Goosed! or a Fowl Christmas

by Linda Banche

  “I hope you have dressed warmly enough to be comfortable on the walk to church.” Robert leaned back as Phillips ladled white soup into his bowl.

  “Walk?” His aunt pressed her free hand to her heart. “I will take a carriage, if you please.”

  “Of course, Aunt. How about the rest of you? The church is not far.”

  Miss Shaw picked up her soup spoon after the butler served her. “The night is so clear. I would like to walk.”

  “As would I.” Borland lifted his arm in assent, the one Aunt Amelia hadn’t snared.

  His aunt fluttered her lashes at him. “You can take the coach with me.”

  He shot a visual dagger her way. “I would like the exercise.”

  “Well, then, Aunt, the rest of us will walk alongside the coach. I am sure that will work out for all.”

  His aunt wrinkled her nose, but accepted his suggestion and then dragged Borland nearer.

  Conversation became general as they ate their soup.

  Aunt Amelia kept her grip on Borland’s arm. She didn’t have a problem eating soup with her right hand, although Borland, also right-handed, had a harder time using his left hand.

  Next came chicken roasted with rosemary, buttered new potatoes and green beans.

  Somehow, his aunt managed to keep her hold on Borland and still cut her chicken. Must come with practice.

  Borland wasn’t so adept. He ate the potatoes and beans. Then he shook the arm Aunt Amelia held, but she refused to slacken her hold. He lifted his arm, hers still attached. With his knife and fork, he stabbed a few pieces of meat off his portion of chicken. He ate them and then set his utensils down. Giving up, most likely.

  “What do you do have for Christmas dinner, Miss Shaw?” Aunt Amelia addressed Miss Shaw, but her gaze never strayed from Borland.

  Miss Shaw reddened. “Oh, nothing special. We shall have our usual fare.”

  “How quaint. Tomorrow, at my house, I shall have goose.”

  “Preferably Machiavelli.” Borland, who had remained quiet, edged his chair away from Aunt Amelia.

  That lady’s forehead puckered. “Who is Machiavelli?”

  Miss Shaw paled. “Machiavelli is a goose on my farm.”

  Robert snorted. “A plague of a goose. Deserves to be on someone’s dinner plate.”

  “Oh, do not say that. He protects the chickens.”

  Robert cut another piece of his meat. “Except when he ran away here.”

  Miss Shaw shook her head. “I have no idea what came over him. He has never left the farm before.”

  Borland’s lip curled. “Lucky us.”

  Miss Shaw gave a winsome smile. “I have a soft spot for him. My day always brightens when I see him swaggering around the goose pen.”

  Robert set his fork down. “I hope you lock his pen now so he can’t unlatch the gate and get out.”

  “I had Mr. Henry set the latch up too high for Machiavelli to reach. He will not disturb you again.”

  Aunt Amelia once more batted her lashes at Borland. “Since we talk about birds, I saw the most unusual one in my garden.” She caressed Borland’s shoulder.

  Borland flinched.

  “You must come over and identify the creature.” She bent close.

  Borland leaned away. “Please describe the bird. Perhaps I can make a determination that way.”

  “Well, the bird was green and red…”

  Thank you, Aunt. Now Robert had Miss Shaw to himself again. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

  Her smile could turn winter into summer. “Indeed, I am. The meal is delicious, and I love the decorations in the house. I adore winter greenery.”

  “What greens do you have in your house?”

  Her smile faltered. “None, I am afraid. I have not had time to go and cut any.”

  “I have more than enough. I can send some over in the morning.”

  Her countenance lit up. “Would you? I would like that above all things.”

  He shifted his chair a little closer to her. Might as well take a lesson from his aunt. “May I come over, too? I can help put them up.”

  Her cheeks took on a crimson glow. She cast a glance at Borland, trapped by his aunt, and her smile faded. “Yes, I would like that, too.”

  “My pleasure.” The servant removed Robert’s plate and set the next course, fish, in front of him. “But there is a condition.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Such as?”

