A Gerrard Family Christmas (Arrangements, Book 8)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He didn’t mind religion, or those who proclaimed to be religious. Not at all.

  It simply wasn’t the way he was.

  “I’ve heard it’s usually the best service of the year,” Rosie chimed in as she meticulously folded linens. “Mary Fairbanks from school says she looks forward to it more than anything else at Christmas.”

  “Doesn’t say much for the Fairbanks family’s way of doing Christmas,” Colin muttered under his breath.

  Kit bit back a laugh but forced himself to remain composed as Rosie looked at him.

  “I was wondering if we could go myself,” she added, surprising them both. “I don’t know why we haven’t before, considering we are regular church attendants, but hearing about this…” She shrugged, trying for a lighthearted air despite the earnest look in her eyes. “I thought we might see what all the fuss is about. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  Two of them now?

  All they needed was…

  “Who’s the clergyman here?” Ginny asked, putting her finger on a ribbon for Freddie to tie.

  Kit thought quickly. “Mr. Gregson.”

  Ginny’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Is he the one with the good stories?”

  “Yes!” the other three children told her at once.

  She nodded and gave Kit and Colin a toothy grin. “Then I say we go, too.”

  This was getting worse and worse. Kit had planned out their entire Christmas Eve and Christmas Day activities, and there was simply no time for…

  “Freddie?” Colin asked, his voice now tight.

  Freddie gave his father a very honest look. “I like going to church, Papa. I might actually become a clergyman when I grow up.”

  “You’d be so good at that, Freddie!” Bitty told him, grinning proudly.

  “Assuming you can keep that temper in check,” Rosie teased as she poked Freddie in the ribs.

  He glared at her. “Mine’s a lot better than yours, Rosie, and you know it.”

  Colin stared at his son with wide eyes, apparently beyond words.

  Kit just stood there, not entirely certain what was happening to this family.

  The children were continuing to work on the boxes, and clearly didn’t need their instruction, as they were following Bitty’s lists exactly.

  Kit grabbed Colin’s arm and pulled him from the room.

  “What are we going to do?” Colin hissed as they moved towards the drawing room. “They actually want to go to church for Christmas! I have spent thirty some odd years specifically avoiding church on that day in any manner that won’t damn me to hell, and now we have to do it because the children want to?”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” Kit insisted firmly, turning into the room. “We just have to come up with something better to do so it is quite impossible to do that.”

  “To do what, may I ask?”

  They drew up short at the sight of Marianne and Susannah sitting on the sofa in the drawing room, working at some needlepoint in the glow of the poorly decorated Christmas tree.

  “Ahh…” Colin stammered, floundering pathetically for a topic.

  Susannah raised a brow, then looked at Marianne. “Well, that’s always a promising sign.”

  Marianne nodded in agreement, staring at Kit expectantly.

  Well, he couldn’t very well hide it now.

  He exhaled roughly, shaking his head. “The children want to go to church for Christmas.”

  The complete lack of reaction from their wives left much to be desired.

  Kit glanced at Colin quickly, and he gestured for him to go on.

  “Bitty and Rosie have friends that told them some story about loving Christmas sermons,” he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand, “which leads me to wonder what sort of friends our sisters have, and now Ginny says she wants to go because she likes Mr. Gregson anyway, and then Freddie…” He looked at Colin helplessly.

  Colin looked absolutely appalled and took a moment to collect himself. “Freddie wants to go,” he said slowly, “because he may actually become a clergyman.” He shuddered and made his hands into fists. “Thankfully there may still be time to alter his ideas of a profession.”

  Kit nodded sadly and turned back to the wives. “So now we aren’t sure what to do.”

  Still they did not look perturbed, or even the slightest bit concerned.

  For intelligent and witty women, they were really being remarkably slow.

  “Well?” Kit prodded with a quick gesture of his hand, setting the other at his hips.

