by Cheryl Bolen
He straightened up. "Why is that, dearest?"
"George and Sally are coming to Winston Hall for Christmas!"
"Your brother's leaving Hornsby Manor? I say, that is not in the least indicative of the old stick he's become."
"Fortuitously, he has the devil of a time refusing Felicity any request. She begged that he come to us for Christmas."
Gregory's brows lowered. "Will they bring the twins?"
"You have to ask? You know what besotted parents those two are."
"Are the babes not awfully young for such a journey?"
"Oh, fi! The motion of the coach will have the little darlings sleeping the entire time."
"I suppose you're right. Speaking of little darlings, where is my son?"
"Our son is sleeping, but I believe Joy has heard her Papa's voice."
Her little footsteps sounded in the corridor, then she stood at the opened door. "Papa's home!" She raced to launch herself into his arms, then once in her father's embrace, she eyed her uncle and squirmed away. "Uncle Jona-fin!"
Jonathan melted anew each time he heard himself addressed as the perfect little creature's uncle. He reached down and scooped her into his arms, unconsciously pressing kisses into her mass of golden ringlets. Despite that she was not possessed of red hair, this child was every bit her mother's image.
"Will you give me a piggy-back ride?"
"Only very good little girls get piggy-back rides. Have you been very good?" Jonathan asked.
Her eyes rounded ever so slightly as her anxious gaze moved to her mother, then to her father for confirmation, a confirmation they teasingly withheld.
Then tender-hearted Gregory could stand it no longer. "I think Joy's been a good little girl, don't you, Mama?"
"Today, yes. Not once did she try to steal away her brother's little satin pillow."
Jonathan hoisted Joy onto his shoulders and began moving in a serpentine fashion from room to room until he returned to Glee's study—and Joy's awaiting nurse.
"Come now, Miss Joy," the nurse urged, and the little girl reluctantly left.
"Will you not come in the library with me, Jonathan?" Gregory asked. "We've hardly had a chance to speak to one another since you arrived."
"I was already on my way there."
The library was a comforting chamber of small proportions, but no expense had been spared in fitting the room with hand-carved mahogany shelving from floor to ceiling on all four walls. The shelves displayed fine leather-bound books, many of them rare editions. Jonathan swelled with pride as he recalled that his and Gregory's generation was now the fourth generation to value books and the collecting of them so highly.
Directly opposite the entry a marble fireplace centered the wall, and above it hung a Gainsborough of Gregory's mother, who died giving him life. It was a portrait Jonathan's mother had banished to the attics before Gregory came of age and placed it in a position of prominence in his own house.
Jonathan had to own that his father's first wife was possessed of stunning beauty, and though she was utterly feminine, the resemblance between her and her son was strong.
They settled down on the sumptuous crimson velvet sofa from which they could view the fire blazing in the hearth. "I cannot tell you how happy I am there are no assemblies or musicales tonight," Gregory said. "On a cold night like this, it's good to stay put in one's warm home."
For the first time ever, Jonathan understood his brother's contentment. Family was vital to one's happiness, and Gregory had a wife upon whom he doted and the two most precious children in all the kingdom. And no doubt about it, his family loved Gregory most devotedly.
There had been many instances in Jonathan's life when he had been jealous of his elder brother. It had always seemed to him that Gregory received in abundance all the things a man could desire. Not just the wealth that came from being the first son, but the tall, athletic body and excessive handsomeness; the congeniality that made him popular; facility with every endeavor from sport to mathematics. Even Jonathan's one single crowning achievement—excellence at scholarship—had been matched by his gifted older brother.
Yet, as Jonathan had matured and settled comfortably, he ceased to be jealous of Gregory. He had come to view his own life with the same acceptance as does a husband who falls madly in love with the plain woman he was forced to wed.
But as evening fell across the frigid city on this December night, Jonathan found himself oddly envious of his brother. No one could ever have recommended marriage more effectively than Gregory with his beautiful family and a home filled with love and warmth.
