To get a closer look at her creations, Alonyius strolled over to the table where Alice was working. Struck by the sudden need to simply touch her, to make her aware he was there, he grazed a fingertip along her shoulder. From the way her body suddenly shivered, he knew a skitter of pleasure had danced up her spine. Leaning over a bit as he feigned interest in what the maids were doing, he murmured, “Happy Christmas, ladies.” Then he glanced around the open room and frowned. He suddenly moved to join Devlin and asked, “Where’s the tree?”
The tall footman blinked. “Oh, my,” the man replied, looking as if something rather important had been forgotten. “We never cut one down. Nor did we get the Yule log.”
Within minutes, a crew was dispatched to see about finding an appropriate tree, and Alonyius set out with them, giving Alice a quick glance as he took his leave.
Unable to hide her smile, Alice continued to work on ribbons as the maids chatted.
Once his valet had taken his leave of the master suite, Milton turned to his wife and gave her a quick kiss. “My gift is perfect with that dress,” he said as he reached for the pendant, lifting it with two fingers.
“Your valet certainly seemed to think so. Why, did you see how he stared at me?”
Milton angled his head and finally allowed a grin. “He was actually admiring your gown.” He reached out and fingered the wool. “The fabric of your gown,” he clarified. “Red Merino wool is the specialty of Banks Textiles.”
Adele’s eyes widened. “Do you suppose this is the fabric that had Mr. Banks falling in love with your mother’s lady’s maid?” she wondered in awe.
Milton angled his head before allowing a shrug. “I have absolutely no idea,” he replied in a whisper. “But I do know that if you don’t take your leave of my bedchamber this very minute, I shall be divesting you of that gown and having my way with you in my bed.”
Adele blinked, almost tempted to let him. But her absence in the great hall would be noted—if it hadn’t been already. “Do hold that thought until later tonight, won’t you?” she said as she kissed the corner of his mouth.
A rather odd sound erupted from her husband’s throat as she took her leave of the master bedchamber, making sure she gave his nether region one more glance before she disappeared.
Faith! If the two of them continued as they had been doing, she was sure she would be with child soon—if she wasn’t already. They still hadn’t discussed his need for an heir, but she was determined to give him one despite her age. Eight-and-thirty wasn’t truly old, but it was certainly past the time she should be starting a family.
As she descended the stairs, Adele wondered at the muted conversations just ahead. And then she was suddenly in the great hall. Adele could almost ignore the phalanx of animal heads that decorated the perimeter of the room. The great hall was a beehive of activity.
Her gaze took in the clusters of servants either seated at trestles or bent over tables as they created the wreaths and sprays that would be used to decorate the great hall and the other rooms in Torrington Park.
Delighted with how much had been accomplished without her direction—she wasn’t sure how much she would have been able to provide—Adele simply took a seat and watched for a time. The men wrapped and bent the wire while the women saw to the decorations. Lengths of red fabric were made into massive bows that were then tied onto the wreaths or sprays with yarn. When the largest was complete, a footman climbed a ladder and saw to mounting it above the fireplace. Two others were nailed to the front doors.
At noon, the earl finally joined the fray. The scullery maid appeared with trays of small pasties and scones, and she was followed by the other kitchen maid who carried a large tea service. Behind them, a footman wheeled in a cart with plates and cups. Watson appeared carrying a platter on which a color collection of fruits was arranged. On closer inspection, Adele realized they weren’t fruits at all, but decorations made of march pane. Before long, the group quieted as they ate and drank, and it was then Milton took the opportunity to make his announcement.
“Some of you may recall a time when this household celebrated Twelfth Night,” he began as the quiet conversations ceased. At the mention of ‘Twelfth Night’, a sudden pall seemed to settle over the group.
Alice glanced about, wondering at the other servants’ reactions. In Worthington House, the night of January fifth merely meant the opportunity for the servants to throw a soirée of their own in the small ballroom. Although her mistress employed a quartet for the evening and saw to several bottles of champagne, the rest of the staff was responsible for seeing to the evening’s festivities. The servants wore their Sunday best, the kitchen staff saw to the foods and a punch, and everyone—upper and lower servants alike—enjoyed an evening of dancing and merriment.
“We haven’t done it here at Torrington Park in over ten years, and this year will be no different.”
Adele’s eyes widened when she heard the sudden collective sigh of relief from those seated around her, almost as if their memories of Twelfth Nights were unpleasant. Apparently the January fifth ritual hadn’t been popular with these servants, she realized.
“I paid witness to my countess’ approach to Twelfth Night last year,” Milton went on, giving a nod to a maid who saw to leaving a cup of tea near where he had been sitting. “Music was provided by musicians she hired for the occasion, everyone danced and made merry, and she provided the champagne.” This last caused a murmur among several of the maids, and one even tittered before being shushed. “Since she spent the evening in my company in—”
“Torrington!” Adele admonished, her face taking on the unmistakeable blush of embarrassment.
