Fortunately, they were soon called for dinner, and Lord Alexander led her to a place far down at the end of the table — surely far enough away that she wouldn’t be tempted to engage in any conversation with Lord Elijah. She hadn’t been able to help herself from eavesdropping on his conversation earlier with Cecily — Lady Danvers — and her husband. She still found it rather difficult to look at Cecily without malice, knowing that she still held onto her grandmother’s gift.
Why she wouldn’t give it back to her all of those years ago, Joanna didn’t know, but she was always on the lookout for it to appear, wondering if maybe — just maybe — she might be able to filch it back.
Which wasn’t really stealing, was it, if it was your own to begin with?
Fortunately, Caroline sat down on her right, giving her hand a quick squeeze as she did so.
“Thank you for staying,” she said softly. “I know having Elijah here changes things, but he has honestly been on his best behavior since he arrived. He has promised to stay far from you, and I promise that since he has returned, he hasn’t shown much sign of mischief. I think it might be possible that Eli has finally grown up.”
Joanna didn’t want to share her encounter with Lord Elijah with his sister — somehow it seemed wrong, even if it would prove to Caroline that he wasn’t quite as mature as she thought.
“That would be lovely,” was all she said instead but then noticed that Caroline wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention any longer.
“Caro?” she asked, leaning forward to try to see into Caroline’s face as the first course emerged from the kitchen. “Are you that hungry?” she asked, attempting laughter, but Caroline’s attention was solely focused on the tureens of soup being carried in — one brown, one white, which would go alongside the remainder of the dishes, some already placed on the table and others carried in by various footmen.
Except… it seemed that Caroline only cared about the soup. Was it the soup she was staring at, however, or… did her gaze travel beyond?
Joanna studied the footman more closely. He was quite attractive, but then, most footmen were, particularly in a household like that of the Marquess of Darlington. The footman’s blond hair waved at the top, and his blue eyes were fixed upon Caroline with an intensity that nearly took Joanna aback.
“Caro,” she said in a stage whisper, poking her friend in the side, for suddenly she noticed that she was not the only one who seemed interested in the connection between the two of them.
Lord Elijah had taken up a seat across the table and three chairs down from her, right beside Lord and Lady Oxford, a pleasant couple who seemed to be quite infatuated with one another, causing Joanna to sigh with envy she wished away.
Lord Elijah had been in mid-conversation with them, but now he was looking back and forth between his sister and the footman — the footman who had come to a halt right beside Caroline, and was now placing the bowl of soup in front of her with the utmost care.
“My lady,” he practically breathed, and Joanna wondered if everyone else could feel the air grow tense between them. She hoped that the scent of the greenery that lined the tables as well as the beeswax of the candles that were strewn through the room hid it all.
Maybe she just knew her friend better than most. Maybe no one else would notice anything was amiss.
“You there,” Lord Elijah called from across the table, and the footman looked around as though searching, until he seemed to realize he was the one being addressed. “Yes, you. What’s your name?”
“Thatcher, my lord.”
“Thatcher. Do you see something you like here?” He grinned, but the look in his eyes was one of knowing, one of suspicion, one she didn’t overly like.
Thatcher jolted upright at being addressed, as all of the eyes around the table suddenly turned toward him. As he did so, his tray tilted forward, the remaining bowl of soup upon it crashing to the tabletop, the floor, and spilling all over Caroline and Joanna, although Caroline suffered the worst of it.
“Oh!” she shouted, jumping from her chair as the brown soup now covered her cream silk gown. “It’s hot!”
“Here,” Joanna leaped up next to her, lifting their pieces of linen from the table and wiping the soup off Caroline’s skin.
“We’ll clean you up. Excuse us,” she said, curtsying to the table, before conveying Caroline out of the room as quickly as she was able, as Caroline’s father began to make apologies to the rest of the guests.
Joanna paused in the doorway, looking back just long enough to allow her gaze to rest on Lord Elijah. She narrowed her eyes at him, as he was already sitting back smugly, one arm resting upon the table as he sipped his drink and his soup.
Mature, indeed.
Chapter 4
“Out with it.”
Caroline whirled around, her skin clear of soup, clad in a clean gown. Joanna would have changed herself, but she had nothing else to wear — not if she was planning to remain here for the rest of the house party. A few soup stains, half blotted out with a piece of linen, would have to stay.
“What do you mean?” Caroline asked, widening her eyes as she attempted innocence, but Joanna was already shaking her head at her.
“Your lady’s maid is gone now, so you can tell me all. Has anything actually happened between you and the footman, or is this merely the two of you desiring what can never be?”
“It is… oh Joanna—” Caroline moaned, sitting down upon the bed next to her, taking her hands within hers as she bent over them in supplication. “I love him.”
“You do?” Joanna asked, slightly shocked at Caroline’s admission. To have a flirtation was one thing, but to be in love… “How did this happen?”