  Susannah wet her lips, glanced at Marianne, then raised her chin as she set down her needlework. “It would make sense to attend church,” she said in an offhand manner. “After all, the church has a vested interest in the figure at the head of Christmas…”

  Colin stared at her in horror, then laughed as if she were in jest. “You are not helping, darling.”

  “I agree with Susannah,” Marianne broke in, keeping her tone mild as her sister-in-law had, still working at her embroidery.

  This was beyond anything. “You do?” Kit bleated.

  “Of course,” she said simply. “It is a tender time of year, and one should feel drawn to the church. I always do.”

  “You?” Colin squawked, somewhere between horror and disbelief.

  “Are you implying that Marianne is a sinner, Colin?” Susannah asked with surprise as she rose from her seat. “Or an apostate?”

  “No, of course not,” he tried to state.

  “I do attend church, Colin,” Marianne snapped, setting her work aside. “I can sing most of the usual songs by memory, can recite dozens of passages of scripture, and the clergyman knows me by name and always uses it with a kindly tone.”

  “That’s because he’s in love with you,” Kit managed before he could stop himself.

  Her look told him he would pay for that comment later.

  “Unlike the two of you,” Susannah scolded, rounding on him now, “who terrorized every clergyman in your youth, and now as adults can only manage to avoid doing so because we, your wives, do not force you to attend to what is being said in services. You only go for appearances.”

  “Well, we…”

  “You see…”

  “If your sisters and our children wish to be more religious than you, should we not encourage them in that pursuit?” Marianne demanded, rising herself now. “It is a noble profession, and an honorable one. Would you be ashamed of Freddie if he chose the church?”

  “I’m… And he…” Kit stammered weakly.

  “We like church,” Colin said lamely.

  The women snorted.

  “We like religion,” he clarified.

  Their expressions didn’t change.

  “We pray?” he tried.

  Susannah rolled her eyes and Marianne bit down on her lip hard.

  “We thank God fervently and frequently for the two of you,” Kit said quickly.

  “Well there’s that, at least,” Susannah replied drily, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  She picked up her skirts and swept out of the room, Marianne following quickly, and their giggles could faintly be heard down the hall moments later.

  “I hate when they gang up on us,” Kit grumbled to his slightly shaking twin.

  “Do you suddenly feel as though you need to race to a church and confess all your sins and beg for forgiveness to save yourself from burning in a fiery pit for all eternity?” Colin asked in a weak voice.

  Kit considered that. “Not particularly. I’m a trifle ashamed of myself, and might donate more to the church fund for the needy and the like, but otherwise perfectly fine.”

  “Me neither.” Colin shrugged, and wiped at his brow. “Shall we see to the tree since we’re already in here?”

  Kit nodded as relief washed over him. At last, something they could have some control over. “Yes. And the punch, if you don’t mind.”

  “The adult punch?”

  “Naturally. No need for dancing around t
he beverages.”

  “Oh, what are you up to now, Kit Gerrard?”

  Kit glanced down from his perch to see his wife staring up at him with a curious, but not disapproving look, one hand on her hip while the other held Cat, who grinned up at Kit with two fingers in her mouth.

  He grinned back at his daughter and wife. “It should be fairly obvious, darling.” He waved the small bit of greenery at her. “I’m hanging mistletoe.”

  Marianne tilted her head slightly, smiling. “I’d say there is enough green in this house as it is, and you’re adding more?”

  He gave her a knowing look. “This is not just any greenery.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I know that.”

  “I would think,” Kit continued pretending to muse on the idea, “that you would be highly in favor of this particular plant and the tradition surrounding it…”

  “I am,” Marianne huffed, “but…”

  “And you’re always telling me I could be more romantic,” he went on as he returned to the business of hanging the mistletoe from the doorway, perched as he was on a ladder. “I was only thinking of how I could bring a little more romance to my charming, beautiful, remarkable wife this holiday season.”

  “Kit!” she laughed, hoisting Cat higher on her hip.

