A Christmas Courtship

by Jeannie Machin

  ‘She’s odious in the extreme.’ Blanche described what had happened at the Saracen’s Head. ‘I do believe she meant to make poor Hannah pay,’ she ended, ‘but Sir Edmund was reasonable enough to intervene.’

  Mr Amberley’s eyebrow was raised in surprise. ‘Sir Edmund was reasonable? Why, I do believe that you almost paid him a compliment.’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps. Indeed, if I’m honest, he seemed almost agreeable, but the whole effect is spoiled by his atrocious taste in women. Lady Hetherington is without a doubt the most obnoxious of creatures, and certainly doesn’t deserve to be mistress of a lovely old house like Amberley Court.’

  ‘Would any woman be worthy enough in your eyes, my dear?’ he asked quietly, squeezing her fingers.

  ‘Probably not.’ She drew a long breath, wondering how best to broach the delicate subject of her love for Antony. ‘Father, I….’

  ‘Before you say anything more, my dear, I have some excellent news to impart. The letter carrier called while you were out, and when he saw that I was alone, he was good enough to bring the letter up to me. He knew it was from Jonathan, you see, and realized how much it would mean to me to hear from him. Was that not kind of him?’

  ‘Very. What does the letter say? Will Jonathan be home with us for Christmas?’

  ‘Oh, he will indeed,’ replied her father, feeling under his mound of pillows for the letter. ‘Actually, we should have received it some days ago, but somehow it was sent to Amberley in Sussex, instead of here. I really don’t know what the post is coming to, there was a time when one could rely upon the correct delivery of one’s mail, but that is most definitely no longer the case. Mr Pitt was a sad loss, for I fear the country has gone to rack and ruin since his demise. Ah, here it is.’ He pulled the letter out, smoothed it, and then handed it to her.

  She unfolded it, and began to read aloud.

  My dearest Father and Sister,

  I’m writing to tell you the glad tidings that I’ve been successful in my request for Christmas furlough, and will be home with you on Wednesday, the fourteenth. I’ll be able to stay until some time during the first week in January, so that we’ll have a long time together before the regiment embarks for the war in Spain. My fellow officers are green with envy that I’ve wheedled so much out of Colonel Cummings, but then I’m very much his golden boy at the moment, as I’m about to explain.

  As you both know, two years ago the last thing I wished to do was enter the army, for it was my ambition to lead a life of luxury and privilege, culminating in becoming the master of Amberley Court. But fate had a different future in store for me, and now I’m so glad that it did, for the army has become everything to me. Purchasing my commission seemed to me at the time to be a waste of what few resources we still had, but I’ve taken to military life like a duck to water, so much so that I’ve conceived considerable ambition to rise to the highest rank possible. To this end, I’ve been striving hard to secure a particularly coveted and hotly contested promotion to the private staff of Sir Arthur Wellesley, who is, in my humble opinion, set to be our greatest commander since Marlborough. Sir Arthur has seven or eight aides-de-camp, and it’s well known that he prefers to have the sons of nobility around him, but that did not deter me, for I was quite set upon being chosen. My greatest rival for the post has been my close friend, Lieutenant Roderick Neville, who will one day become Lord Normanton, and who therefore has the required blue blood, but last night Colonel Cummings informed me that the promotion was mine, and that I will take up my new post once the regiment arrives in Spain. Perhaps now you will understand why I have become the colonel’s golden boy.

  Blanche looked up, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Father, how proud we can be of him!’

  ‘We can indeed,’ nodded her father, with tears on his lashes.

  Her smile faded a little. ‘I wish he wasn’t going to the war, though, I’m so afraid that….’ She finished, for her thoughts had turned suddenly to Sir Edmund, so unwell still after three months. He could be considered lucky, for there were many far less fortunate than he.

  ‘Don’t look on the gloomy side, my dear. Read on.’ She drew a long breath, and continued.

