Christmas Delights

by Heather Hiestand

  “I am sorry,” Eddy said. “Can I speak to you, sir?” He pointed back to the corridor.

  Lewis nodded his head and regretfully followed his apprentice back to the chilly hallway. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you this afternoon.”

  Eddy shoved a grubby handkerchief at him.

  “What’s this?” Lewis asked, taking it.

  “It’s a bird,” Eddy said, working his jaw until it protruded. “I knew you wouldn’t make one for the girl, so I did it.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Lewis frowned at the lad, feeling as if Eddy had reprimanded him. “I made the decision to leave mechanical birds in my past. An inventor has the right to move on to the next project.”

  “You might be able to fix the submarine if you worked on a bird,” Eddy insisted. “You know what you’re doing with them things, and maybe you could design the feathers to work like the hull plating. Solve your design problem.”

  “I believe I already fixed that yesterday,” Lewis said, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chilled fingers into his armpits.

  “I don’t think you did,” Eddy insisted. “You were muttering about it last night, and that’s always a sign your mind’s still workin’.”

  Lewis chuckled. “Think you know everything, don’t you, boy?”

  “I’ve been wi’ you a long time now, sir. I bet if you worked on the right kind of bird you’d get it sorted out. The movement of the wings could simulate the submarine hull.”

  He sighed. “I shall take your suggestion under advisement. What did you make? It seems to me you’ve already met Lady Allen-Hill’s requirement.”

  Eddy bowed his head, his bravado leaving him. “It’s just a carving. I painted it a little, to look like the stork she saw.”

  Lewis realized the blotches on the handkerchief were black paint. “Might have needed to let it dry a bit longer.”

  “It’s dry enough,” he muttered.

  Lewis opened the splotchy cloth to uncover a hand-size rendition of a white stork, complete with a long, skinny red beak. No attempt had been made to define the feathers, but Eddy had done a perfect job with the overall shape and distinctive coloring of the bird. “It’s a lovely job, Eddy. I’m sure she will adore it.”

  “Will you give it to her?”

  Lewis smiled and handed it back to him. “I won’t take credit for your work, lad. You should have the honor.”

  Eddy blushed and ducked his head. “I’m too coarse for the likes of Miss Penelope. I shouldn’t even speak to her.”

  “She’s not some fine lady but the niece of a manufacturer. Wealthy, to be sure, but not a blue blood.”

  “But what am I, Lewis? Just some Cockney who never even knew his own father.”

  “You’re a self-made lad,” Lewis said, putting his hand on Eddy’s shoulder. “You’re going to do fine things with your life, be a man to be proud of. That’s more important than family, in my book. You go and give her the bird.”

  “I knocked over that puzzle,” Eddy said, staring down at the floor with his jaw outthrust. Lewis noticed a hint of fuzz on the boy’s upper lip that hadn’t been there before the house party.

  “We’ll pick it up together,” Lewis promised, giving the boy a little shove. “Now go, and no bashfulness.”

  The sight of fourteen-year-old Eddy, blushing and stammering, his hands shaking as he handed his creation to the small girl, warmed Lewis’s heart like nothing else could. The girl’s gasp of pleasure, the way she flung herself artlessly against Eddy until he was forced to hug her back, made him almost contemplate a design for those black-feathered wings. Was Eddy right? Could the project help him with a better design for the submarine?

  He rubbed his cold fingers over his forehead, feeling his innards stiffen at the mere idea of making a bird again, of revisiting that unhappy time in his life when he was unappreciated and under his uncle’s thumb. When his best friend and cousin, Sir Gawain, was a grumpy, bitter, wounded ex-soldier being forced to learn accounting. When Sir Gawain’s twin, Alys, fought against the family’s urge to become country gentry with every bit of her strength and still lost the battle against her father. When Rose and Matilda, the younger girls, were selfish and grasping. Now, Sir Gawain and Alys were happily married with children, and Rose had grown into a lovely and sensitive young woman. Matilda was fulfilling her potential as the new heir to the Redcake’s businesses, handling her father better than anyone in the family ever had. Had everyone moved on but Lewis? Why was a silly mechanical bird the symbol for everything that had been wrong three years before?

  “Why are you so unable to supervise your cousin properly? She’s going to have to go away to school if you can’t manage her,” Victoria’s father growled.

  He stood in front of the large fireplace in the drawing room before dinner. Victoria wanted to tell him to move away, that his coat might get singed, but her father was in a foul mood.

  “What were you thinking, allowing her to go out of sight and leave the Fort for a full morning?”

  Victoria’s lips tightened, leaving her unable to speak any kind of defense. Was his criticism just? She was supposed to be concentrating on husband-hunting per his orders, not watching her cousin every moment.

  “And fawning over that Lewis Noble in his sickbed. You want a healthy specimen, Victoria.”

  She found her voice. “He nearly drowned, Father. It is not as if he came down with some random illness.”

  He snorted. “Nonetheless, it is a poor showing for someone who works outdoors as he does.”

  “We are having an uncommonly cold and damp winter for these parts,” she protested. “Besides, the issue at hand is my competence to manage a nine-year-old girl.”

