She tilted her head and looked up at him.
He offered her a bow worthy of the king. “I am Alex, the new Duke of Frompton. I grew up in the big house at the end of the village.”
He could see in her face that she was torn, desperately wanting the treat of a ride. “I daresay it will be worth the scolding,” she decided.
He smiled and lifted her up on to the gelding. She weighed nothing at all, and he noticed the thinness of her garments and the patches and darning that had been done in several places. He handed her the crutch and mounted behind her. She lifted her head up to the sky and he noticed her eyes were closed.
“Could you canter, sir?” she asked.
He urged Midnight on and the little girl giggled. He used to do much the same with Joshua, and he felt his throat tighten. They arrived shortly at Splatmore Cottage, and the little girl sighed with disappointment.
“Thank you for the ride, Your Grace,” she said politely.
“Perhaps your parents will allow me to take you out again one day?”
Alex dismounted and lifted the thin girl down from the horse, vowing to make certain they received extra in their Christmas basket. Mrs. Milton always saw to those things; he suspected she knew very well their state, even though this family was a Lynley tenant.
He should not have stayed away so long, but something inside him was hard and he did not wish to fully embrace his role. Still, he would do his duty.
This little child touched something within which made him feel again for the first time in months. He had felt nothing but anger over his father’s behavior and treatment of his sister.
Splatmore Cottage was directly across from Slimeford Cottage. The names had always made him laugh as a youngster, but he did not want to think of those days. The two small cottages were on Lord Lynley’s property, near the river. He did not want to think about Lynley, to whom Anna now belonged.
A woman ran out from the small stone cottage with the thatched roof.
“Lucy!” she exclaimed, in a voice that spoke of worry more than anger. “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere, Mama. This gentleman gave me a ride when he saw me slip on the ice. He said he knew you and Papa. Is his horse not beautiful?”
Alex scarcely heard the words Lucy said. Standing before him was Anna. His Anna.
“Alex?” she asked, the moment she realized who the “gentleman” was.
He recovered his wits enough to bow, as his mind raced with the scene before him. Anna was in mourning rags as thin, or thinner, than her daughter’s, and she was ghostly slim. What had happened? How had she come to this pass? The last he had heard, she was Lady Lynley and living the life of a baron’s wife, very much the proper lady.
She looked embarrassed, her eyes cast down as she held on to Lucy, wrapping the child in her arms with a shawl.
“How are you, Anna?” he asked, trying to mask the concern he felt.
“As well as can be,” she answered tersely.
She looked as though she was barely containing her emotion. Alex did not know what to say.
“You are in widow’s weeds,” he commented at last.
“And you are Frompton now?” she asked rhetorically. “My condolences.”
Alex inclined his head. “I will not have you stand in the cold any longer. Good evening to you both, and I promise to take you riding every day the weather holds while I am home,” he said, bending down to address the last to Lucy.
“Thank you, sir,” she answered, and made a respectable curtsy despite her crippled leg.
“Go inside and eat your supper before it gets cold, Lucy. I will be there shortly.”
Lucy hobbled into the cottage and closed the door.
“You must not make promises like that to a child, Your Grace,” Anna scolded.
“Why not?” he challenged, straightening to look her in the eyes. By God, she was still beautiful. Once she was not skin and bone, she would surpass what she had been in her youth.
“Because broken promises hurt, and she has had enough hurt in her young life.”
“I have no intention of breaking my promises.” He gave a curt bow, turned to mount Midnight and rode away.
“You broke them before,” Anna whispered as he rode away. She stood, shivering in the cold, for several minutes after he had left. She had known this day would come, but was not prepared for it. Although he was as handsome as ever, despite a thick beard, now there was a cold harshness about him that frightened her a little. He was taller and broader, his eyes resembling icy pools. Perhaps the scandal with his father had hardened him, but it made her sad. Alex had always been handsome and kind, with an easy laugh. But no more, it seemed.
It was acceptable for her to think about him thus, when she had changed so much herself. It must be horrifying for him to see her this way, after so many years, but she had become accustomed to her state. Anything was better than living at the house with the new Lord Lynley. Besides, it would not be proper, even though she was a widow, to live with her young daughter in a house of ill repute—as she thought of it. What did it matter if the new baron had refused to support her beyond the use of the cottage?
Rubbing her arms to shake off the chill, she turned to go back inside, determined to be happy for Lucy. How could she deny her daughter some fun? It would be hard on Lucy when he left again, but Anna could not bring herself to deny the child those pleasures she ought to be experiencing as the daughter of a baron.
What must Alex think of her? She was thin—nay, half-starved—and wearing threadbare clothing, her hands rough from work like any other common laborer. She barked a hysterical laugh. He probably did not think much of her in any case. After all, he was now a duke, with a duchess and at least one child according to village gossip, and had been living somewhere outlandish in Canada as a government minister.
Had he just now returned, after the duke’s death?
“Are you quite well, Mama?” Lucy asked, appearing in the doorway, evidently having heard the noise Anna had made.
