Things were even worse than she’d thought.
Not only were her sisters incapable of following instructions, but they also couldn’t remember their lines.
At all.
Even the ones they had written themselves.
If this theatrical was supposed to be a gift for her brothers, they would be cast out for giving the most terrible gift that had ever been known to mankind.
And for Gerrards, she was quite sure that would be a rather impressive feat.
She’d escaped the abysmal rehearsal with the claim that she needed to find the appropriate costumes for them all. It was a true statement, but more of an excuse than anything else.
She didn’t even know if they had anything remotely resembling costumes in this house.
Benbridge was a grand old estate, and she liked it immensely, but it was only the second time she had been here, and she really hadn’t explored it all that much the last time she had come. She’d completely ignored the history lesson Kit had given them two years ago on this house, so she had no idea how much time the family had even spent here in the past. She had a hard time imagining Colin and Kit putting on theatricals for Loughton and their mother, but she supposed it was possible.
This was the sort of house that would be grand for entertaining, if one wished to entertain in Yorkshire, so it could have been that the late Lady Loughton had enjoyed doing so, and perhaps there had been theatricals there.
She paused as she considered that her mother had technically been a Lady Loughton. Not officially, considering she’d never acknowledged the title, and Loughton had never presented her to anybody as such. But if the marriage between her parents had been valid, which she still doubted from time to time, she would have naturally been a Lady Loughton.
That was a sobering thought.
She would never consider her as such, and she suspected her mother would never have done so either. She had simply been Louise Bouchard Gerrard, and that was all she had cared about.
Sometimes she wondered about her mother’s past and family, as she knew so little of it. Had they other family in France or elsewhere in Europe? Were they really as poor as her mother had been? Or had she somehow been cast off and found her own way in the world?
Well, that path had led her to Loughton, and despite being the means to Rosie, Bitty, and Ginny being in existence, she did not see much by way of advantage there.
But that was neither here nor there.
Costumes were the important thing here.
That and the utterly abysmal theatrical that loomed before her.
They were short on time, and she knew it well. Colin was putting some rather significant emphasis on the meal they were to have this evening, which was something that was well within Colin’s natural inclinations, but this was different. She half expected some grand announcement to occur at the meal, but that would take away from their consumption of the meal, and Colin would not like that.
After the meal, they would be expected to perform.
A cold sweat began to form on her brow and she picked up her pace down the long corridor of the family rooms.
“Costumes,” she muttered to herself. “If I were costumes, where would I…?” She caught sight of Mrs. Donovan, the kindly housekeeper, and sighed. “Mrs. Donovan!”
The dark-haired woman turned with a warm smile. “Miss Gerrard, can I help you with something?”
Oh, where was she to begin? But this was no time for getting into the deeper issues at hand.
“Yes,” Rosie said quickly. “My brothers have tasked us with putting on a theatrical tonight.”
Mrs. Donovan clasped her hands before her. “Oh, that should be lovely! I do love a good theatrical.”
Then she would undoubtedly hate theirs.
Rosie tried for a smile. “My sisters are working on their parts now, but I wondered if you knew of any costumes or old clothing items we might be able to use.”
“Hmm,” Mrs. Donovan mused, looking thoughtful. “It has been quite a long time since any sort of theatrical was performed in this house, though it was a very popular amusement once. I wonder what became of those things.”
Dread hit Rosie squarely in the stomach, and she knew her expression showed it.
Mrs. Donovan smiled at her. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Gerrard. I’ll pull some of the maids from whatever it is they’re doing and we’ll see if we can’t find some things for you and the others to use. Is there anything in particular you will need?”
Rosie shook her head, her despair ebbing the smallest bit. “Not really. I will take anything that can be found and make it work.”
Mrs. Donovan nodded in encouragement. “That’s the spirit, dear. It might even spark your creativity more to use what you’ve got.”
“It might,” Rosie replied with a false smile.
She didn’t think anything would spark her creativity unless it was an already written theatrical with parts and costumes described in great detail. She could be very creative under those circumstances.
Not these.
Mrs. Donovan watched Rosie carefully, then asked, “Is everything all right, Miss Gerrard?”
Rosie’s head snapped up and she looked at the housekeeper wildly for a moment. Then she forced her most perfect smile. “Yes, Mrs. Donovan, everything is perfectly fine. I’m only anxious for Christmas.”
It was painfully obvious that she did not believe Rosie for one second, but she was not going to ask about it.
She only nodded kindly. “Very well, then. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Gerrard, I will see to finding some costumes for you.” She bobbed a curtsey, and moved on down the hallway.
It was still odd to Rosie to have grown women curtseying to her when she was only fourteen, but that was the way things worked here, and someday she supposed she wouldn’t think anything of it.
Rosie shook her head and marched down the corridor, a glower forming.
