Visions of Mistletoe: A Ridlington Christmas Novella

by Sahara Kelly

  *~~*~~*

  It must have taken at least two hours, thought Michael. He was almost hoarse, but now the Ridlingtons assembled in the parlour all knew everything, right from his discovery of his birth through his discovery of Ariadne. He’d spared no details, or skipped any of the less than pleasant parts. They’d lunched and then he’d continued, letting Ariadne pick up the story and relate her own tale. She had not spared herself, sharing it all, and as he listened he learned that their paths did indeed seem to have been destined to intertwine.

  He needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

  “So you must wed to keep your home?” Rosaline reached out and touched Ariadne’s arm.

  “I must, my Lady. And Michael has done me the honour of proposing.”

  Rosaline looked at him, her eyes bright with laughter. “I think he’s counting himself lucky you’re accepting him, my dear.”

  He bowed. “I am indeed, ma’am. I’ve wandered long enough looking for myself. I found me in her.” He frowned then blushed. “That was terribly ungrammatical of me and didn’t sound like I meant it to.”

  “Never mind,” sniffled Tabitha. “It was beautiful.”

  Ariadne just smiled at him, her heart in her eyes.

  “Right then.” Edmund rose from his chair and the room fell silent. “Mr FitzDoone.”

  Michael stood. “My Lord.”

  “It is abundantly clear that you are, indeed, a Ridlington. Of that there is no question whatsoever. You are my step-brother, sired by our father during one of his visits to London.”

  Michael closed his eyes for a brief moment. This was it, the knowledge he’d searched for. He had relatives. He had met people who had welcomed him and found him familiar, not a blot on the family name. He gulped but said nothing.

  “It is somewhat of a shock, of course, but knowing our father, it is not really a surprise. And meeting you now, I cannot express regret, since I believe he unknowingly fathered a fine man. Although God knows you’ve been through a hell of a life to reach this point.”

  Michael opened his mouth to say something, but the Baron’s hand stayed his words.

  “Therefore, as head of the Ridlington family, I welcome you to our number. You are one of us, Michael. You are a Ridlington.”

  His head spun for a moment or two and, terrified he was going to disgrace himself and faint, he clung to the back of a chair. The next instant Ariadne was at his side, holding his hand and squeezing it. The simple touch brought him back to earth.

  “I cannot find the right words,” he cleared his throat, “to thank you, or to tell you the enormity of the gift you have just bestowed upon me. I wish I could.”

  Edmund chuckled. “We’re entirely mad, you know. It might be more of a curse than a blessing.”

  “Never,” said Michael firmly, looking around at the faces in the room. “Never.”

  “All right, well. Here’s my suggestion. You are a Ridlington by birth, but I’m not sure you can legally be one by name. FitzRidlington would be the obvious option, but…” He frowned, the famous eyebrows knitting furiously.

  “It’s an awful mouthful.” Rosaline shook her head. “It won’t do, Edmund. Simply won’t do.”

  Her husband shot her what might be called a speaking look. “Do you have another suggestion, darling?”

  She smiled smugly. “Need you ask?” She stood and came to Edmund’s side. “I think we should welcome our new step-brother, Michael Wynstanley, into the family circle, don’t you?”

  There was a brief silence and then the applause broke out, along with a cheer from Letitia.

  Michael looked around. “I don’t…who…Wynstanley?”

  “The family name. Before I inherited—when I left this house as a lad, I retook it. I was Captain Wynstanley during my years with the Navy.”

  “You were a sailor,” said Michael, staring.

  “I was. For many years. I still miss it sometimes,” answered Edmund.

  “The ship. I saw a ship, Ariadne. In the crystal. Don’t you remember?” He turned to her, but she was still frowning, looking confused.

  “You’re all Ridlingtons,” she faltered. “How can you be a Wynstanley?”

  “I can see we’re going to have to tell you some of our stories,” laughed Letitia.

  “And you’ll have to meet the others too,” added Simon.

  “Others?” Michael blinked. “How many Ridlingtons are there?”

