Matthew always came straight to Meg after port, but tonight, he headed in Miss Paulson’s direction.
The action clicked something in Meg’s mind, resounding within her like the snap of a broken twig in a silent forest. Her thoughts flew by in a whirl. She couldn’t make sense of them, nor could she bear the sight of Matthew falling for another woman. What if this night was merely the beginning? What if Meg lost her friend forever? What if Matthew…married Miss Paulson?
Her panic shifted to indignation at the thought. Meg needed to do something before this nobody, this Miss Paulson, ruined her chances with Matthew and sabotaged her very happiness.
Without another thought, she jumped up from her seat and sailed toward Matthew, linking her arm with his and swiftly turning him away from the others.
“Why, Matthew, I’m so pleased to be reunited,” she said, radiating sweetness.
He stared down at her in stunned silence. She felt as if two powers were struggling to gain control of her, one of sound sense, the other, nonsensical fear. Why was she speaking so loudly, and why was she holding onto his arm so tightly?
“Did you enjoy the port?” she asked.
“I always do,” he said, still following her as she pulled him along.
She ignored his frown. “Oh, of course you do!” She belted out a laugh that would have sent her mother after her to chide her boisterous behavior.
Matthew halted their progression and stared down at her, speaking in a lowered voice. “Are you well?”
She patted his arm. “Why, of course I am, you silly. Why would I not be? It is Christmas Day, I am with my very dear friends, we have just had a marvelous meal, and I—”
“Why do you speak so loudly?” He glanced over his shoulder.
Meg froze. He was looking to Miss Paulson as if to see if the woman was watching Meg’s actions. Was he embarrassed by her?
Finally—finally—her sense took over. In a single movement, she pulled her hand from Matthew’s arm and took a step away. “Forgive me. I think I ought to sit down for a moment.”
Her voice had returned to normal. She pressed a hand against her stomach, praying the food might remain within her.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
She merely nodded, turning her back on him and crossing the room in the direction of the window.
Being away from the blazing fire and the eyes of others, Meg breathed deeply for what felt like the first time that evening. She leaned toward the cold window, nothing visible but the frost framing the windowpanes.
She was a fool. An utter fool. How could she have allowed herself to act in such a way? Clearly her odd silence throughout dinner had been noticed—as evident by Louisa’s earlier stares—for Meg was not typically silent during parties. And Matthew had certainly noticed her now, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Meg?”
She started, turning her head as Louisa approached.
“Are you well?”
Meg held the backs of her fingers to her cheek to quell her warmth further. “Yes, I am. I was feeling a little strange earlier. No doubt I ate too swiftly.”
Louisa stopped in front of her, her voice soft as she spoke. “You and I both know that is not true.”
“Whatever can you mean?” Her eyes involuntarily drifted toward Matthew. He sat next to Miss Paulson alone near the fire. Was Meg imagining it, or did they lean together in hushed conversation?
Louisa whispered, “I know my brother well, my dear friend. I like to think I know you well, too. Just as I know you aren’t going to get his attention by behaving strangely.”
Meg blanched, her stomach dropping to reside at the wooden floor beneath her slippers. Did Louisa know? Meg had tried to be careful in hiding her feelings. How could her friend have discovered her secret?
A warm expression enveloped Louisa’s features. “I saw the change come over you the moment Matthew left again for Oxford. You blush when you speak of him and smile whenever his name is mentioned. You are in love with my brother.”
Meg brought her hands to her lips. She’d tried so very hard to keep her feelings a secret, for her own sake, for Matthew’s, and for Louisa’s. She feared the truth might upset her friendship with both of them. But then, Louisa didn’t appear upset.
She paused. “You are not unhappy?”
“Unhappy?” Louisa said in a louder voice. She glanced over her shoulder, continuing in a lower tone. “How could I be? My sweet, wonderful friend in love with my brother! We shall truly be sisters then.”
Meg tried to keep her head afloat as hope and despair ran past her like the spring runoff in a raging river. “But he does not love me in return. He has said so himself when we were gathering the greenery on Christmas Eve. He thinks of me only as a sister.”
“That is nonsense. We must simply help him to realize his true feelings for you.”
“I have been trying but failing miserably at that task, I’m afraid.”
Louisa flashed a smile. “That is because you have not enlisted the help of his sister.”
“You will help me?”
“Of course I will.”
The tension in Meg’s neck slipped away. “I cannot express to you my gratitude, Louisa. I swear, I shall return the favor the moment you tell me that you love another.”
Red swept across Louisa’s face, but she shook her head. “Yes, well that will be a long time from now. Let us first focus on you. You must strive to behave like yourself, not this strange woman you’ve been, pulling him away from the others, being silent through dinner.”
Meg nodded, her determination growing. “But Miss Paulson’s reserved nature is proving to capture his attention. Perhaps I ought to behave the same.”
“Heavens, no!” Louisa whispered with an exasperated sigh. “She is a terrible bore. If I have her for a sister-in-law, I shall fall asleep each time she tries to speak with me.”
