A Christmas delight

by Anthea Malcolm

  "The two of you are up to something, I just know it.* She paused to let them say something, but they merely looked at her blandly. "All right." She gave it up. "I can see I'm not going to get anything out of you two. We'll go skating. This afternoon?" They nodded and ran to get Chat win to sharpen the skates.

  Anthea was rather surprised when everyone gathered to go to the pond since both Nicholas and Miss Darcy were standing there. She was rather annoyed; she had managed to avoid them for the most part for the last few days and didn't care to be in any proximity with Nicholas. However, she hid her feelings and smiled broadly at them. "What a good surprise to see you're going with us! Have you ever skated before, Miss Darcy?"

  "No, but dear Nicky has promised to teach me." Miss Darcy put her hand on Ryven's arm and looked up at him. She was dressed, quite unsuitably as usual, in blue velvet, again carried Lady Lynden's white fur muff for her hands, and now had on a bonnet trimmed with white fur. She looked more like a model for a pattern card than someone going out for an afternoon in cold weather.

  Ned, Dickon, and Chatwin came in with the skates. "Chatwin's going with us, Annie," Ned announced. "I don't think he trusts you to watch us. He does say the ice is thin at the edge next to the fence."

  "There's no need . . ." Anthea began at the same time that Ryven said, "I think that's an excellent idea, Chatwin." She frowned at Ryven, but he merely smiled sunnily at her, and they all headed out toward the pond, Chatwin carrying the skates and leading the way as his heavy, hobnailed boots broke through the crusty snow, making a path for them. "Start warming up tomorrow," he said, pausing to sniff the air and hold a thumb up to feel the wind.

  "I hope not," Dickon said, turning to look at Nicholas. "You'll have to leave if it warms and the snow melts."

  "It can't be too soon for me," Miss Darcy said, leaning heavily on Ryven as she picked up her skirts in a futile attempt to keep them out of the snow. "Nicky, I'm getting all

  wet in this awful stuff. I hate snow."

  Anthea glanced at Nicholas, and he looked back at her, rolling his eyes upward. Before they left, they had all tried again to convince Miss Darcy to stay indoors, but nothing would do her except go with them so, as she had said, her dear Nicky could teach her to skate. Dear Nicky didn't seem to care for the idea, but Miss Darcy was adamant.

  At the pond, Chat win walked out to test the ice and sweep the snow from it with a broom. Ned and Dickon immediately put on their skates and followed him out. The ice was perfect—clear, smooth, and slick.

  Miss Darcy sat on the bench beside the pond's edge as Ryven bent to strap her skates onto her elegantly shod feet. Anthea reached for her skates that Chatwin had left in the snow. "If you'll wait a minute, Annie, I'll do that for you," Nicholas said.

  "Thank you, but I can manage," Anthea said stiffly. She didn't want him that close. Evidently Miss Darcy didn't either. As soon as her skates were strapped on, she clung to Ryven's shoulders. "Oh, Nicky, I do believe I'm going to fall." She sagged heavily into him, almost knocking him backward. As he struggled to regain his footing and support Miss Darcy at the same time, Anthea stood and skated by them, waving.

  Nicholas was forced to spend his time with Miss Darcy as she clung to him relentlessly, crying all the while that she was going to fall and begging him not to leave her alone. In the meantime, Dickon, Ned, and Anthea skated around them, tossing a snowball or two at each other, and finally making figure eights and circles around each other. Chatwin sat on the bench at the edge of the pond, smoking his pipe, and calling out periodic warnings for them not to get too close to the far edge where the ice was thin.

  "Look, Nicholas," Dickon called, doing a particularly fine turn around Anthea. "Come join us!"

  Nicholas looked at them for a moment, then back down at Miss Darcy. "Nicky, don't leave me," she whimpered, clutching his coat, "I'll fall."

  "Come on, Nicholas!" Dickon shouted as he and Ned made some circles.

  "Make a circle with me, Annie!" Ned yelled as he and Dickon grabbed Anthea's hand and turned her around. She spun, and when they let her go, she bumped into Nicholas. He caught her by the waist and spun her around again to be caught by Ned and Dickon as she laughed.

  "Don't let me go!" Miss Darcy screeched. "Ill fall if you do!" She waved her arms and tottered on her skates.

  "Don't worry, Miss Darcy," Ned called out, "Dickon and I will take care of you." The two boys skated toward Miss Darcy.

