Mistletoe Mischief

by Sandra Heath

  "I was." He saw the tit-for-tat smirk on Oliver's face.

  Lady Garsington continued to gush. "Well, you can only just have arrived here, so do tell me how my dearest Sybil was when you left."

  "I have no idea how she was," he replied, hoping to convey his complete lack of interest in Sybil Garsington.

  Lady Garsington gave a twitter of laughter, and reworded the question. "Well, how was she when last you saw her?"

  "Er, in excellent spirits," Greville answered. Excellent spirits? The unmanageable creature had been as frisky as a cart horse in season!

  "I'm sure you will be delighted to hear that she and Sigismund are also returning in the next day or so. Oh, how foolish of me, for of course you must already know."

  The implication that he was only in Brighton in order to be close to Sybil was almost too much for Greville's sensibilities. Something had to be done that would make absolutely clear his indifference to her frightful offspring. Oliver had done it by besieging Chloe instead; Greville's thoughts raced, and on impulse he took Megan's hand, startling her greatly by drawing it very deliberately over his sleeve and leaving his fingers resting warmly on hers. Then he beamed at Lady Garsington. "No, I'm afraid I didn't know Sybil and Sigismund were returning," he said untruthfully. Nor do I care, he added silently.

  The taking of Megan's hand caused Lady Garsington's face to alter most comically, and she drew back as if a vile odor had suddenly assaulted her nostrils. After murmuring something about having much to do, she and his lordship then stalked away into the library, which suddenly sinking ship was immediately subjected to the scrambled exit of fashionable rats. Nothing could be more guaranteed to disperse a gathering than the approach of the Garsingtons.

  The sudden departure of people obliged the party on the verandah to divide, and Megan found herself stepping aside with Greville. She took the opportunity to make her displeasure known, for companion or not, she would not be treated like that. "I do not like being used, sir," she said, snatching her hand from his sleeve.

  "I concede that it was ill done on my part, Miss Mortimer, but if you knew their daughter…"

  "I don't care what reason you have, Sir Greville, for the fact that I am only Lady Evangeline's companion does not entitle you to-"

  "I know," he interrupted. "I can only ask you to forgive the imposition, Miss Mortimer."

  She gave a curt nod. "The matter is at an end, sir." She turned to go, meaning to quit the library and scurry back to Radcliffe House.

  "Miss Mortimer…?"

  "Sir?"

  "Thank you for not saying this in front of Lady Garsington." The acknowledgment was uttered with the enthusiasm of one whose teeth were being drawn.

  Megan hesitated. "I thought her to be an unmannered person who did not deserve any more consideration than she showed to me."

  "Oh, believe me, you are fortunate to be omitted from her wretched soiree musicale. Evenings at Garsington House are to be avoided at all costs. Why else do you imagine the library has emptied so sharply?" He nodded toward the evacuation just coming to an end. So many vehicles had already pulled away that Oliver's curricle was one of the few still remaining. Oliver, Chloe, and Sir Jocelyn were now at the far end of the verandah, warning newly arriving acquaintances of the hazard within. Chloe glanced back, and her manner intimated that she was now more convinced than ever of something going on between Sir Greville Seton and his aunt's companion.

  Greville looked at Megan. "So my bacon was only saved because Lady Garsington is beneath contempt?"

  "Yes."

  "Your capacity for blunt speaking is-"

  "Almost a match for yours? Yes, Sir Greville, I suppose it is."

  Chapter 15

  When Megan and Greville returned to Radcliffe House, they found the hallway piled high with the Christmas greenery Fosdyke and the two footmen had purchased in the town. Rupert was still out on his ride, having decided to make a virtual day of it, but he was expected back soon, and from the kitchens there wafted the delicious smell of gingerbread.

  Evangeline usually supervised the decorations, but her fitting for her jester's costume was running late, so no start had been made. She was in her apartment with the dressmaker, whose store of patience was rapidly diminishing because the little folly bells on the bright red and yellow outfit's shoulders had been rearranged five times over the past hour, and still Evangeline was not entirely satisfied. On hearing from Annie that Megan and Greville had returned, she immediately sent the maid to bring them to her, so that she could call upon their advice as to the bells' most becoming position.

