O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Why had Isabella not brought the child with her tonight? Had she wanted to torture him with the memory of what never was?

  He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him. Sleep was his greatest friend, and his bitterest enemy. He both longed for, and dreaded, her ghost visiting his dreams. For no matter how many times he begged forgiveness, she refused to give him absolution for his sins.

  And without absolution, he would never find the peace he craved.

  Chapter Two

  Pengarron, Cornwall, 23 December 1825

  “Mama Alice, can I give Twinkle a sweetmeat?”

  Alice Trelawney looked down at her stepdaughter’s upturned face. The little girl’s eyes, so like her father’s, shone with eagerness.

  “I think five sweetmeats are enough for one day, Amelia,” she replied. “Twinkle is getting overweight. I swear she’s nearly doubled in size since we left London.”

  “But Mama!” Amelia protested.

  “Your mother is right,” a deep voice said. Alice’s husband crossed the floor and stroked the little dog’s fur. Then he smiled at Alice with the expression of love which always melted her heart.

  “Twinkle will learn to expect, rather than appreciate, the treats you give her if she has too many, Amelia,” he continued. “Besides, you want to make sure there’s plenty left for Georgia when she comes, don’t you? Mrs. Bascomb will have enough to do in the kitchen with a full house of guests. She won’t be happy if you give too many of her sweetmeats to your dog.”

  “I suppose.” Amelia stroked the little dog’s fur and sighed. “But I love Twinkle so much.”

  “I know you do, my darling,” Alice said. “I love her too, for she looks just like my Monty. But sometimes, loving someone means denying them what they want, because you know it’s for the best. Do you remember what I told you about giving Twinkle what she needed, not what she wanted?”

  Amelia sighed, placed the dog in the basket at her feet and covered her with a blanket. The pug gave a grunt of satisfaction and curled up. Shortly after, snores could be heard from beneath the blanket.

  Alice settled back in her seat and placed a hand over her belly. Almost at once, Ross was at her side, concern in his gray eyes. “Is all well, my love?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Alice said. “My confinement is at least a month away. My feet are a little sore, that’s all.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have gone out walking with Amelia so soon after we arrived yesterday,” Ross said.

  “The Cornish air does me good,” Alice replied, “and I was in need of fresh air after spending all day cooped up in the carriage. Honestly Ross, you’re as bad as Miss Whitworth, scolding me as if I were a wayward toddler.”

  “Perhaps I should ask her to be your nursemaid as well as little Harry’s,” Ross said, a mischievous grin on his face, “though I’d have to pay her double, for our son’s inherited his stubbornness from his mother.”

  Alice smiled to herself. Ross was the most loving and attentive husband any woman could wish for, but he had an annoying habit of ordering her about when he was concerned for her wellbeing. She held out her hand and he took it, lifting it to his lips for a kiss.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I only want what’s best for you.”

  “I know,” she replied. “But you needn’t worry. Amelia and I didn’t go far. We turned round near the gates to Boscarne House.”

  Ross’s expression darkened. “I’d advise you not to venture too close to that estate,” he said. “The owner, Mr. Scrimgeour, isn’t known for congeniality.”

  “Oh?” Alice sat up, her husband’s change of expression having piqued her interest.

  “He doesn’t welcome visitors,” Ross said.

  “Perhaps he’s just particular about the company he keeps,” Alice replied. “I should pay him a visit. After all, we are neighbors.”

  Ross shook his head. “I wouldn’t, my love. He dismissed the staff on arrival and he’s let the building fall into disrepair around him. There’s been reports of strange sounds coming from the house at night.”

  “What strange sounds?”

  Ross shrugged his shoulders. “Shouting, wailing, that sort of thing. I’ve even heard tales of a ghost. Stories borne of gossip, most likely. You know what villagers are like. Nevertheless, I’d consider it a favor if you didn’t go near there. I’ve forbidden the servants to venture too close.” He turned to Amelia. “That applies to you also, young lady. You’re old enough to understand when something is forbidden, and old enough to take responsibility for your mama if she’s tempted to flout my request. You remember what you promised me?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Amelia said.