  "No, no!" Miss Darcy waved her arms and tried to move toward Ryven and Anthea but forgot she was on skates and slick ice. She went crashing to the ice with a loud thump. Ned couldn't stop in time and tripped over her, falling flat on his face. Anthea rushed to him and sat him up. His nose was pouring blood.

  Miss Darcy sat up, her hat all askew. "Nicky, help me," she moaned. "That horrid child has killed me."

  "I wish," Ned muttered to Anthea through the blood and his rapidly swelling nose.

  "Hush," Anthea said, mopping at Ned's face with her scarf. She felt along his nose. "I don't think it's broken, but I really can't say." She turned for Nicholas, but he and Chatwin were busy picking up a sobbing Miss Darcy. Chatwin hoisted her to her feet, gave her a disgusted look, then left her sobbing on Ryven's chest while he came over to check on Ned. He glided his work-roughened fingers along the sides of Ned's nose. "Not broken, but we'd better go back. That's going to swell."

  "Why are you so worried about him?" Miss Darcy said, sobbing. "He should be punished! Birched thoroughly or at least sent to bed without supper. I insist on it—he did that on purpose!"

  Anthea had had enough. "Of course he did," she snapped. "I'm sure he waited around all afternoon for you to fall just so he could sprawl over you and break his nose!

  That's the silliest thing I've ever heard of." She turned and swabbed at Ned's nose. "Come on, Ned, let's go home."

  They skated for the edge of the pond where Dickon and Chat win joined them. As they sat on the bench taking off their skates, Miss Darcy kept sobbing into Ryven's coat. "That's right, take up for him," she cried, looking at Ned with a red, splotchy face. "Both of those little heathens should be flogged. That might teach them some manners."

  "I could suggest the same for you," Anthea snapped, taking Ned and Dickon by the hand and stalking away, leaving Ryven to deal with Miss Darcy. She could have sworn she heard Chatwin chuckle as he fell in behind them.

  "Wadn' on purpose, Annie, I swear," Ned said as they walked, his voice muffled through the scarf he held to his nose.

  "I'm glad you did it," Dickon said fiercely, "and I would have done it if I'd thought of it. I hate her.

  Anthea forced herself not to agree with them. "Hush, Dickon. Remember that I told you that you shouldn't hate anyone. If you gave Miss Darcy a chance, I'm sure you'd find that she has many good qualities." Her disclaimer sounded insincere even to her ears. Chatwin managed a "humph," and Anthea glared at him. "Miss Darcy simply isn't accustomed to dealing with boys," she finished lamely.

  "No, that's not it." Dickon shook his head. "She doesn't like me at all. If she and Nicholas get married, I'll probably never see him again." He sounded unutterably sad.

  Anthea gave him a quick hug. "Nicholas would never allow that to happen." They reached the door. "Let's get Ned's nose attended to, then go share some crackers and cheese with Bertram, shall we?"

  Anthea had Dickon bring Bertram's cage to her room where she and the boys sat in front of the fire and ate. Ned was going to have a fine bruise, but no other damage had been done. He was quite proud of his injury, and he and Dickon took turns admiring it in Anthea's mirror. She had asked that they come to her room, because she was afraid Nicholas would come to the nursery once he had calmed

  Miss Darcy. She really didn't want to talk to him right now, and she was chagrined at the thought of facing Miss Darcy after being so rude to her. Besides, Anthea decided, it was time to talk in private to the boys about all of them being more polite to and considerate of Miss Darcy.

  There was a tapping at
her door, and Anthea was sure it would be Nicholas, but when the door opened, it was Judith Darcy. She stood for a moment in the doorway and coldly looked at the three of them gathered around in front of the fire with Bertram's cage sitting on a footstool and Dickon holding Bertram in his lap. "I should have known Pd find the three of you sitting here plotting/' She slammed the door behind her. 'Well, I'm here to tell you it won't work. Ryven, Mama, and I are going to leave tomorrow, and that'll be the end of it." She crossed the room and stood in front of Dickon. "And as for you, brat, you might as well decide to make a vocation of school, because that's where you'll be staying."

  Dickon turned pale and squeezed Bertram until he squeaked. Only then did Miss Darcy notice the mouse in his hands. "Put that filthy animal back in his cage!" She stepped back, close to the footstool, blocking Dickon's access to the cage. He held the mouse out in his hands. "I can't . . ."he began.

