The Christmas Kittens

by Collum, Lynn

  Dorinda, now in the best of humors, declared she must ride into Clarendon to purchase new gloves and perhaps flowers for her hair. She rushed from the drawing room, without a thought for anything but how she would look when his lordship saw her.

  Karis, finding herself free of responsibilities for a few hours, decided to take Anthea over to meet Lady Rosalind. Only telling her aunt they were going for a walk, she and her sister escaped the confines of Westwood Park.

  As the Lockhart sisters made their way through the woods, Karis fielded a barrage of question from the nine-year-old about Lord Marsden and his daughter. There was little Karis could tell Anthea, except the girl had been quiet but friendly while the father had not.

  Karis realized how lonely life had become for her sister at Westwood. The child had not only lost her father and friends at Oxford, but she'd spent hours by herself in the nursery to avoid Dorinda and her incessant demands.

  Hopefully, Lady Rosalind and Anthea would become fast friends, if the girl's father would permit it. That gentleman was a puzzle to Karis with his cool stare and his rigid formality, but there was nothing like a mystery to enliven one's existence.

  * * *

  Dorinda surveyed herself in the large mirror in her room. The riding habit of crimson velvet with black frogging suited her dark colouring to perfection. Her parents were complete fools if they thought she would waste her beauty on a coxcomb like the squire's son, no matter the fortune.

  Why, if the marquess was to catch a glimpse of her, he would fall at her feet, she thought, as she tweaked a black curl on her forehead. Somehow to look so stunning and not be seen by anyone but perhaps Squire Tanner's son or a lowly farmer on his way to the village infuriated the beauty.

  Her mama's party would not take place for three long days. She simply would not wait so long to meet the marquess. Too much time would be wasted, for it was uncertain how long the gentleman would remain next door.

  Taking up the hussar style black beaver hat with crimson scarf, Dorinda set it just so over her curls, then smiled at her reflection. She rushed to the stables, for a plan to meet the marquess this very day had come to her.

  * * *

  Mrs. Shelby opened the kitchen door to find Miss Lockhart and her sister on the rear step. “Come in, come in, ladies, afore you freeze.”

  “Good day, Mrs. Shelby. I have brought Anthea to meet Lady Rosalind and to visit the kittens.”

  “Darlin' things they be and they do brighten up the young lady's face when she plays with `em. I apologize for not bein' here yesterday, but I had to make a trip to the village what with all them arrivin'.” Mrs. Shelby glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I think the child has been poorly since her mama died last year, but I say a little of my good cooking and some fresh country air will put the bloom back in her cheeks.”

  Karis liked the cheery housekeeper whom she'd met in the village nearly a year ago while running errands for Dorinda. “No doubt, that is just the thing she needs, Mrs. Shelby.”

  Anthea, loosening her heavy woolen scarf, asked, “Is she taking good care of the kittens?”

  “Aye, she is, wee one. Come along, let me take you to her.” The older woman led them through the kitchen and into the Great Hall. Karis looked around, curious where his lordship might be. She wasn't certain why, for he'd been anything but welcoming. She simply knew she'd like to meet the gentleman again, if only to thank him for allowing her sister to visit.

  Mrs. Shelby noted her searching gaze, but mistook it for fear. “Don't worry about runnin' into the master. Up early and out on the estate, he was. I'm delighted to say he intends to return Whiteoaks to its former glory. He sent the coachman to hire a couple of sturdy lads from the village to set the stables to rights and told me to hire extra help for the house. There's much work to be done.”

  Karis merely nodded her head, stifling the swift feeling of disappoint. She trailed behind her sister as they followed the housekeeper to the third floor. They were ushered into an ancient nursery, devoid of books or toys. Across the room, Lady Rosalind sat beside a window, her chin propped on her hand as she stared glumly out the window. At her feet on a rug, all seven kittens lay sleeping.

  Nurse rose from a chair beside the fire, smiling gratefully at the visitors. She'd been at her wit's end wondering how to amuse her rather listless charge who was disappointed when she learned her father had gone out before she'd risen. “Look here, Lady Rosalind, you've got someone come to see you.”

