Mistletoe and Mischief

by Patricia Wynn

  Charles looked at her with a warning in his eyes. “The last time I left, I came back and found myself saddled with a dog. I hope this time I shall not find any surprises when I return."

  “Now, Charles...” Louisa had a way of addressing him as if he were an unreasonable child. “One would think you were not happy to have Eliza! And, yet, just look at you."

  Charles started, realizing that he had automatically cut a piece of his breakfast ham and handed it down to the dog. And what was worse, Louisa did not know that the dog still slept on his coverlet.

  “That is neither here nor there, Louisa,” he retorted. “One small dog of this calibre I can stand. But I will not travel with a coachload of smelly curs, half of them without a brain in their heads! Besides, how do we know Miss Wadsdale will tolerate a dog?"

  This thought had been bothering him. If Lady Conisbrough's companion did complain about the dog, he might face a delicate situation. Not that Eliza could be abandoned now, that would not be fair. Charles was inclined, if she objected, to make the suggestion that she ride on the box with the coachman, instead, and see how quickly she came about.

  But Louisa seemed unconcerned. “I am certain your friend Ned would not foist anyone so disagreeable upon us.” She put down her napkin and stood.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go up and resume packing. Do you wish me to keep Eliza for you?"

  Charles knew he ought to leave the dog, but he answered perversely, “No, I shall take her with me to get her used to the carriage. If the motion makes her ill, I'd as lief find out about it now as later. Besides-” he smiled “-she will make you sneeze."

  Louisa pouted delightfully. Then she laughed, and he felt a peculiar flipping sensation inside.

  It occurred to him that he no longer minded Louisa's shade of hair. He could not imagine her with any other. Besides, she showed no signs of having the fearsome temper that was thought to go with it. By and large, she had a sunny disposition.

  Of course, she could be obstinate, but...

  She left him to do her packing, and he set out for Ned's, contemplating the more pleasing aspects of her character.

  * * * *

  Later on, her packing done, Louisa sat in the parlour, dressed in her own travelling gown, the one she had been wearing when Charles first found her. She had slipped on her spencer, as well.

  It had not occurred to Charles, she knew, that Miss Wadsdale might recognize Miss Conisbrough's clothing and ask impertinent questions. But it had occurred to Louisa. She was determined to conceal that lady's garments from her chaperone and return them to Lord Conisbrough's residence in London as soon as possible.

  And she was equally determined to do nothing to undermine Charles's new confidence in her.

  To that end, she sat without even gazing out the window so that no repeat of that previous episode could occur. And when the commotion started in the kitchen, she tried her best to ignore it. But then Mrs. Spadger uttered several shrieks of outrage that ended in sobs, and Sammy's voice, raised in accusation, floated to her from down the hall. And she could not, in good conscience, fail to investigate the cause.

  The scene in the kitchen was one that would have alarmed all but the most dauntless of young ladies. First Louisa spied Nan Spadger, who appeared to have been struck with a fit of madness. Her apron held up to her face, she was rocking back and forth on her heels and moaning about some pudding which had been destroyed.

  In the centre of the room, Sammy Spadger struggled with a ragged boy who, Louisa deduced, had been caught in the act of theft. Yet the boy, with arms and legs flailing, was still trying to get the pudding into his mouth. Bits of it flew about the room as he wriggled and squirmed. Sammy had him by the collar and was reaching for the pudding, but his attempts to recapture what remained of it only resulted in a greater mess.

  Jim stood posted at the door, apparently to keep another man from leaving. The stranger, some low tradesman by the look of him, was protesting loudly. As Louisa entered the room, Jim raised his fists and stuck out his chin in bravado.

  Louisa walked into the thick of the fray.

  “What is happening here? May I do anything to help?"

  Sammy turned to her, and the boy managed in that second to wolf down the remaining pudding.

  “It's t’ lad, here, miss. He's taken t’ missus's pudding, an’ he won't give it back."

  Louisa replied calmly, “In its present state, I doubt that you would wish to have it back.” She looked down at the boy who was chewing miserably. “Why don't you release him, Mr. Spadger, and let us hear his explanation. I daresay the poor boy was starving."

