Christmas Surprises

by Patricia Rice

  Diana’s eyes widened in horror as she turned her gaze to the gauze-enshrouded hand resting so casually amid the china and silver. That was his writing hand, his right hand. He could have lost it forever. The pain of that fear must have been as great as the physical pain, but he dismissed it so lightly. Determined not to let Jonathan see how he had upset her, Diana returned her gaze to rest on the raw scar of his forehead and raised one dark eyebrow quizzically.

  “Amputation of the head would have been a trifle drastic, but I daresay it would have relieved any concern about the flies.”

  She said it with such a straight face that Jonathan nearly choked on a swallow of coffee. He had forgotten her dry sense of humor, or rather, he had forgotten its effect on him. He still felt the overwhelming urge to retaliate in kind. He just hadn’t remembered that the need to retaliate hid a much deeper need. She was much too beautiful in the mornings for his senses to resist. The physical urge to gather her into his arms and kiss that sassy mouth into submission had to be prevented in some way.

  “Your sympathy is gratifying. I shall always remember it with fondness.” Collecting himself, he coldly returned to his coffee.

  “Then let me give you something else to remember with fondness.” Furious at his calculated coldness, furious with herself for caring, Diana rose precipitously from her chair and overturned his plate and all his carefully cut breakfast into his lap.

  Without further word, she sailed from the room trailing lavender ribbons. Who needed sophistication when righteous anger felt so much better?

  Jonathan almost smiled as he contemplated the remains of his breakfast, running down his once immaculate trousers. In some ways, Diana hadn’t changed at all, and he felt oddly relieved that the little hoyden still remained behind all her stylish beauty. And there certainly couldn’t be any pity lingering there if she felt free to take advantage of his temporary handicaps. In another time and place he would have chased after her and made her pay for her temerity, but he was no longer that heedless boy, just as she was no longer the pigtailed girl who would wrestle him to the ground. Just the thought of such a combat roused definitely unchildish desires.

  With a grimace at his response to this enforced proximity to a woman who had made it quite clear that she held him in disfavor, Jonathan struggled from his lonely seat and set out to find clean trousers.

  Charles found him sometime later staring up the narrow back stairs to the attics. Eyeing his melancholy friend skeptically, he slapped a hand to Jonathan’s back and steered him toward the main staircase. “The maids don’t sleep up there, old fellow, if you’ve taken a sudden penchant for slap and tickle. It’s too damn hard to heat those rooms.”

  Jonathan scowled. “I bloody well don’t give a damn where they sleep. I owe you a great deal, Charles, and don’t think I’m ungrateful, but this isn’t going to work. You should have left me in London.”

  “To do what, may I ask? Hide from your father? Or Diana? Or both? Devil take it, Drummond, but you’re a bloody great hero on the field, and a complete horse’s ass on home ground. You’ve got the courage to stand up against the worst Boney could send you, but you haven’t got the backbone to stand up to one sharp-tongued female. You’re the one who has thrown his cap over a windmill for that frippery sister of mine. I could have warned you it was a foolish piece of business. Diana’s a right one, but she can be mighty high in the instep when she wants to be. She’s not so easy-natured as your Marie.”

  “Marie is a senseless chit, even if she is my sister. And I’m damned sorry you ever got near me while I was fevered. Remind me never to become ill again.”

  The two men clattered down the last of the stairs and into the hall where the butler waited with their greatcoats and mufflers. Unoffended by Jonathan’s irascible curses, Charles grinned and shrugged into the caped coat.

  “On the contrary, you should be ill more often. It’s quite an enlightening experience. You’re a damned close-mouthed devil, Drummond. I had no idea your passion for my sister had got so out of hand as to stoop to pet names! Come on, nodcock, let us get a log that will last into eternity. That will show them what kind of stuff we’re made of.”

