“He’s been in the spare bedrooms,” Ginny told them without concern. “The servants were going through them all this morning like we were expecting guests, so I brought him down here.” She paused, looking thoughtful, then turned to Kit. “Are we expecting guests?”
“No,” Kit was relieved to say. “No, we are not, and even if we were, the weather is too bad for anyone to come now.”
“Oh. So he can go back into the bedrooms?” Ginny looked between her brothers expectantly.
Of all the situations Kit had imagined when his sisters had come storming into his life and he had taken up their guardianship, this scenario had never played out. Nothing even close to this had occurred to him. A dog he could have accepted, and gladly. A cat he would have dealt with.
But a goat?
Who in their right mind would have considered a goat as a house pet?
“I think a goat is more of an outside pet, Ginny,” Rosie suggested in the gentlest tone Kit had ever heard her use.
Ginny looked appalled at the thought. “But it’s cold and snowy outside! That’s no place for Humphrey.”
“Yes, it is,” Kit managed, sounding gruff but honestly not knowing what else to do. “Goats are specifically designed to be outside. Thick coats and all that.”
He had no idea if he were telling the truth, but he did not particularly care.
Ginny’s face contorted into one of absolute distress. “But… but he’s just a baby, Kit! He can’t be outside in this cold! He just c-can’t!” Tears welled up in her eyes, and Kit suddenly felt like the world’s greatest heel.
For turning a goat out of his study.
“What if we take Humphrey back to Mr. Matthews, Ginny?” Colin offered as he squatted down to her level.
She swung to him with a horror-stricken gasp. “Give him back?”
“Just for safe keeping!” Colin assured her, taking her hands. “Not for good. But if you want Humphrey to have a good life with us, we need to make sure he has the best possible place to live, right?”
“Y-yes,” Ginny stammered reluctantly, somehow still keeping her tears contained in the depths of her eyes.
Colin glanced up at Kit for a moment, then turned back to Ginny. “Well, as of yet, we are not equipped to host such a fine animal. Mr. Matthews, on the other hand, has all that he needs and has taken care of Humphrey rather well until now. So what if he takes care of Humphrey until we can make the proper arrangements on our estate?”
Kit held his breath, praying that Colin’s argument would sway Ginny. If it could not, they would be destined to hire a nursemaid and three footmen just to wait upon a blasted goat.
He was not calling the thing by its name.
If he had his way, not only would Matthews take the goat back, but he would pay Ginny back double whatever she had paid for it.
But he knew Ginny, and she would no sooner forget about the creature than she would forget any debt owed her. They would wind up taking care of the goat for the rest of its days.
Faintly it occurred to him to wonder what the lifespan of a goat was.
Ginny gave a soft sniffle. “We can do that,” she finally relented. Then she glared up at Kit as if she had heard his thoughts. “But I don’t like it one bit!”
Kit could live with that.
“Take the goat down to Rogers in the kitchen,” Kit instructed her. “He’ll return him to Mr. Matthews.”
Ginny looked as though Kit had just insulted her beyond forgiveness.
“Temporarily,” he added with all the enthusiasm of one facing bloodletting.
“His name,” Ginny spat, snatching the lead from Bitty’s hands, “is Humphrey, Christopher. And I don’t think you deserve him as your Christmas gift.”
She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, trying to make a grand exit, which was hindered by the fact that the goat had no desire to move from his spot. She tugged a few times, muttering under her breath in French, using phrases that no eight-year-old girl should know.
Kit looked at Colin in surprise, but his brother just rose from the floor and looked to the heavens.
“They didn’t like my present or Bitty’s,” Ginny told Rosie as she passed her. “Now what do we do?”
Rosie pushed her out of the room and helped her tug the goat along, and all three of them were gone momentarily.
“Kit…” Bitty ventured quietly, tiptoeing towards him.
Kit shook his head once. “Bitty, if this is a single word about a goat, you can save your breath.”
His sister clamped down on her lip, then twisted her foot on the carpet. “Kit, can I do something else to help Christmas happen? Making pudding is too hard, and I’m not very good at tying ribbons. I don’t know what else to do.”
Now he felt like the world’s greatest heel.
He softened and held out his hand for his sister. “Of course you can, Bitty. Would you like to help me prepare boxes for the servants?”
She beamed up at him and his heart melted. “You mean like presents for them?”
“In a way, yes.” He stroked her hair and smiled. “But first we have to go over the numbers from last year. You’re good with numbers, aren’t you?”
She nodded quickly, excited and eager now. “Yes, I am! Mrs. Creighton says I could be as skilled as any boy my age in a real school.”
Kit looked at Colin with a wince, and Colin suddenly looked a trifle outraged.
“Is that what she said exactly?” Colin asked her.
Bitty shrugged without concern. “Something like that.”
“Surely she meant you could be better than someone who is specifically educated in the field of mathematics. Was that it?” Kit suggested.
“Because whether it’s a boy or not shouldn’t matter,” Colin added. “Ask Susannah. She’s much smarter than me.”
“That’s true,” Kit said with a firm nod. “She used to do Colin’s lessons for him when we were at Seabrook. He only got top marks when we were there. Tutors never understood why.”