  When Sammy seemed reluctant to do so, she added, “With Jim at the door, I am quite certain he could not escape."

  That reminder served to calm Sammy, though she could tell he was still upset that a theft had been committed in his house. Reluctantly, he let go of the boy, who cowered near the table.

  Louisa stooped to bring her face closer to his. He stepped back in alarm, and she smiled at him.

  “You mustn't think that anyone is going to hurt you, child. What is your name?"

  In a quiet voice he answered, “Bob."

  “Is that all? Is there nothing more?"

  The question drew a look of confusion, so Louisa said gently, “You must tell us why you stole the pudding, Bob."

  The boy sniffed and rubbed his nose on a torn and filthy sleeve. He stared at the ground and refused to meet her eye.

  Nan ceased her moaning, took her face out of her apron and peered closely at the boy.

  Louisa looked to the Spadgers for assistance, but she could see that they had not forgiven the child yet. Then she noticed the man who had confronted Jim; he had the same sort of hangdog look as the boy.

  “Is this your father?” she asked him.

  The boy's glance darted to the man's with fear, and the man snorted, “Father! The whelp ‘asn't got a father! ‘E's my property, ‘e is."

  Louisa looked down her nose at him. She addressed her words to the boy, “You need to answer me yourself, child. I will try to help you, if you let me. No one will beat you, I promise."

  “'E will,” the boy said simply, pointing a thumb at the strange man. “'E'll beat me wif a barrel stave, ‘e will."

  Cries of outrage rose from the Spadgers, and Louisa felt heat rising to her face. “He will not! I will not let him!"

  “And ‘oo ‘re you to stop me?” the tradesman said. “The brat's mine, an’ I'll do wit ‘im wot I please!"

  “Mr. Spadger-"Louisa turned to him “-I refuse to engage in conversation with this unpleasant person. Will you tell me, please, who he is, and what he is doing here?"

  Sammy glanced at the fellow angrily. “He's a carter, miss, making deliveries here in town. T’ lad works for him, so he does, but t’ fellow says he won't pay t’ missus for pudding."

  “The boy's a thief an’ deserves a bad thrashin', that's all. An’ the sooner this lout lets us pass, the sooner ‘e'll ‘ave it,” declared the man.

  Bob shrank against Louisa, lending credence to the man's threats. Louisa placed her hand on his shoulder for comfort.

  “Don't cry, Bob,” she said as he began to whimper. “He'll do no such thing. Why,” she offered, when his cries did not abate, “how could he, when you shall not be seeing him again?"

  At that, all eyes in the room turned to look at her: the carter was outraged, Jim and his mother flummoxed, the boy hopeful. Sammy Spadger, remembering the dog, seemed to be the first to guess where she was heading.

  “Does tha mean ta take t’ boy wi’ thee, miss?” he asked.

  “Of course I do. I cannot return him to such a cruel master. And I am certain my cousin will agree with me."

  Louisa was certain that Charles would support her in her decision, though she acknowledged to herself that he might not like the notion at first. But Charles was merely unused to thinking the way she did; he always saw the sense in her ideas in the end.

  “You can't
take my boy! I've paid good money for ‘im-the jackanapes!"

  “Is he your apprentice?"

  “'E is! An’ I've got papers to prove it!"

  “Then you shall be reimbursed for all the expenses you have incurred on his behalf. Let's ask Bob, shall we, just how well you have fulfilled your trust as his master.

  “Bob-” she knelt in front of the boy “-how well has this man fed you? Does he give you at least two meals a day?"

  Bob shook his head in awe. “Ne'er two, miss. Not even one. ‘E says I got to go fishin’ for me meat an’ bread."

  Louisa ignored the carter's sharp protests. “And is this your notion of fishing? The way you took Mrs. Spadger's pudding?"

  Bob nodded. “That's the way ‘e tol’ me t’ do it.” He tipped his head towards the carter, then cringed at the man's backhand gesture.

  Louisa straightened and faced the man. Under her direct, scornful glare, his eyes shifted.

  “There are laws designed to protect young apprentices from men like you. Perhaps you are unaware of the terms of your contract."