  The child straightened, then smiled at Karis and her sister. “I am so glad you have come. I should like to know the kittens' names.”

  Anthea, never shy, removed her wool cloak and bonnet. She immediately went to Lady Rosalind and within a matter of minutes Karis was delighted to see the girls chattering like old friends.

  Nurse edged close to Karis and the housekeeper, confiding to them in a whispered undertone, “Oh, miss, is this not a rather daunting room in which to keep a child? Why, I can't find so much as a toy soldier in the place.”

  Karis's gaze took in the empty shelves, the yellowed paint on the walls and the faded curtains at the window. Clearly it had been years since a child had resided at Whiteoaks. “Did you not bring any of her playthings?”

  Binx lowered her voice. “Never even saw Lady Rosalind afore yesterday, miss. Seems `is lordship whisked `er away from `er grandmother's `ouse in a thrice without bringin' much beyond a few dresses. She's a dear little girl, but so quiet. I'm `opin' your sister might cheer `er up some.”

  Mrs. Shelby offered, “Perhaps later you might take a look in the attic for some toys. Surely they weren't all thrown out, but then it's been years since Miss Rachel lived here.”

  There was some mystery surrounding his lordship's unexpected arrival, but Karis knew it didn't truly concern her. Instead, she decided to do what she could to improve the nursery. “I have a suggestion.” She quickly recommended that they decorate the nursery for Christmas. She and the girls would cut greenery if nurse would go to the village and purchase red ribbon. They could get apples and candles from the kitchen.

  Nurse was hesitant, at first, not knowing what his lordship might think, but Mrs. Shelby convinced her it was just the thing for Lady Rosalind. Binx informed her charge what they were going to do. She declared she would return as soon as possible and made the child promise to be good. “This shall be great fun.”

  The servant hurried from the room with Mrs. Shelby following in her wake. The older lady declared she had her own duties to attend.

  While Lady Rosalind tied the string to her fur lined cape, she eyed the sisters as if they were foreign beings for suggesting they do what was servant's work. “I have never helped decorate for Christmas. Grandmama says one must always remember ones proper station in life.”

  “Oh, pooh!” Anthea declare while pulling on her mittens. “There is nothing wrong with doing something you enjoy. Why, Karis knows how to make rooms look very pretty at Christmas time. `Tis always great fun, you will see.” So saying, the child went to her new friend and took her hand as they made their way out of the nursery.

  Karis noted that Lady Rosalind seemed infected by Anthea's enthusiasm as she giggled and skipped down the stairs. No doubt the two would be good friends if Karis could but find the time to bring her sister over.

  Clearly, the marquess' arrival in the neighborhood had distract Dorinda enough to give Karis some spare time to spend with her sister and Lady Rosalind today. But the thought of her cousin in pursuit of Lord Marsden left Karis suddenly feeling uneasy. She had never known her cousin to fail in achieving something she desired and clearly she desired the marquess.

  * * *

  The gentle mare plodded along the road to Whiteoaks, leaving Dorinda mad as blazes. For the first time in her life, she wished she carried a crop. Never a good horsewoman, she'd adored the fat little bay her father had found for her last year. Nothing about the docile horse had been frightening, but today she was eager to get to the gates of the marque
ss's estate. Bess, however, was perfectly content to amble along at her usual gait.

  At last the horse arrived at the gate and stood patiently as her rider fidgeted on her back. Dorinda strained to look up the drive, but the estate was so overgrown, she could barely see the slate roof of the manor house. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of gravel as someone came rapidly up the drive.

  She slid from her horse, allowing Bess's reins to fall free, for there was no danger of the lazy mare moving. Scanning the ground, she found a clump of dead grass to the side of the drive. She wasn't so foolish as to wish to ruin her new habit by reclining in the dirt. She quickly lay down, positioning herself as if she'd taken a fall. Then she waited for her prey. A smile touched her lips as she envisioned his lordship carrying her back to Whiteoaks as he wondered who this fallen goddess might be.

