Merry Misrule

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Elijah left him, then, and walked over to the column Joanna was hiding behind.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered, and then they raced out of the room and down the hall so that they could arrive before Alexander did.

  They took their places in the shadows of the room, where they would be hidden from view, but present — they wanted to play a joke, yes, but not actually cause any harm to come to Alexander or the person he would be clandestinely meeting.

  The door eased open, and first Cecily entered the room, a bounce in her step as she took a seat on the sofa and spread her skirts out around her. She fluttered her hands around her hair, checking that it was perfectly in place, and Joanna had to bite back a laugh at how she was primping for her apparent rendezvous with Elijah.

  She leaned back on the couch, spreading her arms behind her as though to showcase all that she had to offer.

  With a creak, the door again opened, and Alexander stepped in, rubbing his hands together as though he was getting ready to sample a tasty treat — which, Joanna supposed he was.

  “Cecily!” he exclaimed, coming to a halt when he saw her spread out before him. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I…” she began, pausing as she did so, “I thought that… that is, I… oh dear,” she said with a sigh. “I was waiting to meet another.”

  “As was I,” Alexander said, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to understand just what had happened, although Cecily was still oblivious. “Were you meeting your husband?” he asked, and Cecily’s mouth opened and shut a few times like a fish.

  “Yes,” she said decisively with a nod, “that is what I was doing. And you?”

  “Looking for my brother,” he said.

  Elijah shifted, making a bit of a scuffle that caused Alexander’s eyes to suspiciously flick over toward where they hid.

  “I think, however, I know where he could be.”

  “I, ah, I best get back to the party,” Cecily said, standing, as she patted her hair and dress back into place.

  “Very well,” Alexander said dismissively. “Enjoy.”

  As she flounced out of the room, he turned and looked in the direction where Elijah and Joanna were crouched. Elijah took Joanna’s hand and led her out to face him.

  “That was quite the little scheme.”

  Elijah shrugged. “You each wanted a liaison,” he said, “so we provided you with the opportunity.”

  He led Joanna to the sofa where Cecily had been waiting just a few minutes before, and they sat down and faced Alexander.

  “Alex, won’t you sit down?” Elijah said, waving a hand to one of the chairs across from them.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Oh, come off it. You deserved far worse than that, and you know it. There is something that you have to say to us, is there not? An apology, perhaps?”

  Alexander lifted his chin. “I do not.”

  “I just don’t understand,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “Why did you do it?”

  Alexander looked back and forth from one of them to the other. “I was looking out for my brother,” he said with a shrug.

  “What do you mean?” Elijah said darkly.

  “She’s a seamstress,” he said, lifting his hand toward Joanna. “She would make a fine mistress, yes, but do you truly want to marry a seamstress?”

  “Yes,” Elijah said, standing now. “I do truly want to marry a seamstress. None of your scheming or ill will is going to keep that from happening, and unless you would now like to apologize to Joanna, I believe this conversation is finished.”

  “Not quite yet.”

  They looked to the doorway to find their father and Lord Baxter standing within it.

  “I was looking for you, Elijah,” his father said in his deep voice. “I was told you came this way, and, as it happens, I am rather glad that I heard this conversation.”

  “Then you know that I wish to marry Joanna,” Elijah stated, and Joanna’s heart began to trip at the possibilities of his father’s reaction.

  It turned out, she didn’t have to worry.

  “Yes, and I think she is a fine choice,” he said with a small smile for Joanna, who raised her brows, awestruck that he might actually agree.

  He widened his hands out in front of him.

  “If your sister can marry a footman, Elijah, then you can marry a seamstress. What this Christmas has taught me is that I would rather have you here with the family and happy, than for you to not be part of our lives any longer. And, in fact, there is something I would like to speak to you about. You as well, Alex.”

  They both looked at him with attention, and Joanna stepped forward and placed her hand on Elijah’s back, ready to support him in whatever his father had to share.

  “As you know, our family owns a few small estates. There is one in particular that I have intended for one of you to look after. Until this point, I wasn’t sure which of you could take on the responsibility of doing so. I had always thought it would be Alex, but I decided to wait until you returned from war, Eli, to give you a fair chance at it.”

  He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. “And, I think… it’s a good thing I waited. I can hardly believe it, but you would be the best fit, Elijah. Yes, I know you can sell your commission and could likely live off of that for a time, but you are a man who requires purpose to infuse your energy into or else you use that energy for other means. I believe that you and your bride can make a good life for yourselves. It is not overly far away, and the people will like you — for they will like her.” He laughed. “So… what do you say?”

  Elijah turned to look at Joanna, his eyes wide and rather incredulous.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” he said, and she knew without his words that he was asking what she thought. She smiled and gave a nod. It sounded like more than she could ever have asked for.

  “We would be very appreciative, Father,” Elijah said. “Thank you.”

  He reached out his hand and his father grasped it in a firm handshake. There was a raucous cry from the ballroom beyond and his father patted Elijah on the shoulder with something akin to affection.

