Christmas at Pemberley (32 page)

“Mr. Foxmour, your mother wants to see you and the children,” Mr. Winkler said softly from the draped doorway. Kitty stiffened. She and the girls had drawn pictures and had laughed, but now it was time to say their farewells to their grandmother, and Kitty saw the instant anguish on each of their faces. These children understood death better than she. Kitty did not remember her grandparents—being but a babe when the last of them passed.

“Choose the pictures you'll share with Mrs. Foxmour,” she said to the children as she picked up the multi-colored pages. “Hurry, Girls.”

Mr. Foxmour stood stiffly. “Mavis, you three go first.” His voice held traces of his grief. “I'll fetch Hugh.”

“Hugh be asleep, Papa,” Nell protested.

“I know, Sweet One.” Kitty and the girls watched Mr. Foxmour mechanically walk toward the other bedroom.

“Come, Children,” Mr. Winkler motioned them through the opening.

Tentatively, they entered the room, and Kitty could no longer control the tears streaming down her cheeks. As Mr. Foxmour carried the sleepy toddler through the room, Kitty reached for the boy's arm, as she was unable to console the child's father.

With the family in the small room, Mr. Winkler remained at the opening, and Kitty simply moved into his comforting embrace. Winkler kissed her forehead, and Kitty buried her tears in his waistcoat. “I'm sorry,” she sniffed when he handed her his handkerchief.

“I'm not disappointed,” he bent his head to whisper in her ear.

Kitty snuggled closer before turning her head to watch the family.

“Bring the children closer,” Mrs. Foxmour rasped in a hacking breath.

The three girls scrambled to the straw-stuffed mattress covering a wooden frame. “We brung pictures, Grandmother,” Mavis said slowly. The girl was obviously accustomed to tending the older woman. She positioned the other girls where the elder Mrs. Foxmour could see them in the dim candlelight. “Miss Catherine teached us.” The girl thrust the drawings into the gnarled hand.

“What be this?” the old woman's gravelly words held tenderness.

“It be a horse,” Nell said proudly. “Good enough to win the Ascot. Miss Catherine say that be a fine race.”

“His name?” the old woman whispered.

The child shot a quick glance to Kitty, and Kitty gave the first name to come to mind. “Galahad. A real champion.”

“Galahad,” the child repeated. “A horse with a strong heart.”

“It be a fine animal. And this one?” Mrs. Foxmour shuffled the papers.

Tavia crawled closer. “Mine, Grandmother. A princess in a red dress.”

“She be pretty like ye, Child.” A rheumatic finger traced Tavia's cheek.

“This one Miss Catherine drew, but we be tellin' her what to add.” Mavis repositioned the papers in her grandmother's grasp.

The woman's hands began to tremble, and her nearly translucent
eyes seeped with tears. “It be the most beautiful dress I's ever seed,” she said softly.

Mavis leaned across the woman to kiss the wrinkled cheek. “It be yer dream dress, Grandmother.”

“That be true, Child.” All three girls surrounded the family's matriarch.

“Here is Hugh, Mama.” Mr. Foxmour held the sleeping child.

She briefly touched the child's head. “Ye have good children, Arthur.”

“Yes, Mama.”

The younger Mrs. Foxmour hefted the boy from her husband's arms and motioned the girls to lead the way to the other room.

Kitty watched solemnly as each girl kissed her grandmother before walking proudly from the room. Then Mr. Foxmour moved to sit beside his mother. He took her hand and began to sob his farewells.

Immediately, Mr. Winkler turned Kitty toward the cottage's main room. “Come,” he whispered softly. “The family needs time to grieve. Mrs. Foxmour is at peace.”

“But,” she began, but Winkler's arm came about her shoulder.

“We can do nothing else. Let us leave them their dignity,” he cautioned gently.

Kitty nodded her understanding. Slowly, she gathered her belongings and motioned the Pemberley men to retrieve the sleigh from the lean-to.

“Must ye go?”Tavia tugged at Kitty's skirt.

She bent to kiss the top of the child's head. “Your family requires time together, Sweetheart. I'll return in a couple of days with more paper and colors.”

“Yes, Miss,” the child said reluctantly.

Kitty cupped the girl's chin. “I promise.”

Standing slowly, she allowed Mr. Winkler to place her cloak on her shoulders and then to lead her from the house. Gravely, she waited for the groom to bring the sleigh around. “Shall they
suffer? The children?” she said softly when Mr. Winkler stepped beside her.

“These families understand hardship better than the genteel set, but death spares no one its head. Wealth cannot protect a person.”

Kitty turned her head quickly to look at the clergyman's face. “What can protect us?”

“Nothing,” he said grimly. “All we can do is meet death with God in our hearts.”

“Does it ever get easier?” she asked.

Winkler smiled affectionately. “It was tonight with you by my side.”

Kitty returned his smile. “It was magnificent. Even though the family faced the worst, I adored every moment with the children.”

“And they adored you in return, Miss Catherine, as I knew they would.” He caught Kitty's hand in his as the sleigh approached. “As do I.” He squeezed her hand gently.

His words sent a rush of warmth between them. “Do you really, Mr. Winkler?”

“More than I have words to explain,” he said sincerely as he helped her to the seat.

Kitty couldn't stop her heart's flutter or the shortness of her breath, but neither was a bad feeling. In fact, she quite enjoyed both. “I'm in need of some warm tea,” she said as Mr. Winkler seated himself beside her.

“Do you realize the time, Miss Catherine?” he said teasingly.

Kitty looked about the frozen landscape draped in the moon's light and its reflected glory. “Not really,” she murmured.