Whatever joy she had hoped to attain with Christmas and all its celebrations had long since vanished in the face of the more realistic hope to not kill anyone this Christmas.
She wasn’t prone to wishing anyone dead, and she did not at this moment have that wish either.
But it wasn’t something she was going to rule out either.
She turned for the stairs and started down, feeling disgruntled and disappointed, and wishing Christmas could just be over and done with. Then perhaps she could enjoy what remaining time she had with her family before returning to school.
She missed the order and structure that school provided her, and life at Miss Masters was so much simpler and more manageable.
Life with her siblings and their children was just complicated.
There wasn’t anyone about when she reached the main floor, which was unusual. When they’d gone upstairs to escape another boring speech from Kit, or from feeling the wrath of his surprising temper, the adults had been in the large drawing room with the children. With how invested Colin and Kit seemed to be in absolutely everything they could think of that might resemble Christmas, she expected them to be instructing Rafe, Matthew, and Livvy in the finer points of tying up holly boughs.
Although as she looked around the grand entryway, she highly doubted any further greenery was needed.
It seemed they would be living in a greenhouse for the foreseeable future.
Her brothers were good men, probably some of the best, but sometimes she thought they just might be the slightest bit mad.
But if they were not around…
Rosie smirked to herself and quietly moved towards Colin’s study.
There was an actual mountain of gifts in this room and she had been interrupted from her investigation of them earlier by the appearance of Susannah and the children. If no one was about, then there would be no one to stop her from looking at them now.
It was not as though there would be harm in it. They were all wrapped tightly and tied with ribbons. She would never be able to see what was inside, and no surpr
ise would be ruined if that could not happen.
She was not skilled enough in wrapping to be able to rewrap anything she opened, and she was not foolish enough to start trying to improve that skill now.
She was, as it happened, rather skilled in deduction, and she had no doubt she would be able to say with some confidence what presents everyone would be receiving just by observing the shape and size, weight, and general feeling of each present. Some shaking was required in a few cases, but only to further the investigative process.
The details of each item would be left for the unveiling, it was true, and she was content with that. It made no difference to her if Bitty received a blue dress or green, or what specific book Freddie would receive. It satisfied her enough to know that they would be receiving those things.
Not that it was a very great stretch of the imagination to predict that those two would be receiving those exact gifts from someone or other.
That was the easiest assumption known to man.
But what would she be receiving?
She smirked as she approached the study. She prided herself on being a trifle difficult when it came to gifts. She didn’t mean to be fastidious with her likes and dislikes, and she couldn’t have said if there was any rhyme or reason to it. She just had very specific tastes, and not everyone knew where her lines were drawn.
It was odd that so many presents should be here for their Christmas. As she understood it from her friends who actually had experience with celebrating Christmas in a grand fashion, gifts were usually small trinkets and things that were already needed. There were exceptions, of course, as some of the wealthier, more spoiled girls admitted without shame, but the focus of most celebrations at Christmas tended to be of a religious nature.
Gerrards were not religious by nature, and considering she had endured Colin’s horrific and forced rendition of the Advent four days in a row instead of four Sundays in a row, it was easy to understand why.
There was not much she could see that was religious about a massive pile of gifts, but she was not about to complain for having such an aberration from tradition in their midst.
She grabbed the handle to the room and wished faintly that it would not be locked before twisting it.
The door opened and her heart leapt with excitement.
Then it all came crashing down when the room she had so desired to enter was completely devoid of anything remotely resembling gifts.
On second thought, she might have to kill Colin. She doubted anyone would miss him overly much expect Susannah, and she wanted to kill him on occasion herself.
Could one temporarily kill a person?
Rosie entered the room fully and stood in the center, putting her hands on her hips and turning slightly.
The presents had been right here, she could see them in her mind as clearly as she had seen them by sight. She was standing exactly where two large presents had been for Cat and Daphne, which made little sense, as they were infants. Well, Cat had turned one just the week before, but that hardly seemed a significant distinction at this point.
Where had the presents gone?
Rosie had seen Colin’s panicked expression about Ginny’s trying to put Humphrey in the study earlier, which had prompted her to see why, and she did not believe for one moment that Father Christmas had come early.
Father Christmas had never come to them before, why would they start that now?
The sight of the presents had sent Rosie into a panic, wondering if that was indicative of what was expected by way of gifts. Not that she or her sisters could possibly match anything of that magnitude, but there had obviously been a great deal of effort exerted in them.
Rosie hadn’t even thought of presents until she’d been home from school.
After seeing the gifts in this room, now it was all she could think about. More concerning the presents for herself than what to give the others, she freely admitted, and she could have used the distraction of her own presents right about now.
Where did they go?”
“What do you think you are doing in here?”
Chapter Fourteen
Rosie whirled with a gasp, scrambling for a feasible story in her mind.
All of that faded into a glower when she saw who had asked.