  Her apartment was on the east of the house, with a splendid view over the Steine. A fire crackled brightly in the hearth of the blue silk dressing room, where she was standing upon a stool the better to assist the dressmaker. The room contained wardrobes, a chest of drawers, and a washstand behind an elegant black-lacquered screen. There was also a dressing table upon which lay a three-horned jester's hat, and a lute with long ribbons that floated in the fierce heat from the fire.

  The sight of Lady Evangeline Radcliffe in a tight-fitting fool's suit was not conducive to solemnity; indeed it encouraged the sort of mirth that was not on any account to be revealed, on pain of her considerable wrath. Her figure was a challenge for any needlework, and the unfortunate costume strained alarmingly along every seam. She was red and yellow lozenges from head to toe, her face was crimson from another flush, and she tinkled with so many bells that Greville could not help recalling a herd of goats he once encountered in the Swiss Alps.

  She confronted Greville in all seriousness. "Well? How do I look? Am I not the very personification of Feste?"

  He swallowed. "I, er, think you look quite exceptional, Aunt E," he replied.

  Then she turned to Megan. "What do you say, Miss Mortimer?"

  "I have never seen anything quite so singular, Lady Evangeline."

  Evangeline beamed. "There, I knew it looked excellent," she declared with some satisfaction.

  Megan could not help glancing at Greville, and she saw his lips were pressed together in an effort to maintain a straight face.

  Evangeline surveyed herself in the dressing table mirror, and saw nothing comic at all. "My cap! Bring my cap!" she cried, pointing to the item on the dressing table. Megan took it to her, and watched in fascination as Evangeline tugged it over her hair. Now my lute!" she commanded next, and Megan brought that as well. Evangeline posed in the mirror, and then struck a few exceedingly discordant notes. "Oh, I am looking forward to all this," she declared.

  Greville caught Megan's eyes. The dressmaker gazed at the floor, and Annie, who stood by the door, was so still that she might have been a statue. No one dared to speak. Except Rollo, who suddenly revealed his presence by murmuring. "Mistress, thou lookest fit to explode."

  Megan felt as if she would too, but Evangeline's expression did not alter. "I am considering hiring a proper manager for my theater," she said in a matter-of-fact tone that hinted at a task virtually accomplished. Rollo gasped, then hurried from the room. Evangeline's lips twitched with satisfaction. That would teach him a lesson!

  Greville had heard nothing, of course, and so expressed surprise. "A manager? Aunt E, you don't require such a person."

  "I know. It was just a passing thought, and best forgotten," Evangeline replied, holding out a hand to be assisted down from the stool, and her bells jingled as she went to the window. "I am informed by Mrs. Fosdyke's bunion that against all the usual odds, Brighton is about to have a great deal of snow," she said.

  Greville smiled. "And this bunion is infallible, is it?"

  "Oh, yes, and I'm truly delighted to know there is snow on the way."

  "Why?" Greville asked curiously, for snow wasn't exactly to be recommended.

  "Because I have Prinny's permission to use the royal sleigh. It was brought to the Pavilion from Windsor in the snow of '98, and has never been returned. I enjoyed driving in it so much on that occasion, that he graciously told me I wa
s at liberty to use it again should the opportunity arise. I am greatly looking forward to it."

  Megan trusted that the bunion was indeed to be relied upon, otherwise Evangeline was going to be deeply disappointed.

  Evangeline turned from the window again. "Now, then, mes enfants, I trust you took note of the Christmas greenery downstairs?"

  "It would be hard to miss it," Greville replied.

  "All the wires, silver and gold paper, red ribbon, fruit, flowers, and so on are in the drawing room. I wish you and Miss Mortimer to commence making some arrangements."

  "Me? Aunt E, I don't know the first thing about decorations!"

  "No? Well, I'm sure Miss Mortimer does, so off you go."

  Greville dug his heels in a little. "Aunt E, why can't we just dispense with decorations this year?"

  "Oh, shame on you, sirrah! The ingredients have already been purchased, so I am hardly not going to use them. Besides, where is your Christmas spirit? Each Yuletide is precious, Greenville, and should be treated as if it may be your last. Who knows what may have happened by this time next year?" She was thinking about the sale of Radcliffe House to the Prince of Wales, but they did not know that.