  “What did you promise your papa?” Alice asked.

  Father and daughter exchanged glances, then Amelia puffed out her chest, as if in pride. “I promised to take care of you.”

  “I’m pregnant,” Alice said, “not an invalid.”

  Ross squeezed her hand. “Permit me this indulgence, my love.” His voice cracked a little, as it always did when he referred to her pregnancy. Doctor McIver had assured her that all was well, and little Harry had come into the world without a single mishap. But her husband could never shake off the fear that she might lose the child—or worse. To Alice, the horrors of her first marriage, and her lost babies, had faded to a long-distant memory. But Ross, having lost his first wife in childbirth, could never quite shake off the fear of losing a loved one, of the thought of Alice being in pain, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease it.

  Alice interlocked her fingers with her husband’s. “All will be well, my love,” she said. “How could it not be, when I have the best husband in the world?” She lowered her voice to a whisper, casting a glance at Amelia, whose attention was focused on the dog at her feet. “And, tonight, I intend to show my husband just how much I love him.”

  Ross curled his lip into a smile as a flare of lust ignited in his eyes. As her pregnancy had advanced, Alice’s need for him had grown into an intense ache deep within her. She smiled at his inventiveness as he sought more and more ways to bring her to pleasure, despite her increasing size. And last night, the first night at Pengarron after three days’ traveling, she’d been able to give free rein to her pleasures, screaming his name into the night, uninhibited by the fear that the other guests in the inns could hear their coupling.

  Three days’ denial had only served to heighten her need and intensify the pleasure, and as she gazed into his eyes and saw the longing in their dark expression, she felt her blood warm at the prospect of a night’s lovemaking.

  “You intend to show how much you love me, do you?” Ross said, a wicked glint in his eyes. “In that case…”

  He broke off and looked up.

  Hoofbeats approached outside, and the crunch of wheels on gravel. Amelia leapt to her feet and rushed toward the window.

  “They’re here!” she cried.

  Ross helped Alice to her feet and brushed his fingers along her cheek.

  “It’s time to greet our guests,” he sighed. “But we shall resume our conversation later tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Ross squeezed his wife’s hand as the carriage drew to a halt. She interlocked her fingers with his, and leaned against him. A shiver of delight rippled over his skin at the feel of her body against his and the anticipation of the night to come. Since announcing she was pregnant, his Alice had turned into a goddess—and an insatiable one at that. She was no longer the timid creature he’d wed, who had been terrified of the marriage bed.

  The carriage door opened, and out stepped Ross’s old friend from Cambridge. A tall, stern-looking man with an imposing air, Earl Stiles fitted the role of magistrate perfectly. But Ross knew his friend had a heart of gold, and would move the earth to help a friend in need. Stiles reached inside the carriage and helped his wife out. Ross caught his breath at the sight of the countess. Frederica almost matched her husband in height. Tall, willowy and with flaming red hair, she could n
ot fail to be noticed in London’s ballrooms. Here, in the middle of the Cornish countryside, she was like an exotic orchid, bringing a splash of color to the landscape.

  “Alice!” Frederica cried out with joy, and Ross’s wife released his hand and approached her friend, arms outstretched.

  “Frederica!” Alice exclaimed. The countess took Alice’s hands. “My dear, you look so well!” she said. “Pregnancy agrees with you.”

  Stiles approached Ross, his hand outstretched. “Good to see you, Trelawney,” he said.

  “How was your journey?” Ross asked.

  Stiles arched an eyebrow. “A full day in a confined space, with my wife, and three children who’ve all inherited her strength of will. What do you think?”

  Squeals of excitement burst from the carriage as a girl of Amelia’s age rushed out, holding a toddler’s hand, followed by an elderly woman dressed in a smart nursemaid’s uniform carrying a baby. Stiles rolled his eyes, and Ross let out a laugh. “You know full well, Stiles, how much you love your children. You wouldn’t wish to be parted from them for long.”