  “Well, what do you say we go back and join the rest of them? Sounds as though we are missing out on quite the Twelfth Night.”

  “Let’s go then,” Elijah said, and the lot of them filed out — even Alexander, who followed sullenly silent behind, his hands in his pockets.

  “You’ve plenty of options, Alex,” their father said, obviously also noting his son’s dismay. “Just prove yourself.”

  Before they heard Alexander’s response, Elijah took Joanna’s hand and pulled her from the room. They stopped in the corridor before continuing onto the ballroom.

  “The truth is, I don’t care what Alex decides to do with his life,” he murmured as he took her hands and held them close. “I think he knew about my father’s choice and tried to ruin everything for us. All I care now is about the future — which is you and me, together. There’s no mistletoe above us anymore, but…—

  “I don’t need mistletoe,” she said with a laugh. “I can just imagine it.”

  “I see a lot of imagining in our future,” he growled.

  “There better be,” she returned, and when her lips met his, it was the best Christmas gift she could ever ask for.

  Epilogue

  “I’m home!”

  Elijah pushed open the door of their manor. They still had much work to do, but this had become home in every sense of the word. It wasn’t overly large, but it was quiet. It was peaceful. It was theirs.

  “There you are,” Joanna said, greeting him at the front entrance. He shut the door quickly so that the cold air wouldn’t chill the room. “I was getting worried about you.”

  “I was trying to find just the right one,” he said. “It’s outside the window.”

  He proudly pulled back the curtain, and Joanna peered out at the fallen tree that was now resting outside, perfect for their very first Yule Log.

&nbs
p; “It’s wonderful,” she said, walking over to him and leaning up for a kiss. “Thank you. You must be tired.”

  “I am,” he said, following her in, appreciating the warm glow of the fire. “But likely not nearly as tired as you.”

  “Now that is the truth,” she said as he removed his greatcoat and then lifted the bundle from her arms, cradling their son in his hands as he sat down on the sofa before the fire.

  “He’s beautiful.”

  Joanna chuckled. “You say that every time you see him.”

  “And yet it still holds true. John Edward. He looks just like his mother.”

  She leaned behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his temple.

  “Oh, I think he has much of his father in him, too.”

  “Hopefully not my mind,” he said ruefully, and Joanna swatted him lightly.

  “Your mind is beautiful and just as worthy,” she said. “You’ve lost a few memories, yes, but that is simply part of who you are and what has happened to you. Besides, you are remembering more and more all of the time.”

  “This is true,” he mused. “Perhaps it is because the memories I make now are worth keeping.”

  “Perhaps they are,” she said with a smile. “A letter came for you while you were out.”

  “Oh?” he said, not particularly caring about it. “From whom?”

  “From a Juanita Suarez.”

  He stilled. “Juanita… it couldn’t be—”

  But it had to be.

  “Have you opened it?”

  “No, of course not,” Joanna said, rounding the chesterfield and sitting next to him.

  “Go ahead,” he said, nodding to her, not willing to relinquish the baby currently in his arms.

  She broke the seal of the letter and unfolded it before she began to read.

  “Elijah, I hope you are well and you were able to find your way home. You were very kind to me when I was in such distress. You were so concerned for my story and the plight of my lost love, that I felt compelled to write to you and tell you the end of it.

  Last year, on Christmas morning, I was alone, hardly even aware of what day it was, let alone in a mind to celebrate. You can imagine my utter astonishment when I saw someone limping down the walkway to my home.” Joanna stopped and looked up. “It is just like your story.”

  “It is eerily similar,” he noted, as she continued.

  “It was Eduardo. I was wild with shock, sure that I was just seeing things, that it could not actually be him. I ran out to him, caught him, helped him back into the house. I was the only one home, my father out. Oh, Elijah, how wonderful it was to see him again. He was the same man as he had been before, yet so different in the same breath. He had been injured, a bullet having gone through his shoulder and another through his leg, but he was home. He was otherwise healthy. And he still loved me. We were married three months later. I only hope that you have found the same happiness as I have. Farewell, Elijah.”

  There were tears in Joanna’s eyes as she finished the letter.

  “The true ending is much better than yours.”

  “On that, you are correct,” he said with a laugh. “We shall have to update everyone on what has occurred.”

  “They won’t be pleased you lied.”

  He shrugged. “It returned your watch to you, did it not?”

  “It did,” Joanna said with a small smile, just as the door opened.

  “Elijah, you’re back!” Caroline explained. “Thatcher was just about to come look for you. He had hoped to finish early enough to join you.”

  “There is much to be done, Caro,” Elijah said to his sister. “Come, have a seat.”

  “I don’t suppose you will give up that baby to me to hold, will you?”

  “Not yet,” he said, laughing lowly so as not to wake his son. “Besides, you have one of your own.”

  Their arrangement had worked out perfectly thus far. Elijah had required a steward to help him with his estate. Thatcher had been caught in a strange situation of becoming family without the education to take on a profession that would be seen as respectable for a man with a noble wife.