  “There,” he said when the mistletoe was fastened. He looked at it fondly for a moment, then looked down at Marianne. “Should we see if it works?”

  She laughed again, tossing her head back. “What, you think this might be a defective bunch?”

  “I certainly hope not.” He came down the ladder quickly. “But if it is, there is more.”

  “Oh, is there?” she asked as he came near her.

  He nodded slowly, taking his time as he looked at her. “Lots more.”

  Marianne caught his mood and gave him a sly smile. “How much more?”

  “Plenty,” he murmured softly, brushing his nose against hers. Then he drew back and looked up.

  “What?” Marianne followed his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  He took her shoulders and shifted her until she was directly underneath the little plant. “There. Now you are in position.”

  “Oh.” She gave him a hint of a smile. “Now what?”

  Kit smirked and traced a finger along her cheek. “Now we see how the mistletoe works.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers once, then again, cradling her cheek in his hand.

  “Seems to work fairly well,” she murmured breathlessly.

  He touched his brow to hers, then kissed her there as well. “Indeed.” He pulled back and smiled softly. “Though it probably works better when you don’t have a certain attachment about you.”

  Marianne gasped and looked at Cat in shock. “Did you hear that, Catherine? Papa seems to think you are in the way!”

  Cat giggled around the fingers still in her mouth and patted her free hand on Kit’s face. “Papa!”

  “Yes, darling love?” he cooed, taking her from Marianne and holding her in the air. “What is it you wish of me?”

  She only giggled in response and he drew her down for several noisy kisses. “Mistletoe got you, Cat! And got you again! And again!”

  His daughter squealed with each and every kiss, and now both of her hands reached for his face.

  He chuckled and drew her down, letting her pat his face and feel his faint stubble.

  “She does love her father, doesn’t she?” Marianne said as she watched them with a warm smile.

  Kit glanced at his wife wryly. “And can you blame her?”

  Marianne shook her head. “Not even a little bit. I’ve developed quite a preference for him as well.”

  “Have you?” he grunted. “That is good to know.”

  “Yes, I thought it was high time you should.” Marianne sighed heavily and pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  Kit sobered and watched with concern. “Are you all right, darling? What can I do?”

  She laughed softly. “Aren’t you doing quite enough already?” She pointed at the mistletoe above them, then at the small boughs in every doorway visible.

  His eyes tracked where she indicated, and then he looked back at her with a shrug. “I can adjust my schedule to accommodate you, as always.”

  “Oh, thank you very much,” she replied with another laugh. She smiled at Cat, who was jabbering wordlessly in his hold. “Would you just mind her for a bit? I may go have a lie down before Colin expects us all to be on our best behaviors for the feast.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

  Kit frowned slightly and took one of Cat’s hands as it went for his hair. “Are you going to have the energy for tonight? There’s a lot going on.”

  “Is there?” she asked in surprise. “I thought it was just a formal feast of sorts.”

  “Well, there will be that, to be sure,” he allowed with a quick smile. “You know Colin, he would never miss an occasion for a grand spectacle, particularly when there is food involved.”

  “God help us,” Marianne muttered good-naturedly. “At least we know it will taste marvelous.”

  Kit nodded, unsure how much of his surprise to reveal to her.

  “What else is there, Kit?” Marianne asked, her eyes trained on him.

  He feigned ignorance. “Hmm?”

  She gestured for him to go on. “I know you, and I know your expressions. What else is planned?”

  “Oh,” he scoffed, making a face, “nothing too significant. I thought we might follow some local traditions, that’s all. Being in Yorkshire, it seemed the thing to do.”

  “Ah ha,” Marianne murmured, her brow furrowing. “And which Yorkshire traditions did you think we ought to implement?”

  “A Yule log,” he explained unnecessarily, as she had been in the room when it had been brought in, though it had not been lit as yet.

  A brief quirk of her brows prompted him to say more.