  “A highly emotional one at that,” her father muttered.

  “She has every reason to be.”

  “Why in God’s name did you find it necessary to take her to see her mother? Your lack of judgment makes me wonder.”

  Victoria pressed her lips tightly together again. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I love Penelope, Father. I am not, perhaps, the most natural mother, but I am trying. She is not the average child.”

  “No, she’s a Courtnay.” Her father sniffed and drew himself up, placing his hand in his pocket, a dandified gesture that seemed uncharacteristic.

  Victoria turned and saw Rose enter the room. When she turned back, she saw color had come into his cheeks. She also realized he’d taken pains with his hair, taming his graying locks with pomade. The shiny result was not displeasing, at least not to Rose, who gave him a warm smile.

  Her father smiled in an almost sickening fashion as well.

  “I can see I’m losing your interest, Father, and indeed I am happy to see you so glad to see Rose Redcake. But please, give me another chance. Don’t send Penelope to boarding school. We will do very well together in Liverpool, she and I. I promise.”

  “How are you going to find a husband there?” he asked. “You’ve rejected every eligible man in our circle.”

  “I will do my best to resolve the matter quickly, before we leave,” she said, though the notion made her queasy.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How do you plan to manage that?”

  Rose’s gaze turned away as the door opened. Three men entered: Lewis, the Baron of Alix, and the Earl of Bullen.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Father. I’ll bring someone up to snuff.” Hopefully, she could look forward to a long engagement at least, a time when her father would be pleased with her and she would still have some freedom of movement. Time for Rose to enact her plan with Lewis.

  “If you are engaged by Twelfth Night, I won’t send Penelope to Miss Treadgold’s Academy,” her father said. “Mind you, she’s already been entered there, so it is the work of a moment to put her on the train to Birmingham.”

  His words hit her with the power of a physical blow. “You’d send her so far away? I had no idea you’d taken such steps.” Victoria pressed her hand to her stomach. Why on earth
would her father threaten such a thing? He did look a bit wild-eyed, as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

  “I have no time or inclination to be less than practical,” her father said. He puffed out his cheeks, then blew, as if discarding the conversation. “Keep your promise to me and we’ll have no need to discuss the matter further.”

  He stomped away, heading toward the liquor decanters along one wall, under a portrait of the first Earl of Bullen, dating back to the seventeenth century. The long-dead nobleman glared eternally at his descendants, probably missing the Scottish lands from which he’d come so long ago. Victoria wondered what had happened to the original family who’d held the Fort.

  That thought, that dynastic thought, could only hold her attention for a moment. Today was January 4. She didn’t have much time to become engaged. Tomorrow was her deadline. Staring at the knot of men in the doorway, she considered.

  Would the Earl of Bullen agree to a false engagement to keep him off the marriage mart? Considering how little he seemed to notice the ladies crowded around him, thanks to his absentminded inventor’s air, probably not.

  So that left John, the Scottish baron. She liked him, but she’d have to live in Scotland if they truly went through with a marriage, give up everything she knew. Penelope would be forced to live far away from either of her parents if she went with her, but allowing her to start over might be the kindest thing Victoria could do for her.

  Would John be willing to take Penelope on? Victoria knew she would have to find out, and soon. She took a few steps toward the trio and smiled tentatively. John immediately caught sight of her and stepped away from the other men. When he reached her side, she moved toward the piano and sat. He sat next to her as she fingered a German dance piece by Shubert.

  “Are ye going to play?” he asked.

  “The dinner gong will be soon.”

  “Ye wanted tae speak to me alone, then?”

  She turned to him, determined, saw the open, friendly expression on his face “We agreed to be merely friends, once.”

  “My position in life does not allow me tae manage English factories,” John said carefully.

  “My father has lifted that stricture in your case.”

  “In mine?” His eyebrows drew together. “Have ye spoken of me?”

  She nodded. The right side of his mouth lifted into an engagingly lopsided smile. She couldn’t quite imagine kissing that mouth, but once she was away from Lewis, surely his sensual power over her would recede, and she had Penelope to think about. Miss Treadgold’s Academy was notoriously cold and unloving. Only the naughtiest girls were sent there, girls with parents who wanted them out of the way because they were an embarrassment. They’d be fed properly, and educated a little, but nothing else. It was not a good place for this high-strung child.

  John cleared his throat. “Should I speak to your father?”

  “Is that what you want to do?” Victoria forced herself to stop fiddling with the sheet music and folded her hands into her lap.

  “I like you, Lady Allen-Hill. I think we should suit.”

  “My cousin Penelope would have to live with me. You must be aware of that.” She glanced sideways at him. “I don’t want her sent away from me.”

  He seemed unperturbed. “I don’t see that she presents a problem. Does Edinburgh?”

  “It might be an improvement over Liverpool.”

  He chuckled. “I thought ye had your heart set on London. And Lewis Noble.”

  “Come, John, you can’t imagine my father would accept him for me.”

  “No man would be happy tae have his daughter lose a title, once gained.” John ran his index finger over her knuckles in a quick gesture of affection. “I cannot blame him for that.”

  “You would have to hire managers for all the businesses someday.”