  Binx hurried up the drive towards the village, saying a word of thanks to God for sending Miss Lockhart and her sister to them. She was too new at her post to know how to handle Lady Rosalind. Miss Lockhart seemed to know the trick, for the child had positively glowed at the suggestion of a trip to cut greenery.

  When Binx rounded the curve of the weed-filled gravel carriageway, she spied a female dressed in a bright red riding habit lying beside the road. The lady's horse stood in the middle of the drive, eyes half closed as if the animal were asleep.

  “Upon my soul, where did you come from?” The servant ran forward and stooped beside the fallen lady. She touched the victim, and discovered her to be warm and breathing which was a relief, for Nurse had never seen a dead body.

  Binx rose and began to pace beside the injured girl, trying to decide if she should stay with the lady or return to the house. As the advantages and disadvantages of each plan warred in her mind, she heard the sound of a carriage coming up the road. She dashed through the gates and began to wave her arms at the approaching vehicle.

  “Oh, sir, can you `elp me?”

  A frail young man dressed in a dark blue greatcoat with large red buttons reluctantly drew his curricle to a halt beside Binx. “What is the problem? I am in rather a hurry, miss.”

  “Sir, there's been an accident and a young lady's been thrown from `er `orse. Can you carry `er to Whiteoaks?”

  “Not Whiteoaks, the manor is empty but for an old housekeeper. We should--”

  “The Marquess of Marsden is in residence, sir. We can take care of `er there.”

  Suddenly the young man's gaze came to rest on the mare. “Why, that is Lord Westerly's animal.” He jumped down from his vehicle and ran to the young lady who'd filled his dreams every night for the past two years. Kneeling, he noted her beauty was not the least diminished by her fall. Taking her hand, he completely forgot himself and called, “Dorinda, Dorinda, my dear, wake up.”

  Dorinda, lying with her eyes closed, resisted the urge to yank her gloved hand from Roland Tanner's. She despised the squire's son for daring to think she would consider such a mésalliance to someone like him. She had position, fortune and beauty, and she intended to use those advantages to marry well. It was just her bad luck to have Roland arrive at the wrong time. Still as she lay in the grass, she held out hope that he and the servant from Whiteoaks would take her to the manor, so she continued to pretend unconsciousness.

  Binx watched the young man attempt to wake the miss with no luck. “Sir, I think we must get `er in your carriage and take `er indoors afore she takes a chill.”

  “Yes, I can take her up with me, but her mama would be vexed if I did not bring her daughter to her, for Westwood is just next door and,” the young man looked towards the unkempt gardens and manor then added, “I am not certain Whiteoaks is prepared for company. Beside, one is always most comfortable at home.”

  Dorinda ground her teeth in frustration. Suddenly feeling arms scoop her up, her eyes flew open. “Roland Tanner, take your hands off me, you coxcomb.”

  The squire's son was so startled by her awakening, he dropped her back onto the grass, causing a loud groan to escape the lady. “Dorinda, you are unharmed.”

  The lady's backside ached from the sudden fall back to the ground, and she vented all her spleen on the unfortunate Mr. Tanner. “No thanks to you, you clumsy oaf. Go about your business and leave me alone, Roland. And stop calling me Dorinda, you forget yourself!”

  Having always called her by her Christian name since they'd grown up together, the bewildered squire's son could only mutter, “But Dor--I mean Miss Westerly--”

  Scrambling to her feet, Dorinda marched to her horse and grabbed the reins. She looked back at the blushing young man with disdain. “Well!”

  Roland hurried forward and meekly cupped his hands and gave the lady a boost up onto her mare. He watched her guide her horse around his curricle, and ride back towards Westwood, grass sticking to the back of her habit and hat like feathers on a sparrow in flight. He wondered what had just happened.

  The little servant from Whiteoaks came to stand beside him. “That was right peculiar, sir. What do you reckon the young lady was about?”

  Roland Tanner had long ago given up trying to understand Miss Dorinda Westerly. He only knew that he would worship her beauty until the day he died. Suddenly remembering his errands for his mother in Clarendon, he asked the servant if she wished a ride to the village, and Binx accepted with delight.

