Christmas Surprises

by Patricia Rice

  “She’s my daughter and I’ll have a say who she steps out with! She’s too good for scum like you. I’ll send her to her cousin in London before I let her have aught to do with the likes of you.”

  The battle escalated and both men rolled in mortal combat through the mud of the street by the time Jeffrey came upon them. Mary watched eagerly as the viscount grabbed the youngest by the collar and signaled for a nearby observer to grab the elder. The bystander hastened to obey the young lord. Near the corner, she saw the cause of this fracas, although she wasn’t at all certain that Jeffrey recognized the fact. Young Betty had a pretty face currently wrinkled with anxiety as she wrung her hands and stayed out of the way.

  “He’s a rapscallion, my lord,” the older combatant yelled. “Seduced my daughter, he did! Then won’t make an honest woman of her.”

  ‘You bloody damned fool!” the younger man screamed. “You don’t have to tell half the world! Betty deserves better than me. I can’t provide for her. But she deserves better than a damned idiot like you too!”

  Mary found human passion to be a trifle terrifying, but fascinating too. The two men looked as if they might throttle each other should Jeffrey order them released. The pretty young woman on the corner broke into tears and ran down a side street in shame. If someone didn’t do something soon, this little scene would end in utter disaster. Mary bit her lip and clenched her hands, trying to refrain from interfering, urging Jeffrey to rely on his better instincts rather than turn away in disgust.

  She held her breath as he dropped the younger man’s collar and removed his gloves to beat the dust off them. He didn’t look at the bystander still clinging to Betty’s father. Without official permission to release him, the other man resolutely clung to his struggling prisoner.

  “You work at the factory, don’t you?” Jeffrey asked offhandedly, drawing his tight leather gloves back on again.

  The young man nodded surlily. “It’s good work, but it don’t provide a house.”

  “You still live with your parents?” Jeffrey asked.

  At the young man’s reluctant nod, the viscount turned to give a perfunctory signal to his assistant. The other man released Betty’s father, whose struggles had ceased once the young lord had showed his interest.

  “Evan, you still have young ones at home, don’t you?” Jeffrey’s tone was still offhand, as if they merely discussed the weather.

  The older man nodded even more reluctantly than the younger. The two didn’t look at each other but focused on the man who was responsible in one way or another for nearly all the wealth of the village.

  Jeffrey picked up the package he had dropped and returned it firmly under his arm. “Then the problem is easily solved if the young couple could find a place of their own?”

  The young man responded sullenly, “It isn’t easy as all that, your lordship. There’s not a place to be had that don’t cost more than I make. I won’t be askin’ Betty to move in with me parents. It’s not fittin’.”

  Considering she had a clear picture of the young man’s home from his thoughts, Mary had to agree with that. He should be commended for wanting better for himself and his wife. But she had also read the girl’s thoughts before she ran away. She was not only ruined, but pregnant. Should she tell Jeffrey?

  “There’s the cottage out past the factory,” Jeffrey was saying, looking as if he meant to be on his way. “It’s small, but it shouldn’t be costly.”

  Now was the time for that brickbat, Mary decided. Was the man deliberately obtuse? Or couldn’t he add two and two? Surety he knew the workman’s wages, and since he owned the cottage, he knew the rent. Yes, the young man could afford it, if he didn’t eat. In a fit of irritation, she flung a pinecone at the viscount’s shiny high hat. Being invisible had a few advantages— not many, but a few.

  Looking surprised, Jeffrey caught his hat and glanced around. When his gaze settled grimly on the swinging wooden sign, she wondered if maybe he saw her better than she knew. She rather liked the idea that he knew where she was and what she was thinking. She swung her legs and made the sign creak. Jeffrey picked up the pinecone and disrespectfully threw it back at her. She laughed, although the men standing around watching stared at him as if he were crazed.

  With more aplomb than seemed reasonable after making such a spectacle of himself, Jeffrey dusted off his gloves again and settled his gaze on the younger man. ‘The cottage has been empty too long. Obviously, my agent has set the price too high. I’lI speak with him before I leave town today, but I expect to hear the banns read in church on Sunday.”

