The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance

by Alicia Quigley

  And so, dear Pippa, I must to bed. Isobel and Lord Francis mean to wed as soon as may be (such glances they give each other, that I think that is for the best!), and I have promised to help with the details. I will send you a letter telling you of the fun that was had!

  Affectionately,

  Harriet.

  Chapter 17

  Lord Francis,

  It was a sincere pleasure to receive your letter of the 18th informing me that you and Miss Isobel Paley had at long last come to an understanding and announced your engagement and invited me to the wedding. I am glad you decided to marry promptly before she had an opportunity to allow any additional doubts to intrude!

  I regret that I could not attend your nuptials at St. George’s Hanover Square, but a journey to London during the harvest season would have absented me from my estates longer than I could support at such a busy time. However, I promise that I will have a special barrel of ale brewed in your honor, and all will drink to the health of Lord and Lady Francis Wheaton at the harvest home we will hold on the threshing floor once the grain is in the bins for the winter.

  Your happy news emboldens me to confide in you that I fear I made a serious blunder this summer, which I inform you of in the hope that you can assist me in recovering from it. Having spent so much of your summer angling for fish and Miss Paley, I do not know if you are aware that I spent many pleasant hours in the company of Miss Walcott, who became a great friend of my offspring, as well as Miss Dalburn, their governess. During this time it also intruded upon my awareness that Sophia would soon be a young lady ready to embark upon a Season in London, and that it was high time I find a wife. My daughter, in particular, is much in need of a mother’s guidance at this point in her life.

  I spent some time considering what I needed in a wife, and had nearly resigned myself to the necessity of a visit to London next spring in order to seek an appropriate lady. However, fate having placed us in close contact, particularly as we conspired to throw you and Miss Paley together, I came to realize that Miss Walcott possessed all of the characteristics I required. Accordingly, I made her an offer of marriage, the day after that on which Miss Paley sprained her ankle. You will have realized that she refused me, of course, and may wonder why. At the time I was far too surprised to reflect upon the matter, but I realize now that I behaved with no gallantry, or even consideration of her feelings, for I merely informed her that she met a list of my requirements, and offered her my hand.

  I was shocked, but not hurt by her refusal, at least initially. But since Miss Paley and Miss Walcott returned to England, I have come to understand how much I enjoy her chatter, how charming is her ability to make everyone comfortable, and how pleasant a companion she is, besides being quite the best female card player it has ever been my good fortune to encounter! In short, in her absence I have discovered in myself those feelings of affection for her which I never thought I would be able to have for another lady after Elinor died. They are not the same feeling, which is perhaps why I overlooked them, but they are strong nonetheless, and I find myself miserable without her company.

  Therefore, I write also to ask your assistance in bringing Miss Walcott and me together, as she and I did in bringing you and Miss Paley together through the mechanism of the folly. I hope that I can convince you and your charming bride to spend the Christmas season here at Glencairn and that you will induce Miss Walcott to accompany you. I feel sure that during such a festive time there will be any number of opportunities for me to demonstrate to her the depth of my feelings, and how much I truly wish for her hand. Please let me know when I can expect your party to arrive.

  Yours, etc…

  Lord Francis put down the letter he had just read, and gazed across the breakfast table at his bride. He took a moment to admire her gleaming chestnut hair, and the graceful turn of her slender neck. He allowed his eyes to slide down to the white skin of her chest where it moved gently above the lace at her décolletage, before resolutely dragging them back to her piquant face.

  “Here’s a tangle,” he said, tapping the letter with one forefinger.

  “A tangle?” asked Isobel. “I thought it was a letter from Lord Glencairn. What manner of tangle can such an upright and straightforward gentleman possibly have?”

  Francis hesitated. “It seems that he is fonder of Harriet than we had thought.”

  “Indeed?” said Isobel. “I know that they spent some pleasant afternoons together, strolling through the gardens, and at one point you indicated you thought something more might come of it, but she left Scotland quite willingly, and has not mentioned Lord Glencairn since.”

