Greetings of the Season and Other Stories (17 page)

*

Everything had to be perfect for his brave girl, Merle decided. No gossip, no danger, no worries over people liking her. If he had his way, she’d never have another worry in this world. Then again, if Selcrest had his way, she’d be in his room, in his bed, in his arms this very minute, so he had to leave London. He’d leave her some shred of reputation while he still had some self-control. A week wasn’t long—just two lifetimes.

Everything was perfect, Johna thought. Perhaps his lordship had needed the time in Suffolk after all, for she’d never seen a lovelier place. Seacrest was constructed of mellow brick, comfortably nestled among sprawling gardens and stands of wood, evergreens and holly instead of crouching like a fortress on a bare hill, as so many other great houses did. The house itself was immense, but all one style, having been totally rebuilt in the last century, after a fire. Somehow Johna didn’t find the place overwhelming, although Hutchison Manor would have fit in the front hall.

Maybe she felt so welcome because he was there, or because Christmas was there. Every sight and smell of the season was present except for the snow, and Selcrest apologized for that, but thought they might have some soon. If anyone could organize the weather, Johna thought, he could.

There were pine boughs and holly and red velvet ribbons, clove-studded apples and scented candles and hanging balls of mistletoe that Phillipa and Denton just happened to find, no matter how often Johna moved them. There were
minced
meat pies and gingerbread, mulled cider and lamb’s wool punch. Every tradition, every special festive delicacy, was done just right, for her.

“Oh, we never bother doing up the whole pile,” Lady Selcrest told Johna before disappearing after Higbee to see about releasing her pets from their traveling boxes. “Just the occasional ribbon or wreath if the maids remember to fix them.”

Even more telling—and more touching—to Johna was how Merle didn’t appear to be ashamed of her. He invited all of his neighbors in, both high and low, although most of them would have heard of the London debacle. The viscount proudly introduced her to all of them, even taking her with him on his rounds of the estate to meet his tenants, where he knew the name of every child and half the watchdogs. Mounted on a pretty mare from his excellent stables, Johna felt welcome. He let her feel useful, too, helping fill Christmas baskets for his dependents, helping to wrap dolls and toy soldiers for all those children. Her only complaint was that he wouldn’t let her near the kitchens. It was her holiday, he argued, but she had to wonder.

Phillipa and Denton, meanwhile, were gone for hours on long walks, sightseeing rides, paying calls on the young people in the vicinity. Rules were more relaxed in the country, Lady Selcrest assured Johna, who was so used to worrying about her sister’s reputation. In the evenings when there were no guests they all sang the old carols. Then Phillipa and Denton whispered in the corner of the drawing room while the others—and Higbee—played cards.

Lady Selcrest took to retiring early and taking naps in the afternoon. “Too much gadding about,” she declared. “You won’t mind organizing the Christmas dinner, will you, Johna dear? We usually have twenty or thirty guests, sometimes dancing after. Do whatever you wish. Talk to Frye. He’s the underbutler who stays here when Higbee goes with us to London. The man needs a bit more experience, and I need Higbee with me. There’s a new breed of rabbit I want to research. Wouldn’t think of bothering Selcrest to escort me.”

Frye was well up to the task of planning a small function, but deferred all decisions to Johna. Then the housekeeper took to consulting her, with Lady Selcrest generally unavailable or uninterested. The gardeners needed to know which plants to bring up from the conservatory, and Mrs. Tibbetts, the wondrously English cook, sought her preferences for the menu. And the rest of the menus, not just the Christmas dinner? Johna agreed to look them over too.

Johna adored the house and its people, the tenants, and the neighbors, and she was pleased to be of service to Lady Selcrest for all that woman had done for them. She just couldn’t understand, however, how it came about that everyone considered her, a disreputable widow, as chatelaine of Seacrest. Embarrassed, afraid she was causing him more aggravation still, Johna went to the viscount. She didn’t want him thinking her encroaching or a managing type of female.

“But you are, managing the place, that is, and everyone knows it. Capably too, I might add.”