They shared a stifled laugh. “It is fortunate Mr. Kempthorne is not with us to hear you speak such uncharitable words,” Meg said, referring to the vicar.
“Indeed,” Louisa agreed. “But you know Miss Paulson would never do for my brother. You most certainly will. Be yourself, Meg, the woman Matthew already adores. Then we shall work together to make that adoration turn to love.”
Meg could hardly contain her joy. She wrapped her arms around her friend. “Oh, Louisa, what would I ever do without you?”
Louisa returned her embrace. “As evident by tonight, you would clearly behave like a mad woman.”
They burst into another fit of giggles, not caring that they drew every eye in the room.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Matthew rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his palms as he lumbered down the corridor from his room. He’d barely managed to roll himself out of bed that morning. Making an honest effort to better know Miss Paulson had made for a weary Christmas, indeed.
The woman was kind, well-mannered, and quite regal. But his witty comments had failed to produce a single laugh from her all evening. He would have far preferred spending Christmas with his family and Meg. At least they appreciated his humor. Occasionally. Meg more often than any of them.
He reached the top of the stairs and pressed a fisted hand to his mouth as he yawned. Perhaps he ought to admit defeat already and simply accept Mother’s interfering in his life for a few years longer? Or perhaps he ought to fix her unhappiness by no longer hiding from her at school, by coming home and accepting the daunting responsibility of changing his life, running an estate, and marrying?
He scoffed under his breath. No, he wasn’t ready for that. Besides, he couldn’t give up after only one evening. Though, he had no idea how he was going to carry on in such a way with seven more women.
Laughter drifted toward him as he descended the steps—Meg’s laughter. His lips raised. If the remaining seven women were as enjoyable as Meg to be around, he’d have nothing to worry about, but something within told him that he had the hardest work still ahead.
He neared the landing of the staircase, finding her buttoning her pelisse next to Louisa in the front hall. Skates rested at their feet, and they leaned close to each other, speaking in hushed tones like the night before in the drawing room.
Matthew still couldn’t make sense of Meg’s silence throughout the evening, then her uncharacteristic outburst as she pulled him away from the others. He figured she was unhappy with the Paulsons joining them, though she’d always enjoyed larger parties, unlike himself. Fortunately, after the moments she’d spent with Louisa, whispering in the corner of the room, Meg had returned to her usual, cheerful self. Though, he still wondered what Louisa had said to make Meg happy once again.
“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted as he approached.
They turned in unison toward him. “Ah, you have finally risen, I see,” Louisa said. “We’ve been awake for ages, you know.”
“You can’t expect me to remain this dashing without a few added hours of sleep,” he said, running a hand down his waistcoat.
Louisa and Meg exchanged amused glances. “I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised with your idleness,” his sister continued. “You must have been exhausted after your efforts last night.”
“Efforts?”
“With Miss Paulson.”
Both she and Meg looked away. Were they upset that he’d abandoned them last night for Miss Paulson? He would not wish them to be offended, but he couldn’t forfeit his agreement with Mother by telling them why he’d truly focused on her.
“I paid no special effort to her,” he lied. “I was merely being a gentleman.”
The girls shared another glance. He narrowed his eyes. What were they scheming? And why was Meg not speaking again?
“Will you be seeing Miss Paulson today?” Louisa asked.
Finally, understanding dawned. Of course. They’d imagined an attraction between him and Miss Paulson. He opened his mouth, ready to feign falling in love with the even-tempered woman to tease his friend and sister, but his conscience prevented him. The rumors Louisa was sure to start could hurt Miss Paulson. Though he’d set about refusing to fall in love with any of the nine women, he’d also determined not to harm them.
Truth would be his best route. “No, I will not be seeing Miss Paulson today, nor do I have any plans in the future to do so.”
Louisa blinked, Meg’s eyes swung up.
“Is that true?” asked his sister.
“Yes, it is.”
Matthew was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to see the subtle nudge Louisa then gave Meg, who cleared her throat and spoke for the first time that morning.
“In that case, perhaps you’d like to join us skating,” she offered. “Since the help are off due to St. Stephen’s day, we thought it would be a fine way to pass the time.”
Matthew rubbed his chin. He needed to see to number three on his list—Miss Michaels, he believed it was—but certainly after last night he deserved a bit of enjoyment.
“Yes, I will join you. Just one moment while I fetch my coat.”
“You’d best hurry,” Louisa said as he walked away. “We’ll not wait for long.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I know Meg would never be so unkind as to leave without me.”
He caught sight of Meg’s smiling eyes before he rushed back up the stairs.
Shortly, with their gloves, scarves, and hats donned, the three of them made their way to the pond, only a short distance past the woods near Hollridge. The small body of water was surrounded mostly by frozen grass, though thickets of trees edged a few stretches of the bank.
The pond had always been an attraction to many during the winter months, so the Pratts had opened their land to any who wished to skate. Already, a few couples slid across the ice together, and a small group of children huddled near each other at the far edge.
Matthew sat down beside Louisa and Meg on a thick log. They strapped their skates to their boots securely then ventured forth across the ice.