  “I noticed that, and thought it odd,” said Francis. “After all, she spent most afternoons with his children, and seemed to like his lordship a great deal, why would she not mention him again?”

  Isobel shrugged. “Well, clearly she did not like him that well, or she would be lamenting the lack of his company.”

  “Or so it seems. And yet, we are often unable to see beyond the ends of our noses. No doubt we were too concerned with our feelings to think of Harriet’s—or Glencairn’s.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Isobel. “I’m in no mood to answer riddles, Francis. What does Glencairn want?”

  “He wants us to bring Harriet to Scotland for Christmas.”

  Isobel looked startled. “Whatever for? I always have Christmas at Kitswold, which Harriet adores, and I see no reason my habits should change. Furthermore, the very notion of a journey to Scotland in December is barely to be considered,” she said shuddering slightly. “I’m not certain there are enough hot bricks or fur rugs in the kingdom to keep us warm on such a journey.”

  Francis picked the letter up in his long fingers and perused it again. “Perhaps this year must be the exception. It seems, my dear, that Glencairn proposed to Harriet last summer.”

  Isobel emitted what could only be considered a most unladylike squeal. “He did what?” she demanded, and, reaching across the table, wrested the note from his grasp.

  Francis watched with some amusement as she read it, gasping from time to time, one hand at her throat. When she was done, she looked up at him, her eyes wide.

  “I had no notion that this went on!” she said. “I must have been very blind. Poor Harriet, to go through such a thing and not tell me so I could comfort her!”

  Francis shook his head. “We were both much occupied with our own contretemps,” he said. “I had no inkling that he had proposed to her either. Of course, that was the day after I proposed to you, and you turned me down so abruptly and managed to sprain your ankle.”

  “Yes, and an idiot I was, too,” said Isobel. “We might have married a month earlier than we did, and spared ourselves a great deal of pain and annoyance.”

  “My victory was much sweeter because I earned it,” observed Francis. “Nor would I have been able to assist Lady Morgan in ridding herself of her husband’s presence had you accepted me.”

  “Still, it was a great waste of time,” said Isobel. “And now it seems that Harriet has been grieving this whole autumn, and I had not a single thought for her. She must think me the most selfish creature on earth.”

  “You need have no worries, Harriet always thinks the best of everyone; it’s part of her charm,” replied Francis. “Nor are you selfish, my love. You and I were certainly less observant than we might have been, but we meant no harm. But now, perhaps we can help Glencairn to woo Harriet, and she can be as happy as we are.”

  “That would be impossible, but I would be glad to help her become the second happiest woman in England!” said Isobel. She paused. “But I have no idea how we will convince her to go to Glencairn; she most likely has a distaste for the place now, and it is a dreary trip in winter. She loves Christmas at Kitswold with my brother’s children. We hang wreaths, the villagers sing carols, and the house is so cozy and warm; she says it is her favorite time of year to be in the country.”

  “I have no idea either,” said Francis.
“But it must be done. It seems we owe all our own happiness to Glencairn and Harriet. They conspired to throw us together by promoting the construction of a folly, and Harriet intentionally let slip Lady Morgan’s difficulties so that I would seek her out; of that I am sure.”

  “Dear Harriet,” murmured Isobel. “I shall miss her. And only fancy, she will be a Countess! Goodness, how sour the London tabbies who have patronized her will be.”

  “Only if we can get her to Scotland,” said Francis.

  The door opened and Harriet entered, looking charming in a morning dress of pale lavender. The sleeves were ruched above the elbows, with a plum velvet ribbon, and the cuffs of her long sleeves and the hem of her skirt were ornamented with a band of pleated white organza quite three inches deep, matched by the ruffle at her neckline. She smiled brightly at Francis and Isobel before seating herself at the table and helping herself to some toast and fruit.

  “Good morning, my dears,” she said.

  “Good morning, Harriet,” answered Isobel.

  A silence descended over the room. Harriet looked at Isobel, who still held Glencairn’s letter in her hand.