"Indeed," Jonathan said. "It is very good to know one does not have to get out tonight."
"Can I get you Madeira?"
Jonathan nodded, then watched as his brother poured.
"I wish to ask you a question," Jonathan said.
Gregory smiled sheepishly as he handed him the glass. "Do not tell me you've finally come to your senses about Miss Arbuckle."
Why in the bloody hell did people think he wished to marry Miss Arbuckle? He glared at his brother. "Surely you, of all people, should know me well enough to know of my firm resolve to stay a bachelor."
"You forget, dear brother, I too was once possessed of such resolve."
Politeness decreed that he not remind Gregory of his significant financial incentive to marry—an incentive that Jonathan would never have.
"I am hardly in a position to take on a wife."
"I have always thought you understood that once you settle on a wife I could buy you a house in Bath. One can live rather cheaply here, and I know you are cautious with your expenditures."
Jonathan's eyes widened. "I understood no such thing, but it matters not. I have no intentions of marrying."
Gregory sighed. "Glee will be most disappointed."
"I am strongly possessed of the notion that your wife is behind Miss Arbuckle's metamorphosis." He studied his brother for a reaction, but there was none. "It is just like Glee to go putting notions of being married into Miss Arbuckle's superior head. I don't know what I should do if she were to marry. You know she's—even more so now that Melvin Steffington has wed—my dearest friend."
"You ought to marry her, then. A man could do worse. How many men can say their wife is their best friend? Besides me, of course. I cannot too highly praise the magic of sharing every day of your life with the one person most calculated to give you pleasure."
When one put it like that, marriage did not sound so bloody distasteful.
"What I wanted to ask you," Jonathan continued, "Is, if I want to find Appleton tomorrow, where would I go?"
"I'd suggest you try his house on Camden Crescent first. Failing to find him there, you might try Mrs. Vale's."
Jonathan's brows hiked up. Good lord, Mrs. Vale was a well-known courtesan! How could the reprobate even think of calling upon one of unblemished virtue like Miss Arbuckle while conducting an alliance with a tart? It simply was not to be tolerated.
In fact, Jonathan would call him out, but Appleton, being enamored of fisticuffs and activities that involved considerable strength and movement, would likely deprive Jonathan of life in a matter of minutes.
And then dear Miss Arbuckle would be deprived of her protector. Inept as he was.
* * *
Later that night, after the house had gone dark and quiet, he lay in his bed, thinking of his plans for the next day. He must not forget to go to the printers. It was imperative that he get his writings bound into attractive books to present as Christmas gifts to his family members. And Miss Arbuckle. Even if it would take every last cent he possessed.
Then his thoughts veered off into unfamiliar territory. He bolted up in bed as it suddenly occurred to him he had another selection to be bound. This once, in a true gesture of friendship to his dearest friend, he knew it would make him far happier to make her Christmas brighter than to gratify his own vanity. After all, the poor lady had neither father nor brother. And though he and she had
never before exchanged Christmas gifts, he knew it was time to start.
He had never been more certain that she was his best friend.
He left the bed and gathered up the pages he would take to the printers in the morning, then returned to bed, disappointed that he would not be able to see her until he went to the Assembly Rooms the following night.
Once more, his thoughts returned to the silly notion Glee and Gregory both had that he should marry Miss Arbuckle, then he thought of his brother's perfect marriage. He was well aware that his brother and Glee shared a bed in the room next to his, and once again he grew strangely envious of them.
Despite that he was visiting in a home where he was loved, he had never felt lonelier. The lonesome howl of December winds seemed to be mocking him. He hoped it was not a portent of when Mama arrived. For he had hurriedly sent off his letter to her in the evening post, urging her to join them by Christmas Day.
He thought of Miss Arbuckle, and the scent of roses became so vivid he almost thought she was here in his bedchamber. His pulse accelerated. He wondered anew what other plans were depriving him of her company tomorrow. By, God, if it's Appleton, I'll wring his lecherous neck.