  "What do you mean, you can't? Put that filthy rodent back before I get Mama's cat in here. That's what should be done with it anyway."

  "But, Miss Darcy . . ." Dickon, the mouse in his hands, came close to her and held Bertram in front of her. Bertram, evidently tired of being squeezed, squeaked again and leapt from Dickon's hands right onto Miss Darcy's bodice. He found footing in the lace on her gown and scampered up to her shoulder. Miss Darcy screamed and flailed at Bertram with her hands. She tried to step backward but fell over the footstool, knocking Bertram's cage into the blazing fireplace. Bertram tried to climb up her hair, but she knocked him off, and he went flying across the room while Miss Darcy fell on the floor shrieking. Dickon leapt over Miss

  Darcy and ran across the room, screaming for Bertram.

  Bertram was nowhere to be seen, but the rest of the household had managed to congregate in Anthea's doorway where they were treated to a splendid view of Miss Darcy in the throes of hysterics. Mrs. Darcy ran into the room. "Oh, my poor darling," she said, "whatever have they done to you?"

  Puffy, ever alert, leapt from Mrs. Darcy's arms and went crashing across Anthea's dressing table, dislodging Bertram from his hiding place behind Anthea's hairbrush. Bertram fled, mere steps in front of the cat. Dickon gave chase, sliding across the table after Puffy, catching him by the tail. Puffy dangled off the edge of the dressing table as Bertram dashed under the bed. Immediately, Puffy splayed all four feet and let out a howl that matched Miss Darcy's in intensity. Terrified, Bertram left the safety of the bed and ran under the clothespress while Ned slid across the floor in a futile effort to catch him.

  It took several maids to get Mrs. and Miss Darcy to their rooms and calm. As it was, Miss Darcy had to drink Lady Lynden's special soothing tea before she was able to rest. She spent the remainder of the night lying in bed with a maid putting lavender-water towels across her forehead. Puffy was locked in Mrs. Darcy's room with a special meal until Bertram could be located, a task that occupied An-thea, Ned, Dickon, and Nicholas for the rest of the evening. By bedtime, Bertram was still missing, and it took all of Anthea's persuasive powers to make Dickon go to bed. Even at that, he cried himself to sleep while Anthea and Nicholas stood by, promising to do everything they could to find Bertram.

  "It looks hopeless," Nicholas said with a sigh as they left the nursery after Dickon had finally gone to sleep.

  Anthea had to agree. She knew of no other place to search. "Perhaps Bertram will appear once you've taken Mrs. Darcy and Puffy on to Morven," she suggested. "They tell me you're leaving tomorrow."

  "Yes."

  Was it her imagination, or did he sound disappointed, Anthea wouldn't let herself think on it. He was probably only sad to leave Dickon in such a state.

  "Anthea," he began.

  "I know what you're going to say," she answered, "and I promise I'll do everything I can for Dickon. Good night." With that, she fled and closed her chamber door behind her with relief.

  By midmorning the next day, Bertram was still missing, and worse, Miss Darcy was in the hall having conniptions when Anthea came downstairs. "It isn't as if the child is going to die," she snapped to Nicholas as she stood there ready to leave. "This shows me clearly that your regard for me isn't what I thought it was."

  "My regard for you is exactly the same," Nicholas said mildly. "Dickon is my brother, and I do not intend to abandon him."

  "He'd hardly be abandoned here in this house full of people," Miss Darcy insisted. "You're actually abandoning Mama and me. No gentleman would allow us to travel alone on these roads."

  Nicholas was undecided for a moment. "You're absolutely right," he said at last. "It's my duty to escort you and your mother to Morven, and I shall do so. Then I intend to return here and take care of Dickon."

  This was too much for Anthea's curiosity. "Whatever is wrong?" she asked, coming down the stairs.

  "The bra— child has the measles," Miss Darcy said shortly.

  It took Anthea a moment. "Dickon? Good heavens, this is sudden. I thought he had had the measles before. I'll have to go see him and reassure him that we're still searching for Bertram."

  "Oh, my dear, I'm afraid I can't allow that." Lady Lyn-den came in from the drawing room carrying Puffy. She seemed all too glad to hand the wriggling cat to a footman with instructions to take him out to the carriage —immediately. "You haven't had the measles, Anthea, and I simply

  cannot allow you to be exposed. It would ruin your complexion."