  Greville looked at her in puzzlement. "What do you mean, Aunt E?"

  "Oh, nothing. Now, you and Miss Mortimer are to get on with the adornments. I will join you presently." She shooed them both out of the door, her bells jingling nineteen to the dozen.

  Megan had no option but to oversee the decorations, because there was no sign at all of Evangeline. It was Greville's fault that she found herself in such a position, for he expressed complete incompetence where such things were concerned, and informed her that he was at her bidding. Fosdyke, Edward, and several maids therefore had to do as she said, and because Greville was present, they did not dare to quibble. He was put to cut silver and gold stars, that seeming to be the extent of his artistic ability, while she helped the others to incorporate fruit, red ribbons, and artificial flowers into the various ropes, garlands, wreaths, and arrangements of laurel, bay, rosemary, box, pine, holly, ivy, and mistletoe.

  Only once did Megan find her attention drawn to Greville, and that was when he briefly left his star-cutting to snip a tiny sprig of mistletoe-two leaves and three berries-which he proceeded to place in the little jeweled snuffbox from which he had removed the previous sprig in the church. Megan could not help wondering what lay behind it all.

  Rupert returned at last from his long ride on the Downs, and he lent a helping hand to the decorations. Soon the entire downstairs was a festive bower. Every chandelier was twined with leaves, every mantelshelf and cornice was festooned, arrangements burgeoned in every vacant corner, tables boasted elegant vases and bowls, and the staircase was decked with greenery that seemed to sprout from the very banisters and newel posts.

  Candles had been lit when Evangeline at last put in an appearance, looking much more comfortable in blue-gray taffeta. She declared that she had been so tired that she had dozed for a while, but now felt as fresh as a daisy; which was more than could be said for the gallant workers who had labored so hard on beautifying her residence for Christmas. The only major item now remaining was the kissing bough, and even that had almost been completed. When the last length of red satin ribbon had been tied into place, the bough was conveyed ceremonially into the hall, where a hook in the middle of the ceiling had served this particular purpose ever since the house had been built.

  The footmen hauled the bough up on a rope, but when everyone stood below admiring it and thinking their tasks were over, Evangeline frowned and shook her head. "It is far too high," she declared.

  Rupert was puzzled. "But it's always that height, Aunt E."

  "Nevertheless, I don't like it now. Lower it if you please," she instructed, and the footmen slowly let out the rope. "More," she said, and the bough descended gradually until it was barely six feet above the floor.

  Rupert disapproved. "That's far too low, Aunt E!"

  "Do you think so?"

  "Of course I do. Greville is the tallest of us, and if he walks beneath it, he'll surely tangle in the ribbons! So will Sir Jocelyn."

  "Will they? Show me, Greville. Walk beneath it. Well, go on." She waggled her closed fan impatiently at him.

  Greville did as he was told, and sure enough the ribbons brushed his dark hair.

  "Ha!" declared Rupert triumphantly. "See? It will have to go up again."

  "Yes, but how high?" Evangeline inquired lightly.

  "At least two feet to be sensible."

  "Oh, I disagree," she said. "It must be just right if it is to serve its purpose to the full. I have it! Miss Mortimer, will you please stand with Greville?"

  "Stand with him?"

  "The instruction is perfectly simple, miss. Which word do you not understand? Stand, with, or him?"

  Megan lowered her eyes quickly, and went to join Greville beneath the bough.

  Evangeline tapped the fan thoughtfully to her lips. "Oh, I don't know. Something isn't quite right. Stand closer to each other."

  They did as they were told.

  "No, closer than that!"

  They brushed together.

  "Not side by side, face-to-face! For heaven's sake, don't either of you know what a kissing bough is for? Greville, please be so good as to put your hands to Miss Mortimer's waist." As Greville obeyed, she fingered her gold locket. "Look at each other. That's better. Now, make as if to kiss."

  Greville's eyes were a mirror of his inner feelings as he bent his head closer to Megan, whose face was now almost the same color as the ribbons fluttering overhead. Her heart was beating swiftly, and she could feel the warmth of his hands through her gown; and the softness of his breath on her face. His lips were so close that she feared he was going to actually kiss her, but then Evangeline pronounced her approval.