  “Direct family?” Letitia pursed her lips. “An even half dozen. They called us the Ridlington Pearls, you know, for some weird reason.”

  “Six? Six children?” said Ariadne, astounded.

  Edmund nodded. “All of us different. I share a mother with Simon and Letitia. Richard and Kitty are twins, from our second mother, and Hecate…well, she’s unique. Her Mama was Irish, so she is an odd mix of Ridlington characteristics and Irish…Irish what, Rosaline?”

  “Magic,” chuckled his wife. “Hecate is magic.”

  “Good God.” Edmund clutched her arm. “Did I tell you what she told me at the end of the summer?”

  “Who, Hecate? No,” Rosaline shook her head.

  “She told me somebody was looking for something. Something that would affect us in many strange ways. This has to be it. It was Michael looking for us.”

  Ariadne and Michael shared a quick look. “Do you think she was picking up my journey somehow? That she knew I was looking for some clue as to who I am. Was. Am…um…”

  “We understand, dear.” Rosaline patted his shoulder. “It’s been a long and confusing day. There are rooms ready for you. And baths. And I’ve taken the liberty of asking Chidwell to arrange for some clothes in case you feel the need for fresh garments. You and Edmund are of a size, Michael, and there’s no shortage of gowns in this house, I can assure you, Ariadne.”

  “Hecate was right,” smiled Edmund. “I believe you have brought us a great deal of joy this Christmas. After all, finding a new brother—step or otherwise—is an unexpected gift. A happy one indeed.”

  “All right. Enough. I don’t want to cry,” Simon grimaced. “And if you keep talking this way, it will happen and my wife will never let me live it down.”

  “And you haven’t even heard about the husbands, or the children, or the rest of our extended family,” said Rosaline happily.

  “I’m overwhelmed,” said Ariadne.

  Letitia chuckled. “We want to meet your Joshua, you know. He’ll be the oldest of the children.”

  Ariadne laughed back. “Oh, he’ll very much enjoy that position.”

  “Go and refresh yourselves,” Rosaline shooed them away. “We’ll be dining in a couple of hours.”

  Ariadne curtseyed. “Thank you, my Lady. For everything.”

  “No more titles, either of you.” Edmund came up to the two of them. “You’re Michael and Ariadne now. Wynstanleys. First names only. It’s a rule.”

  “I…well…I’m not sure I can lay claim to that,” said Ariadne carefully.

  Rosaline merely patted her gently on the back and gave her a serene smile. “Go and rest a little. Everything will work itself out, I’m sure of it.”

  Michael nodded and took Ariadne’s arm. “Thank you…Rosaline.” He grinned. “Just thank you.”

  “Run along now.”

  Obeying their hostess, they left, but as soon as they were outside and following a servant up the stairs, Michael leaned to Ariadne and whispered “she’s up to something. I will wager anything that woman has a plan…”

  He was right.

  Chapter Twelve

  Breakfast on Christmas morning was a very jolly affair at Ridlington Chase.

  Sir James FitzArden had arrived late the night before, but obviously Letitia had filled him in on the exciting developments within the family. He greeted Michael like an old friend, with scarcely a check at the similarity between the two eldest Ridlingtons.

  Although he was observed to shake his head in amazement a time or two.

  Ariadne had been
spirited off somewhere by the ladies; he’d been told that the children wanted to meet her. They’d all gather around the fire later in the afternoon, but for now, it was the gentlemen’s turn to relax in Edmund’s study.

  “What of Sir Cathbad?” Michael asked. “How is he faring?”

  “Oh, Sir Arthur,” said Edmund after a moment. “Yes, he’s doing much better. But he has presented us with a bit of a problem.”

  “I can imagine. He’s not of an age where he should be wandering around alone.” Michael recalled the poor man’s cold and wrinkled hands.

  “Exactly my point.” Edmund glanced at Simon. “We’ve had one or two hints recently that he wasn’t as well as he should be. This seems to confirm that fact beyond any doubt. I still have a hard time accepting the distance he travelled.”