  “I will educate myself on the issues and the men, just as I do for my Scottish properties. I’m a hard worker, Victoria. I won’t lose your fortune. I’ll be generous tae ye.”

  “I believe you. May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” He spread his fingers on his thighs. “Anything.”

  “Why did you come to this house party? Were you looking for a wife?”

  “I was meant tae take a look at the Gill girls,” John said. “I was at Oxford with Nicholas. He thought I might want to marry one of his sisters.”

  “You went to school with the earl? I had no idea.”

  John nodded. “Ye see, it isn’t so unusual after all. Honestly, I am a better catch than those Dickondells, but one has the sense the Gills are happy to stay down here, near their ancestral lands.”

  “I was just remembering they were Scottish originally.”

  “Long ago. They came south with James I. The Gills are a bonnie lot, but I’ll be happier with ye, I think. And it’s time I marry.”

  She knew he didn’t love her, but with her deadline looming, this engagement would be quite good enough. In fact, she liked him better than she had Sir Humphrey. It was only the passion she’d experienced with Lewis that made her sorry. But John was handsome, fit, and amiable. He would not be unpleasant to look at or speak to over the breakfast table. Assuming she had to go so far as to actually marry him.

  “Please do speak to my father, if you have resolved that you would like to do so,” she said, staring at the stark black and white keys. “I have no objections.”

  His hand went over hers, his palm pressing the back of her hand. Her skin was cold underneath his.

  “It makes sense that’d ye’d be nervous and shy,” he said in a low voice. “Your first experience was brief and rather painful, with your sudden loss and plunge into widowhood at an age when ye should have been attending parties and enjoying yourself. I am glad I found ye here, before you went to London and were swept back into fashionable society.”

  She forced herself to smile at him. He didn’t seem to realize her father had meant to keep her in Liverpool with him, not flit around London. But the deeper she moved into her commitment to him, the more she wanted to turn and implore Lewis with her eyes, to stop this before it was too late. She didn’t want to ruin John’s life.

  “As soon as it is all settled, we should leave the Fort,” she said. “Go right away. There is so much to do, and I need to hire a governess for Penelope. She has been running wild.”

  “Of course,” John said. “We will go to London on Tuesday. Ye won’t want to miss the Twelfth Night bonfire party.”

  “They have a bonfire that night?” She’d never heard of such a tradition.

  John nodded. “Commemorates some battle in ancient times.”

  “I see. Well, plenty of those around here.”

  “Are you going to end that fairy tale with a big battle?” His eyes crinkled with humor.

  “I shouldn’t think so. It’s a child’s tale, after all.”

  The butler came in with the gong and waited expectantly for the crowd to hush.

  John patted her hand one last time. “I’ll speak to your father this evening, or at least make an appointment with him. Ye might be sorting out my bachelor household by summer.”

  She forced a smile. Summer. “You are so very good to me, John.”

  The sound reverberated through the room, and they stood. She took John’s offered arm and went to their place in the procession. The rest of her life had begun. She told herself not to be selfish and regret any of it.

  John sat next to Victoria at the church services the next morning. He asked her to walk back with him instead of riding in the carriage. Penelope had stayed home because of her cough, so Victoria was free to acquiesce.

  Their breath puffed out clouds of winter white as they walked back from the village. She was astounded when John took her to the wishing well.

  “Did you come here on New Year’s Day?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to explain that she’d come again due to her desire not to expose Penelope’s wildness.

  “Did your wish involve me
?” he asked with a teasing grin.

  “In a way,” she said. “I made a general wish, to be honest.”

  “Very noble of ye. It is obvious to me that ye always think of others, Victoria.” He took both of her hands in his. They both wore gloves, but somehow the intimacy was there, even more so than all the times she had stood or sat next to him. They were face to face. She could see every bit of the faint shadow, already present from his heavy beard despite the time of day, a sharp, short scar above his left eyebrow, his adorably lopsided upper lip. She would soon know this face as well as her own.

  “I spoke to your father, Victoria, and he has agreed to the match. Indeed, I believe he welcomes it, despite the fact that ye will be leaving Liverpool.”

  She nodded, though her heart had begun to pound. When Sir Humphrey had proposed, she’d been calm, cool. But this proposal felt very different.

  “We will love each other in time, my dear, I know it. We have too much affection for it tae be otherwise. A half-year engagement, I think, long enough for us to become true intimates.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded again.

  “What do ye say? Despite your knowledge that I was tae speak to Mr. Courtnay, I still want ye to have a voice. Will ye do me the honor of becoming my baroness, Victoria?”

  She swallowed hard and tried to will moisture to her parched mouth. But before she could speak, she was knocked off balance by a sudden jolting under her feet. The sound of stone cracking came from her left. John rocked from side to side, an expression of surprise on his face that surely matched her own. She dropped to one knee when the ground jolted again. John fell over her, whether from losing his balance himself or in an attempt to protect her, she didn’t know.

  They stared into each other’s eyes, and she thought he must be planning to kiss her, but he didn’t.

  After several moments, when nothing else happened, he spoke. “Divine providence has spoken, my dear. Ye will give me your answer another time? I’m sure ye will want to check on your young cousin.”