She was very dear to him, but not in a romantic way. Until Glee mentioned today the possibility of him marrying Miss Arbuckle, such a thought had never once crossed his mind. He had never before realized a sensible woman like she would fancy being wed. Just as he had never before fancied the idea of being wed.
He had always been exceptionally content to be alone. He had his writing. And his books. And friendship with the likes of Miss Arbuckle.
He had never minded being in a cold, lonely bed.
Until tonight.
Chapter 5
The following morning as Jonathan was filling his tea cup from the spigot of the silver urn, the butler came to the door of the morning room and addressed Gregory. “Sir, there’s an exceedingly ill kept woman at your back door begging a word with you or the missus. I tried to give her a bite to eat with the intention of sending her upon her way, but she refused sustenance and insisted you knew her.”
Glee’s rounded eyes met her husband’s. “Do you think it could be Mrs. A?”
Gregory whirled around, brows lowered. “Is she a young woman who’s terribly thin?”
“Indeed, you have just described her,” the butler said.
Gregory and Glee both leapt from their chairs. “Do show her in. Is her lad with her?”
“I saw no boy. Are you sure you want her in your home? She looks as if she sorely needs a bath.”
“Yes, please, Hampton,” Glee answered.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Should you like me to leave the chamber?”
“We have nothing to hide from you,” Glee said. “You may have heard us discussing the woman at Mr. Willowby’s building. . .”
“Oh, yes. The. . .” Jonathan lowered his voice. “The soaker?”
Gregory nodded grimly.
Jonathan trained his attention upon the buttering of his toast, but when the woman came to the doorway, he was powerless not to take a look at the emaciated young woman dressed in many layers of ragged, dirty clothing.
“Thank ye, Mr. Blankenship, for allowing me to come in yer fine home. I know it’s been a great long while since ye kindly offered to bring me and me lad into yer service, and I know how poorly I must look, but I was wondering if the offer is still available.”
“Of course it is,” Glee said.
Gregory held up a stern hand to his wife. “With conditions.”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Me lad ain’t never 'ad a proper Christmas, and I’ve decided I’ve been far too selfish for far too long.”
“Then you’re willing to give up your gin?” Gregory asked.
She nodded, not without a pained expression on her thin face. “If I don’t, me boy will be an orphan by next Christmas.”
“And you’re willing to live under our roof by our rules?”
“I should be honored to live under this fine roof.”
“We will provide everything you need," Gregory said. "New clothing for you. You shouldn’t need to bring anything when you come—other than Archie.”
“And any items of sentimentality you might be attached to,” Glee added.
Even from where Jonathan sat, he caught a whiff of a stale gin.
“I’ve got nothin’ save me precious son.”
“You realize that since Archie’s so good with horses, he will be a groom and will sleep in a room above the stables?” Gregory asked.
She nodded. “He’s been beggin me for a long while. He ain’t never 'ad a proper home. He wanted us to 'ave the security of home that didn’t change on a whim. And ye know how he loves 'orses.”
“He’s very good with them,” Gregory said.
She favored them with a shy smile. “Then I can go tell Archie?”
“First,” Gregory cautioned, “you must agree to our conditions. Though you will have your own chamber with a comfortable bed and fire every night, you must know that until you are accustomed to your new life, you will be locked in your chamber each night. Your chamber will be unlocked at dawn, when your day’s work begins.”
She nodded gravely.
“And you will have to allow our housekeeper, Mrs. Roberts, to help bathe you and supply you with fresh new clothing.”
“She ain’t gonna want me 'ere.”
“Do not judge her until you know her," Glee said.
Gregory held the young woman in his somber gaze. "Remember always, a good servant does what her master says. And we expect Mrs. Roberts to be a good servant.”
“Provided,” Glee added, “that the master does not demand the servant do something that is immoral or illegal.”
“And I give you my word,” Gregory said, addressing the woman with the greatest kindness, “we will never ask you to do either one of those things.”
