Lady Kirkwood gave a sly smile when she said the word “fun,” but Allison was too relieved at their welcome to worry about it. The royal introduction was over. She sat down on the last remaining settee, the cream and gold brocade slippery under her skirts, and drew the twins down beside her.
Only then did she allow herself to look at William Bradford. He was watching her, his handsome golden head tilted to one side.
Then he gave her a wide smile. And she promptly choked.
**
William's grin widened. So this was his little cousin Allison. He remembered her, of course. Remembered how much fun she had been to tease, how she had blushed whenever he talked to her. What a good rider she had been, afraid of nothing, and that she had the most fetching pale golden freckles across her nose. But he hadn't remembered she was this pretty.
Curls the color of a sunset sprang from beneath her hat, surrounding her heart-shaped face in a fiery halo. She still had freckles, but they were much lighter, sprinkled across a little, upturned nose and creamy cheeks. She coughed when he first caught her eye and smiled at her, and thereafter threw him little, surreptitious glances from her wide hazel eyes.
How interesting this Christmas was turning out to be!
He watched as she situated the fidgeting, redheaded twins, giving them tea and sweets that had been practically wrestled away from Edward and Miss Bates. “Those girls look like they are about your age,” he whispered to Gertrude.
She gave the twins a wary glance. “I don't think they would like me,” she whispered back.
“Why ever not, sparrow? You are a most charming girl.”
Gertrude just shook her head.
Lady Kirkwood banged her cane on the floor again, obviously the signal for everyone to look at her. Gertrude slid her trembling little hand into his, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Now that we are all here,” Lady Kirkwood announced, “I can tell you of the holiday games I have planned.”
“Games?” Reginald said sharply. “Whatever do you mean, Aunt Harriet?”
“Isn't Christmas a time for games?” Lady Kirkwood said blithely. “This is one of my very own devising. A scavenger hunt.”
A murmur arose from Reginald and Edward. Even Letitia looked vaguely discomposed, as if this was not what she was expecting.
“What is a scavenger hunt?” Jane murmured to Allison.
“It is a search, where you must find certain items on a list,” Allison answered her. “The person who finds the most objects wins. At least I think that is what it is.”
Allison tried to keep her voice low, but Lady Kirkwood heard her. “You are exactly right, Miss Gordon. It is a search for certain items.”
“What would these items be, Aunt Harriet?” Reginald asked.
Lady Kirkwood waved her cane, and a maid came forward to hand each of them a sheet of paper, written in elaborate, scrolling calligraphy. Allison looked down to see it was a copy of the song The Twelve Days of Christmas.
“You must find some of these twelve items by Christmas Day. Up to seven swans a-swimming, I think,” Lady Kirkwood said.
“A partridge in a pear tree?” Letitia said sharply. “However are we supposed to find that?”
“Letitia,” Lady Kirkwood replied impatiently. “You may bring me whatever you think a partridge in a pear tree would be. Use your imagination, my dear.”
Letitia shot her husband a bitter, reproachful glance. He shrugged helplessly. Edward and his fiancee just looked at each other blankly.
“How exciting!” Kitty whispered. “I love games.”
“Yes, Miss Kitty, it is exciting,” Lady Kirkwood said, giving the girl a little smile. “You will all be divided into two teams. You, Reginald, will be with your dear wife and son, and with Miss Bates, of course, who I am sure will be quite an asset. Miss Gordon, you will be with Mr. Bradford. Your sisters may all help you.”
Allison choked again, on the sip of tea she had just taken.
William grinned at her, as the twins giggled in delight.
And Lady Kirkwood, obviously pleased by the reaction to her challenge, rose to her feet and said, “Well, then. Shall we all go change for supper?”
Chapter Two
A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Despite the fact that supper, a parade of several sumptuous courses, had run quite late, Allison was up early the next morning. She wanted to have breakfast alone, before the exuberant twins were up and about, so that she could think in peace.
And she had a great deal to think about. The past years of her life had been very quiet. She spent her days keeping the cottage in order, looking after her frail mother, trying to give the girls their lessons and keep them from running completely wild. Aside from the occasional village assembly or a card party with their neighbors, there was very little society. There were certainly no attractive young gentlemen to smile at her!
Now, in only a day, her life was turned tip over tail. There were so many people about, family and servants, that she hadn't had a moment alone since she arrived at Kirkwood Manor, and she needed to think about the scavenger hunt game. She had never been especially good at puzzles, but her mother and sisters were counting on her to do well at this one and impress Lady Kirkwood.
The hunt was worrisome, of course, but it did not occupy her thoughts as much as her assigned teammate.
William Bradford was a handsome devil, and a bold one to grin at her as he had last night. She felt so ridiculously flustered around him. Men like him, handsome, sophisticated, flirtatious, were completely out of her limited realm of experience. She hardly knew how to behave around him.
She had managed to avoid speaking to him very much last night, but that couldn't go on much longer. They were meant to be finding the items of the “Twelve Days of Christmas” together, after all.
“You are being an absolute widgeon,” Allison muttered to herself as she hurried down the corridor toward the breakfast room. “He is a person, just like everyone else. Not a god.”