  They disappeared into the blowing cold of a white-laced winter wonderland, leaving a gaping Elizabeth hovering behind the parlor door. Jonathan and Diana? Is that why her sister had become an old maid at the age of twenty-two? Did they really have a tendre for each other? Or had she misunderstood Charles’s words? It would be something lovely to have Marie as a sister-in-law and to be able to visit the Drummonds in London whenever she wanted. Surely Diana would invite her as often as she asked. Jonathan and Diana. Oh, yes, that would be a lovely match. And then she could come out next Season without fear of being overshadowed by her older sister.

  Practically dancing up the stairs, Elizabeth set out in search of the twins.

  * * * *

  The yule log arrived while Diana was completing the greenery in the drawing room later that afternoon. Besides the kissing bough in the center of the ceiling, she had decorated the mantel candelabra with ivy and holly and made a centerpiece of evergreen branches intertwined with ivy for the spinet. Already several small gifts dangled tantalizingly from the boughs on the ceiling, and Diana smiled as a gust of wind from the open front door sent them dancing. Her father had initiated the tradition of hanging gifts when they were very young and the kissing bough’s main feature of mistletoe meant nothing to them. This year, only the gifts would be there. The mistletoe was not only perilous to reach, but inappropriate for a house of mourning. But she could not resist the gifts.

  Jonathan watched her wide smile of pleasure as he and Charles carried in the enormous log meant to burn for the next twelve days. Not many houses had fireplaces large enough for the old custom, but the drawing room in the old part of Carrington House was ideal for the purpose. The enormous room had a fireplace that engulfed one wall. Dwarfed by the towering stone and timber fireplace behind her, Diana balanced precariously on the edge of a wing chair as she added another piece of ivy to her bouquet.

  She leapt lightly from her unseemly perch, her dark eyes dancing with delight as she carefully inspected their beribboned presentation.

  “It is lovely. I do believe it is the best log ever. It will make a splendid sight when you light it tonight. Do we have any of last year’s log left to light it with?”

  “How am I supposed to know? You were here, not me, but I shouldn’t think Father would have forgotten to set a few pieces aside.”

  At this mention of their father, Diana’s smile faded, and Charles regretted his hasty words. Jonathan gave him a look of disgust, and resignedly helped lower the log to the grate, an awkward business with his one good arm.

  Once it was settled, Charles pulled off his gloves and circled Diana’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Di. I have been tormenting myself for weeks for not being here when you needed me. It’s hard to come home and act cheerful when there’s this big gaping hole that he used to fill.”

  Diana nodded in understanding. “I keep waiting for him to come through the door and yell for the twins and spin Mama around the room like he did when he had a good day. I miss talking to him in the evenings. I even miss his scoldings. I catch myself sounding just like him sometimes when the twins are in the briars.”

  Jonathan had moved quietly to the door so as not to intrude upon this family scene, but Charles caught the movement before he could escape.

  “Don’t bolt yet, Drummond. The greenery ain’t up yet in the hall and unless you want Diana climbing up there to do it, you’d better stay here. The twins are in their best clothes and I promised Mama to keep them entertained until their keeper gets back from the village, so I’m taking them out.” He ignored Diana’s dubious look. “Goudge ain’t much help, but he may lend a hand if you need him.”

  Releasing Diana’s shoulder, Charles reached up to spin one of the dangling packages and grinned at his friend’s stoic expression. “Or you can take the twins and I’ll help D
iana.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Jonathan raised expressive eyes to the ceiling at the thought. “I’d rather face Boney himself than those two. Were we ever like that?”

  Diana demurely nibbled at the end of her finger as she contemplated her older brother and his friend. “Don’t I remember a time when the two of you put me in an empty barrel and sent me down Scott’s Hill? And then, of course, there was the time—”

  “Don’t let her get started!” Charles hastily dodged a Chippendale sofa in his effort to reach the door before she could continue. “She’ll make the heathens look like saints before she’s through.”

  He was gone before either could say a word, his booted feet carrying him rapidly up the hall stairs in search of his elusive brothers. Jonathan turned a thoughtful gaze to the slim young woman now sitting at the table idly removing discolored leaves from a branch of holly. They had shared so many times together, it was hard to exclude himself from her life now. He had to remember that she was the one who had chosen to exclude him after he ran off to join the cavalry instead of staying home to court her as she deserved. Although she wore no ring, he supposed she had found someone more suitable while he was away. She had too much beauty and spirit to wither away on the vine.