  The young man looked as if he had been given a reprieve from death. Mary watched with interest as he grabbed the viscount’s hand and shook it so hard it should have come off. When Jeffrey managed to disengage his hand, the young lover tugged on his forelock in respect and almost made a bow in his excitement. Betty’s father still looked a trifle dazed, but he wasn’t protesting any longer. They both ought to be running after Betty to prevent her from doing anything foolish. With a gesture of impatience, Mary shoved the young man in the right direction. Jeffrey certainly didn’t need to be made to feel any more superior than he already did by the young fool’s obsequiousness. The young man didn’t need further urging. He ran off in Betty’s direction.

  Mary waited until Jeffrey had stopped at his agent’s, then picked up his final few packages before trudging along beside him as he turned back toward home.

  She couldn’t tell if he ignored her or if he truly didn’t know she was there. “You saved at least three lives today,” she said casually, just to see if he listened.

  “I wondered how long you could hold your tongue.” He kept on walking, eyes straight ahead, not questioning her statement.

  “That’s not a very polite thing to say.” Offended, she contemplated leaving him to his own cynical thoughts, but her duty was to wake him to his responsibilities, not disregard her own. “Betty was pregnant. She would have run off to London to try to rid herself of the baby. You know what happens to girls who try that. Both men would have been driven by grief if she died. They would have taken it out on each other and no doubt done their best to kill one another. You made a difference in this world without even trying.”

  “What difference?” he asked cynically. “Had they all died, what difference would it have made? What difference does it make that George is dead? The world still goes on.”

  Brickbat time again. Mary wished there were a good snowbank to fling him in. She contemplated conjuring one up just for the pleasure, but she wasn’t totally certain of her abilities. She needed what strength she had for more productive activities.

  “Perhaps it is you I should have tripped and flung into the suit of armor,” she replied pleasantly “Even young Rodney has more sense than you. That young man back there could invent some cog or part that will make the invention of the horseless carriage come much sooner. Or Betty could give birth to a child who will someday pass a reform bill in Parliament. Or they could just eternally remember your kindness and pass it on every day in every way, making other people’s burdens lighter, causing them to make the world a little better. Maybe kindness will spread like a contagion. Perhaps it isn’t your place in this world to make a name for yourself by bettering the living conditions of the poor. Perhaps your place is just to make little changes so that one day someone else can make the difference.”

  Jeffrey kicked a pebble in his path, then scanned the clouds piling on the horizon. Finally, as they reached sight of the house, he conceded, “I wanted the glory too much, didn’t I?”

  She felt like singing. Maybe this would earn her a harp. With a thrill of joy as she watched his handsome face lose some of its cynical hardness, Mary applauded enthusiastically, then disappeared. She had given him enough to think about for the time being.

  Still feeling quite proud of herself, she sat on the study mantel later that evening, watching Emma Wittingham with curiosity. Tomorrow was the day before Christmas. Mary didn’t h
ave to leave until midnight of Christmas Eve. She enjoyed this sojourn into the world too much to give it up prematurely. She had to make certain her case had truly learned his lesson. Admittedly, she wasn’t ready to leave Jeffrey. She had this foolish notion that someone needed to brush the curl out of his face once in a while, and she hadn’t found that someone for him yet.

  Emma Wittingham very definitely was not that someone. A proper lady wouldn’t be surreptitiously lying in wait for a gentleman in a darkened room all alone. True, the servants had kept the fire burning for their employer, and one lamp burned dimly on the table beside his reading chair, but the room was large and cast deep shadows. Someone had hung a kissing bough on the side of the room near the tree. Presents had begun to gather on the table. Sugarplum boxes in the shape of fairies now adorned the evergreen branches. She could see the special box made for Susan on an upper branch where Jeffrey had placed it after his shopping trip. Susan hadn’t seen it yet. Emma hadn’t even looked. She was busy watching the door.

  The woman’s expression didn’t bode well at all. For a frivolous little twit, she bore a devilishly determined look.