“I don’t even properly know,” Caroline said, throwing herself backward on the bed. “I was here all summer, and then when my mother and father went to London for a month in September, I remained with my brother and his wife, as she was due to have her third baby and I felt like I should stay with her. She mostly remained in bed, however, and my brother was busy, so I was on my own. Samuel and I just got to talking one day and… well, we got on rather well. I know it is shocking—”
Joanna gave a low chuckle. “Not really. I am the granddaughter of a seamstress — a seamstress myself now — and you and I have always been the best of friends. I’m sure Thatcher’s family is not that different from mine.”
“I suppose,” Caroline said, sitting up once more, leaning back on her elbows now.
“No one else knows?” Joanna asked, surprised how it could remain a secret if Caroline and Thatcher had been regarding one another with such open longing for any length of time.
“No,” Caroline said remorsefully. “No one. Except now you, and obviously Elijah noticed.”
“He most certainly did,” Joanna said wryly. “And now because of him, Thatcher might lose his position.”
“Do you think he would, truly?” Caroline asked, looking up at Joanna with concern. “For that little incident?”
“Caroline!” Joanna said, trying not to laugh at how lovesick her friend was to look past such a thing. “This is your world far more than it is mine. Think how you would feel if anyone else had poured a bowl of soup all over you. What would you expect?”
“You’re right,” she said morosely, the corners of her perfectly shaped lips drooping uncharacteristically, for Caroline was a woman who loved to laugh. “I shall have to have a talk with my father. As for Eli—”
Joanna looked over at her friend with one raised eyebrow. “I have an idea.”
“You do?”
“I do,” she said, her lips beginning to curl at the thought. “Lord Elijah loves a practical joke, does he not? Well, then, let’s show him one.”
* * *
Elijah had always been of the opinion that one of his redeeming qualities was the ability to admit when he was wrong.
And he had been wrong to call out the noticeable attention between his sister and the footman.
But he had spoken before he even realized what he was doing. He had seen the man staring at her so openly, so admiringly, which hadn’t particularly bothered him — until he saw Caroline’s return expression. Then he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut.
He knew his sister wouldn’t be pleased, but at the very least, he talked his father into reconsidering the man’s firing until after Christmas. It hadn’t made up for his mistake, but it was something.
“You don’t really think that Caroline is carrying on with a footman,” his father said in response to Elijah’s request, a sentiment to which his mother only laughed at as the three of them were seated in his father’s study following dinner. They didn’t have much time — they would have to return to the party soon — but Elijah had asked for a moment alone.
“Of course she would never,” his mother said, waving heavily ringed fingers in the air. “Caroline knows her place. She does spend far too much time with the Merryton girl, but at least she has some noble blood running through her veins.”
“She does?” Elijah asked, much more interested in the conversation now that it had shifted.
“Yes, dear,” his mother said, folding her hands in her lap. “Her father was the second son of the Viscount of Edgewater.”
“What happened to him?” Elijah asked, wondering if he had ever asked about the story before, or whether it was one of his fleeting memories.
“You don’t know?” his mother eyed him with her sharp, blue-eyed gaze, and he shook his head slowly.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“After his wife — Miss Merryton’s mother, a woman far below him who he never should have married in the first place — left him for a pirate of all things, he basically ignored the girl. Her grandmother finally took her in. Her father still paid for her education and such, but when Miss Merryton was seventeen, he died penniless and the title passed on to a cousin of some sort. Joanna learned the work of her grandmother.”
His mother said the words with a shudder as though even mentioning it was going to cause her to catch some kind of affliction.
His father rolled his eyes. His own mother had spent her life working until she had met his father and become a marchioness. While he had known a life of relative luxury, he was not impervious to the lives of those a class below him.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Baxter walked in now, Lady Baxter — Ophelia — behind him. If Elijah hadn’t known better, he would have thought they were a copy of his parents, but twenty years younger.
“It’s taken care of,” he said abruptly, not wanting Baxter involved, but of course, his brother couldn’t help himself. He never had been able to.
“Is it about the footman business?” he said with a snort. “I hope you told him to pack his bags.”
“Although his spill was partially Elijah’s fault,” Ophelia said, wrinkling her long, thin nose. “Are you going to have him pack his bags too?”
Elijah sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew his sister-in-law was trying to make a joke, but he couldn’t say he was overly pleased by it.
Even though she was right.
“The footman can stay for now,” his father said with a sigh, as though he would prefer this entire business had not been brought before him. “I suppose it is Christmas, after all.”
“Yes, it is.”
Elijah didn’t even turn to look at the door. His father’s study was large, yes, but there was hardly enough seating for the lot of them. Caroline didn’t appear to require a chair, however, as she remained rooted in her place near the door.
Elijah finally turned to look at her, more out of curiosity to see if she had changed her dress. She had. And she was accompanied by their brother, Alexander, who took in the scene with an expression of interest on his face, so very like Elijah’s own reflection.
“What is the matter with you, Eli?” Caroline asked, staring at him hotly with her arms folded over her chest. “That was not well done of you.”