“Nearly one,” he announced in triumph.

“You jest.”

Again, he possessively caught her hand under the blanket. “Not in the least, my dear.”

Kitty allowed herself to lean against his shoulder. “No tea tonight,” she whispered. “What shall I do to warm myself then?”

“I might think of something,” he hoarsely rasped.

“I certainly hope so,” Kitty said on a quick intake of air.

They had arrived at the back door of Pemberley, and Jarvis jumped down from the sleigh. “Mr. Nathan will have retired, Sir. We can use the kitchen door and not disturb the others.”

“Of course.” Winkler hopped down and lifted Kitty to the ground. “It's most thoughtful of you to consider the household.” He gestured to the groomsman. “Thanks to Mr. Arden for the arrangement and to you for a safe passage.”

“Good night, Sir.” The man touched his hat in respect and drove away.

Jarvis led them through the lower garden and the unlatched kitchen door. “There be candles on the shelf,” the footman said. He caught one when it fell into his hand and moved to light it from the banked fireplace. “Do you need me to see you to your quarters, Sir?”

Winkler took the candle from the footman. “That will not be necessary. I'll escort Miss Catherine to her chambers. You are excused, Jarvis. Thank you for your attendance.”

“Good night, Sir.” The footman took another candle to light his way.

A stirring from beyond the open interior door told Kitty and Winkler that several of the scullery maids heard them. “Come,” Kitty said as she caught his hand. “You bring the candle.”

Winkler stepped in behind her as they wove their way through the servants' passage. “Your hands are cold,” he said upon impulse and stopped suddenly.

Kitty turned quickly to face him. “I told you I needed some warm tea,” she said coyly.

Winkler moved closer and slid his free hand about Kitty's waist. He set the candlestick on the edge of a nearby table before cupping her chin in his palm. “And I promised to find an alternate way to drive the cold away.”

“And do you know of such a miracle?” she teased. Kitty edged a bit closer.

Winkler smiled secretively. “I'm warmer. Are you not, Miss Catherine?” he said in a husky whisper.

Kitty's eyes sparked with mischief. “Perhaps if I hid my hands under here.” She slid her fingers beneath Mr. Winkler's jacket. “They might become warmer.” She felt him shiver, and the power of it swelled Kitty's heart.

Winkler's fingers rested on her lower back, and he pressed her to him. “Miss Catherine, I would very much like to kiss you if you'd permit it.”

Kitty's eyes closed in anticipation as she raised her chin.Winkler's fingers held her in place, and she could feel his breath warm her cheek as his head bent to taste her lips. Kitty's breathing stopped as she waited for the first touch. His lips brushed hers. Gently. Chastely at first. Then he said, “Open for me, Catherine.” It was nothing more than a breath, but Kitty's lips parted, and Winkler's mouth became more demanding. His lips pressed hard against hers as his tongue touched the soft tissue of her mouth. By instinct, Kitty's arms encircled his waist, and she leaned into him.

Finally,Winkler broke the contact and gasped, “You are a temptation indeed.” He kissed the top of her head before he pulled Kitty into his embrace. “But it's a most welcomed one.”

Kitty said nothing at first, simply enjoying his closeness. “I did not know it could be that way.” Her voice sounded deeper than she expected.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes upon you, Catherine. My heart told me so.”

She looked in awe at the man as she edged away from his embrace. “You knew you cared for me that first Sunday when Elizabeth introduced us after services?”

“I know all this is new to you, but you engaged my heart immediately. I looked out over the congregation that morning, and there you sat beside Mrs. Darcy. I couldn't withdraw my eyes from your countenance. I fear my sermon that day was less than coherent.” His smile teased her good-naturedly.

“It wasn't your best effort,” Kitty said blandly.

“In my defense, I plead being dumbstruck by your beauty.” Winkler caught her hand and brought it to his lips. His mouth lingered on her skin, and Kitty felt the heat of his touch radiate up her arm.“Come, my dear,” he said and reached for the candle. “You need your rest. We'll skate together tomorrow, and then I must return to Lambton.”

Kitty followed him into the main hall. “I wish you didn't have to depart.”

“I have duties to the community, Catherine,” he reminded her. They turned toward the stairs, but another light brought them up short.

Mr. Bennet stepped from Mr. Darcy's library. “There you are,” he said.

“Papa! What are you doing up?” Kitty rushed forward to take his arm.

“I promised Mrs. Bennet that I would see you safely returned to the house.” Mr. Bennet's eyes traced both their appearances and found them presentable. “The colonel explained your need to leave so quickly, Mr. Winkler. I hope you were able to give the woman solace.”

“Thorne was so responsive to the family's needs. I was so proud of him.”

Mr. Bennet's eyebrow rose in interest. “Mr. Winkler has a true calling, not like my cousin's, then?”

Kitty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Mr. Collins lacks empathy for others. Our cousin is very much like his patroness.”

“Miss Catherine was most valuable in entertaining the children.” Mr. Winkler smiled again at Kitty.

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I'm sure she was. All my girls, except maybe Lydia, can prove themselves worthy, but we'll discuss Kitty's value on the morrow. It's late, and we each should seek our beds.”

“I am tired,” Kitty admitted. She leaned easily against her father's arm. “Miss Darcy shall have to deal with the guests without me
early on. I assume we heard nothing from Lizzy while Mr. Winkler and I were out.”

“No, and your sister's absence worries me so,” Mr. Bennet confessed.

Kitty guided her father's weary steps toward the main stairs. “I wouldn't worry, Papa. If I know Mr. Darcy, he and Elizabeth are waiting out the storm in the best accommodations money can buy.”