They were in his curricle, driving to the next town so Johna could complete her Christmas shopping, now that she had so many new friends among the staff and neighbors. “Silly goose, you’ve already given us so much just by coming,” Merle told her, warming Johna to the tips of her boot-clad toes, despite the freezing temperature. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all the help you’ve been to my mother.”

“It’s my pleasure to relieve her of any chores, you know that. Lady Selcrest seems less careworn these past days, don’t you think?”

“Yes, with your help. I thought she was upset about Denton’s leaving. I suppose she’s resigned herself now.”

“And Phillipa, too. She doesn’t have that grim look anymore. You were right about not separating them. She’s had this time to learn to be brave.”

*

Johna admired her sister’s fortitude. She didn’t know if she could face losing the man she loved without falling to pieces. She was having enough trouble facing the man she loved, period, knowing their time was limited. If Johna weren’t so busy, she told herself, she just might go into a decline.

Phillipa was being noble, her loving sister thought, hiding her distress for Denton’s sake. She smiled as they all drove home from church services on Christmas Eve, and laughed as they exchanged gifts over the wassail cups. Phillipa was delighted with the ermine-lined cape from Johna, and the pearl earbobs from Lady Selcrest to go with the pearl ring Denton gave her. In return she gave Denton a fob watch with her portrait on the inside of the case, and gave Johna the new paint set she wanted. Selcrest gave Johna a gold pin—in the shape of a parrot.

They all laughed then, that Merle thought Johna needed a reminder. He liked his book and the handkerchiefs painstakingly monogrammed by both sisters with his family insignia; Lady Selcrest was pleased with the Oriental jade hare. Everyone agreed, however, that the dowager’s gifts were their favorites: scarves and mittens knitted from her rabbits’ fur.

Then they sang carols, led by Phillipa’s lovely soprano voice as Johna played the pianoforte. They all watched Lord Selcrest light the Yule log from last year’s sliver, and joined in when Higbee led the traditional servants’ toast to their master’s health and the prosperity of the family in the coming year. More carols, more toasts, hugs all around, then it was time to go to bed before a busy Christmas Day. After a final embrace of her sister, with calls of “Peace and joy to you,” still echoing in her head, Johna left Phillipa and Denton to make their good nights. It was Christmas, after all.

While Johna brushed her hair, waiting to hear her sister’s footsteps in the room next door, she thought again how cheerful Phillipa was being, how brave.

She kept on thinking that right up to Christmas Day, at lunchtime, to be exact.

Johna was up early on Christmas morning, with many last-minute details to oversee. Then she and all the servants attended service in the family chapel. Merle read the nativity, as heads of households did this morning throughout the land. Johna thought Phillipa and Denton must have decided to attend the village church, after all. Lady Selcrest would still be abed, resting for the evening’s festivities.

Then it was lunchtime, and Phillipa still had not returned. That’s when Johna discovered that the peagoose had been brave enough to elope on Christmas Eve.

There was a note. Denton had been offered a better position as aide-de-camp, it seemed, but in the American campaign. It was much farther away than the Peninsula, but Denton liked the idea of seeing the New World, perhaps carving a niche for them there once the conflict was resolved. Phillipa couldn’t bear to be parted from him for so long, she wrote, and so had to go along. They’d be married by special license, by the captain of their sailing ship.

Folded inside the note was the little ring from last year’s pudding. “Now my wish can come true,” Phillipa wrote. “I pray that yours, can too.”

“I can’t even go after them to try to dissuade her,” Johna cried into Selcrest’s neckcloth. “They’ve been gone so long, and they were alone last night. Her reputation is already ruined. And I thought she was being so good, putting on a cheerful face for us.”

“She was. It couldn’t have been easy for her to leave you.” He handed her one of his new handkerchiefs.

“I only wanted the best for her.”

“And Denton will see that she gets it, I swear. But now you have to be the courageous one, my dear, for there is more bad news.”

She stepped back and blew her nose. “More? My only sister has gone off to some barbaric place with your madcap brother. He’ll go away to war and she’ll be all alone.”

“She won’t be alone.” He took a note out of his own pocket. “My mother is with them.”

“Oh, I’m glad! That is, I’m sorry, Merle. But whyever would your mother decide to go to America in the middle of winter? I mean, even for your mother…”

“Higbee went too.”