  Til probably catch them anyway/' Anthea pointed out. "I know Ned will come down with them and I'll just have them then."

  "No matter. I won't allow you to go near Dickon. Ned has already had the measles, as have I, and Nicholas tells me he had them as a child. So, my dear, there will be enough to see to Dickon without you endangering yourself." Lady Lynden turned toward Miss Darcy. "I'm so sorry your stay here has been fraught with accidents, but I assure you that you and your mother are welcome any time. I do hope you'll return." She turned to smile at Mrs. Darcy in the doorway. "Dear Mrs. Darcy, please say you'll be back. You did promise to give me some advice on planning my water garden."

  Anthea stared in amazement. Her mother was usually cordial, but this was entirely beyond what was called for. She watched as her mother supervised the loading of the carriage and managed to get Mrs. and Miss Darcy seated with fur robes on their laps and hot bricks to their feet to keep them warm, then hurried Ryven out the door to escort them, telling him she would personally see to Dickon until he returned.

  At last they were away, Miss Darcy unable to resist giving Anthea a triumphant smile and a wave as the carriage started down the drive. "Well, thank goodness they're gone," Lady Lynden said, wiping her hands as though getting rid of them. "Come, Anthea, help me gather my embroidery. I plan to spend the entire afternoon with Dickon since I doubt Ryven will return until tomorrow."

  Anthea paused in the hallway and looked hard at her mother. "Mama, just what are you up to? If you have some scheme to throw me on Ryven, I can tell you right now that it won't work."

  Lady Lynden looked at Anthea with clear blue eyes. "Really, Anthea, I can't imagine where you get such a streak of imagination. It must come from your father's family, since I'm sure no one in my family was ever so gothic." She turned

  to go into the drawing room. "I do expect you to be courteous to Ryven, since he'll be here until Dickon is well again. The man is quite worried—you know how attached he is to Dickon."

  Anthea could get nothing else from her except chatter as they spent the morning gathering up Lady Lynden's wools and embroidery. Outside, the sun was shining brightly and, aside from the hiss of the fire, the only sound was the steady drip of the melting snow. In the afternoon, Lady Lynden went upstairs to see to Dickon and Ned. She had decreed that Ned should be confined as well, since Dickon needed company. Anthea spent the entire afternoon searching for Bertram. She had not realized there were so many places in a large house where a small mouse could hide.

  As Lady Lynden had predicted, Ryven didn't return until the next day. By then, the roads were perfectly clear
, although muddy, and the weather was warm. Anthea had put on her boots and had gone outside so she could wave up to Dickon and Ned as they stood at the nursery window. Ned called down that Dickon was too sick to come to the window, and Anthea was worried about him. She called up that she was still looking for Bertram and then started walking around the outside of the house, looking for any place a small mouse could have escaped. It seemed hopeless.

  Ryven drove up just as Anthea was going inside. He walked her in, and Anthea had to own to herself that he looked perfectly splendid in a greatcoat and boots. She quickly curbed her imagination, but it was too late—there was a telltale blush creeping up her face. Quickly, she began a conversation just to put some distance between them. "I'm worried about Dickon," she told him. "Mama's been up there all afternoon, and that's not like her at all. Before, when either Ned or I were sick, she only stuck her head into the room and inquired about us. Dickon must have a terrible fever if she feels the need to stay with him constantly. Ned said he was too sick to come to the window when I went outside to wave to them."

  Ryven looked grave. "Thank you for telling me. I'll go

  right up." He took the stairs two at a time, then stopped and looked back at her when he reached the landing. "Have you found Bertram?"

  She shook her head. "I've looked everywhere, but he's so small he could be hiding in anything. Tell Dickon I'm still looking."

  "I will, and," he smiled warmly at her, "thank you."

  Lady Lynden and Nicholas spent the next several days taking turns staying in the nursery, at times even staying together in there with Ned and Dickon. They refused to allow Anthea to come near the door, giving her reports daily on Dickon's condition. According to Nicholas, Dickon had a very high fever. Anthea asked if they should not call a doctor, and after some discussion with Lady Lynden, the family doctor was called in for a consultation. Nicholas came downstairs to the drawing room where Anthea was waiting and reported that the doctor felt Dickon would be fine with a great deal of care and rest but that there was really nothing to be done medically. Nicholas sat and leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad Dickon was here when he came down with the measles. He's really quite attached to you."