  “You must keep Machiavelli out of the way.”

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  ***

  Julia thanked the footman who served her the next dish. Cod! Her favorite. This meal was the best she had had in weeks.

  Lord Tyndall smiled at her.

  Her heart almost stopped. Last night she had dreamed of him. Of his finding that scamp Machiavelli, but events had played out differently. Once he had cleaned up, he had stayed. They had had dinner and talked, and then…

  Her skin heated. Gracious, she had never thought about a man like that before.

  “There is no such bird, Lady Ellison.” Will’s words drifted from the other side of the table.

  Oh, dear. Poor Will, captured by Lord Tyndall’s aunt. Everyone had heard the stories about her, and Julia had been both scandalized and intrigued. In a way, she envied her. Lady Ellison could pursue a man, if she so desired. Julia wished she could.

  So you can pursue Lord Tyndall?

  There she went, woolgathering about him again. And here was poor, kind Will, who had asked her to marry him. She had always known she couldn’t accept his proposal, and she couldn’t in all fairness delay her answer any longer. She would tell him tonight, but how she wished she didn’t have to spoil his Christmas.

  “I understand you have been here for a year, Miss Shaw.” Lord Tyndall cut into his fish.

  “Yes, we arrived soon after the new year.”

  “I regret I was not here.”

  “Someone mentioned you were traveling.”

  “Yes, on business.”

  “Business?” She laced her fingers at her breast. “You must not even mention the word!” Then she laughed.

  He grinned. “I gather you are not one of those who look askance at business.”

  “I think the stigma against work for the gentry is too strict. All people must labor at one thing or another if they are to live.”

  He dipped his head. “Just so. Nothing is free. But except for the highest sticklers, money trumps society’s prohibitions any day.” He gave a woeful sigh. “Enough money and you can do whatever you wish.”

  “As you say. But, in addition, you have a title. That will also remove some of the so-called stink of business from you.”

  His grin glimmered. “Right again. But we must not be so rigid. All these customs are just that, customs. Different times have different ways. And if I occasionally bend the rules some, there is little harm. I am not the only one, either.” He widened his eyes. “What, no mourning clothes? And your father dead less than a year?”

  She laughed. “As you say, little harm in bending the rules once in a while. Especially since my year is almost up, and I never cared for black, or the half-mourning of gray and lavender. Also, country people are more forgiving than those in the city, so I have heard no comments.” The one dress she dyed black had fallen apart from much wear, and she couldn’t afford a new gown even if she wanted one in such dreadful colors.

  “Someone who thinks as I do. Delightful to know.”

  “What about Parliament? I know you have to serve, whether you want to or not.”

  “When I am in town, I attend, although politics hold no interest for me. But when I plan to travel, I appoint a proxy. Not all of us can spend our entire lives in London.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “What caused your interest in business?”

  “My father was a forward-looking man. He always searched for new opportunities to increase the barony’s income. He thought industry would one day supplant agriculture, and to
ok steps to invest in manufactories. I have continued his work.”

  “And the birds?”

  “The birds are my own passion. Their colors and variety have long fascinated me. When I was a boy, I once nursed an injured robin back to health. That decided me to construct a place to protect them. Ten years ago, my father had an aviary built for me. But I didn’t like the structure. Too cramped. I searched high and low without much luck for someone to create the kind of aviary I wanted, until, by chance, I discovered Borland. He was a godsend. Made my desire a reality. A greatly talented man.”

  She bit her lip. “Yes, he is most estimable.” And I must hurt him. What a terrible woman I am.

  No, you are an honest woman.

  “And what of you, Miss Shaw? How did you arrive in our fair county?”

  “My father always envisioned himself as a man of property. When he heard the farm was for sale, he bought the estate. Unfortunately, he was a man of the city. He thought the food on his plate arrived peeled, spiced, cooked and ready for him to eat, and he didn’t care from where. That someone had to plant the vegetables and raise the animals never quite penetrated, even when we moved here.” She sighed. “He never knew the least thing about farming, nor did he care to learn. And after the city’s bustle, the quiet of the country unnerved him. He especially hated the birds waking him at the crack of dawn.”