"I know yer a good man."
"It's so beastly cold," Glee said, "allow us to take you to fetch Archie in our coach. If you could just give us a minute to finish breakfast."
"Please, help yourself to any food you'd like," Gregory added.
Mrs. A. shook her head. "I ain't got no appetite, but I should be 'appy to take me boy a bit of toast."
Glee rang for a servant, and when Hampton returned asked that cook prepare a breakfast for them to take to a hardy lad.
Jonathan hurried with his own breakfast. "If it's agreeable to you, I'd like to catch a ride in your coach. I need to visit the printers this morning."
"Certainly," his brother answered.
* * *
When the coach reached the building where his brother's solicitor kept chambers, Jonathan stayed in the coach and watched as the other three disembarked and approached the excited lad. The boy, who looked to be around ten, looked far more well fed than his mother. Then Jonathan recalled that some time back, Glee had made arrangements to supply one meal a day for the lad—and his mother, if only she'd eat.
"Can I watch yer 'orses, Mr. Blankenship?"
Gregory ruffled the lad's hair. "Indeed you can. In fact, you're going to start caring for all my horses every day."
Archie suspiciously eyed his mother, who nodded, smiling. "It's true, me lad. We're going into service for the Blankenships. It's me first Christmas gift to me fine son."
Archie buried his face into his mother's skirts. Jonathan realized the boy did not want the others to see him crying.
Crying tears of joy.
From there, they went to the printer's. "Whatever are you having printed?" Glee asked him.
"I had intended to have my essays bound into books for Christmas presents to my family, but my plans were destroyed by an uncharacteristic burst of altruism to a dear friend."
Glee's eyes rounded, then her gaze dropped to the papers he clutched in his hands. "May I see?"
He handed them to her.
A brilliant smiled alighted her face when she scanned the pages.<
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* * *
The coach waited while he was inside the printer's. On the return to Queen Square, Glee said, "I've asked the coachman to just drive by Guinea Lane. I don't intend to call on the Arbuckles. I merely wanted to see if Appleton might be visiting Miss Arbuckle today."
Jonathan's brows lowered. "How would you be able to tell if it's his vehicle?"
"Oh, since you were last in Bath, he's gotten a very fine new coach," Glee said. "It has the family coat of arms upon the door."
As their coach approached Guinea Lane, Jonathan's stomach once again began doing that thing it did upon eating rotten food. It would make him excessively angry were he to learn that lout was calling upon Miss Arbuckle.
When they turned onto Guinea Lane, he became truly sick when he saw the shiny new coach in front of Miss Arbuckle's. He glared at Glee. "Are you happy with yourself now? You know the man is unfit for someone as pure as Miss Arbuckle."
"I beg that you not malign my friends," Gregory said.
"I'll say nothing behind his back I wouldn't say to his face," Jonathan countered.
"Then you can tell him yourself at the Assembly Rooms tonight."
"I just very well may!" Yesterday, he would have had no courage against a sport-mad fellow like Appleton. What in the devil had come over him in a single day's time?
* * *
Jonathan was gratified that his sister-in-law had arranged to once again pick up Miss Arbuckle for the assembly, owing to the cold. He wouldn't put it past that Appleton to try to get a fetching-looking thing like Miss Arbuckle in his shiny new carriage for lascivious purposes.
Once the heavily bundled lady was seated beside him in the coach, Glee addressed her. "Did I tell you my brother and Sally are coming to Winston Hall for Christmas?"
"How wonderful!" Miss Arbuckle could not suppress the joy from her sweet voice. "This will be their first Christmas in Bath since they married, is it not?"
"Yes, it will be a very merry gathering. Felicity has asked me to invite you and your mother to share the Christmas goose with us. Thomas plans to send his coach for you, if that is agreeable to you."
"It is very kind of you to remember us," Miss Arbuckle said. "I suppose your family is the closest thing we have to family."