  “Was there anything interesting in the post?” she asked.

  Isobel dropped the letter as though it were on fire. “No, nothing in particular,” she responded. “Some invitations, of course, and a letter from my Aunt Henrietta.”

  “Dear Henrietta,” said Harriet. “How does she? She always had that yapping dog with her, and while I do love your aunt, Isobel dear, I could not like her pet. She fed it sweetmeats from the table, which I cannot think is right, and once it tried to bite me! And Henrietta merely thought it was cunning of the beast!”

  “Yes, her dog is dreadful,” agreed Isobel hastily, hoping to staunch Harriet’s flow of words. “Harriet, what would you think if we did not go to Kitswold this Christmas?”

  Harriet looked up. “What a pity that would be, as I do love seeing the drawing room at Kitswold covered with greenery, and the bunches of holly in the hall. I also enjoy seeing your brother’s children—oh, I know you find them frightful, but I do have a soft spot for them, and children at Christmas seem to be the best part of the holiday!” She paused and looked from Isobel to Francis. “But of course, you are married now, and perhaps you mean to go to Strancaster! Things cannot always be the same, can they?”

  “No, they cannot,” agreed Isobel. She glanced at Francis, and then spoke very gently. “But I did not mean we should go to Strancaster. We have received an invitation to visit Glencairn Castle for Christmas.”

  The pink in Harriet’s cheeks faded. “Glencairn!” she repeated. “Oh! Well, how kind of Lord Glencairn to think of you and Lord Francis. I’m sure Christmas in Scotland must be lovely in the extreme. Certainly the two of you should go! I will go to Pippa; it has been more than a year since I have visited her—such gadabouts we are, Isobel—and her children are so very sweet. I have no doubt that her home is beautiful at Christmas as well and I shall enjoy myself heartily.”

  Isobel shot Francis a despairing look, and he turned to Harriet. “It seems that Lord Glencairn would like you to accompany us as well,” he said. “He asks after you by name.”

  Harriet turned even paler. “Oh!” she exclaimed again. “I am sure that as he is so truly the gentleman he would not wish me to feel excluded, and may in any event be happy to have me spend more time with Sophia. Such a sweet child, and bidding fair to be a real beauty! But indeed, I would not want to be a burden. Surely you don’t wish to travel with me in your carriage, and Lord Glencairn will have far too many guests for it to make any difference whether I come or not. I do think it best that I go to my sister.”

  “Nonsense,” said Isobel. “You should visit your sister in the spring, when you can enjoy the out-of-doors with her children. They are far too young to spend time with now, when they must be indoors and will only cry and scream. No, Francis and I have quite decided that you shall come to Glencairn with us.”

  “I do not think that would be the best idea,” said Harriet hesitantly.

  “And why not, pray tell?” asked Isobel. “I know you love Scotland, and you have not seen it in winter before. Only think how beautiful Glencairn Castle will be in the snow. I have a fancy to see the great hall decorated with wreaths, and I am sure that you nurture such a hope as well. Surely you do not mean to be rude to Lord Glencairn, and deny his request for our company?”

  Harriet’s shoulders sagged a bit. “No, I do not wish to be rude,” she said. “But I am quite certain he will hardly notice if I am not there.”

  “On the contrary, he very much wishes you to be present. And now, let us consider the matter closed,” said Francis. “Christmas at Glencairn; how lovely it sounds.”

  “Lovely indeed,” repeated Harriet, her voice hollow. She took a sip of her tea.

  After eating a very small breakfast, Harriet made her escape, saying that she needed to write to her sister. Isobel watched her disappear through the door, and sighed ruefully.

  “It seems almost cruel to drag her to Glencairn,” she said. “She is clearly mortified at the thought of seeing his lordship again. I very nearly told her she need not come with us.”

  “Glencairn couldn’t give a farthing if you or I are there,” Francis pointed out. “It is Harriet who he wishes to be present. And, in the end, I hope she will thank us for it.”

  “As do I,” said Isobel. “If Lord Glencairn does not romance her properly, he will answer to me.”