  “I am nearly done decorating,” she lied. “You don’t need to help me unless you wish. Mama’s right. This is a house of mourning—I should not be so frivolous.”

  “I should think a little frivolity is what we all need right now. I speak for myself, of course.” Jonathan grimaced as he indicated his bandaged hand. “But the twins and Elizabeth are young yet. They need things to be the way they used to be, just for a little while. It’s hard on them.”

  Diana raised her eyes to his, and Jonathan caught the sparkle of tears behind thick lashes. His breath lodged in his lungs, and the sudden, desperate urge to take her in his arms almost sent him fleeing in the opposite direction.

  “You’ve changed, Johnny.” She saw his stiffening at this boyhood name and regretted her familiarity. He was no longer a boy but a man full grown, a man she had trouble recognizing at times. The unruly chestnut hair still fell across his wounded brow, but it was the sun-darkened brow of a man who had spent years on foreign shores. What had made her think he would have any interest in a country miss such as herself? She had not even a London bronze to catch his eye or hold his attention.

  “So have you,” he reminded her. “You’re not a skinny little girl in pigtails or a bluestocking with her nose in a book or even a hoyden who can climb trees with the best of them. We all grow up.”

  Diana made a vicious cut with her pruning shears at the evergreen branch she was trimming. “I still read books and can climb trees as well as the twins. In happier times, I even know how to laugh. But not you. You look just like your father when you glare at me like that with your nose up in the air and that disapproving frown between your eyes.”

  “Do I?” To put the lie to her words, a twinkle began to gleam in those maligned features. He removed the branch she was butchering and gave a quick twist to the wire tying it to a second branch from the stack on the floor. “Then perhaps he will find me so changed he will forgive me for my trespasses. One can always hope. And what about you, Diana? Have you found a suitor who will read poems to you and admire your collection of antiquities?”

  “Oh, they always read poems to me when they find out I like them,” she answered crossly, twisting a ribbon around the roping taking shape beneath his capable fingers. Even with one hand Jonathan managed the unwieldy branches better than she. “And they mutter suitable exclamations when I show them my pieces of Roman pottery. And then they go on to talk as if I hadn’t half a brain in my head or the wit to know the difference. I really don’t think men are all that necessary. I can keep the books as well as my father could. He had managers to oversee his various interests. I could do that if they’d let me. But no, they must pat me on the head and tell me what a good little girl I am, and why don’t I fetch them a cup of tea? Men! They are a thoroughly useless lot.”

  “You go too far, Janey. Would you march to war without us?”

  “There wouldn’t be any war without you,” she answered blithely.

  “You have a point there. But look at the women you know. How many of them are capable of keeping the government running?”

  “About as many as there are men.” Diana looked up from her ribbon-tying to find Jonathan watching her, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was leading her down the garden path, but she didn’t care. She twitched his self-importance again. “Why should a woman marry when all it ensures is a lifetime of cooking and cleaning while the man carouses? Any sensible female must see that marriage isn’t made in heaven but in a much more earthly place.”

  “Oh, I’ll agree with that. If it weren’t for earthly pleasures, no self-respecting male would find himself leg-shackled to a shrewish female who complains night and day and gives him no peace until he is in his grave. I am certain it is only the desire to breed heirs that keeps the custom of marriage alive. I can’t remember your feeling that way before. You certainly have changed more than I imagined. It is a relief to learn that now.’’

  “You are not what I once thought you to be either,” Diana responded tartly. “I can remember once when you enjoyed my company instead of calling me a shrewish female. But of course, that was when you were inclined to wager on whether the first leaf would fall from the oak or birch, and you enjoyed wrestling on the lawns with children and teasing shrewish females. That was back before you lost your sense of humor and became your father, when you knew how to laugh.’’