A very handsome person, though.
As she rounded the doorway into the dining room, she saw she wasn't the first person to breakfast after all, despite the early hour.
William was already seated at the end of the long table, a heaping plate of eggs, kippers, and toast in front of him. He jumped up when he saw her, that same wide smile on his face. The smile that made her want to giggle like the twins. “Good morning, Miss Gordon.”
“G—good morning, Mr. Bradford.” It was too late to run away now. Perhaps if she said very little, she would not embarrass herself. She slowly sat down in the chair across from his, and asked the footman for just some tea and toast from the sideboard.
“I'm very glad to see that you're an early riser,” William said, passing her a jar of marmalade.
“Oh, yes?”
“It means we will have a head start on the others. I would wager that Sir Reginald and his family never rise before noon!”
Allison had to laugh at the image of Sir Reginald and his perfectly coiffed wife, not to mention their pastry-snatching son, getting up at dawn to do all the things she did at the cottage. Start the porridge, feed the chickens, get the twins up... “I would wager not. But do you always rise so early in London, Mr. Bradford?”
His bright smile faded a bit, and he looked away from her. “I no longer live in London, Miss Gordon. I am a country man now.”
She felt herself blushing, and quickly turned her attention to her tea. She remembered now that her mother had once said the Bradfords suffered some reversal in their fortunes, much as the Gordons had. The elder Mr. Bradford had died in some scandalous way, but her mother would not share the details. And it was obviously a subject William didn't care to discuss.
Allison had thought him a Town gentleman, with his fashionable haircut and well-tailored clothes. But perhaps he needed to win the scavenger hunt just as much as she did.
Somehow that thought made her less nervous around him. She smiled at him, and s
aid, “Then we must plan our strategy, Mr. Bradford. Today is the first day, so we have to find a partridge in a pear tree. I must confess I am at a complete loss as to where we might find such a thing. It is not the season for pears.”
William ate the last of his eggs, and pushed the plat away. “I had thought we might go hunting, Miss Gordon.”
Allison blinked at him in surprise. “Hunting? You mean for an actual partridge?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or for whatever else we might come across. Unless you have a better idea?”
“No ideas at all, I fear. I shall just go get the twins ready, then, and we can be off. I am sure they will love getting out in the fresh air.” Allison studied him over the edge of her teacup. “Perhaps your sister would also care to join us? Jane and Kitty would love to get to know her better.”
The veiled look came back into William's lovely blue eyes, and he shook his head. “Gertrude is rather shy of strangers. Perhaps it would be better if she stayed here with her governess today.”
“Oh.” Allison remembered how quiet and withdrawn the girl had been the night before, and how little she had eaten at supper. Her heart ached in sympathy. Something bad must have happened indeed to the Bradfords.
She did wish Gertrude would come with them. Kitty and Jane could cheer anyone up. But it was none of her business really, so she just said, “Maybe some other time, then.”
William gave her a sad smile. “Yes, of course. Some other time.”
**
“Allie, look at this!” Jane cried, climbing up on a fence post to look out over a field, brown for the winter and covered with a layer of snow.
They were standing about on the road into the village, waiting for William, who had ventured into the woods with his gun. It felt as if they had been waiting for a long while, and Allison's feet were getting chilled in their flimsy half boots.
She stamped them a bit, and crossed the frosty road to where Jane was perched. “What is it? Do you see Mr. Bradford coming back?”
“Not yet. It's a pond! See? And people are skating on it.”
Jane pointed, and Allison saw that there was indeed a pond in the distance, with colorful figures gliding back and forth like dancers. The faint sounds of laughter and the “Wassail Song” floated to them on the clear, cold breeze.
Allison smiled at the sight. She hadn't gone skating in longer than she could remember, but she recalled the delicious sensations of it, floating free, flying...
She closed her eyes and imagined being among the happy skating party, zipping about on the ice on the arm of a strong, handsome gentleman. A gentleman much like William Bradford.
The misty daydream was dissipated when Jane said, “Can we go skating with them, Allie?”
Allison's eyes opened, and, despite the chill in the air, her cheeks felt uncomfortably warm. No doubt they were now as unattractively red as her hair.
She pulled the black velvet collar of her pelisse closer about her throat, and said, “We don't even know whose pond that is, Jane, and we don't have time to skate today.”
Kitty, who had rejoined them with her arms full of sweet-scented pine boughs, said, “Can we skate some time before we leave, then?”
Allison nodded. This party was all about the twins having fun, after all. And what could be more fun than skating? “Perhaps, if we can find skates.”
“Wonderful!” Jane sighed. “But we won't be leaving here for a long time, will we? There must be time for lots more fun.”
“Oh, no!” said Kitty. “We still have all the twelve days of Christmas.”
All the twelve days of Christmas. It sounded so short when at the end of it they would have to go back to their quiet cottage, and scraping to make ends meet. But they did still have twelve days, and Allison wanted them to be wonderful for the girls. Maybe even for herself?
“Speaking of the twelve days of Christmas,” she said, “we have heard nothing from Mr. Bradford for quite a while. Do you suppose he has found a partridge in a pear tree?”