“Yes, my dear. Seeing that gentleman has brought back a lot of memories.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, we were friends as children.” And children were exactly what they had been when they had made promises of love and staying together forever. Yet they had both married others. His father had insisted he go to London for some town bronze and they had planned a grand reunion for when she arrived for her Season. It had never happened.
She looked at Lucy and hoped she would never lose her innocence. Despite her poor leg, she was the happiest child.
“Are you ready for bed, poppet?”
“Not quite,” she said cheerfully. “We were to make the stitches for the Christmas sampler to give to the vicar.”
“Oh, yes, how could I forget? But only for a little while. We ladies need our beauty sleep.”
Lucy giggled whenever Anna said that, but she was determined to bring her daughter up as the lady she was born to be. Eventually, when she came of age, she would have the portion from her father, and Anna would do her best to see that she was prepared for it.
They removed to the small parlour and Anna put a log on the fire, looking sadly at the last few pieces of wood remaining. It would soon be necessary to either spend coin, or go and chop wood herself.
They sat side by side on the well-worn floral sofa that perhaps used to be pretty yellows and greens but was now drab gold and brown from age and dirt. Together they worked, setting stitches, and Anna’s mind could not help drifting back to when she and Alex had been young and in love. He had been home, just down from Oxford, and she had been preparing for her come out. In the freedom of the country, they had been able to ride, dance at the assemblies, attend picnics… what a merry time it had been. That Christmas, at the Twelfth Night Ball, they had made promises to wait for each other and declared their love.
“Your stitches are crooked, Mama,” Lucy pointed out, snapping Anna from her memories.
“So the
y are.” Anna acknowledged the truth of her daughter’s words when she looked and saw she had gone considerably off her lines.
“Perhaps we should go to bed now,” the little girl advised wisely. “You must be too tired.”
Anna leaned over and kissed her precious daughter’s golden locks. At least something good had come from her marriage.
She banked the fire, and they went upstairs and crawled into the bed, snuggling together for warmth.
The next morning, Anna rose early, as always, and began working on a commission for the ball. There had been many such orders, for which she was grateful for this time of year. Perhaps those orders were charity, since no one knew if there was even to be a ball this year after the old duke’s death. However, the commissions had enabled her to save enough money for a doll and a special brace for Lucy’s leg. Mayhap she could live more frivolously, but she was terrified the new baron would change his mind and throw them out of this cottage on a whim.
The Frompton tenants would receive large Christmas baskets containing the makings of a hearty Christmas dinner, but Anna had no such hope of anything from the new lord. She felt acutely for the tenants Jeffrey had cared for so well. He had been a good husband and father, even while knowing he did not have her heart. He had witnessed her fall in love with the then Lord Ruskington and miss her first Season because of the influenza outbreak, which took her parents along with half the village. He had seen her heart broken when Ruskington had married another, and he had wed her out of pity. Jeffrey had given her Lucy, and she would be forever grateful, but she had not been able to give him a son and heir before he died, too young himself, in a hunting accident. He had also met his death before he had provided for her in his will.
She pricked herself with the needle and sucked on her finger to stop the blood. Silently, she chastised herself. She had to stop allowing her mind to wander. The dress had to be finished, and it did no good to think of the past—it would only make her bitter. She was blessed with a beautiful daughter, a roof over their heads and the ability to make dresses. That was what she must force herself to reflect upon.
Once the gown was completed, she could concentrate on making this a happy Christmas for Lucy. A gust of wind blew through the chimney and the candle flickered. Rising, Anna stretched her back and chafed her hands. She could see her breath misting in the air and reluctantly went to place the last few logs in the hearth and start a fire before Lucy woke.
Chapter Two
All too soon, Alex arrived at the house. His thoughts had been in an upheaval from the moment he left Anna and Lucy behind. How had such a thing come to pass? Anger and bitterness filled him and he struggled against the feeling. The past year of his life had been enough for any sane man to question if there was any good left in the world, and now, to see Anna and her child near destitute, filled him with rage.
His household filed out to welcome him, and enormous guilt replaced some of his fury. Would he have discovered the truth about Anna, had he arrived sooner? Or had it been fate which had brought him upon little Lucy that day?
He greeted the servants, and once they were dismissed, he strolled towards the study, ready to drink himself into oblivion. That had been a regular occurrence since he had returned to England, the only occupation that stopped the recurring scene of his family’s death flooding his memory.
Before he could close the door, Mr. and Mrs. Milton, the long-term butler and housekeeper, were standing on the threshold.
“Yes, Milton?”
“We wish to express our condolences, Your Grace.”
Alex had not returned for his father’s burial, even though it would have been proper to do so. The duke’s death had not been as scandalous as a suicide, but neither had the funeral been accompanied by the usual pomp and circumstance. Alex had ordered the coffin to be placed in the family mausoleum at Hartmere after a brief service in London.
“Thank you, Milton.”
“Is there anything you require, Your Grace?”
“A light supper would be welcome.”
Offering a regal bow and a bob of a curtsy, the couple departed, leaving Alex alone to deal with his bitter thoughts. He wanted none of this, yet he could not shirk his duties.