  Poor Roderick did not only fail where the promotion was concerned, but also in matters of the heart, and again I was his conqueror. He and I both fell in love with a certain Miss Deborah Jennings, who resides with her parents at Fastington House, only five miles away from Amberley St Mary. (I believe you are acquainted with Mr Jennings, Father, for you and he were once fellow trustees of the same turnpike.)

  Blanche looked up from the letter again. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘He’s an acquaintance, but no more than that, but he and I have one thing in common – we’re both plagued by financial difficulties. He appears to have weathered it somewhat more successfully than I, however, for at least he and his family are still fortunate enough to reside in their ancestral home. They are a good family, not overendowed with wealth but acceptable enough.’

  ‘Have you ever met Miss Jennings?’

  ‘No, I fear not, but from your brother’s eulogizing, she would appear to be a veritable goddess. Read on, and you’ll see what I mean.’

  Deborah is often in Cheltenham, visiting her elderly aunt near the Royal Well. She’s an angel, a lamb, a dove, and I worship her. I can’t tell you how proud and flattered I am that she spurned poor Roderick and chose me. Everyone said she’d encourage him for the prospect of a title, but when I proposed, she accepted, and now I have only to speak to her father. My heart goes out to poor Roderick, who has now suffered two blows at my hands, but he’s been very noble and gracious in defeat, and I could not hold him in higher esteem. He is a gentleman in every sense of the word, and in dire need of a gentle female heart to adore, so I intend to introduce him to you, Blanche, for I know that you and he will hit it off.

  I must end now, because I’m on duty in five minutes. Please have my room aired, and Hannah’s cooking waiting on the table.

  À bientôt, ma chere famine, I will see you in a few days’ time.

  Your affectionate and loving son and brother,

  Jonathan.

  Blanche folded the letter. ‘It seems I’m to have a Deborah for a sister-in-law.’

  ‘And a Roderick for a husband, if your brother has his way entirely.’

  She lowered her eyes and said nothing. She had to mention Antony, but somehow she just couldn’t find the right words.

  Her father looked at her. ‘Is there something on your mind, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, Father, there is, and I don’t know quite what you’ll say when you hear.’

  ‘Is it so very serious?’

  ‘Jonathan isn’t the only one to be thinking of marriage, for I am too.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His quick brown eyes searched her face. ‘I take it that you don’t think I’ll approve of your choice?’

  ‘I love him with all my heart, Father, and he loves me.’

  ‘Tell me his name, my dear.’

  She hesitated, her eyes still downcast, but then she looked at him. ‘Antony Mortimer,’ she said.

  He looked blankly at her. ‘Mortimer? I don’t think I know …’ Then he realized. ‘Clement Mortimer’s son?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. ‘Oh, Blanche, Blanche….’

  ‘We love each other, Father, truly we do, and Mr Mortimer has given his consent. We could be betrothed on Christmas Day if you’d only give your consent as well….’

  His eyes flew open, and he looked sharply at her. ‘Did you say that Clement Mortimer has agreed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Impossible. He’s too ambitious to regard an Amberley match as in any way desirable. You may once have been sought-after as a bride, my dear, but that isn’t the case now. Why has he consented?’ He looked shrewdly at her. ‘Come now, I want the whole story, for I know Clement Mortimer too well not to see that there’s an ulterior motive.’

  Reluctantly
she nodded. ‘You know that Mr Mortimer wishes to become a member of parliament, don’t you? Well, for that he requires the patronage of the Duke of Norfolk, and in return for your assistance in that connection, Mr Mortimer is more than prepared to allow Antony to marry me.’

  Mr Amberley sat up furiously. ‘How very gracious of him, to be sure! I’d as soon recommend a rat to the duke!’

  ‘Please don’t be angry, Father.’

  ‘Angry? I’m downright furious! And as to a Christmas betrothal…!’

  ‘I love Antony, Father, and he loves me. We want to spend the rest of our lives together.’

  ‘I’ll never consent to such a calculated arrangement!’

  She met his angry eyes. ‘All it is is an agreement, Father, no worse than yours was with my mother’s family. You’d barely met when your parents arranged the match, and it was a contract based on financial benefit to both families. Is that more honorable and desirable than the match I wish for now? At least Antony and I know and love each other.’