“Maybe we should go look for him?” Kitty suggested.
“He said to wait here, didn't he?” Jane said.
“Pooh! Wait around and miss all the fun? I think we should go find him.”
“I think we should wait!” Jane insisted.
Their argument was cut short when William emerged from the woods alongside the road. The game bag he held looked suspiciously flat.
“Mr. Bradford!” the twins called, running toward him.
Allison followed them at a more sedate pace, though she longed to run, too. “I take it there were no partridges to be had?”
William grimaced. “Not a bird of any sort, I'm afraid. They must have all heard of Lady Kirkwood's game. I don't know where else to look for our partridge in a pear tree.”
Allison gave him a commiserating smile. “Me, either. I fear I have little imagination for things like this.”
“Let's go into the village,” Jane suggested. “They are sure to have some kind of bird there.”
“And hair ribbons?” Kitty added, tugging at her own, which were, as usual, untied.
Allison thought of the pitifully few coins in her reticule. “I don't think we really need new hair ribbons today, girls.”
“Don't worry, Allie!” Kitty called as the two of them skipped ahead. “Lady Kirkwood gave each of us half a crown.”
“She said we were to spend it on something pretty and useless,” added Jane. “Like ribbons and sweets!”
**
It was Jane who saw the pears first, glistening golden in the shop window, nestled in a bed of straw.
“Look at this, Allie, Mr. Bradford!” she called.
“What is it, Jane?” Allison said, crossing the street with Kitty in tow and William trailing behind in his blue greatcoat. “More skaters?”
“Of course not! It's pears.”
“Pears?” Allison and William echoed. They looked at each other.
“Do you think this is a sign of some sort?” William asked.
Allison slowly shook her head. “Where would they get pears in December?”
“They aren't real pears, silly,” Kitty said, carefully examining the window display. “They are marzipan pears.”
**
“You want what?” the woman in the confectioner's shop said, her eyes wide in a most disbelieving manner.
“A marzipan partridge,” Allison said. “Just like this lovely fruit you have created.”
William held up the pears they had collected from the window with a charming smile that made the woman blink.
“We need a marzipan tree, too,” Kitty piped up.
“A marzipan pear tree,” Jane clarified.
“I only have this.” The woman ducked behind the counter, and came up with a bluebird, fashioned of marzipan paste and sprinkled with sparkling sugar.
“Partridges aren't blue,” Kitty said doubtfully.
“Well, this is all I have. We sold everything else for Christmas,” the woman said shortly. It would take more of William's smiles to soften her up, obviously. “You can take it or leave it.”
Allison looked up at William. “What do you think?” she whispered.
“I think we had better take it,” he whispered back, leaning so close to her that his warm, mint-scented breath stirred the loose curls at her temple. It made her shiver.
“A bluebird in a pear tree?” Allison said, trying her hardest to ignore the delicious sensations this invoked.
“At least we have the pears. And my sister has a paint box. Perhaps she could make the bird slightly less—blue.”
“I suppose you are right. I don't have any better ideas, and at least then we will be done with the first day of Christmas.”
“And on to the second! I don't suppose this shop would have any turtledoves?”
“I fear I am not even entirely sure what a turtledove is,” Allison answered with a sigh.
Chapter Three
Two Turtle Doves
The walk
back to Kirkwood Manor was much more lighthearted than the walk away had been. William had been saved from hunting, which he secretly loathed doing, and now he could just enjoy Allison's companionship.
The two girls hurried ahead of them, munching on the sugared almonds they had bought as a treat. Their red cloaks darted in and out of the frozen greenery, bright flashes against the snow. Their laughter echoed and resounded.
How different they were from Gertrude, William thought sadly. If she were walking with them, she would stay close by his side, quiet and always, always watching.
“Your sisters are very energetic,” he said.
Allison laughed, a lovely sound. “Oh, yes! And you should see them at home. Here they are on their company manners.” She looked up at him with prettily sparkling hazel eyes. “Your own sister is very pretty. I'm sorry she could not join us today.”
“She is rather shy.”
“Oh, I see.” They fell silent, the only sound the crunch of their shoes on the frosty road. After a long, comfortable moment, she said, “We did hear of the death of your father. I am very sorry.”
William nodded shortly. He did not like to think of his father, or the terrible thing that had happened. He hated the pitying way people would look at him, and Allison's clear gaze and sweet smile obviously saw too much. She seemed to be looking into his deepest soul, where all the shame and anger were hidden.
At least she did not look pitying.
“Thank you for your condolences,” he said.
“It must be very hard on your sister,” she answered. “Kitty and Jane were so confused and lost when our own father died...”
“Gertrude was the one who found our father's body,” William blurted, without thinking it through. It just seemed as if he could trust Allison Gordon.
She stopped walking, standing perfectly still in the road as she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I—beg your pardon?” Her cheeks were pale under the winter-cold pink.
“Forgive me,” William said, not quite meeting her direct gaze. “I should not have mentioned anything of the sort. It was most indelicate.”
A Partridge in a Pear Tree Page 2