  “Ah yes, I remember that time. And didn’t I used to pull hair ribbons and run away and hide them where shrewish females couldn’t find them? Like this?” And to Diana’s dismay, Jonathan leaned over the table and slipped one of the ribbons from her hair, causing a tumble of thick tresses to cascade over one shoulder. Before she could grab it away, his long trousered legs carried him toward the door, his limp not hampering his swiftness to any great degree.

  “Jonathan Drummond, you give that back! I haven’t another to match and your family will be here any minute!” Brushing a shower of evergreen branches from her lap, she jumped up and raced after him.

  “You’ll never find it!” he cried out from the top of the stairs as Diana dashed into the hall.

  “Jonathan, upon my word, I will pull every hair from your head if I catch you!” Lifting her skirts, Diana raced up the stairway after him.

  Appearing in the corridor from the kitchen with a ladle of hot punch she had meant to offer for sampling, Mrs. Carrington stared after the young couple as if they had quite taken leave of their senses. They acted as if they had already been sampling the punch. Frowning as she turned back toward the kitchen, she tasted a sip for herself. Not enough ale. Cook would need to heat some more before the Drummonds arrived.

  Diana found Jonathan perched on the attic stairs with no sign of the ribbon in sight. She grinned in satisfaction and sat comfortably on the step below him. The high stickler from the drawing room now appeared more like the Jonathan she remembered, with his hair down over his forehead and a smile dancing about his lips.

  “You can’t hide up there anymore. Mama keeps the attic locked ever since Freddie fell asleep in one of the trunks and disappeared for hours. So now give me my ribbon.”

  Jonathan ignored her outstretched hand and looked contemplatively at the door that kept him from discovering the secrets of the old desk. Perhaps it was better he not know if the ring remained concealed in the hidden drawer. What could he do if it still were? Diana was a grown woman now, not the impressionable little girl he had hoped to persuade to wait for him. Besides, he had even less to offer her now than he had had before. His father most likely had disowned him, and if there were any chance his hand would not mend properly, he had few means of making a living. With neither home nor means of support, he could not renew his suit. It would be better to let old wounds heal, but in four ye
ars the one in his heart showed no sign of closing.

  “I guess that eliminates a fast game of hide and seek. Shall we bob for apples next?” Jonathan pulled the crumpled ribbon from his pocket and dangled it tauntingly just out of her reach.

  “You may join the twins at the apples, if you wish. Besides, hide and seek isn’t any fun. You always knew my favorite hiding place, even if you pretended you didn’t.”

  In the narrow, walled stairwell, Diana felt dangerously close to him. They must have been much smaller when they used to hide up here and talk while the others searched for them. Jonathan’s tightly trousered leg now rested daringly close to her knees, and the way he leaned his elbows back on the stair behind him made her amazingly aware of the leanness of the hips resting just above hers. Yet, boldly, she continued to stare into the warmth of his gray eyes.

  “I wanted to make certain I was the one to find you. I was an amazingly selfish young man, wasn’t I?”

  “You most certainly were,” Diana answered as severely as she was able. And then, the one thing she most held against him, the one thing she had sworn never to say out loud, slipped past her lips before she could prevent it. “I’ll not ever forgive you for slipping off to war without thinking to tell me first. That was the height of your selfish career,”

  “You don’t know the half of it, my lovely Janey.” Wistfully, Jonathan swung the ribbon within her reach and watched as she grabbed it to twist and bind in her straying locks. In an effort to determine just how and where she had found out about his leaving—had it been from his letter or some other source first?—he asked, “Where were you when you heard the news?”

  “Sick in bed.” Diana made a face of disgust. “I caught the twins’ chicken pox. I was so mad at them, and then I was mad at you and Charles when I heard the news. I couldn’t believe it. I must have been delirious. I was going to ride out after you and ring a proper peal over your heads. I suspect my mother gave me laudanum to keep me quiet. When I woke, Elizabeth brought me a rose on my breakfast tray, and I knew you weren’t coming back. I never have been able to pry out of her where she found a rose at Christmas, but it was like receiving a funeral wreath, I guess. I just knew you weren’t coming to hold my hand and make me laugh anymore.”