  He was silent for a long moment, and she waited in an agony of suspense. Would he accept that she had a valid point? Or would he dig his well-bred Amberley heels in and refuse to ever countenance an alliance with the upstart Mortimers?

  At last he drew a long, quivering breath, and nodded. ‘You’re right to remind me of the circumstances of my own marriage, and perhaps I would indeed be guilty of unfairness if I rejected your wishes out of hand, but I will never regard the Mortimers as worthy of an alliance with this family. Too many bad things are said of your young man’s father, and there are whispers about Antony himself, but I cannot justly say that I know for certain that he has followed in his sire’s footsteps. I know you wouldn’t ask this of me unless you did indeed hold this young man in exceeding high regard.’

  ‘I love him with all my heart.’

  ‘Then I will receive him, but….’

  ‘Oh, Father!’ Glad tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to blink them back.

  He put a hand to her cheek. ‘I only said I’d receive him, and I was going to go on to say that under no circumstances will I agree to a Christmas betrothal, for that is by far too soon. I will receive him, form my judgment, and then, if I am disposed to accept him as a prospective son-in-law, I am prepared to begin discussing dates and so on.’

  She took a long moment to consider her next words. ‘Father, you do understand that Mr Mortimer will withdraw his consent unless you….’

  ‘Agree to put in a good word or two with the Duke of Norfolk? Yes, I understand, but I disapprove heartily, and I can’t believe that you’re entirely happy. What if all the good words in the world don’t achieve Clement’s ends? What then? Will your betrothal be abruptly ended?’ He put his hand over hers. ‘The duke isn’t a fool, you know, and he won’t be persuaded to put forward a candidate he doesn’t think worthy, no matter how many old friends approach him on the subject. However, it seems to me, strangely enough, that Clement Mortimer probably has the necessary qualities to become a Whig member of parliament.’ This last was said somewhat acidly, for as a lifelong admirer of the late Mr Pitt, Lionel Amberley was a staunch Tory.

  ‘Your political allegiance is showing, Father,’ she said quietly.

  He smiled. ‘Tory I may be, my dear, but I’m also very fair, and if I am impressed by your young man, then I will bear in mind the condition that his father has placed upon the match. I can see that it is no more reprehensible to connive at a marriage because of financial requirements than it is because of political ambitions. Neither reason is all that admirable, but to marry for love is very admirable indeed, and that will be my prime consideration.’

  She reached over to hug him tightly, blinking back the tears. He was going to give his consent, for once he met Antony and saw how great their love was, his objections would cease to matter.

  ‘No tears now, my dear, for I’m too frail to deal with tears. Here, wipe your eyes.’ He pushed his handkerchief into her hands, watcing as she dabbed her eyes. ‘You realize, don’t you, that Jonathan will be much more difficult to convince?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘He has conceived a deep dislike for your young man.’

  ‘All over a foolish bowl of mulligatawny soup!’ She rose to her feet. ‘If they hadn’t all been in drink, and therefore argumentative. …’

  ‘Young men will always be the same, my dear. However, like me, your brother isn’t unreasonable, and if I am prepared to give my consent, I promise that I will do my utmost to persuade him around. There is, of course, the matter of his own match. A man who is happy in his new love, will be more disposed to be tolerant toward others.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ She turned hopefully.

  ‘One can never be certain, but it would be my guess. Your brother appears to be enveloped in such a rosy glow of adoration at the moment, that I don’t believe he would be capable of a concerted campaign against your young man. It has to be left in the lap of the gods for the time being, but I think his objections will not be insurmountable – if, that is, I am impressed enough with Master Antony Mortimer to lend my support in the first place.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Now, then, after all this talking, I’m beginning to wonder how close dinner is.’

  ‘I really don’t know, for I have no idea what Hannah is cooking today.’

  He sniffed a little slyly, and leaned back against the pillows. ‘I happen to know that she has a nice piece of salmon to roast.’

  She stared at him. ‘Salmon? Severn salmon?’

