The Christmas Card

by Dilly Court

  ‘But this is so unfair,’ Alice protested angrily. ‘I promised her that we could go out into the gardens and play snowballs. She’s just a child, Mrs Upton. I’ll keep an eye on her.’

  Flora stamped her foot. ‘It’s always the same. They all hate me and want me to be miserable.’ She threw herself down on the floor, drumming her feet and screaming.

  ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ Mrs Upton spoke through clenched teeth. ‘She’ll make herself ill and we’ll have to send for the doctor.’

  ‘Why?’ Alice demanded, raising her voice to make herself heard above Flora’s screeching. ‘Why do you want to keep the child prisoner in her own home? Surely a breath of fresh air and some healthy exercise would do her more good than being shut up in the nursery?’

  Mrs Upton drew her aside. ‘She has tried to run away several times. Keeping her under strict supervision is the only way to protect her from herself.’

  Ignoring her, Alice went down on her knees beside Flora. ‘Stop this at once. This sort of conduct won’t get you anywhere.’

  Flora quietened for a moment, eyeing her warily. ‘You’re supposed to be my friend.’

  ‘I am your friend, but if you continue like this you’ll only make things worse for yourself.’ Alice rose to her feet, holding her hand out to Flora. ‘Get up.’

  ‘Do as Miss Radcliffe says, Miss Flora.’ Mrs Upton’s voice shook with barely controlled anger. ‘Your mama will hear about this.’

  Flora’s answer was to go into a fresh tantrum, sobbing and beating her fists on the floorboards.

  ‘What is going on?’ Lydia Dearborn leaned over the banister. Tendrils of fair hair escaped from beneath the goffered frill of her linen nightcap and she clutched her wrap around her. ‘Why is Flora dressed for outdoors? I gave explicit instructions that she was not to be allowed out of the house, Mrs Upton.’

  ‘It’s not my fault, ma’am,’ Mrs Upton said hastily. ‘It was I who prevented them leaving.’

  ‘Miss Radcliffe, I will have words with you later, but please stop the child making that dreadful noise.’ Lydia retreated to her room, slamming the door.

  Flora stopped howling, but her whole body shook with suppressed sobs. ‘I – I hate you, Upton.’

  ‘That’s no way to speak to Mrs Upton,’ Alice said severely. She pulled Flora to her feet. ‘Say you’re sorry.’

  ‘But I’m not sorry. It’s the truth. I hate you all.’ Flora stamped her foot and genuine tears spurted from her eyes.

  ‘The child is a she-devil.’ Mrs Upton shook her head. ‘She’s past redemption. That’s what you get when you take a brat from the slums into a decent home.’

  Alice placed her arm around Flora’s shoulders, holding her close. ‘It’s no wonder she misbehaves if that’s what you think of her.’

  ‘Mrs Dearborn will hear more of this and you will be replaced, Miss Radcliffe.’ Mrs Upton turned on her heel and marched off with the keys on her chatelaine jingling, but it was not the happy sound of Christmas bells.

  ‘Never mind, Flora,’ Alice said, taking her by the hand. ‘We’ll go back to the nursery and I’ll explain everything to your mama when she sends for me. I’m sure if she understands why we were going into the gardens then she’ll change her mind.’

  Flora wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I do indeed. After all, it is almost Christmas, the season of peace on earth and goodwill to all men.’ She chuckled. ‘And women, including Mrs Upton.’

  The summons to the morning room came two hours later. Mrs Dearborn was seated by the fire, hands folded in her lap with a judgemental look on her face that did not bode well.

  ‘What did you think you were doing, Radcliffe? You know that Flora is easily upset and yet you decided to go against my wishes and take her out.’

  ‘I only intended to take her into the gardens, Mrs Dearborn. I thought that she would enjoy playing snowballs and running around like any ordinary child.’

  ‘I don’t pay you to think, Radcliffe. You will know by now that a previous employee filled the child’s head with nonsense about her natural mother. Flora is obsessed by the idea that she wants to find the woman.’

  ‘Then it is true, ma’am?’