“Shh!” Colin scolded with a smile. “Don’t give away all my secrets.”
Kit rolled his eyes. “There are no secrets in this family.”
Colin barked a hard laugh. “Are you serious? There’s nothing but secrets in this family.”
“I don’t have any secrets,” Bitty piped up.
The brothers looked at her and smiled. “We know,” they said together.
“I have secrets.”
Kit looked up to see Ginny back in the doorway, looking like herself again. “I think we know that now,” he said with a small smile.
Ginny made a smug face and folded her arms. “I’m supposed to tell you that the men are here with a you log for you.”
“A ‘you log,’ huh?” Colin asked, grinning outright.
“That’s what he called it,” Ginny said, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking, just as Colin always did.
Colin turned to Kit with an amused smile, and gestured for him to explain to their now rapt younger sisters.
Sometimes Kit really hated his brother.
He sighed and pressed his hands into his desk. “It’s called a Yule log, Ginny. Not you. Simple enough mistake.”
Ginny wrinkled up her nose. “What’s a Yule? Is that a girl sheep?”
“No, that’s a ewe.” Kit shook his head quickly “Yule is another word for Christmas. The log is something special.”
“How’s that?” Bitty asked as she fiddled with things on Kit’s desk. “Is it a special kind of tree?”
“No, not that I’m aware of.”
“So why is it special?” Ginny made a face and came to the desk herself. “If it’s just a regular tree, then it’s just a regular log. Did it come from a dead Christmas tree?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.” Kit restrained a growl in his throat. “We’ll talk about it later, when we light it. I promise, I’ll explain everything then. Right now, Bitty…” He pulled out a ledger from his bookshelf and opened it in front of her. “
Look at what every servant was given last year, and write it out on this fresh sheet of paper. Make the appropriate number of tallies so we know what to give everyone this year.”
Bitty nodded as he explained and situated herself in his large chair, her petite frame looking smaller in it than usual. She looked up at him uncertainly. “Is everyone getting exactly the same thing as they did last year?”
“Yes.”
She sighed with disappointment. “That’s so boring. Poor servants.” She sighed again and started scanning the ledger, her fingers tracing the items listed.
Kit closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Ginny. “Ginny, would you please tell them to bring the Yule log into the large drawing room and put it into the fireplace?”
“So you can show the Christmas tree its fate for next year by burning the log in front of it?” she asked with no emotion whatsoever.
Before he could respond, she nodded and snapped her heels together like a footman might have done, and turned away.
Kit exhaled roughly, and looked at Colin. “I have no idea what that was about.”
Colin shrugged and indicated the door.
Kit nodded and started in that direction. “Keep at it, Bitty. You’ll really help the servants have a wonderful Christmas.”
“Not with these presents,” she muttered with a derisive snort as they left the room.
Colin pulled the study door closed, shaking his head. “Well.”
Kit sighed and looked down at the floor. “I have no words.”
“There’s a surprise.”
Kit glanced up to glare at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Apologies. I was a bit distracted by our generous sisters and their extraordinary gifts for us. A charcoal pudding en flambé and our very own goat.” He shook his head again and put a hand to his heart. “It’s just so touching. Perhaps Rosie will give us some new weskits that have been pre-stained by our children, or a likeness of each other drawn by a blind hermit with three fingers, or…”
“Stop, I beg you.” Kit chuckled and started down the corridor towards the front of the house, Colin following. “What do we do?”
“Do?” Colin asked him. “What exactly do you think there is to do? One sister is setting to prepare the servants’ presents, much as she disapproves of them, and another is bringing in the you log, which she apparently sees as some form of tree torture, and the other…”
Kit paled considerably. “Where is Rosie?”
“Oh, she’s in Papa’s study,” Freddie commented as he descended the now evergreen laden stairs. “I just saw her go in there.”
Oh no…
Kit shifted directions with a skid and started that direction, Colin hot on his heels.
“Don’t worry,” Freddie called after them. “Aunt Marianne went in right after her.”
“Oh, as if that is a comfort,” Colin scoffed loudly.
That deserved some sort of defensive retort in his wife’s honor, but as of this moment, all Kit felt was an overwhelming sense of panic.
Defending Marianne could come later.
They got to Colin’s study in moments, and Rosie was not alone in there anymore. Marianne was with her, as Freddie had said, but so was Livvy, Rafe, Matthew, and Ginny, somehow.
There was no way she could have delivered the message about the Yule log and gotten back to this room so quickly.
And at this moment, she did not look particularly concerned about that.
“But we cannot open them until Christmas morning,” Marianne was telling the children in a cheerful voice. “Father Christmas will take them all back if we do.”
Livvy gasped and looked at Ginny in terror. “Oh no!”
Ginny smiled at her niece and took her hand. “It’s all right, Livvy. We’ll go find something else to do so we’re not even tempted.” She pulled her along behind her and moved past Colin and Kit easily. “Come on, boys! We have a log to tend to!”
Kit doubted that the boys even know what she was talking about, but they adored Ginny, and followed on command.