  "That's it! Perfect! Tie the ropes if you please, Edward. Now, then, everyone, I think we have all worked so hard that a glass of champagne is in order."

  Greville moved away from Megan, and raised an eyebrow at his aunt. "We? I'm so glad you feel able to include yourself among our hard-working number," he observed wryly.

  Evangeline took no notice. "Fosdyke, bring a bottle to the drawing room, if you please. You and the other servants may enjoy some of the usual wine in the kitchens."

  "Thank you, my lady." The butler bowed, then ushered the footmen and maids away.

  Evangeline gazed approvingly around the hall. "At last it begins to seem like Christmas," she murmured.

  Chapter 16

  Megan wore the ruby silk from Mrs. Fiske's to dinner that evening, but would have felt far more comfortable in her old gown. Sir Jocelyn and Chloe, who looked quite bewitching in lavender satin that became her golden coloring to perfection, arrived just as everyone was adjourning to the drawing room after the meal. To everyone's dismay, the Holcrofts brought Oliver with them, he having expressed a huge interest in all things theatrical.

  Rupert's face assumed a stormy aspect the moment he spied his enemy again, and as they all gathered in the hall to admire the Christmas decorations, he seized the first possible opportunity to get Chloe alone. But when he presumed to warn her against Oliver, she haughtily reminded him that he had chosen not to be part of her life, and would he kindly mind his own business from now on. She could not have made herself more plain; indeed she was more than avenged for the hurt he had caused her. He was quite stricken as he realized how low he had apparently sunk in her estimation; but as she walked away from him, Chloe's expression was one of barely concealed triumph. There was a new light in her big blue eyes, and a knowing little smile curved her lips. It was a look that would have discomforted Oliver, but would have imparted a modicum of encouragement to Rupert. His battle might not be entirely lost-at least, not yet.

  The decorations having been profusely admired, and Sir Jocelyn having ventured to fondly peck Evangeline's cheek beneath the kissing bough, everyone adjourned to the candlelit drawing room to enjoy cherry
liqueurs before any thought of going into the theater. They discussed which scenes should be rehearsed first, and Evangeline obliged Greville to cross his heart and promise that Malvolio's first appearance would be word perfect by the following afternoon. It was Act I, Scene 5, in which Evangeline's fool also appeared, as did the characters played by Chloe and Sir Jocelyn. In the absence of Cousin Ada and her sister, who were to play Viola and the maid, Maria, who figured prominently in the scene as well, Megan was informed she would have to read for them.

  Left to her own quiet devices, Megan would have played the mouse all evening. It was a part she had learned well, and which often proved very rewarding, for it enabled her to observe from the wings. She sat in a corner, hoping to do just that; instead she found herself used again, this time by Rupert, whose response to Chloe's rebuff was to pay undue attention to his aunt's long-suffering companion. Megan understood his actions, even if she did not appreciate them. Her problem was made worse by the dark glances Greville directed toward her, for they suggested he thought she was encouraging Rupert. She bore it all heroically, but really would have liked to tell them both what she thought. Rupert she could forgive because she sympathized with his wretchedness over Chloe and Oliver, but she had no time at all for Sir Greville Seton. In vain did she tell herself he did not matter, because he mattered too much. She was constantly sensitive to him, even starting nervously when he cleared his throat. It was almost as if he twitched her upon a string!

  Megan was able to observe a little, however, and had noticed that Lady Evangeline was set all of a secret quiver by Sir Jocelyn. Oh, it was well concealed, but Megan had been aware of it from the moment of the brief kiss beneath the mistletoe. Whether or not Sir Jocelyn felt the same way was not so easy to perceive, for he was one of those men who gave nothing away of their innermost thoughts. Megan could quite understand why her mistress felt the way she did about him, for he was a very attractive man: warm, amusing, thoughtful, and endearingly proud of his lovely daughter. He was also amusingly perplexed about Megan, whom he was still convinced he had met before. He went so far as to say so, but fell silent on the matter when Evangeline informed him he had definitely not encountered Megan until now.