“I think we should talk about this later,” he murmured, not wanting to bring any further ire upon her. If she truly was carrying on with the footman, he would prefer to handle it his own way, without his brother and his father interfering, for he knew they would only make things worse, forcing Caroline right into the footman’s arms.
“You were rude,” she said, holding her chin high, “and I think you should apologize.”
“To the footman?” he asked, raising his brows. “I can hardly see why. While I should not have said anything, it is still his job to place the soup on the table and not on your lap.”
“Elijah, you, out of anyone, should know to be nicer.”
“I should, should I?”
“Yes. You must have served with all kinds of men!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Did everyone not bleed the same?”
“I… I suppose so,” he said with a shrug, although much of his time in the war was kind of hazy, if he was being honest. She had a point, though. Although, as officers, the gentlemen were less likely to be killed.
“There isn’t actually anything happening between you and the footman, is there, darling?” their mother asked, her words nonchalant, although if Elijah knew her as well as he thought he did, he suspected there was an underlying hint of reproach and question there.
“No, of course not,” Caroline said, although her eyes flashed for a moment with a knowing that Elijah wondered about, but she looked off at the secretaire in the corner too quickly for him to make anything of it.
“What do you think of Lord Cristobel?” Baxter asked, leaning toward his sister, and Elijah wondered if she didn’t shudder slightly.
“Why does it matter?”
“He is interested in you.”
“He is not!” Caroline exclaimed, as though she hadn’t thought much on the fact that the single viscount had been invited to their Christmas party.
“He is.” Baxter nodded, grinning now. “And he would like to be the recipient of your affections by the end of Christmastide.”
“You’re joking,” Caroline said, her hands on her hips now, as Alexander’s eyes followed the conversation with interest.
“I’m not,” Baxter said with a smug smile. “We said we would help him, did we not, Ophelia dear?”
“We did,” she confirmed with a nod of her head. “It would be quite the match.”
“It would,” his father chimed in. “I asked Baxter to find a potential match for you Caroline, and he thought Lord Cristobel would be a fine choice. I agree.”
“I never asked for you to do so!”
“No, you didn’t. But it’s time.”
“I never should have come in here,” Caroline said with a toss of her head. “Family meetings — at least in this family — are always a mistake.”
And with that, she was out the door, pulling it smartly shut behind her.
Elijah sighed as he rose and followed her. What a Christmas homecoming this was turning out to be.
Chapter 5
“Is this how you imagined your Christmas visit here with us?” Caroline asked Joanna wryly the next day as they stepped out the front door of the manor, drawing their cloaks tightly around themselves as the wind did its best to toss them away. Fortunately it had brought warm air today, and Joanna wouldn’t have to worry about the cold that always seemed to invade beneath her skin.
“No,” Joanna admitted with a sigh, “but then, the last time I was here, we were girls. We thought that one look from a young man meant he was in love.”
They laughed at that as they skipped down the steps to meet the rest of the party. They were going for a walk through the family’s grounds, although there wasn’t much to see now that most of the greenery had browned and a layer of snow covered everything. There was, however, a small lake nearby and a few of the party brought skates.
Joanna and Caroline had a few games of their own in mind.
Briercrest had beautiful pasture in the summer —
miles of greenery stretching toward the tenants’ homes dotting the hill as far as one could see.
Joanna had only seen the grounds covered in white once before — every other Christmas had been brown. And while she was aware of the difficulties snow could bring in terms of travel and the work required of the staff, she had to admit that she loved the beauty of the frost lining the tree branches, the chill seeming like diamonds in the air.
Their party had grown since the previous evening, and they made quite the drawn-out group as they plodded along.
Joanna’s hip was bumped and she nearly took Caroline down with her, but she smiled when she saw the eagerness on the faces of the children as they raced by her. Christmas could be a time of such joy, she remembered, although it had been some years since it had been so for her. Since her grandmother had been alive.
“There it is!” Caroline cried excitedly. “The lake.”
She craned her neck around — looking for Thatcher no doubt, but he was nowhere to be found, and she had to settle for Joanna’s company instead.
It was a small yet pretty lake surrounded by evergreens and frosty trees. In previous years, the ice hadn’t been thick enough to skate on it, but this year had proven to be just cold enough for them to enjoy it.
Some of their party sat down on a blanket laid out by the few footmen who had accompanied them and began to lace their skates, while many of the children simply slid out on the ice with their boots.
This was what Christmas was about, Joanna thought, putting all concerns about Elijah to the side. It was about family and fun and a time to find joy. Even if that joy was fleeting.
Caroline, as it happened, had not forgotten their plan of revenge.
“Over there,” she said, pointing to a thatch of evergreens. “Little Clementine has agreed to help us.”
Joanna nodded as Caroline ran over to her niece, who was staring out at the ice before her with trepidation. She was the youngest of the bunch, her eagerness at not being left behind clearly at odds with her nervousness over sliding across the ice.
Merry Misrule Page 3