  As an angel, Mary wondered if it was proper for her to whisper naughty things in the woman’s ear and drive her screaming from the room. It didn’t sound like a very angelic thing to do, but Emma didn’t mean well, she was certain. Perhaps she could tie her shoelaces together.

  She almost put that thought into action when the door opened and Jeffrey walked in. Mary wished she’d been a little swifter on the shoelace tying when Emma immediately dashed into the viscount’s arms. Jeffrey looked stunned, but he was too gentlemanly to turn away a woman who broke abruptly into tears.

  “Oh, my lord, I’ve been so frightened! Thank heaven you’re here. It’s so dreadful being a woman alone in this world. Please tell me what I should do.” She clung to his lapels and wouldn’t release him even though he caught her wrists and tried to pry her away.

  “Miss Wittingham, you must release me. Nothing can be as bad as all this. We’ll sit down and discuss it sensibly over a cup of tea, shall we?”

  Emma clung to him more persistently, burying her face in his shirtfront, holding her scrawny body as close to his as humanly possible. “Oh, I can’t discuss it! It is not at all proper, but I don’t know where to turn. I need a strong man to advise me, but my aunt would be horrified!”

  Unaccustomed to thinking in worldly terms, Mary hadn’t noticed the low cut of Emma’s dinner gown until it began to fall loosely from her shoulders. Her wriggling against Jeffrey’s front didn’t help the bodice’s precarious perch. It didn’t take any angelic mind-reading to understand the woman’s intent. Jeffrey looked more resigned than panicked. He hadn’t quite divined the woman’s treacherousness yet.

  “Your aunt undoubtedly ought to be with you, Miss Wittingham. I’m certain she can advise you if you will but confide in her. Or perhaps my mother can stand in her place if the matter is not of too confidential a nature. Won’t you take a seat while I send for some tea?”

  The bodice slid even lower, revealing a hint of one pink-tipped breast. Emma’s side curls fell artfully loose over one ear. Along with her flushed complexion, the scene appeared very much like one of seduction. Jeffrey looked a bit more distraught as he caught a glance of his companion’s disarray.

  “Oh, don’t leave me now!” she cried in great distress. “Your arms are so comforting. I am sure I will be fine in just a minute. Just give me time to calm myself. It is so comforting to have you holding me. A woman needs a man like you to help her. And a man must need a woman occasionally, is that not so?” Her look was almost coquettish as she glanced up at him through lowered lashes and rubbed herself suggestively against him.

  “Balderdash!” Thoroughly disgusted with this blatant display of asininity, Mary leaped from her perch. Emma had apparently decided her breasts were her best asset. Obviously, her intelligence and moral character weren’t. With relish, Mary set her foot on the long train of Emma’s velvet gown and said blithely, “Step backward, my lord. See what happens should she try to follow.”

  Looking as much irritated as relieved, Jeffrey did as told. Catching Emma’s wrists, he stepped as far away from her as his lapels would allow. When she pushed against his hold, trying to follow, the train of her skirt stayed put. An ominous rip tore through the silence.

  Emma looked startled but determined. When Jeffrey relaxed his hold somewhat, she shoved forward once more, apparently attempting to pin him against the wall. Her skirt didn’t budge, and her bodice slipped to follow the skirt.

  “Oops!” Mary giggled as the bodice slid downward even farther, revealing not only a corset but a bust improver. “That didn’t help much, did it?”

  Jeffrey sent his irritated look in the direction of her voice but refrained from answering as he finally pried Emma’s fingers loose by pointedly staring at her undergarments. Emma gave a slight shriek and tried to hide her revealing “improver.” Voices in the hall caused her to give him a sly look of triumph however. She immediately began a loud wailing and weeping as she frantically clutched at her clothes and ran for the door.

  “Oh, my, naughty little witch, isn’t she?” Because Jeffrey was too gentlemanly to do so, Mary held out a dainty invisible toe and allowed Emma to trip over it. She supposed pulling the carpet out from under her feet would have had the same effect, but she preferred the personal touch. For good measure, she gave Emma’s nearly bare back a shove.