  ‘Is there any other?’ he asked blandly.

  ‘Oh, Father! You haven’t allowed Jake to go out poaching again, have you?’

  ‘He merely took a stroll to the old fishing house, lingered a while, and then strolled back.’

  ‘With one of Sir Edmund’s gamefish in his coat! Father, you know how angry Sir Edmund was about that gang of poachers, and how vigilant his keepers have had to be as a consequence, so how could you possibly…?’

  ‘Oh, stop lecturing me, my dear, for that salmon is as much mine as it is Sir Edmund’s.’

  ‘It isn’t, and you know it. Nothing in that river or on that estate has been yours for two years now, and you have no right at all to let Jake go out poaching on your behalf!’

  He scowled, but then heaved a long, resigned sigh. ‘Oh, I suppose you’re right, damn it, but I find it monstrous hard to accept that I can’t have what’s been my family’s for centuries. Very well, you have my word that I won’t let Jake go out anymore, will that do?’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘I’m a gentleman, madam, and you have my word,’ he replied with mock indignation. ‘Plague take it, Blanche, you’ll spoil my enjoyment of dinner if you persist.’

  ‘It would take more than my grumbling to spoil your enjoyment of roast salmon with all the trimmings.’ She smiled, bending to kiss his cheek. ‘Are you going to come down to eat?’

  ‘I believe I will, my dear, for I have a mind to sit in my favorite chair by the fire in the parlor, with a glass of cognac to sharpen my preprandial appetite.’

  ‘I’ll go and tell Hannah,’ she said, and was just about to leave the room when they both heard a single shout from the street outside.

  Puzzled, she went to the window, holding the curtain aside to look out. For a moment she could only see her own reflection looking back at her, but then her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. A small company of soldiers was riding up the hill, keeping to the grass so that their horses made no sound. There was an officer at the head of the column, his uniform, like those of his men, concealed beneath a heavy winter great-coat. He’d just turned to shout a single order, and it was this call that she and her father had heard.

  She remained by the window, watching as the soldiers drew nearer. She expected them to ride past to the gates of Amberley Court, for she could only think that they had some business with Sir Edmund, but to her astonishment the officer halted his men by the cottage.

 
Becoming suddenly aware of her silhouette in the bedroom window, the officer looked directly up at her. It was too dark to see him clearly, but by his build, manner, and the lieutenant’s badge on his shining black shako, she was sure it was Jonathan. With a gasp of delight, she turned to her father. ‘It’s Jonathan! He’s come home at last!’

  Picking up the candlestick and shielding the flames with her hand, she hurried from the room and down the stairs. In her delight, it didn’t occur to her to wonder why, if it was indeed her brother, he’d come home on Christmas furlough at the head of a troop of his men. If she’d paused for a moment to think, she’d have realized that something was very wrong, and in the ensuing days she was to remember this as the moment the conspiracy began for her. It had already begun for her brother, but as Blanche left the candlestick on the hall table and ran out into the cold night, there was still no hint of the terrible blow that was about to strike the Amberley family.

  The Christmas that lay ahead now wouldn’t be a time of happiness, but a time of strain, anxiety, and scandal.

  CHAPTER 7

  As Blanche reached the gate, her brother’s name on her lips, she realized with a sudden and embarrassing jolt that the lieutenant wasn’t Jonathan. The resemblance she’d seen from the bedroom window was only superficial, for this man wasn’t blond like her brother, but much darker, with full, rather sensuous lips.

  He’d turned toward her the moment she ran out calling Jonathan’s name, and the gaze he directed was cold and disdainful. ‘Miss Amberley, I presume?’ he said. His voice was an affected drawl.

  Her embarrassment was swiftly replaced by surprise that he should know her name, and an instinctive dislike for anyone who could be so cool and contemptuous toward someone he had never met before. She paused by the gate. ‘You have the advantage of me, sir,’ she responded, her tone frosty to match his.

  ‘Lieutenant Neville, of the King’s West Gloucestershire Regiment,’ he replied, raising a white-gloved hand in a brief, rather discourteous salute.