“—in Church,” the earl continued, not missing a beat, “the Worthington House servants put on a ball. They dressed as they liked, and they enjoyed an evening of merriment.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Instead of Twelfth Night, I am proposing we celebrate tonight with a ball. “Then, two days from now—the day after Christmas—will be a day for you to do as you wish. You may visit your families, or go shopping in Hexham, or spend the day in quiet contemplation. You will not be expected to work the entire day or night.”
Murmurs of approval followed his description as several servants tried to gauge each other’s reaction to this bit of news.
When Alice noticed how Haversham glanced over at Watson and got a wink for his trouble, Alice realized she knew exactly what those two might do in ‘quiet contemplation’.
And they might not be so quiet about it.
Why Mr. Higgins displayed such an odd expression was beyond her ken.
“If you’re all in agreement, then I shall see to the music and the champagne for tonight,” Milton concluded. “Shall we say, seven o’clock this evening?”
A chorus of positive responses had him nodding. “Then continue with the hanging of the greens, and we shall see to making this hall an appropriate setting for a ball.”
With that, the earl sat down next to his countess and sipped his tea.
“They love you,” Adele said in a hoarse whisper.
“They do.” He gave her a sideways glance. “It’s not just because of the champagne, though. I know several can’t stand the stuff.”
Adele allowed a grin. She hadn’t liked the stuff much the first few times she had tried it, either. Now, it never seemed as if one glass was enough. “How many bottles did you bring?”
“There’s a case in my bedchamber.”
“Milton!” she countered. “How—?
“The crate was in our coach. I half-expected to hear one of the bottles explode during our travels, but I think they were nearly frozen. The cold must have helped settle the bubbles.”
Adele grinned as she considered his words and then suddenly sobered. “Where are you going to find musicians on such short notice?”
He allowed an arched brow. “Hexham is not that far away, my sweeting. Mr. Banks made the arrangements for a well-reviewed quintet before we left London. West
haven’s brother, Darius, is an archaeologist there, and he made the recommendation.”
Her eyes widening at this bit of news, Adele realized her husband had been planning for the servant’s ball for some time. “And if they hadn’t agreed to your plan?”
Milton furrowed his brows, almost as if he hadn’t considered the possibility. “Then I suppose we would have had our own musicale in the parlor this evening.”
Adele leaned over and kissed him on the temple, not a bit concerned about who might pay witness to her act of public affection.
When she noticed her lady’s maid suppressing a grin, she straightened. “I don’t suppose you know a bishop in possession of a special license?” she half-asked, remembering how luminescent Simpkins had appeared when she reported for duty at ten o’clock that morning. Adele was sure she had never seen a happier woman in all of her life. Such a contrast to how she had looked when Adele found her in the study yesterday afternoon. “Who could be compelled to perform a wedding ceremony in the next few days? Who wouldn’t mind that music might play following the ceremony?” she continued, one eyebrow arching with her queries. Some bishops were far too strict with their wedding rules, she thought. Circumstances sometimes required a bit of leeway.
Frowning, the earl gave a shake of his head. “Oh, so now you’re in agreement with my plans to legitimize our valet and lady’s maid,” he teased.
“Something like that,” she replied. “Are we being ridiculous?”
Her husband regarded her for a moment, rather pleased she wasn’t such a stickler when it came to rules. “No,” he finally answered. “This is Northumberland, though. We might just as well send them over the border. No reading of the banns required in Scotland.”
Giving him a quelling glance, Adele sipped her tea and wondered if—or when—there might be an announcement of an engagement. If the two upper servants did marry, perhaps they would do so in Darlington. Mr. Banks’ family was there. If what Simpkins had said was true about Mrs. Banks, the old woman would be thrilled to see one of her sons marry.
A sudden thought had her frowning.
She might be without Simpkins’ services for a week or more.
Her reverie was interrupted by a ruckus at the front doors. The thick wood planks had both been opened wide, allowing a chilly draft to flow into the lodge. A chorus of complaints sounded before several footmen appeared in the opening. Dragging a rather tall evergreen tree into the hall, the footmen put on a show of near-exhaustion as they pulled their burden. Behind them, two footmen were carrying the tree’s trunk. As soon as several footman rolled what appeared to be a large log into the hall, the doors closed.
Adele watched in wonder as one servant pulled a rather large wooden contraption from behind one of the tapestries. The square frame on the bottom supported a number of angled boards that didn’t quite meet in the middle. “What—?”
“Just watch,” Milton interrupted, a grin splitting his face. “They’ve done this before. Many times.”
“Why is there a tree?” Adele asked, rather startled an entire tree had been dragged indoors.
“It’s a tradition. Mum’s family was from Germany. They always had a tree for Christmas, so we’ve always had a tree at Torrington Park.”
Returning her attention to the footmen, she watched as several joined forces to lift the tree—it had to be at least ten feet tall!—and position it so its trunk was centered over the support structure. Devlin, the tallest of the footmen, lifted the center of the tree as the others guided the trunk into the slot, angling it up and lowering the base of the trunk in steps until the tree was standing upright. Since the lower branches nearly hid the support structure, the tree suddenly appeared to stand on its own.
The maids cheered and clapped, one of them rushing off to pull aside another of the tapestries to reveal a wooden crate. Two footmen pulled the crate from its hiding place and removed the top.