  “He would not have appreciated my aviary.”

  “I fear not. He also made some bad investments before we moved here, and then he died. But the farm is mine free and clear, so I do not have to live in the poor house.” Yet.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Do you share your father’s opinion of the country?”

  “Not at all. The country has its merits, as does the city. I enjoyed my time in the city.”

  “Did you have a Season?”

  “Several.”

  “I regret that I never saw you.”

  “Perhaps because business occupied you?”

  “If so, that was my loss. Did you enjoy your Seasons?”

  “Oh, yes, I love to dance.” I would love to dance with you.

  “I like to dance, too.” He leaned close. “With the right partner.”

  ***

  Will this dinner never end?

  Will replied to Lady Ellison even as he kept an eye on Tyndall and Julia. Lady Ellison chattered on and on, forcing him to reply, while a mere table width away, Tyndall cemented Julia’s interest in him.

  Julia sparkled. She was definitely interested.

  His heart seized. She had never looked at him that way. Would he be able to pry her from Tyndall, especially with Lady Ellison monopolizing him? Could he convince her that he, and not Tyndall, was the man for her?

  “The bird was green and white and had a crest and was larger than a robin—” Lady Ellison paused for breath.

  “Like the previous bird you described, there is no such creature.” Would the lady never tire of talking?

  “I saw something. Mayhap my description is not good. You can come to my house and check.” She bent closer to him.

  He leaned away. “I am very busy at the aviary.”

  She set the back of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I can picture the bird in my mind.” She opened her eyes and leaned even closer. “Let me try again.”

  I was afraid of that. He couldn’t lean any farther from her without falling off his chair. At least she had let go of his arm. He might be able to eat the rest of the meal now. He inched his chair away from her. “Please do so.”

  “The bird also had blue and red streaks on its breast and head, and was the size of an eagle.” She moved her chair nearer.

  “You just said the bird was larger than a robin.”

  “An eagle is larger than a robin.”

  He heaved out a breath. Lady Ellison would be the death of him. “Exactly how big is this bird?”

  She grinned. “The size of an eagle.” She bent closer. Again.

  He shifted his chair away. Again.

  A footman came by his free side with the fish course. He frowned. “Give me a moment, sir, and I will adjust your place setting.”

  Will’s plate, silverware and goblet were halfway in front of Lady Ellison. He cleared his throat. “Yes, please do so.”

  The servant rearranged Will’s setting, and then deposited the course before him. He then adjusted Lady Ellison’s place setting, too, before serving her and then rounding the table to serve Tyndall and Julia.

  Lady Ellison cocked an eyebrow. “About my bird?”

  She never gave up. “There is no such bird. You must be mistaken.”

  “Let me try again.” She edged her chair closer.

  He eased his chair away from hers.

  Meanwhile, Tyndall and Julia talked and laughed as if they alone occupied the room. Tyndall must have figured out that Julia wasn’t betrothed. That attempt at putting him off had been poor indeed, but all Will had been able think of at the time.

  He frowned. Julia glowed even more than she had before. If he didn’t separate them soon, she would completely fall under his lordship’s spell.

  Curse the man. Why had he come back now? Will raised his voice. “This fish is very good, do you not think?”

  Both Tyndall and Julia jumped.

  Julia gave a bright smile. “Yes, I believe so.”

  Lady Ellison poked him in the shoulder. “You have not tasted the fish.”

  Of course, he hadn’t. He hated fish. With his abysmal luck tonight, now that he had both arms free, they served a dish he detested. The fates must be beside themselves with mirth.

  He forked a piece of fish into his mouth and chewed. He almost gagged as he swallowed the noxious morsel. “Very tasty.”

  “I think so, too.” Lady Ellison sidled her chair closer.