Butler and housekeeper both returned shortly and laid out a supper of fresh bread, beef steak and vegetables.
They turned to leave, but Alex could sense the housekeeper’s hesitation.
“Yes, Mrs. Milton?”
She gave a small smile which spoke of sadness. “I hate to trouble you when you have but just arrived, Your Grace, but if I might beg a few moments of your time tomorrow, I would be grateful if you would give me your directions regarding the tenant gifts for Christmas,” she requested. “I am assuming you will wish to forgo the Twelfth Night Ball because of mourning.”
He waved her into a seat. “Now is as good a time as any, if you do not mind me eating.” Besides, he mused, he did not wish to be alone with his thoughts about Anna. No sooner had her name flickered through his mind, than before he knew what he was saying, he was asking about her.
“Mrs. Milton, I came upon a disturbing sight as I passed through the village.” He took a small bite of his beef and chewed as he considered what to say. “There was a mite of a girl in little more than rags, using crutches.”
“That would be Lucy Lynley, Your Grace.”
“Indeed. I soon discovered as much and gave her a ride on my horse, not to the abbey, but to Splatmore cottage. Can you tell me what happened?”
The housekeeper looked at her hands. He could tell she was hesitant to gossip.
“I know she is not one of my tenants, but what could have reduced her to such destitution?” he pressed further.
“I fear it is not my place to tell you, Your Grace, but it is common enough knowledge, I suppose. Lord Jeffrey Lynley had a bad fall from his horse over a year ago now. From what I hear in the village, mind you, she did not receive a jointure.”
“And the new baron did not see fit to keep the previous lady of the house in minimal comforts?” Alex snapped angrily.
The housekeeper colored. “I believe he was interested, Your Grace… a little too interested, if you take my meaning.”
Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath so he would not smash something.
“And, if what is whispered is true, the new baron has house parties that no proper lady would wish to grace,” she added.
“Thank you for your candor, Mrs. Milton. May I ask that you include Lady Lynley in Hartmere’s Christmas benevolence?”
“I already have baskets prepared for the Lynley tenants, Your Grace, but I do not think Lady Lynley will accept it. She has been taking in sewing from people hereabouts and I believe she has made most of the ball gowns for the gentry in the area.”
“Then we must have the ball, Mrs. Milton. My father’s death should not preclude something everyone looks forward to for the whole year. Besides, it has been more than six months. I do not think it would be distasteful. ’Tis not as though it will be a grand town affair.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mrs. Milton beamed a smile. “If that will be all, I will go and begin the preparations.”
“There is one more thing. If you will prepare a basket for Lady Lynley, I will deliver it myself in the morning. I will present it in such a fashion she will be unable to refuse for Lucy’s sake. I have promised the child a ride. It seems she adores horses.” He smiled, thinking of the pure joy the girl had known from such a small effort on his part.
“Will you ask Milton to see that the sleigh is in good repair in case we have snow? The other children might enjoy a ride as well.”
“I presume you mean the sledge, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Forgive me, I slipped into using the term from Canada.”
That night, Alex spent several more hours staring at the fire, thinking about how much life had changed since that Twelfth Night where he and Anna had declared their love for each other. How young and naïve they had been!
<
br /> His innocence had long ago been stripped away by reality, and it seemed as though Anna’s had as well. Was she resentful? Alex felt very much so; there were many days when he did not know how he would face the rest of his life with no joy. At least, he reminded himself, he had the means to bring some joy to others this Christmas, even if he personally felt numb.
The next morning, Alex went down to the entrance hall, intending to send to the stables for Midnight, when Mrs. Milton brought out the basket to be delivered to Anna.
“That is rather larger than I had anticipated, Mrs. Milton.”
A slight twinkle was in her eye. “Yes, it is, Your Grace.”
“I will need to take the curricle instead.”
“I suspect that perhaps three people could fit in your curricle, sir, do you not agree, Miss Lucy being such a wee little thing?”
“I do believe you are correct, Mrs. Milton.”
Alex took the basket and instead decided to walk to the stables, where he called for the curricle to be readied. He should not be surprised the housekeeper was trying to matchmake. He was now a duke without issue, and Anna had always been well loved in the neighborhood. Mrs. Milton had been housekeeper when they courted before.
It was a brisk but sunny morning and his boots crunched across the frosty grass. The delicious smell of burning oak came from the chimneys, and Alex realized he was feeling more lighthearted than he had done in more than a year. Goodness! He was no longer a youth, and Anna was widowed with a child. They could hardly go back to the way they had been before. He was merely doing her a kindness, he told himself.
He felt a pull towards the little girl because of Joshua, and for what had used to be, that was all. The past year had been enough to make the strongest person maudlin.
Arriving before the small cottage, he tied the horses to a nearby post and pulled the large basket from the rumble. It was stuffed with enough food to feed an army, he mused, carrying it to the door. By gad, he was nervous, he realized, as he found his hand pausing before the door to knock. He shook his head and rapped on the rough wood. The tiny garden in front of the cottage was tidy, but it was hard not to boil in anger at what had brought Anna to this.
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 54