  Working with Elijah had been the solution for all of them, and Joanna had appreciated having Caroline nearby so they could raise their children together..

  “Do you mind not going home this year for the entire Christmastide party?” Elijah asked Caroline just as Thatcher joined them.

  “Not at all,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “Seeing the family for Christmas and Twelfth Night will be just perfect, don’t you think, Jo?”

  “I absolutely do,” Joanna agreed with a smile. “This year I have no reason to avoid Briercrest.”

  She laughed as she looked over at Elijah with a spark in her eyes, and he winked back at her.

  “Now you can’t get rid of me.”

  “Behave yourself, and I will never see reason to.”

  As Elijah held the baby tightly in his arms, he had to blink back the tears that threatened — tears that all he had never thought possible had come to be. A family of his own, a wife who loved him, and a home to fill with memories for the rest of his life.

  And just in case he forgot some of them… Joanna was there to remind him.

  THE END

  HER CHRISTMAS WISH

  PREVIEW

  Emily and Charles’ Christmas story

  A sneak peek…

  Lord and Lady Coningsby had outdone themselves once again.

  Charles stood at the top of the stairs as he looked at the ballroom before him. He was announced — alone — though no one paid much attention. There were glances from some of the eligible young women and their mothers, of course, but most who would be invited tonight had already done their utmost to capture his attention.

  While Charles appreciated the effort, he simply wasn’t interested. Soon enough, he would find someone suitable. He just hadn’t the energy at the moment.

  “Doverton!” Lord Coningsby exclaimed as Charles reached the bottom of the stairs. “It’s good to see you again, old chap. It has been a minute, has it not?”

  Charles smiled at the man who stood next to the stairwell with his wife on his arm. The two of them had found contentment with one another, which Charles looked upon with both pleasure for his friend and his own bit of envy. If only he and Miriam had found the same with one another… but that no longer mattered, so why dwell on the past?

  “I have been in London for a few months now and only returned a week ago,” Charles said, coming back to the moment and assuming his practiced smile for occasions such as this. “I would have called upon you earlier, but I knew you would be deep in preparations for this evening.”

  Coningsby laughed heartily. “Alexandra here was, of course, but I would have welcomed the distraction. You would think this would become easier year after year, but alas, it remains as much work as ever. Now, there are plenty here who are looking forward to speaking with you.”

  “My family?” Charles asked with a raised eyebrow. “I see Anita over there, as well as Katrina.”

  “Of course,” Coningsby said with the slightest of smirks, for he knew Charles’ true feelings regarding his cousins, “but I was speaking of a few young ladies. You aren’t getting any younger, you know, Doverton, and since Miriam has been gone some time now— ouch!”

  Were they speaking of another subject, Charles would have enjoyed Lady Coningsby’s unsubtle reproach to her husband’s topic of conversation, but he would prefer that none of them continued to speak of this.

  “I may not be getting any younger, but it seems the eligible women are,” Charles said, filling the silence as he surveyed the room. “Why, many of the women looking my way are young enough to be my daughter.”

  “That is certainly no way to create a romantic sentiment,” said Coningsby, chuckling. “But you do have your succession to think of.”

  Charles sighed.

  “That, my friend, is my greatest concern.”

  Con
ingsby nodded in understanding before Charles took his leave to find himself a drink, hearing Lady Coningsby chastising her husband as he walked away. Coningsby had never had much ability to determine just when he should speak and of what, but Charles actually enjoyed that about the man. It was far better to know what to expect.

  He had just taken his first sip of brandy, welcoming its warm sensation sliding down his throat, when he heard his name being called. Recognizing the voice, he prepared himself so that when he turned, his distaste would not be evident within his expression.

  Apparently, he was not as successful as he would have thought.

  “Coningsby serving cheap brandy?” his cousin Edward asked as he approached. Charles attempted to sink into the wall behind him, but that only served to back him into the stone, where a tall angel with pink wings awaited.

  Despite Edward being the same age as him, the two of them had never gotten on well. Perhaps it was because Edward had coveted everything Charles had ever called his own — including Miriam.

  Unfortunately, the title, the estate, and all that it entailed would fall to Edward were anything to ever happen to Charles, for he had no other siblings and Edward was the closest blood relative.

  Charles hadn’t been disappointed in having a daughter. In fact, he could still remember the euphoria, the love that he had never before felt tugging at his heart the moment he held the tiny baby in his arms.

  But that was before. Before the miscarriages. Before Miriam’s icy politeness grew into a hostility that barred him from entering her room. Before she had not only kept his own child from him but had turned her against him.

  Before Charles had to come to terms with the fact that he would never have a son, and all would, one day, be lost.

  There hadn’t been anything to be done about it. And then Miriam had died, and Charles couldn’t imagine himself going through all of that once more, though of all the responsibilities he held, perhaps seeing to his line was the greatest. He had never been able to let go of his father’s teachings — of the importance of ensuring the male line survived.