  The carter made no defence, but started to bluster.

  “ I think we have heard enough. If you had taken any care of this boy, I should have seen that my cousin reimbursed you for your costs. But in this case, perhaps, we should send you to a magistrate for encouraging this boy to steal."

  “But, miss-!"

  “It's a shame the penalties for stealing are so harsh in this country, but perhaps in your case the gallows is warranted. I can feel little sympathy for a man who would starve a child."

  By this time, the carter himself was cringing. Every blow from Louisa's tongue served to make him shrink a little smaller. And when she said the word “gallows,” he blanched and started to back towards the door.

  Jim stood firmly in his way until Louisa said, “I think we should all be better off if this person leaves. My cousin will be happy to reimburse Mrs. Spadger for her delicious pudding and for anything else the boy requires."

  Jim looked to his father for permission, and Sammy nodded.

  As the carter disappeared, Nan Spadger asked, “Does tha’ really mean ta take t’ boy? What will his lordship say?"

  “I am certain my cousin will be delighted-once he has time to get used to the idea."

  But looking at the boy, Louisa felt less certain. Bob's eyes were wide with fear about what would happen to him now.

  Louisa wished she knew just what to do with him. Unwilling to back out of her promises, however, and hoping that Charles would think of something, she said, “But I daresay he would prefer the boy to be washed. I cannot quite see him riding in my cousin's carriage in his present state.

  “Do you think you could find me some better clothes for him?” she asked Nan. “And at the very least, I shall require a large tub of hot water and some soap."

  Nan was scandalized. “Does tha’ mean ta say tha'll wash t’ lad thysel'? What'll his lordship say?"

  Louisa answered with pure bravado, “There's no sense in wondering what my cousin will say. We shall have enough to do to clean this boy. Jim, could you fetch a tub into the kitchen here? And Mrs. Spadger, do you think you could find him those clothes?"

  Jim gave her a bright look and said, “Aye!” and then hastened to do her bidding. Nan said she would see what she could find amongst her son's old garments in the attic.

  Each set about his or her task, and Louisa knelt once again to speak to the boy. He had not lost his frightened look. Even with the carter gone, he was not convinced he would not be thrashed.

  “I promise that no one will hurt you and that you shall have good food to eat and some warmer clothes to wear,” Louisa told him. “Would you like that, Bob?"

  The boy, whose eyes had lit up at the mention of food, nodded, but then asked, “An’ where'll I sleep?"

  Louisa paused, and then answered, “We shall find you a proper place-somewhere where you shall be much happier, I assure you. I shall have to consult my cousin when he returns.” Then she added in a cheery voice, “But he is a very clever man, so I am certain he will know what's best. And you will have a bath like a real gentleman and ride in a carriage, if you like."

  To her dismay, Bob's face crumpled, “But I doesn’ like ‘orses! I be frightened of ’em! They's got such big teef an’ all! That ‘un-” he indicated the departed carter with a jerk of his head towards the door “-'e made me ‘arness ‘is pair, an’ they boaf bit me!"

  Louisa had thought to give the child a treat and had even cherished hopes that he would make a good stable-boy for Charles. But she hastened to calm him. “No one will make you ride in a carriage if you don't wish to. But,” she suggested, still hoping he might be coaxed, “the horses cannot very well bite you if you are inside the coach now, can they?"

  But it would not do. Bob was too alarmed at the prospect to be calmed by reason. He began to sniff again, and to stop him, Louisa repeated her promise that he would not have to ride. How she was to care for him, though, if he refused to enter Charles's carriage, she did not know.

  Jim returned with the tub and proceeded to fill it with hot water from the stove. Louisa removed her spencer and put on one of Nan's aprons to spare her dress.

  Bob watched these preparations with fascination, as if he had never seen such activities, focusing most of his attention on Jim, to whom he appeared to have taken a shine.

  When he noticed he was an object of some awe, Jim smiled at the boy, ruffled his hair in a friendly fashion, and then reached into Nan's cupboard to get him a piece of ham pie. Bob gobbled it down in short order and gazed on the older boy as if he were a god.