  “That will fill him with dread, and thus ensure the most loving of behavior,” said Francis. He smiled at his wife. “And now, speaking of loving behavior, perhaps we should finish our breakfasts and retire to your sitting room for—for a morning tête-à-tête.”

  “What a wonderful idea, darling,” said Isobel. She set about finishing her breakfast with great enthusiasm.

  Chapter 18

  Dearest Pippa,

  I received the most astonishing news this morning. Lord G. has written to Lord F and dear Isobel, inviting them Glencairn for yuletide. I know you are shivering at the very notion of such a long journey in the dead of winter, and were it not for the excessively well sprung, and well upholstered chaise that Lord Francis keeps, I own I would be too. But with a few hot bricks and some fur rugs, I think that all will be well, although I do pity the coachman and postilions! The sheets will be cold at the inns on the road as well, so I must remember to be sure that there are two bedwarmers in my chamber, as it seems my feet never warm up with only one.

  I am shivering now as well, but not with cold, as this house is most delightfully warm, even though London has been very chilly and damp this week. Rather, it is more with, oh, I know not what emotion. Fear, I suppose. I have firmly put his lordship out of my thoughts and busied myself with the wedding, and all of the details of helping Isobel and Lord Francis in setting up their new household, as you know. But now, if I must spend a week or more in his house as a guest, without work of my own to keep my thoughts busy, how shall I be able to push aside those feelings which caused me so much pain when they were not returned last summer?

  However, I fear I have little choice in the matter. I attempted to beg off, saying I would come to you for Christmas, but Lord Francis said in his polite, and very pleasant, but also unyielding way, that indeed I must come with them for Lord G asked particularly for me. I have told myself several times, not to refine too much upon this, lest I be disappointed. He very likely only wishes for Lady Sophia to spend time with me, but it is very hard not to wish, not to hope that there is something more in it. I must stop now, as already, I find that I am pondering too much on this topic, and must, for my own peace of mind, banish these thoughts. Fortunately, dear sister, I have so much to do, that finding something more useful to occupy my mind should not be difficult, particularly as all of the details of this journey must now be arranged as well.

  Fondly,

  Harriet

  Although it was barely midafternoon, the last rays of the brief wint
er sun were peeping out from under the raft of clouds in the skies over Ballydendargan, to paint a rosy glow over the light cover of snow that lay over the landscape, as a post chaise emblazoned with the arms of the house of Strancaster rolled over the cobbles its main street. A lady peered out the window, her face framed by the poke of a grey bonnet trimmed in white fox fur, while a collar of the same warmed her neck, above her gray traveling cape.

  “Oh, how happy I am to be in dear Ballydendargan again!” Harriet exclaimed. “Just look at the sunlight under the clouds, and the way that just the peak of Ben Farclas rises above them. It has been a beautiful autumn in England, but winter is so much lovelier here in Scotland.”

  “Harriet, you think everything is lovelier in Scotland,” replied Isobel, a laugh in her voice. “What happened to the lady who vowed just this morning that she couldn’t endure another day of traveling, and wished to be left behind in England?”

  Harriet laughed with her. “I was such a poor creature, was I not? But I awoke chilled to the bone, and felt I could not possibly be warm enough for another such day. Yet, the warmth of the fire in the private parlor at breakfast, and even more so, the hot bricks under my feet, and fur rugs in the carriage set me to rights,” she glanced out the window again and continued, “I cannot fathom, though, how dear Lord Francis contrives to stay warm riding alongside.”

  Isobel gave a gurgle of laughter, “My dear, he is like a furnace. I assure you that I have not been at all chilly in the morning on this journey! The heat positively rolls off him. I do not wonder in the least that he seems completely comfortable riding beside. I suspect that the mere sight of our fur rugs is enough to bring him out in a sweat.” She pulled the rug on her lap up to her chin and shivered a bit. “I am certainly glad though, that in less than an hour we will be at Glencairn. I hope that there is a roaring fire and some hot wine waiting for us!”