  ‘Flora was adopted by my husband and me. She would never have known had it not been for the nursemaid who turned out to be a drunken slattern. Flora is unstable and given to bouts of temper tantrums that can only be controlled by large doses of laudanum. You were supposed to take care of her and prevent such outbursts.’

  ‘No one told me what to expect, Mrs Dearborn. But I don’t think that Flora is unstable, as you put it, and I decry the use of laudanum on such a young child.’

  ‘You dare to tell me what to do?’ Lydia stared at her, delicate eyebrows raised until they disappeared into her hairline. ‘What gives you the right to question my authority?’

  Angry and undaunted by her employer’s indignation, Alice faced her squarely. ‘I don’t question your authority, ma’am. But from what I’ve seen of Flora she is a little girl who needs love and affection.’

  ‘Flora has the best of everything. My husband spoils her and she wants for nothing.’

  Alice could see that this was going nowhere. Lydia Dearborn did not seem to have any maternal feelings towards her adopted daughter, but arguing was not going to help. ‘I can see that she is a lucky little girl to have come into such a comfortable home, but I was an only child and it’s a lonely path to tread. Might I suggest that she be allowed a little more freedom? She is intelligent and talented, and if she were allowed out under my supervision I think I could help her.’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet whether or not to sack you, Radcliffe. If you are a bad influence on Flora then you must leave.’

  Alice said nothing. She clasped her hands behind her back, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl standing in front of an irate headmistress, but there was little she could do other than wait for Mrs Dearborn to decide her fate. She could imagine Aunt Jane’s smug expression if she were dismissed. It would give her added encouragement to see marriage as the only solution, but the thought of marrying Horace made Alice feel physically sick.

  Lydia relaxed her hands with a sigh. ‘I suppose I will have to allow you stay on for the time being, Radcliffe. Apart from upsetting Flora even further, it would be difficult to find a replacement at such short notice, and at this time of year.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to look after her, Mrs Dearborn.’

  ‘You will indeed. There will be no more trips out unless you have my permission.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘You may go, but I expect you to work tomorrow, even though it’s Christmas Day. I have guests coming and I don’t want Flora to ruin my party.’

  Alice nodded, biting back the sharp words that rose to her lips. This woman, she decided, was selfish to the core and she disliked her intensely.

  ‘You may go.’ Lydia dismissed her with a wave of her hand. ‘Wait. On second thoughts you can make yourself useful. The wretched tree needs decorating and the servants are all fully occupied with preparations for tomorrow. I’m going out to luncheon and will be gone all afternoon, so you and my daughter may hang the baubles and tinsel. It will keep Flora occupied.’

  Flora knew exactly where the decorations were stored. She led Alice to an attic room at the far end of the corridor where the servants slept. Cabin trunks and other items of luggage were piled from floor to sloping ceiling. Oddments of furniture, oil lamps and a couple of crinoline cages were littered about the room, together with tea chests spilling over with unwanted items.

  With a cry of delight Flora pounced on a wooden box. ‘There it is. I knew it was here.’ She lifted the lid and pulled out a strand of tinsel, holding it so that the silver threads danced in rays of sunlight that filtered through the grime on the small windowpanes. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ Alice glanced anxiously at the cobwebs that festooned the rafters, but to her relief there
was no evidence of the creatures that had made them. She knew that for a grown woman to be afraid of spiders was irrational, but like Flora she had been at the mercy of a nanny who was addicted to drink and laudanum. The gruesome tales of giant arachnids that came in the night to punish naughty children had been told to subdue and scare her. The nightmares had ceased, but the fear remained. She closed the lid. ‘Let’s take them downstairs to the drawing room, Flora.’

  ‘And I want to put the star on top of the tree.’

  ‘I want doesn’t get,’ Alice said automatically, and for a moment she thought she was about to witness another tantrum, but Flora’s angry look melted into a smile.

  ‘May I put the star on top of the tree, please, Alice?’

  ‘Of course you may.’ Alice picked up the box. ‘You see how easy it is to get along with people when you speak to them nicely?’

  ‘I think I’m beginning to.’ Flora held out her hand. ‘Let me help you.’