  “Tha's still hungry, I'll warrant,” Jim said to him.

  The boy nodded.

  Jim moved closer to Louisa and ventured in a low voice, “It wouldna do ta feed him too much reet yet. Better ta promise him more when tha's done wi’ t’ bath.” He raised his brows in an ominous gesture.

  “You think so?” Jim's expression was meant as a warning, and Louisa felt a sinking inside. Why?"

  “It's plain ta see t’ lad's ne'er had no bath. T’ way he's been watching, I can see he's no seen one before!"

  Louisa glanced at Bob, who had begun to look trustingly on Jim. He was seated on a low workbench, happily swinging his feet.

  She turned back to Jim. “And why should that worry us?"

  Jim grinned. “I think tha's abowt ta get a soaking. T’ lad's bound ta put up a fight."

  Louisa took a deep breath. “Well, if he does, he does, but I don't see that we have any choice. I shall promise him another pudding."

  But, in the end, Jim was right. As soon as Bob discovered the purpose of the tub, he stopped swinging his legs and began to use them another way.

  Jim caught him before he reached the door, and it was due entirely to his strength that the boy was brought to the bath at all. No matter how much coaxing and promising Louisa tried, she could not get him to submit peacefully to such a dreadful ordeal as being scrubbed all over with soap.

  * * * *

  As a result, on his return to the inn, Charles again discovered the place in an uproar.

  His morning had begun in a manner one could only call trying. When he arrived at Ned's manor, he discovered that Ned had quite unexpectedly gone back to London, apparently suffering from more family togetherness than he could handle.

  Consequently, Charles was obliged to deal with Miss Wadsdale without the coercive presence of the man who paid her room and board. It became obvious, almost immediately, that Ned had shamelessly bullied his mother's companion into making the journey in the first place.

  On Charles's arrival, she informed him that she never travelled in the depth of winter, unless, of course, her dear Lady Conisbrough required it of her. Then she examined him upon the degree of comfort likely to be found inside his carriage: the number of lap rugs, the quality of his carriage springs; whether there were warming pans into which Ned's servants might add coals.

  Charles assured her of
all these, keeping Eliza's presence a secret. Then, when she appeared at least somewhat satisfied that she would not be required to sacrifice herself to extreme discomfort, he set himself to the task of weaning her from the household.

  First, there were her numerous boxes and portmanteaus to find space for. When Charles expressed surprise that she should choose to encumber herself to such a degree for what would prove to be only a moderately long journey, she took offence. She made him privy to the information that Lady Conisbrough would not think of asking her to undertake a trip at such a dreadful season unless she could provide her with ample room for her baggage.

  “Be assured, my lord, that her ladyship would stint herself before she would ask me to go without.” Miss Wadsdale folded her hands in front of her. “Not that I would ever do anything to discommode her, as devoted to her as I am. But I am certain Lord Conisbrough was under the impression that my comforts on this unseasonable journey would be well seen to, else he would never have asked me to leave his mother. Indeed, when I think of Lady Conisbrough's sadness on this occasion, it is enough to make me weep, and I assure you I am not a female easily given to tears!"

  Charles hastily withdrew his objection and prepared for the next ordeal. That was to get Miss Wadsdale to depart. She seemed convinced that her presence would be sorely missed, that none of the servants could be trusted to see to her patroness's wants in her absence, and that Lady Conisbrough would pine without her enlivening presence.

  To ward off this last calamity, she spent an absurd amount of time bidding a touching farewell to her ladyship-Lady Conisbrough, by contrast, appeared to be totally unaffected by the parting-issuing commands to the various servants with regard to her normal duties, sniffing into her handkerchief and, in general, making a scene that was intended to impress Charles with her usefulness in the household.

  Her efforts had quite the reverse effect, however. Charles formed a deeper understanding of Ned's desire to be rid of the woman and a suspicion that Miss Wadsdale's tears were due more to a fear of being dismissed than of being missed. He could scarcely tolerate her himself, and he dreaded the thought of being shut up in a carriage with her for even two days. He flirted briefly with the idea of leaving her and setting out for London with Louisa alone.