  “Does he live alone, Edmund?” James was standing in front of the fireplace, toasting his buttocks.

  “No,” answered Simon, anticipating his brother’s response. “There is a butler and a footman, and there’s a cook and a maid or two. But he has no formal companions. And I think that’s the issue. His sister, dear Mistress Chloe, departed this life last summer and he has no other family now.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That is so sad.” Michael felt for Sir Arthur. He must have been very lonely.

  “Well, she was eighty-seven, so I cannot say it was unexpected.” Edmund sighed. “But he protested he would go on just as he always did, even though she’d passed away.”

  “Where does he reside? Is it near here?”

  “He lives just outside of Tilton Pond. A lovely village about nine or ten miles from here as the crow flies. So he is within reach, but it is a journey, especially in winter. How he made it in one piece, I can’t begin to guess. The roads aren’t as good as they should be.” Simon grimaced.

  “He gets the occasional visitor from the village, I do know that,” said Edmund. “But this most recent event…well something must be done.”

  “And it’s up to you, Edmund?” Michael asked.

  “I feel responsible for him, yes. You see, he’s living in one of the older Ridlington properties. My grandfather gifted permanent residence to the woman who lived there many decades ago. Sir Arthur is a relative.” Edmund’s face turned sour. “Even back then, there was an apparent taste for scandal. Our grandfather and the lady concerned were both married, but not to each other.”

  “Ah. I see.” Michael left it at that.

  “Which is why it’s called Scandal Manor,” grinned James. “You have to admit these places are quite appropriately christened, aren’t they? And much more picturesque than Beech Hall or something…”

  “Michael,” said Edmund, something in his tone attracting Michael’s attention, “a question.”

  “By all means.”

  “Do you think Ariadne is committed to living in her current residence?”

  Michael thought about it. “I haven’t discussed it, really. I know she views it as his inheritance, such as it is, and she’s committed to holding it for Joshua, as it should rightfully be his.”

  “Well, suppose there was a better property for her. And Joshua. One that offers more in the way of comforts and is near enough to family to make visiting and sharing time with other children a possibility…”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I believe she would be interested in such a suggestion…” His suspicions were aroused. “But, Edmund, if you’re thinking of dispossessing Sir Cathbad…”

  “No, God no, I wouldn’t do that.” Edmund looked horrified. “I was hoping I might entice you and Ariadne to take up residence there with Sir Cathbad.” He rolled his eyes. “Damn, now you have me calling him that.” He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “Bluntly speaking, Michael, the man is ageing rapidly. He’s over eighty, frail, and I would like him to spend his last years with a family around him. With warmth and laughter—and someone to take care of him. I’m hoping that I might be able to talk you and Ariadne into making your home there.” He glanced briefly at Simon and then back to Michael. “I would, of course, deed the property to you. And before you protest…”

  Michael bit his tongue. His new stepbrother was damned observant.

  “I’m not offering you a fortune, Michael. You won’t even be wealthy, by most people’s terms. But there are a couple of farms and I’d love to help you build more. The land is sound, but elderly residents at the Hall haven’t exactly encouraged growth and to be honest we haven't exactly been flushed with extra capital for the last decade or so. Now perhaps, it might be possible, especially with you running the place. And you could build something you can be proud of.”

  He leaned forward.

  “Understand that this is a property none of us need. Rosaline and I are here to stay, without question. Letitia and James live in their fancy and terribly overblown new estate and make the rest of us look like peasants.”

  James threw a pillow at Edmund, which he neatly fielded and dropped on the chair by the window, earning a small round of applause.

  “Simon…” Michael turned to the vicar, eyebrows raised in question.

  “Don’t look at me. I have the church. The Vicarage. And a possibility of repurchasing Tabby’s family home not far from here. She couldn’t inherit, unfortunately, being a girl, but the current owner wants to move to Jamaica.” A gust of wind rattled the windows and snow pattered gently against the glass. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

  “Richard and Hecate live in Devon, and Kitty is settled in London. They all have their own homes, Michael. You need one now, and one has been provided by…well whatever sort of magic or miracle you choose to accept.” Edmund spoke quietly. “And I do hope you will accept. Embracing a family is not always easy. But we Ridlingtons have stuck together through thick and thin. I know you’ll understand that, since you show all the signs of being the same way. So say yes?”