  “Perhaps not,” Stiles said, “though a few hours’ respite would be very welcome. Georgia talked non-stop since the carriage left Truro, and Eleanor is at that age when a child has learned her first few words and wishes to repeat them non-stop. As for Frederick…” He wrinkled his nose. “Let’s just say that being in a confined space with a baby who’s recently been weaned onto solids, is an assault on the olfactory senses, potent enough to floor an ox. I might consider using it as a sentence in the magistrate’s court. I can’t think of a better deterrent for the criminals of London.”

  Ross let out a laugh. “Perhaps a brandy will soothe your constitution, Stiles,” he said. “Your complexion does look a little green.”

  The two men followed the women inside. Alice and Frederica walked arm-in-arm, chatting animatedly. Amelia and Georgia had already run inside, together with Eleanor, who clung to her older sister’s hand.

  “When’s Westbury due to arrive?” Stiles asked.

  “This afternoon,” Ross replied, “then all the London Libertines will be reunited for Christmas.”

  Alice settled into her chair while Frederica poured the tea. The gentlemen had disappeared for an afternoon’s fishing in Pengarron cove, and Amelia had taken Twinkle for a walk with Georgia. The younger children were having their afternoon nap, which meant that Alice had at least an hour to indulge in a little uninterrupted gossip with her friends.

  Jeanette had arrived shortly after Frederica, together with her husband the Duke of Westbury, and her older sister Susan Claybone. Alice was good friends with Jeanette, and also her youngest sister Jane, who was lately married, but she was only slightly acquainted with Susan. A serious-minded woman, Susan seemed the antithesis of her fun-loving sisters. Heaven knew why Jeanette had asked Alice to extend her invitation to include Miss Claybone. Her face showed nothing but discontent at the world.

  Jeanette nudged her sister. “What do you think of Cornwall, Susan?”

  “I’ve hardly seen any of it,” came the reply, “but it’s bound to be better than London.”

  “You dislike London?” Alice asked. Miss Claybone rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of the people,” she said. “All that false gallantry. Particularly among the men. There’s nothing worse than a gallant gentleman who simpers over a woman with exaggerated congeniality in order to get what he wants.”

  “You prefer a man with a sour disposition?” Alice asked.

  “At least such a man is being honest,” Miss Claybone said. “I can’t stand men who seem to think a woman wants nothing more than to be smiled at.”

  Jeanette colored and cleared her throat, then she frowned at her sister.

  Frederica sipped her tea then set her cup aside. “You’ll love Cornwall, Miss Claybone,” she said. “The light here is just perfect.”

  Miss Claybone remained silent.

  “Do you plan to paint during your stay, Frederica?” Alice asked.

  “Naturally. I have my paintbox with me. I fancy doing a seascape for Georgia’s bedroom.”

  “The cove is quite beautiful,” Alice said. “I can take you there once we’ve finished our tea, if you like, and we can join the gentlemen.”

  “I doubt Ross would approve of your clambering about the rocks in your condition!” Jeanette laughed. “I’m sure Frederica and I will find it ourselves. How about it, Sue?” She nudged her sister again. “Do you fancy a walk?”

  Miss Claybone shook her head. “I’d rather remain indoors, Jeanie. At least then, I can be guaranteed not to come into contact with any congenial male company.”

  “There’s no fear of that,” Alice laughed. “Excepting, of course, my beloved Ross, and Frederica and Jeanette’s husbands, I can safely say there’s no congenial male company within ten miles of here.”

  And if what Ross said was true, the only male company within ten miles was a distinctly uncongenial man in the neighboring estate.

  Chapter Four

  Alice set aside her embroidery and sighed. She reclined on the chaise longue, her feet resting on a cushion, Monty snoring in a basket at her feet. The gentlemen were still out fishing, and the ladies had gone to explore the cove. The light was fading, and it wouldn’t be long before Mrs. Bascomb came to discuss the supper menu—which, given that she always cooked star-gazy pie on this date, was more of a declaration than a discussion.