Amazed at the tree, Adele breathed, “I want one of those for Worthington House.”
Milton chuckled. “A nearby carpenter built it for my mother many years ago,” he said. “She insisted on a tree that was nearly as tall as this hall, but there was no easy way to keep it standing.”
Adele’s eyes widened. “How did they even get it in here?”
“As I recall, a horse was involved,” he replied with an arched brow.
Horrified at the thought of a horse in the great hall, Adele’s attention was suddenly directed to the animal heads mounted near the top of every wall in the room. Well, she supposed a horse was no worse than the deer and elk—or even the bears—that looked down on her. “What’s in the crate?” she asked, her attention directed to where two maids were bent over the wooden box.
“Why, the best part, my sweeting.”
Her curiosity too great to simply sit and watch, Adele joined the maids to peer into the crate. Her gasp of surprise had the two maids regarding her nervously. “We usually set it up on the fireplace mantle, milady.”
Adele dared a glance at the giant fireplace, its mantle bare of decoration. At least a huge wreath hung well above it on the wall.
“Then we shall put it there again,” she said as she reached down and pulled a porcelain shepherd from the straw packing. Glancing at the bottom, she realized it had been imported from Italy. One of the maids pulled out a sheep while the other lifted a kneeling Mary from its resting place.
“Is there a stable?” Adele asked, thinking they should set it in place before adding all the other figurines.
“There is not, milady.”
Adele glanced over at the table where the scraps and trimmings from the pine boughs had been collected. “Let’s see if one of these gentlemen can be compelled to build one,” she murmured. She held onto the shepherd as if it was the most important part of a nativity scene and hurried off to where her husband’s valet stood with the footmen. A ladder had been erected next to the tree, and one of the servants was near the top putting the small bows on the ends of the branches.
“Do you do any carpentry, Mr. Banks?”
The valet acknowledged her with a slight bow and allowed a grin. “I have been known to wield a hammer on occasion, but I do so poorly,” he replied with a shake of his head. “What is it you require?”
“A stable,” Adele replied. She held up the figurine. At Alonyius’ look of confusion, she gave her head a shake and added, “For the nativity scene,” she clarified, turning toward the fireplace. The maids had managed to get most of the pieces into place, the figurines clustered in the middle of the mantle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, it probably shouldn’t be.”
Nodding his understanding, Banks said, “I’ll see what can be done, my lady.” He gave the countess a bow and headed off to where Haversham had taken a seat.
“Do you suppose it would be possible to use that wire to hold together these bare branches?” Alonyius asked as he pulled several together to form what would be the back wall of the stable. He arranged the various lengths so the tallest was in the middle and the shortest pieces were on the ends.
“I suppose I could,” the driver replied at the same time Alonyius foraged for more branches appropriate for two side walls. “What is it I’m to make?”
“A stable,” Alonyius replied, giving a nod toward the mantle.
Haversham stared at the collection of porcelain figures for a long time before he finally turned his attention back to Alonyius. “’Taint never seen anything like that ’afore,” he murmured.
Although he had never seen a nativity scene made of such large figures, Alonyius had grown up in a household with a smaller set. The pieces at Mill House were made of ceramic and painted in muted colors. “It’s much grander than the one I have seen,” he agreed, deciding not to admit his family had displayed one every Christmas he could remember.
Haversham nodded, his face suddenly screwing up into a grimace. “Changed your mind about killing her, huh?”
Blinking, Alonyius angled his body so he faced
the driver. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” he answered, a bit of alarm coloring his voice.
“Simpkins. Me and Higgins thought you had finally offed her last night. That’s why you needed the horse. Am I right? So you could make your escape ’afore she was missed.”
Alonyius rolled his eyes, stunned by the driver’s words. That both Haversham and Higgins had believed such a thing had him wondering why the two thought him capable of such a horrible act. “Why ever would I wish to kill Miss Simpkins?” he countered in a hoarse whisper. “I’m considering making her my w....” He caught himself before he could complete the word, stunned at what he was about to say. He was also oblivious to Haversham’s reaction. The man’s eyebrows lifted so high, they nearly became part of his hairline. “Making her my dance partner for the first dance this evening,” Alonyius managed to say instead.
Haversham blinked. “I know it was a rough ride gettin’ up here, Banks, but I done think your brains may have become a bit scrambled,” he claimed.
It was Alonyius’ turn to blink. “I have my faculties about me, I assure you,” he countered in a low voice verging on the hint of menace. “Miss Simpkins is an excellent servant and not to be referred to in such an unkind manner,” he added, daring the driver to say anything more on the matter.
“I’ll see to the stable,” Haversham stated with a quick nod. He turned his attention to the sticks of wood Alonyius had arranged on the table.
Alonyius nodded and stepped away. He inhaled sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath. What the hell? Where had that thought about making Alice his wife come from? He couldn’t believe what he had almost said! What he had almost given away with the simple words!
Daring a glance at Alice, he was heartened to see her suddenly glance in his direction, as if she knew he was watching her. He allowed a slight grin and gave a nod.
What else could he do just then?
Chapter 41
The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1) Page 27