  “It’s a generous and timely offer, Edmund. But what about Ariadne?”

  “That, my dear chap, is where my wife and her cunning plan will step in.”

  Michael swallowed. “Er, what cunning plan is that, Edmund?”

  The Baron’s grin was undoubtedly smug. “I think you’d better come with me.” He stood and looked at James and Simon. “Gentlemen? We’re needed.”

  *~~*~~*

  “Oh, this is lovely,” Ariadne purred, stroking the silk of a charming gown Letitia had produced from the back of a cupboard.

  “Skirts are a bit shorter now,” muttered Rosaline.

  “But still…” The delicate lace covering the bodice carried on down over the puffed silk sleeves to the wrists, where pearls were sewn closely together, forming a gleaming cuff.

  “Try it on.” Letitia began to undo Ariadne’s lacings.

  “Oh, but…isn’t it a bit formal for today? I would think this is more along the lines of a gown for an evening occasion…”

  Her protests were, as one would expect, completely ignored by the other two women, intent on divesting her of her outer garments and slipping the heavy silk over her head.

  She was out-womanned, captive to their attentions, and they brushed aside any attempts to protest. Although she wanted to explain that she wasn’t even close to being worthy of a gown such as this, any comments to that effect were disdainfully ignored, making her feel even more guilty for having uttered them.

  She was rolled up, foot and guns, as the saying went.

  Finally, after a lot of tweaking, tugging, muttering and straightening, they allowed her to look in the long glass by the cupboard.

  And her breath left her lungs with an audible whoosh.

  “Oh, my…”

  Bereft of words, she stared at the vision in the mirror, unable to believe that it was her own reflection. The soft pink brought out the cream of her skin, and her hair shone with highlights she’d never noticed before. Her eyes looked brighter somehow, and she lifted her chin, feeling for that instant like a princess.

  “Ah, here it is. I knew there was something.” Ros
aline emerged from a pile of tissue paper with a small bunch of flowers, tiny roses affixed to a jewelled clip. She tucked it into the dark curls and stood back with a satisfied nod.

  “That’s it. Perfect.”

  Ariadne swallowed. “I…it’s…oh Lord, I’m going to cry…”

  “No, you’re not.” Letitia swept her away from the mirror. “Come along now. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

  “What? Where?” Ariadne was jolted from her royal fantasies when her right arm was firmly grabbed by Rosaline, and Letitia took the left.

  Thus bracketed, she was led from the room, and almost force-marched along the corridor and down the stairs. “Just a minute. Where are you taking me? Wait, wait…”

  “Can’t,” said Rosaline firmly.

  “No time,” added Letitia in stern tones.

  “Ladies.” Chidwell waited at the bottom with two maids, each holding cloaks. He had one over his own arm, which he wrapped around Rosaline’s shoulders.

  The other maids did the same to Letitia and a very confused Ariadne.

  “Come with me.”

  The tone of command had everyone paying attention, and Ariadne realised that Rosaline, no matter what she might have been before her marriage, was born to be a Baroness. She was kind, attentive, generous—and completely ruthless when it came to being obeyed.

  It never entered Ariadne’s mind to refuse; she followed the other two out the front door of Ridlington Chase and into the brisk, cold air of Christmas morning. The walks had been swept, and within moments she saw the Church of St. Simon, appropriately named after a long-ago saint. She’d heard the story last night. Now she would see the interior of the church itself, apparently, since that was where they were headed.

  She felt a little overdressed for a Christmas service, but perhaps things were different in this part of the country. Letitia and Rosaline were also attired in elegant finery, so Ariadne crossed mental fingers that she would fit in. They reached the half-open door and Rosaline entered first, followed by Letitia and finally Ariadne.