“Ah.” There was a world of understanding in that “Ah,” understanding how upset Selcrest must be, and how happy his mother and her longtime beau would be in the Colonies with no titles, no prejudices to keep them apart.

“Yes, they’ve also got a special license, thank goodness. In fact, Mother enclosed a third one, for us.”

“Us?” There was no understanding in that syllable whatsoever.

“Well, yes, Mother knew what she was doing. You see, she was chaperoning your sister last night, but no one was chaperoning us. Your reputation is damaged far worse than Phillipa’s. You’ve been hopelessly compromised with no chance of finding a respectable duenna for tonight either. That’s what I meant about needing to be brave.”

“What’s bravery got to do with it? You could move in with one of your tenants for the night, or my maid and I could go to an inn.”

“What, on Christmas?” He pried the little ring from her stiff fingers. “You’ve got the ring, I’ve got the license. Shall we?”

“Shall we what, Merle?”

“Get married, of course. That was Mother’s intention all along, naturally, befriending you, having you take over the household, leaving us in the lurch like this so you are hopelessly compromised past redemption.”

“That’s fustian! You’re forgetting that my name is already so tarnished my own mother wouldn’t receive me. I can go on home tomorrow with no one the wiser to this latest coil except for your servants.”

“And the thirty or so guests coming for dinner in three hours.”

“Oh no! I have to leave, now!” Johna made a dash for the doorway, but Selcrest grabbed for her hand.

“What, and leave me to face all of them? Besides, where would you go? There’s an easier way, Jo. Would it be so bad, being the new Lady Selcrest?”

“You don’t wish to marry me, Merle. I cannot let your sense of duty force you into such an impossible situation.”

He let go of her hand. “You’re refusing me, then?”

There hadn’t been a single word of love. Not even affection. “I have to.”

Selcrest was studying his fingertips. “Old Lady Wilburham is coming to dinner. I’ll ask her to spend the night. She’s half-deaf, but will satisfy the conventions. Everyone will be too busy exclaiming over Mother and Denton to notice any irregularity. We can talk more about this later, after the guests leave.”

But the guests never came.

9

“I
t’s me, I know it. They aren’t coming because of me.” Johna was wearing out the velvet of her new crimson gown, rubbing it between nervous fingers. The goose was hot, the wine was cool, and no one was there except her and the viscount. Not even old Lady Wilburham. Her sister leaving, the love of her life offering a marriage of convenience, now this fiasco of a holiday feast—this had to be the worst Christmas ever, if one discounted last Christmas and Sir Otis’s demise. No, this was worse. “You see, marriage to me would cost you all your friends. We’re not even married and they won’t come to dinner. You’d be throwing out food every day.”

Selcrest poured her a glass of sherry. “Don’t be a peagoose. You have nothing to do with it.”

“What then? Are your neighbors staying away because they disapprove so strongly of your mother’s elopement?”

Merle drank the glass himself. “That’s even more foolish. Mother’s friends knew about her and Higbee for years. They’d come to laugh and drink a toast to her happiness.”

“Then it’s me. They’re all afraid I did the cooking! I told you word would reach Suffolk. Now you see I was right: I would ruin your life too. You wouldn’t dare show your face in London.”

Merle put his arm around her, but she didn’t relax against him. “And that’s not going to work either.”

“Silly goose, I only want to show you the view.” With his arm still on her shoulder, he turned her to the window and pulled the heavy drapes open. “I bet you’ve been too busy all day to look outside.”

Johna looked, and saw nothing but white. The trees were covered, the lawns, everything.

“It’s been snowing all day, a regular blizzard. I hope Mother and Denton made it to their ship before the roads became impassable. But that’s why no one is going to come out on such a night, especially when they all have to travel at least three or four miles.”

“You said it was going to snow.”

“I said a lot of foolish things. But come, get your coat and boots and a heavy muffler. We’re going for a ride to see your Christmas surprise. I meant to take you earlier, but there was too much upset and confusion.”

“But it’s nearly dark, and you said carriages couldn’t get through.”

“Carriages can’t, but sleighs can. And it’s not so far away, on Selcrest lands. Besides, you wouldn’t want all that food to go to waste, would you?”