After a few laps around the pond, Matthew’s legs grew used to the slippery feel of the ice beneath his feet, and the three of them were soon sailing smoothly alongside each other. Well, he and Louisa were. Meg still wobbled back and forth. She’d always been more unstable on the ice than he and Louisa.
“Isn’t it lovely to skate again?” Louisa said. “Such an activity makes this cold nearly tolerable.” She appeared to be in her own world as she skated away with a bright smile on her face.
Matthew glanced down at Meg, her arms held slightly out to the sides, a look of concentration on her brow.
He grinned, slowing his pace to remain at her side.
“If you wish to skate ahead, you may,” she said.
“And leave you after you waited for me? I think not. Besides, someone ought to remain here by your side so you don’t fall.”
She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to hold in her smile. “I am perfectly capable of remaining upright.”
“Of course you are.” Her eyes were trained on the ice beneath them. He reached out, raising her chin. “If you look up, you may have better balance.”
She looked toward him, then hurriedly pulled her attention forward. “But what if I trip on an unsuspecting branch?”
“You can’t. The pond is clear of all debris.”
They skated a few more strides, and Meg’s posture straightened, her chin level with the ice.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” he asked.
They moved alongside each other in silence. Louisa was halfway across the pond, greeting a couple who moved slowly with their hands intertwined.
“Wouldn’t it be lovely to be a bird?”
Matthew looked back at Meg, releasing a surprised chuckle. “What?”
“A bird.” She motioned to the four birds calling and swooping overhead. “It would be rather freeing to soar through the air like that.”
He’d always loved Meg’s free spirit. If only he could make her wish come true. At his next thought, he stopped skating and reached his right hand toward her. “Here.”
She stopped beside him, her body tipping to one side before she settled herself. “What?”
“You said you wished to fly.”
“Yes, but that does not explain why holding your hand will allow me to do so.”
He wiggled his fingers toward her. “Trust me.”
She bit her bottom lip, hesitating a moment longer before she placed her hand in his. “Very well, but if you sprout wings and lift me toward the sky, I must warn you, I shall die of shock.”
“As would I. But not to worry. We’ll stay grounded.”
He spun about in the same spot slowly, holding his arm outstretched as he spun her in wider circles around him, his body as the axis, her skates pointed forward. Gradually, he picked up his speed.
“I don’t feel like I’m flying, but I do feel nauseated,” she said, holding out her opposite hand to keep her steady.
He grinned, holding fast to her glove. Meg began to laugh, and he joined in as they continued in steady circles, their speed slightly increasing.
“I’m going to fall over!” she said with glee.
“Then we must act quickly. I will count to three, and then you shall fly.”
Fear flashed in her eyes. “No, don’t let go! I’m too afraid!”
“Letting go is the only way to fly. And you, Meg, are not frightened of anything.”
Slowly, determination replaced the hesitance in her eyes, and she nodded firmly.
His heart warmed at her trust, as if a scarf had been wrapped around his chest. “One.”
Her smile grew.
“Two.”
She squealed, her teeth clenched together, and he laughed before finishing his countdown.
“Three!”
They released hold of each other’s hands. Matthew instantly leaned forward to maintain his balance, taking a moment to stop his eyes from spinning before focusing on Meg. Her laughter sailed out as she flew across the
ice away from him—until she teetered on her skates. He envisioned her fall before it could occur, and he sailed toward her. “Meg!”
Her arms flapped up and down to catch herself, like a small bird attempting its first flight. She yelped, then fell flat on her backside, sliding in a half circle until she came to a stop in the thick mud at the edge of the pond.
Her laughter sounded above the scratching of his skates against the ice. Thank goodness. She was well.
“Meg, forgive me,” he cried out, reaching her side and moving at once to his hands and knees. “I thought you were balanced enough. I should’ve been more careful.”
She waved a hand in the air, still laughing.
He struggled not to join in. “You are not hurt?”
“Only my dignity,” she finally breathed out.
He stood, sighing with relief as he reached his hand toward her. “Allow me to help you up.”
She accepted his offer, and he pulled her swiftly upward, holding her arms until she was firmly settled on the ice.
“You know, with all your flapping, I was fairly convinced you were to take flight after all.”
Laughter burst out from her lips, though she tried to scowl. She reached out, making to swat his arm, but he raised it in a defensive position. She gasped, missing his arm entirely and falling forward.
He caught her against his chest, laughing. “You really are a nonsensical creature.”
The smell of peppermint drifted toward him as she scrambled away. She wiped the tendrils of hair from her cheeks, her face red from the cold. They were too comfortable with each other for Meg to blush around him.
As she brushed at another strand of hair, mud streaked across her brow. With amusement, he reached forward to help dispel the mess, but she pulled back with a jerk.
He hesitated. Why had she reacted in such away? “I was merely wiping the mud away from your face.”
“Oh,” she said, doing so herself with her glove. “I no doubt have it covering my pelisse, as well.”
He suspected for a moment that she would wish to return inside, either because she was sore from her fall or upset that mud had ruined her clothing. Instead, she turned toward him with bright expression.
Nine Ladies Dancing (Belles of Christmas Book 4) Page 5