  But, for now, Alice relished the peace and quiet, and the elevated position of her feet. Her ankles had been swelling a lot recently, and her lower back ached. But she daren’t tell Ross, for he’d only fuss and insist on calling the doctor. A little rest was all she needed.

  And she needed as much rest and quiet as she could get, for tomorrow night they had all been invited to Lord Carlaggan’s Christmas Eve ball. Alice’s dancing days might be over, but Lady Carlaggan was an excellent woman who’d promised to provide Alice with a quiet corner in which to sit, and Ross enjoyed dancing too much to be denied the pleasure. At least with their guests, he had plenty of obliging partners.

  She closed her eyes. If she concentrated enough, she could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks at the edge of Pengarron Cove. It was rumored to have been a landing place for smugglers fifty years ago, and Alice herself had discovered a long-forgotten bottle of brandy buried in the sand. It had tasted foul but Mrs. Bascomb had made use of it in one of her stews.

  A door slammed in the distance, and two pairs of footsteps approached the parlor door, which burst open. Amelia and Georgia ran into the room, panting.

  “Mama!” Amelia cried. Alice sat up, her heart thudding against her chest. Her stepdaughter was clutching her little dog in her arms tightly, as if she feared for the animal’s life. Georgia’s face was streaked with tears and her dress was torn at the bottom and at least two inches deep in mud.

  “Girls!” she cried. “What on earth has happened?”

  “It’s the man!” Amelia cried. “The horrible man!”

  “What man?”

  “Th-the one Papa warned us about. H-he was going to sh-shoot us!” Amelia burst into sobs and tightened her hold on the dog. Alice held her arms out and drew her stepdaughter into her arms.

  “Here, set Twinkle down next to Monty, and tell me what’s happened.”

  Amelia shook her head, and sobbed into Alice’s chest, her tears soaking into the material of her dress. Over her daughter’s shoulder, Alice could see that Georgia looked more composed, though she was sniffing.

  “Georgia?” Alice asked. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Twinkle ran off, and we chased after her,” Georgia said. “We followed her to the big house by the edge of the moor.” She glanced at her friend. “Please don’t be mad at Amelia, Mrs. Trelawney!” she cried. “It was my fault!”

  “What was your fault, Georgia, dear?” Alice asked.

  “Amelia told me not to go to the house. She said he was a scary man and we shouldn’t go near him. But
I could see Twinkle’s footprints. I saw no harm in getting her back. After all, she is Amelia’s dog. We followed Twinkle into the stables. It’s far enough from the main house, so I didn’t think we’d be seen.”

  Georgia’s lip wobbled and Amelia continued crying.

  “What happened?” Alice prompted.

  “We heard shouting, and an enormous man appeared,” Georgia said. “He was so angry! He told us to leave him alone or we’d suffer the consequences.”

  “Consequences? What consequences?”

  “He meant to beat us, Mama!” Amelia wailed. “I’m sure of it! Then he said he’d kill Twinkle!” she burst into tears again and Alice rocked her to and fro.

  “Hush, my love,” she said. “You’re safe now. I’m sure he meant no such thing. I daresay you gave him a shock.”

  “No, Mama!” Amelia wailed. “He pointed his gun at me! When Georgia said we were looking for our dog, he said…” she hesitated and shook her head, “…I can’t repeat it!”

  She dissolved into tears again and Alice stroked her hair, fighting back her anger at the man who’d frightened two innocent children.

  “What did he say, Georgia?” she asked.

  Georgia, who appeared more stoic, having inherited her father’s even temper, colored. “I daren’t repeat it, Mrs. Trelawney,” she said.

  “You only need say it the once,” Alice said, “then we can forget all about it.”

  “That’s what Papa says when he’s presiding over a hearing,” Georgia said. She approached Alice and lowered her voice. “Very well,” she said, her blush deepening. “He said if he found it, he’d strangle the fucking thing.”

  Dear lord!

  Alice tightened her grip on her stepdaughter.

  “What manner of man is he to say such vile things!” Alice cried. “And to children! He deserves to be horsewhipped! He can’t be allowed to get away with such behavior.”