“Why does that matter to you?”
Freddie leaned against the doorframe in an attempt to be nonchalant, which really only looked ridiculous, and shrugged. “I only know you’re not supposed to be in here, and if you’re supposed to be in trouble, that matters very much to me.”
That earned her nephew a scowl.
“You would,” she muttered.
He shrugged in acknowledgement of the fact.
Freddie was, at times, the bane of her existence. Most of the time, actually, which was why it really was mutually beneficial for them to be at school in different counties much of the year. They were usually fairly well behaved when together for shorter amounts of time, but the longer they spent in each other’s company, the worse their behavior became.
The only time they ever seemed to see eye to eye was if something could be advantageous for both of them.
Or if someone outside of the family said anything remotely unkind about any member of the family, including each other.
Then all hell would break loose.
Or so Thomas Drummond swore three summers ago when he’d made fun of Freddie during a playtime between their neighboring estates and consequently felt the force of a united Gerrard front pummeling him into the face of the earth.
Only they could make fun of Freddie, or any of the Gerrard children.
No one else could.
Still, Rosie had no desire for Freddie to snitch on her, though she doubted she would see much by way of punishment for going into a room where there absolutely were no presents.
She shrugged and smirked at him. “I can come into Colin’s study if I want to. He’s not in here.”
Freddie rolled his eyes. “Come on, Aunt Rose, you must know I’m not that thick.”
Rosie’s teeth gritted together hard. He only called her Aunt Rose when he wanted her ire up, and it always worked. She was his aunt, it was true, but she was only two years older than him, and he never said the name with the sort of respect a nephew ought to have.
She didn’t want to be his aunt.
She didn’t want to be his anything.
“I don’t know that,” she snapped at him. “I don’t know anything except that you are thick.”
He didn’t rise to her bait and just stared at her with the same blue-green eyes his mother had.
He stared for so long that she wanted to squirm in agitation.
But Rosie was a pupil of the Miss Masters Finishing School for Fine Young Ladies, and they did not squirm.
She’d been corrected enough in that regard that it was branded into her memory and now seemed the perfect opportunity to employ it.
“What?” she finally asked, tilting her head just the slightest amount.
“You’re looking for the presents,” he said simply, his gaze still steady.
Well, that was painfully obvious, so he would receive no marks for intellect there.
“And if I am?” she inquired.
Freddie smiled slowly. “I might know where they are.”
Might? He might? That wasn’t worth a whole lot, and she wasn’t exactly willing to take the word of the person who had only this morning yanked her by her braids and forced her to march around the room like a prized pony.
Her scalp tingled briefly in memory.
Rosie folded her arms and gave him a look. “You might? You aren’t sure?”
“Well, I couldn’t very well ask where they were going,” Freddie explained, still keeping his tone surprisingly calm, considering how Rosie was responding to him.
She frowned in confusion. “They? They who?”
“The servants. While Uncle Kit was taking Humphrey back to Mr. Matthews…”
Rosie snorted a la
ugh at the memory. It was still the most ridiculous thing she had heard of to have a goat be a gift for Christmas, and if she had not seen Humphrey for herself, nibbling away at Kit’s papers, she would not have believed anyone’s story about finding a goat in the house. Nor would she have believed a little girl capable of purchasing a goat to give her brothers for Christmas without anyone noticing.
Then again, it was Ginny, and there was nothing certain about Ginny.
Freddie grinned at Rosie’s snort, but went on “…Papa told the servants to take them, and I didn’t hear where, so I’m assuming they already knew.”
“But you saw them taking them away?” Rosie pressed.
He nodded smugly. “I did. And if I know Uncle Kit and my father, they are under the impression that if the presents are out of our sight, they will also be out of our minds.”
Probably true, which proved just how little her brothers knew them.
“That’s a little thick of them, isn’t it?” Rosie asked with a devious grin.
Freddie held up a hand. “I can’t say anything like that without getting into trouble, so I’ll just let you do it and save myself the punishment.”
Ironically, it was true, but it didn’t stop Rosie from saying, “Coward.”
“It’s not cowardice to think of self-preservation in a battle that cannot be won and where there is nothing to fight for or defend,” Freddie quipped.
Rosie rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “Whatever you say, Euripides. Do you want to go out in search of the presents or not?”
“Of course.” He gestured for her to follow him and started down the corridor to the left, towards the back of the house.
Rosie followed with some trepidation, as one following Freddie always should have.
“You aren’t going to lead me into a trap or get me into trouble, are you?” she asked.
Freddie looked over his shoulder at her in surprise. “No…”
“Because I am really not in the mood for hijinks right now,” she went on. “I’m only trying to escape my sisters and find something to divert me until I am forced back into this bizarre Christmas of ours.”
A Gerrard Family Christmas (Arrangements, Book 8) Page 16