Rosie looked at the mountain of presents, then up at Kit and Colin. “This is… a lot.”
“We know,” Colin admitted, tugging at his rapidly loosening cravat.
“I didn’t know…” She looked at the presents again, and something in her expression made Kit sad. “I didn’t know this was what we were supposed to do.”
“It’s not,” Kit tried to say, but Colin jabbed him in the side quickly.
“Not now,” he hissed.
Kit nodded in reply, still watching Rosie, who was fingering one of the presents as if lost in thought. “Rose?”
She jerked and looked up at him, her eyes wide. “What? Did Freddie tell you I came in here?” Her brow snapped down. “He did, didn’t he? I told him to keep his mouth shut!” She marched out of the room, her steps loud and clipped. “Frederick! I will give you a role in the theatrical that involves twirling, I swear it!”
Marianne winced as Rosie left them. “That sounds rather ominous.”
Kit looked at his wife, wondering just what to say to her.
As usual, Colin had words when he didn’t.
“Are you out of your blasted mind, Marianne?” Colin asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Marianne, never one to take being scolded lightly, immediately looked both superior and disapproving. “About what, may I ask, Colin?”
Kit knew that tone well, and it occurred to him to ward his brother off.
But he didn’t.
“Telling the children that these presents were from Father Christmas?” Colin went on, either not knowing the tone should be feared or not caring.
“What did you expect me to say?” Marianne demanded. “They discovered them and wanted to know where they had come from. As we don’t know, and as the packages have their names on them, I had to say something, so I told them Father Christmas must have come early.”
Colin laughed, looked at Kit, then turned away, swearing.
“What?” Marianne demanded, shifting her gaze to Kit, who quickly looked away.
“Oh, that was brilliant, Marianne,” Colin drawled. “Tell them it was Father Christmas. Now we can’t get rid of the presents without an all-out war.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Marianne said, giving him a look that sent Colin for the door in agitation.
“Maybe Rosie will start a fire…” Kit suggested.
Colin paused in his dramatic exit to give Kit a withering look. “Because that will just make things so much better.” He scoffed and left the room.
Kit exhaled slowly. “Happy Christmas, Gerrard family,” he muttered to himself.
Marianne was silent for a moment, then came over to him. “What is going on, Kit?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted bluntly.
She made a sound of amusement. “Yes, you do. You always do.” She put a hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Tell me. What is going on?”
Kit searched her stunning eyes, letting the power she’d always had over him sweep through his system, and then he covered her hand with his. “I’m just trying to make a perfect Christmas for our family. I want… and Colin wants, to have this year be special. We want to show the children the magic we used to feel, and I want everything to be meaningful and to start some real traditions, to be a real family, and…”
Marianne covered his mouth with her free hand, silencing him with a look as well. “A real family?” she repeated softly. “Where have I heard that phrase lately?”
There was no way to answer that, because he knew the truth, and didn’t care to admit it.
“Kit,” she said softly, moving her hand to stroke his jaw while the other rested on his shoulder. “We are a real family. I don’t know why none of you think so. You and Colin can overwhelm us all with everything Christmas until you are sick of it, but that isn’t what makes this Christmas, and it’s not what makes us a family.”
He knew that, he truly did, but…
“We just want to try,” he insisted in an almost petulant voice.
Marianne smiled at him, stroked his jaw again, and went up on tiptoe to kiss him gently. “Fine. Go ahead and try. But don’t strip Christmas of its joy by getting so stressed about it all. Just ask the children what they want to do, and enjoy trying to make it happen.”
Kit sighed and pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her. “When did you get to be so wise, Marianne Gerrard?”
She grinned up at him mischievously. “I’ve always been this wise, Kit Gerrard, which is why you married me.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s not why,” he growled as he leaned down to kiss her again. “But it does help things considerably.”
Chapter Ten
"You want to do what?”
“Go to church.”
Colin looked at Kit in utter confusion, then looked back at Bitty as she and the others worked on assembling the boxes. “On purpose?” Colin asked, seeking clarification.
“Yes,” she said with a roll of her eyes, giggling as if Colin were intentionally being funny or obtuse. “But not like regular Sunday services. The special Christmas service.”
Again came a look from Colin, but Kit didn’t have any response to that.
“Where did you hear about Christmas service?” Colin prodded, somehow keeping his tone mild despite his obvious consternation.
Bitty shrugged as she wrapped some candles in paper. “Sarah Woodbridge says her family always goes for Christmas. She says bells ring and they walk to church with everyone, and then they sing lots of songs and hear the clergyman tell the nativity story, and then they walk back home and everybody has a candle. She says it’s so much fun.”
“Not sure intentionally spending time in a religious setting is all that fun,” Colin grumbled to Kit, “especially when it’s outside of the usual Sunday requirement.”
Kit nodded in agreement. Oh, he went to church as regularly as anyone ought, given his position and responsibilities, but they were not a religious family, and never had been.
Having a father who chose not to spend any waking hour sober or speak a kind word unless it would benefit him in a monetary way tended to push religion to the back of one’s priorities.
A Gerrard Family Christmas (Arrangements, Book 8) Page 11