  Together they transported the heavy box to the drawing room and set about decorating the tree, stopping briefly at midday when Nettie summoned them to the morning room where, as a special treat, luncheon had been laid on a table in the window.

  ‘I feel like a grown-up,’ Flora said happily. ‘I’m not usually allowed to have my meals anywhere but in the nursery.’

  ‘We’re very busy below stairs, Miss Flora.’ Nettie placed a jug of gravy on the table next to the mutton pie with a glistening golden crust and a tempting aroma. ‘Mrs Upton said it would be easier if you and Miss Radcliffe ate here.’

  Alice took her seat at table opposite Flora. ‘It looks and smells delicious, Nettie. Thank you.’

  ‘There’s boiled cabbage to come, miss. I’ll fetch it now.’

  ‘Ugh,’ Flora said, pulling a face. ‘I hate cabbage.’

  ‘It’s good for you.’ Alice cut into the pie. ‘But perhaps on this occasion we’ll just have the pie, Nettie. Miss Flora will forgo dessert and have an apple instead.’

  Flora’s eyes opened wide and her bottom lip trembled. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll eat my cabbage, but only if I can have pudding. What is it, Nettie?’

  ‘Jam roly-poly, miss.’

  ‘And custard?’

  ‘Of course, miss. Cook wouldn’t serve pudding without custard.’ Nettie bobbed a curtsey and left the room, returning minutes later with a dish of boiled cabbage. Flora wrinkled her nose, but ate hers without further complaint. Alice smiled to herself and said nothing.

  The pudding, as usual, was delicious and very filling. Flora ate all hers, scraping the dish with her spoon to get the last drop of custard, which made Alice laugh. ‘I’m sure there’s plenty more in the kitchen, if you’re still hungry.’

  Flora licked her lips. ‘No, that would be greedy, and I’m full.’ She sighed. ‘But I would like to go outside and play snowballs. The sun’s shining on the snow and it looks so pretty.’

  Alice had also eaten her fill, mindful of the austerity she would face that evening, and she sympathised with Flora, but she did not dare go against Mrs Dearborn’s wishes. She rose from the table. ‘I think we’d better finish the tree, don’t you? I’m sure it will please your mama to see it looking so lovely.’

  Alice had to lift Flora up in an attempt to place the star on the topmost branch of the tree, but it was still out of reach and Flora was heavier than she looked. They tried again and toppled over, ending up in a giggling heap on the floor with a tangle of booted feet and frilled petticoats. Alice was struggling to rise when the door opened and Rory Dearborn strolled into the room. He came to a halt, staring at them in surprise, and a slow smile curved his lips.

  ‘Well now, what happened? Has there been an earthquake?’

  Flora leaped up and ran to give him a hug. ‘You’ve come just in time, Uncle Rory. Alice was trying to lift me high enough to put the star on the tree.’ She held it up for his inspection.

  Alice rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, and as she shook out her crumpled skirts she found herself wishing that she had something prettier to wear than the severe black cotton uniform provided by Mrs Upton. She adjusted her white cap, which had slipped over one eye in the fall. ‘Good afternoon, sir.’ She turned away, avoiding his amused gaze as she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

  ‘Let me help.’ He lifted Flora as easily as if she were a toddler, and held her until she had fastened the slightly bent and battered star in place. ‘That looks splendid, Flora. You and Miss Radcliffe have done an excellent job.’

  Alice murmured an acknowledgement, but was still unable to look him in the face. For a gentleman to see a lady’s unmentionables was shocking even to someone who considered herself to be a modern young woman. Flora, however, did not seem to be worry about such niceties and she clung to her uncle’s hand.

  ‘Have you brought me a present?’

  ‘Need you ask?’

  ‘What is it? May I see it now?’

  He shook his head. ‘You will have to wait until tomorrow, so there’s no need for you to put on that sulky face, Flora.’

  ‘But I want—’ Flora broke off, shooting a sideways glance at Alice. ‘I mean, I would like just to see it and feel it so that I can imagine what it might be. Please, Uncle Rory.’

