because of your accents. I am Miss Gertrude Bradford.”

“
We are very happy to meet such a pretty
petite anglais
,” the woman in violet said in heavily accented English. “I am Mademoiselle Sophie Millais, and these are my sisters, Mademoiselle Antoinette and Mademoiselle Margot.”

“
How do you do,” Gertrude said with another curtsy.

“
Won't you sit down for a moment,
cherie
?” said Antoinette. “And have a cake with us?”

Gertrude glanced back at her own table. The twins were watching her with curiosity, but William and Miss Gordon were talking together quietly, their heads bent together. They didn't seem to notice anything but each other. “
Merci, mesdames
,” she said, sitting down in the fourth chair at their little table. “Have you been long in the neighborhood?”

Margot slid a very large, pink iced cake onto Gertrude's plate. “Ah, not long at all. We have come with Sophie to meet her, how do you say,
lettres-ami
, the Reverend Mr. Johnstone at his new church. He came to speak at our church at home last year, since these terrible wars are ended, and we enjoyed his words. Sophie the most of all, of course.”

Sophie giggled at the mention of her “letter friend.” “We only write of his charitable concerns, of course.”

“But now they will meet in person again, and surely soon marry,” Margot said.

Gertrude was fascinated by this romantic story. She nibbled at her cake, and listened to them as they talked about the handsome reverend. She noticed that her brother was now looking around for her. Her time was growing short.

“I wonder,
mesdames
,” she said, marveling at her own boldness. “If I might ask you for a very great favor...”

Chapter Five

Four Colly Birds

“That was marvelous, Gertrude!” Allison said as they strolled along to escort Mademoiselle Sophie to meet her Mr. Johnstone. William walked ahead with the three sisters clustered about him like bright, chattering flowers. “Very clever of you to find us three French hens.”

Gertrude blushed, and ducked her chin into the fur collar of her spencer. “Thank you, Miss Gordon. But it was nothing at all.”

“Nothing at all?” Jane exclaimed. “Why, you spoke French like the veriest Parisian. I wish I had such a lovely accent.”

“
Your accent would be a good deal more elegant if you would just do your lessons,” Allison said with a teasing laugh.

“
Pah!” said Kitty. “If we studied for ten years, we could not sound like Gertrude. Perhaps you would teach us some of those words, Gertrude?”

Gertrude bit her lip, and glanced ahead to where her brother walked. Then she slowly nodded, and the three girls hurried off together, arm in arm.

Allison strolled on by herself, watching William as he charmed the French sisters with his effortless smiles and charm. They hung on his arms, giggling, enraptured by his attention. Allison very much feared that she herself looked that whenever his gaze turned her way. Silly and giggling.

She'd felt so nervous about seeing him again after all those years, remembering her schoolgirl crush. She'd wondered if those feelings would come back again. And so they had. Only stronger. Much stronger.

When last they met, she had only been a girl, swooning over the first handsome young man she ever met, longing for his fleeting, teasing attentions. Now life had intervened in the passing years, life that was so seldom easy and fun. She no longer felt like that naïve girl; William wasn't that teasing boy. They were grown-up now, sadder, wiser, and she loved sharing time with him. Laughing with him. Hearing him speak.

But she had no dowry to speak of, nothing to offer a husband even if William thought of her in such a serious way. They only had a few more days of Christmas left. Then she would go back to the cottage and her mother, and to real life.

She watched William and the French ladies turn though the churchyard gate, him gallantly holding it open while they fluttered past him. The sunlight gleamed on his bright hair, and his smile flashed. Well, then, she decided. If they only had a few days left, she would make sure they were the best, most memorable ones possible!

“
Are you coming with us, Allison?” he called, still holding the gate. He gave her one of those smiles, just for her.

She hurried towards him. “Oh, yes! I assuredly am.”

**

The Reverend Mr. Johnstone turned out to be a perfect match for Mademoiselle Sophie, a round little man with pink cheeks and a merry countenance that belied his stark black coat and plain cravat. He rubbed his plump hands together in glee when he saw the large party his intended brought with her to his church.

“Oh, my stars!” he said, bowing right and left. “How very grand! You must all come to the vicarage and have some tea. My curate, Mr. Ellis, is here, as well as two old school friends of mine who are now settled in their own livings. My housekeeper has laid out far too many cakes and sandwiches for just the four of us, so it is blessed Providence that you have arrived.”

“
Oh, we couldn't possibly intrude...” Allison began.

“
Nonsense!” Mr. Johnstone answered. “I will certainly be most insulted if you do not come inside and join us. Is that not right, my dear Mademoiselle Millais?”