  He inched his chair away. At this rate, the servants would have to adjust their place settings again.

  And so she described bird after bird, each account more unbelievable than the last. And they crept farther and farther down the table, the servants, their lips twitching, moving their place settings as they proceeded. To make matters worse, course followed course at a pace a snail would find interminable.

  Finally, the butler arrived with the meal’s finale, a berry trifle, which he placed before Tyndall.

  Will slumped back in his seat. Escape in sight.

  Lady Ellison folded her hands and tapped her fingers together. “Oh, dear, I am afraid my bird descriptions are not very good. You really must visit my house and see for yourself.”

  He would go to her house only if she knocked him out and dragged him there. Then she would probably lock every window and door and he would be doomed. “I think not.”

  “Are you sure? Is there any way I can convince you?” She slid her hand onto his thigh. High on his thigh.

  He jumped up so fast his chair crashed to the floor.

  The table shook. The plates and silverware clinked together.

  Julia blinked.

  So did Tyndall. “Is something amiss?”

  Lady Ellison’s smile was that of the cat in the cream pot. “Not at all.” She fluttered her lashes at Will. Her lashes must hurt from all the times she batted them at him.

  “I dropped my spoon.” Will scowled, which only made Lady Ellison’s smile wider.

  A footman stepped up with a new spoon. Then he righted the overturned chair.

  Will accepted the utensil and moved his chair another inch down the table before reseating himself. Lady Ellison was a determined woman, but he hadn’t expected her to be as bold as this. She had come of age in a freer time, but enough was enough. Perhaps the only way to deal with her was to be rude.

  His face immobile, the servant moved his place setting down the table once more, and then did the same for Lady Ellison’s.

  Tyndall looked at them, and then at where they had originally sat. He frowned, but said nothing. He nodded to Phillips.

  The butler portioned out the trifle onto dishes, and
a footman served them.

  “I do so love berry trifle.” Lady Ellison tipped a spoonful of the sweet into her mouth and closed her eyes as she swallowed. “How delightful.” She opened her eyes and licked the spoon. Slowly. “There are so many ways to enjoy trifle. I can think of several inventive ones.” She purred at Will. “And I would like to try all of them on you.”

  Chapter 15

  “Shall we repair to the drawing room?” Robert pushed back his chair and then offered his escort to Miss Shaw.

  Aunt Amelia latched onto Borland again, leaving the field free for Robert. I must thank you, Aunt. He had barely suppressed a grin at that farce in the dining room. Both Aunt Amelia and Borland finished the meal halfway down the length of the table. His aunt’s chase of Borland must have been quite a show. The servants’ hall would ring with laughter when the footmen recounted the tale.

  Not that Robert had much noticed the comedy. Neither did he care. To his delight, Miss Shaw had occupied all his attention. His enchantment with her grew with each moment in her sparkling presence, with each comment they traded. She was the most splendid lady he had ever encountered.

  Up to now, he had been able to keep her to himself. But he might not be so lucky in the drawing room. With only the four of them, there was no reason to separate the men and the ladies so the men could drink, especially since Borland didn’t drink. All four of them had to do something together so Borland couldn’t get her alone.

  Unfortunately, Miss Shaw and Borland would have to talk sometime. Robert clamped his jaw tight. He needed to secure her interest before Borland could change her mind.

  Miss Shaw looked up as they walked down the corridor. “The greenery fairly radiates Christmas, and I love the scent of pine. You have done a wonderful job decorating for the season.”

  “My servants did the work. I will pass on your compliment.” He stepped aside to allow her to enter the drawing room first. “They did exceptionally good work here.” Wait until you see the kissing ball. He had spun dreams all day of maneuvering her under its beribboned mistletoe and kissing her again and again.

  As if welcoming Christmas, the flames in the hearth leaped high and crackled a merry greeting. Candelabra scattered around the room bathed the room in a soft amber glow and lent a sheen to the assorted greenery.