  He stood back, holding his hand to his heart with an exaggerated look of astonishment. ‘Who is this polite child? What have you done with Flora, Miss Radcliffe? Where is my niece?’

  His laugh was infectious and Alice forgot her moment of chagrin. ‘Flora is standing beside you, sir. She is a reformed character.’

  He bent down to ruffle Flora’s curls. ‘In that case I think I might allow her to fetch the present and put it under the tree.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Flora tugged at his hand. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I left it outside the door. Hoskins told me you were in here.’ He watched her with a smile on his lips as she raced from the room. ‘Such excitement,’ he said, turning to Alice. ‘I almost wish I were a child again at this time of the year.’

  ‘You’ve made her very happy.’ Alice folded her hands in front of her, not knowing quite how to behave in the presence of her employer’s brother. It was hard to remember that she was a servant. Her father had always treated her as an equal, as had his intellectual friends and acquaintances, but her lowly situation put her at a distinct disadvantage.

  ‘And you’ve wrought an astonishing change in her,’ he said in an undertone as Flora returned, carrying a large package tied with red ribbon.

  ‘It’s quite heavy,’ Flora said thoughtfully. ‘Is it a book?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not giving you any clues. You’ll have to be like everyone else and wait until the morning. I suggest you place it beneath the tree.’

  Flora shook the package, holding it close to her ear. ‘It rattles. Is it a box of coloured beads? You know I love necklaces.’

  ‘Put it under the tree.’ Rory turned to Alice with a wry smile. ‘Perhaps the old Flora is still here, after all.’

  ‘Flora,’ Alice said sternly.

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Flora walked slowly towards the tree and went down on her knees to place her present under its spiky branches. She jumped up again, spinning round to face her uncle. ‘Have you got a present for Alice, too?’

  ‘No, of course not, Flora,’ Alice said quickly. ‘Servants don’t get presents from their employers.’

  ‘Perhaps they should.’ Rory reached out to take Flora by the hand. ‘I’ve just had a splendid idea; something that will take your mind off presents.’

  ‘What is it? Tell me, please.’

  ‘The sun is still shining and the snow is crisp and clean in the gardens. Would you like to go for a walk?’

  ‘Yes, please. And we could make a snowman and snowballs.’

  ‘Remember what your mama said, Flora.’ Alice shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dearborn, but your sister-in-law specifically forbade us to go out and play in the snow.’

  Rory angled his head, a m
ischievous smile curving his generous lips. ‘Lydia is out and I’m reliably informed by Hoskins that she is not expected to return until four o’clock or even later.’

  ‘Please, Alice,’ Flora entreated. ‘Just this once. It might never snow again and I’ll die without having made a snowball.’

  Alice looked from one eager face to the other and knew she was beaten. ‘That would be a tragedy indeed,’ she said softly.

  Flora released her uncle’s hand to throw her arms around Alice. ‘I love you, Miss Radcliffe. May I call you Alice in front of Uncle Rory? He won’t mind. He’s a good sport. I heard my pa say so.’

  ‘Come along, Flora.’ Rory moved towards the door. ‘And you too, Alice. If Flora can call you that in private I claim that privilege too, and you must call me Rory.’

  Alice hesitated. ‘I don’t think I ought to, sir.’

  ‘What did I just say?’ He paused in the doorway. ‘If I’m allowed to use your Christian name then you must return the compliment, and I insist that you accompany us. If I’m to be bombarded with lumps of ice I refuse to undergo the humiliation alone.’

  It was an invitation she knew she should forgo, but it was her duty to look after Flora, or so she told herself as she hurried upstairs to fetch their outdoor garments.

  The paths were well-trodden by nannies pushing babies in their perambulators, and their older charges had shuffled through the icy carpet, churning it up so that it turned to slush, but the pristine whiteness of the snow-covered grass was smooth as icing on a cake. Flora uttered a cry of delight, running round in circles and leaving a trail of footprints. Alice hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching from the house, but common sense told her that the servants were far too busy to worry about the troublesome child who occupied the nursery. It seemed that Rory Dearborn was alone in regarding Flora as a person in her own right. He was watching her with an indulgent smile, which broadened as he turned to Alice.