Sophie beamed at him from under the frilled edge of her bonnet. “
Mais oui!
”

And so they gratefully accepted the invitation, despite the repast they just consumed at the tea shop. Except for the twins and Gertrude, who were soon engaged in a vigorous game of hide-and-seek amid the ancient headstones of the churchyard.

Later, happily sipping tea in the cozy sitting room of the vicarage, Allison studied the four vicars in their black coats next to the bright, chattering French ladies. She thought, with a flash of delighted fancy, that they looked like a flock of blackbirds among parrots...

Blackbirds! Four colly birds. Of course!

**

“
Now, everyone. What do you have for me tonight?” Lady Kirkwood, seated once again on her throne, said with a bang of her cane. “You may go first, Reginald.”

Allison had consumed two glasses of wine at supper, far more than her usual sips, but she still felt rather nervous. The three French hens and four colly birds waited upstairs in her sitting room, excited to be part of a holiday game. She had no doubt they would all do their very best—but what if Sir Reginald had come up with something brilliant?

It seemed doubtful. Letitia looked as bored as ever, languorously fanning herself by the fire. Her turban boasted no feathers tonight, but a nice, flat bow. Edward and his Miss Bates shared a bowl of sweetmeats in the corner. Only Sir Reginald looked as if he cared at all about the outcome of their game as he wiped at his brow with one of his lacy handkerchiefs.

Allison glanced at William, who gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, instantly feeling more at ease.

“Of course, Aunt Harriet,” Reginald said, rising unsteadily to his feet. He threw open the drawing room doors, and shouted, “Bring them in now!”

A moment of deep silence followed, and Allison was worried all over again. Then the silence was broken by a great dissonance. A footman carried in a large cage, where three fat chickens clucked and gobbled. He was followed by another footman, also bearing a cage, this one filled with four giant blackbirds, cawing and flapping their great, glossy wings.

Allison drew back as they passed, for large tufts of feathers flew out from the cages and landed on the satin chairs and Aubusson rugs. It appeared the birds had done what came naturally to them, and used the bottom of the cages as chamber pots. The rich, overpowering smell of a country barnyard filled the air, overpowering the cozy holiday scents of pine boughs, wood smoke, and Letitia's expensive perfume.

“
Ugh!” Kitty groaned, burying her nose in the lace cuff of her dress.

Jane also groaned, but Gertrude was too polite. Her little nose just quivered and wrinkled. Allison passed her a handkerchief.

“What is this, Reginald?” Lady Kirkwood said, casting a distrustful glare on the livestock.

“
Three French hens and four colly birds, of course,” Reginald answered, his face turning a rather interesting shade of scarlet. “Just what you asked for! Bought at some expense, I might add.”

“
I never asked for anyone to bring an entire farmyard into my drawing room. Heaven only knows where you got the poor creatures,” Lady Kirkwood said disdainfully.

“
I sent all the way to France for the hens,” Reginald protested.

“
Did you indeed? They look amazingly like the ones Farmer Martin down the lane raises.” Lady Kirkwood waved her cane toward the footmen. “Take them away now, please, before they utterly ruin my furniture.”

As the cages went away amid much squawking and squealing, Reginald stamped his foot like a toddler having a fit. “Aunt Harriet, I must protest! I have played your absurd game according to your very own rules, and now you just...”

Lady Kirkwood froze his tantrum with one sharp glance. He collected himself with a visible effort and retreated to the settee next to his wife.

“
Fool!” Letitia hissed, turning her turbaned head away from him.

Lady Kirkwood looked to Allison and William. “Well? What do you two have for me? Nothing quite so odorous, I do hope.”

William gave Allison another smile, and squeezed her hand under the cover of a fold of her skirt. “No, indeed, Lady Kirkwood,” he said, nodding to Gertrude to bring in their own offerings. “I think you will find them slightly better behaved.”

Their French hens and colly birds entered the room with quite as much noise as the real birds had, but with a considerably better fragrance. The mademoiselles had changed into bright silk evening gowns, and fluttered with exclamations about the lovely furnishings and festive holiday decorations. They were followed by the cluster of four clergymen, more subdued but obviously just as excited to be at Kirkwood Manor. Their best black coats and starched cravats stood out beautifully against the ladies' brilliant gowns.

“Well, now,” Lady Kirkwood said with a small smile. “This is rather more like it. How do you do, everyone?”

Sir Reginald glared, but Allison barely noticed. Because William's hand closed warmly over hers, and his fingers tightened in a soft caress.