  “A Yule candle,” he continued, tickling Cat to make her laugh, and hopefully distract her mother from this particular line of inquiry. “To be lit at the start of the Christmas feast by the head of the house.”

  “Quite an honor, I am sure,” Marianne told him without the proper sentiment to make those words hold any real truth to them.

  “It really is,” he replied with a smile. He looked down at Cat with a playful grin. “Isn’t it just? Isn’t it, love?”

  “Kit,” Marianne said simply. “Stop pretending Cat is distracting you. There’s more, isn’t there?”

  He frowned at her as if to scold. “Really, Marianne, you’re going to ruin all of the surprises.”

  “I’m fairly certain I will survive the deprivation.”

  Well, there was nothing for it then.

  “After Colin’s feast,” Kit began, clearing his throat slightly, “we can expect some guests.”

  Marianne stilled and he felt her gaze turn somewhat icy. “Guests?”

  “Not like that,” he answered quickly, smiling for effect. “Not houseguests. Just some of the local villagers. They’re going to come and sing Christmas carols.”

  “Carolers?” Marianne cried, her brows shooting up. “Coming all the way from the village?”

  “It’s not that far,” he reminded her. “You made the trip yourself this morning.”

  “In a sleigh, Kit. And this morning, when the weather was better than it is now.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s still not so treacherous.”

  Marianne gaped for a moment, then gestured to a window in a nearby room. “Kit, it’s a blizzard.”

  Oh, really, it was no such thing. Granted, it was snowing a great deal, but it was winter and it was Yorkshire. This was the sort of thing that one expected, and these were no sensitive Londoners; they were hardy Yorkshire-bred folk.

  “They will find warmth and generosity here,” he assured her. “They will be well fed and given wassail as well as coin.”

  “And then they will have to stay with us.”

  “Nonsense, it’s not that bad.”r />
  Marianne shook her head slowly, smiling apparently against her will. “Very well, do as you like. But mark my words, Kit, your plan is not going to work.”

  “My plans always work,” he was pleased to inform her.

  She coughed a laugh. “Oh, really? Do they?”

  He nodded knowingly. “Yes, they do.”

  “Well, I will have to make a list of all the times they haven’t to prove you wrong,” she said with a mocking smile. “Perhaps counting them all will help me drift off to sleep.”

  “Not likely, but you’re welcome to try.” He grinned at her, loving that they could still banter in this manner. Even when she was fatigued, Marianne always had the energy to bicker playfully with him, and skillfully at that.

  Marianne gave him a helpless smile that made him want to swing her up and kiss her senseless. “You’re incorrigible, Kit Gerrard.”

  He bowed, which delighted the little girl in his hold. “Happy to oblige, my dear.”

  “Just mind her for a bit, will you?” she asked as she moved towards the stairs. “I shan’t be too long.”

  “Take your time, love. But where are Nurses A?”

  “Up in the nursery with the boys. They are fighting naptime.” Marianne rolled her eyes heavenward.

  Kit chuckled and shook his head. The boys were not only cousins, but also the best of friends, and there was nothing they hated more than having their grand adventures cut short by something so inconsequential as a nap. But if one were foolish enough to allow them to miss their designated period of rest, all hell broke loose before the evening meal was even on the table.

  “And what about this little angel?” he asked, looking down at Cat with a fond smile.

  “She’s had one. Daphne is in with Susannah, probably sleeping. Susannah insisted it was her turn to hold and snuggle her, and I am more than content to let her do so.”

  Kit nodded and looked back to Marianne, now more than halfway up the stairs. “Very good. Sleep well, my love.”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a tired smile. “I always do.” She winked at him. “If you have mistletoe to spare, I think there’s a very bare doorway where I am going.”

  He felt a slow, rather devious grin spread across his face. “I shall do my best to remedy such a disgraceful oversight. If there is any to spare.” He blew her a kiss, and she gave him a low chuckle.