  * * *

  The marquess guided his horse though the woods while he made a mental list of all the things he wanted to accomplish before Christmas. He was so lost in his plans that it was several minutes before he realized that the sounds of singing could be heard in the cold afternoon air.

  Curious, he guided his animal in that direction. He recognized the song as the Coventry Carol, one he'd sung himself as a child. As he came round the trees into the meadow, he spied his daughter, Miss Lockhart and he assumed the lady's young sister. The lady was cutting greenery as the children danced around the cut boughs of holly, sweet bay, ivy and pine while they sang with great spirit but little talent. His heart swelled with joy to see Rosalind enjoying herself. Whiteoaks would be good for them both. To his surprise, he found himself softly singing the lyrics. “By by, lul-ly lul-lay!”

  The tones of a rich baritone jarred Karis from her cutting. Her gloved hand clinched the shears and her heart fluttered at the sight of Lord Marsden seated on a huge black horse, singing the carol. She was delighted to see him, but uncertain how he would react to her taking command of his daughter's care, if only temporarily.

  She took heart he was still smiling as he finished the verse with the girls. “Good afternoon, my lord. I hope you don't mind that Anthea and I offered to help Lady Rosalind brighten up her nursery with a little Christmas decorating.”

  “`Tis an excellent idea, Miss Lockhart. I am afraid I have been so involved with fixing the house that I forgot it would be nice to decorate it for the holidays.” Marsden dismounted and came to stand among the neat piles of branches.

  “Oh, Papa, this is such fun. This is my new friend Anthea. We are going to decorate the nursery. Does this not smell just like Christmas?” Lady Rosalind, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling, danced up to her father and waved a fir bough under his nose.

  The strong scent of the evergreen triggered happy memories of Marsden's childhood. Reminding him of the days when he would come in from the cold to the warm smells of mince pies and pine boughs, adding to his lighthearted feeling. “Yes, Rosebud, that it does. Do you need help? Shall I get a cart to bring the branches to the house, Miss Lockhart?”

  “Thank you, my lord. I do believe we have cut enough for now. We shall take the basket of cones and decorate them until the greenery arrives and nurse comes with the red ribbons.”

  Karis picked up the basket filled with fir cones, but the marquess stepped forward. “Allow me.”

  They all started back for the manor. The young girls skipped in front and resumed their off-key singing, leaving Lord Marsden and Miss Lockhart an opportunity for private conversation.

  Leading hi
s horse and carrying the basket, the marquess smiled after the children as they disappeared around a bend in the path. “I must thank you and your sister for taking such an interest in Lady Rosalind. I fear I would have forgotten all the traditions of Christmas but for your kindness.”

  Karis looked at the gentleman, watching his frosted breath drift away with the breeze as he spoke so earnestly. The cold formality of yesterday was gone and she found herself drawn to this man who cared so much for his daughter. “We are the ones who should be thanking you. Anthea has been quite lonely since we came to Warwickshire to live with our aunt. Lady Rosalind was just the thing to brighten her Christmas.”

  Marsden returned the lady's gaze, and found himself mesmerized by those beautiful green eyes. Miss Lockhart was different from all the other young ladies he'd encountered this past year. She talked to him with no hint of coquetry or artifice. He wondered if that was because she didn't find him attractive. That thought irked him for some reason. Wondering why it should, he merely said, “Then you must bring her as often as she likes.”

  The pair then fell into casual conversation about the cold weather and what the marquess intended to do to improve Whiteoaks. Karis even made a few suggestions. Before she knew it they'd arrived back at the house. The marquess asked Mrs. Shelby to serve hot chocolate to the girls and Karis while he and Jock went to retrieve the cut boughs.

  Later, Marsden stepped into the nursery, his arms filled with a variety of cuttings, and he stopped to admire the heartwarming sight. In front of the fireplace, Miss Lockhart and Anthea were showing Rosalind how to paint flour and water on the pine cones to make them appear frosted with snow. The trio were laughing at the kittens trying to bat at the cones and make them roll on the table.

  “Where shall I put these?” he asked, his tone husky with emotion to see his daughter much like her former self.