  Emma shrieked and went flailing facedown into Darcourt’s most modern acquisition, a thick imported Aubusson carpet. The voices outside became excited and sounded considerably closer.

  “A fine guardian angel you make,” Jeffrey said in disgust, reaching to pull up the fallen woman. Emma resisted and began weeping frantically into the carpet.

  Her skirt was torn at the waist, her bodice down, and her hair falling about her shoulders. Only one conclusion could be reached when the door flew open to reveal Rodney and Susan.

  Mary didn’t think it a particularly reasonable conclusion, but the shocked expression on the newcomers’ faces made their opinions clear. She made a moue of disgust as they gave Jeffrey shocked looks and bent to help Emma from the floor.

  “He attacked me!” she wept. “I tried to resist. I truly did! Oh, what you must think of me.” And she broke into another bout of tears as they hauled her to her feet.

  Jeffrey just shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the scene contemptuously.

  “I say, old boy, this isn’t like you.” Even Rodney had sufficient sense to retain some skepticism as Susan wrapped Emma in her arms and led her away.

  Mary’s opinion of the dandy rose considerably, but she could do little enough at this point. She’d already done too much. She should have quit while she was ahead.

  “Of course it isn’t like me,” Jeffrey said coldly. “The woman attacked me, then tripped over her skirts while trying to rouse the dead. If she thinks to coerce me into an offer, she has sullied her reputation for naught. The woman is not only an ass, but an immoral ass.”

  Rodney appeared suitably shocked and departed swiftly on Susan’s heels. Mary sighed and settled back on the library table as the door closed behind him.

  “I’ve done it this time, haven’t I?”

  Jeffrey grimly reached for the brandy decanter. “You just helped her along. Her intent was the same either way. I was the fool too stupid to see it.”

  “What will happen now?” Morosely, Mary swung her legs. The Christmas tree no longer looked so grand as it had. She had liked the idea of being an angel of mercy and splendor, a heroine. She didn’t like being a bumbling fool quite so well. It didn’t seem at all odd to her that Jeffrey could see her whether she materialized or not. She felt a little too close to human right now.

  “If she’s a complete fool, she will press charges.” Jeffrey took a deep swallow of the liquor. “From all appearances, she’s a complete fool.”

  “What will she gain from ruining her own repu
tation?”

  “She will hope to extort an offer from me. She can press for breach of promise, possibly. It will do her little good to take a case of assault to criminal courts, but she can have her solicitor suggest a large sum of money placed at her disposal might disincline her to press charges. If I don’t go upstairs and make an offer, it will become a rather nasty little business in which neither of us will come out untarnished.”

  “Which will affect your family,” Mary added without being told.

  “Which will affect my family,” he agreed. “I could strangle the woman.”

  “If it weren’t a sin, I would do it for you.” She sighed and swung down from the table. “I think this calls for a little help.”

  “I think you have given me all the help I can need. I’ll handle this on my own,” he said coldly.

  Mary had envied Emma’s position in Jeffrey’s arms. She wondered what it would be like to lean against him and absorb some of his strength and the security he radiated. And she thought it might feel a tiny bit good to hug him back and reassure him that everything would be all right. He needed the reassurance of someone who loved him right now. Despite his cold arrogance on the outside, he hid an ocean of turmoil on the inside. Briefly, daringly, Mary brushed the viscount’s cheek with her fingertips. His jaw muscle jerked, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I was afraid I couldn’t feel you, but I can feel your warmth. You’re a good man, Lord Darcourt. You deserve a good woman. I wish I could have found one for you.”

  For a moment, his gaze fixed directly on her, even though she made no effort to appear. Then he looked through her again, in the direction of the door. “They say the good die young,” he answered gruffly.

  She laughed shortly at this. “But we have already decided that I’m not very good, haven’t we?”

  He shrugged. “I scarcely think an angel is what I need. All that perfection would be a trifle terrifying.”

  “Well, then, perhaps I am just a ghost. I’m certainly not perfect. Most of us on this side aren’t. We’re just learning to be better. I think I have a long way to go,” she added a little sadly.