Goosed! or a Fowl Christmas

by Linda Banche

  He nodded.

  She drew in a deep breath. “Also, you asked me a question several days ago, and I never gave you an answer.”

  He hit the bottom of his hellish pit, the impact shattering him into shards. “I do not think—”

  “Please, you deserve my reply. I regret I did not tell you sooner.” She looked down at her hands. They trembled. Then she raised her head, her aspect pale. “You asked me to marry you. Although I thank you for the honor, I cannot accept your proposal.”

  “I understand. You chose Tyndall.” His words sounded bitter to his own ears.

  She winced. “Please, believe I never meant to hurt you.”

  Of course she didn’t. She was a kind woman or he never would have loved her, but her words still knifed him to the heart.

  “I care for you very much, but not in the way you want. And that was before I met Robert.” She fisted her hands in her skirt. “You should have a woman who adores you. Not me.”

  His gaze drifted to the floor. Amazing there was no blood, when his every artery screamed. “No, there you are wrong. You are exactly what I want.” He turned and walked stiffly from the room.

  Up in his bedchamber, he mechanically stuffed clothes into his old satchel. He hadn’t gone home for a long time. Seeing his parents, and his sister with her husband would help him forget.

  Perhaps.

  He tapped his shaving brush against his palm. His book was almost done. He would finish up and then send the tome to the publisher.

  He gripped the brush handle harder, the wood gouging his skin. The publisher Lord Tyndall had found for him. He hurled the brush at the wall. A loud crack erupted as the wood struck plaster.

  He sank down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. He should be grateful for all Tyndall had done for him—the job, the publisher. But right now, he wanted oblivion. Something, anything, to dull the pain. Why couldn’t he be a drinking man? The anesthetic of alcohol was exactly what he craved.

  He scrubbed at his face. He would survive. But that knowledge was no comfort now.

  He pressed slowly to his feet and then fished the abused shaving brush from behind the washstand. He tossed the brush into the satchel and then pulled the rest of his garments out of the clothes press.

  He had to quit. He couldn’t bear seeing her every day, knowing she had wed another. The glimpsed image of Julia and Tyndall entwined on the library rug seared through his mind again. He jammed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the heels of his hands, as if the motion would somehow obliterate the scene. Another man held her, touched her—took her to his bed.

  He shook. He had to find another job. Now.

  ***

  “Oh, Mr. Borland!” Lady Ellison pattered down the corridor.

  Not now. Will stopped on the lowest step of the main stairs and grasped the balustrade. The bottom fell out of his devilish hole, and his battered remains plummeted down and down and down.

  He gripped his satchel handle harder and then resumed walking. He was almost at the door. Only a few more minutes of this torment.

  Lady Ellison, the usual gleam in her eye, latched onto his coat sleeve, as she always did.

  He hadn’t the energy to shake her off.

  “I heard you are leaving us.” She stroked his arm.

  “Yes, I will visit my family for New Year’s.”

  “But you will be back?”

  “Yes.” He would have to return in order to resign.

  “Oh, dear. I am sorry to have you leave. I had hoped…” The light in her eyes faded and died.

  She’s lonely. Her blustering pursuit was nothing but a façade to mask her unhappiness. He had fended her off so often, he had never considered that she might be as lonely as he. He could find oblivion in her embrace. They could comfort each other.

  But, no. He couldn’t use anyone that way. She probably wouldn’t mind, but he still couldn’t subject her to that.

  “I like you greatly, your ladyship, and I regret I cannot be the man for you.” Gently he disengaged her fingers from his sleeve. “May the new year bring you everything you desire.”

  The bleakness in her eyes deepened. “And you, also, Mr. Borland.” Head down, she trod down the passage.

  ***

  Robert, Julia at his side, stood before the front door with Borland.

  The golden sun beamed down out of a peacock blue sky, as if rejoicing in the Christmas season. But a pall had fallen over the three of them.

  Robert shook Borland’s hand. “Have a good holiday.”

  Borland, his visage stiff, dipped his head. “Thank you. I left Jem in charge of the aviary. He will take good care of the birds.

  “I am sure of that, since you trained him.”

  “We will miss you. Stay well.” A smiling Julia rose to her toes and brushed a kiss over Borland’s cheek.

  Borland froze. Then he stepped back, his face deathly white. “I wish you both happy. Good-bye.” He ran down the stairs to the waiting groom, who held Smoky at the ready. He mounted the horse, and then set the animal to a walk.

  Julia and Robert waved.

  Borland waved back, and then urged the horse into a trot.

  Julia waved again. Her smile faded as her arm fell to her side. Then she buried her face in Robert’s shoulder and sobbed. “I wish I did not hurt him.”

  Robert gathered her close and stroked her hair. “The only way not to hurt him was to marry him. But you knew you did not suit. You rejected him in your heart even before you met me.”

  She sniffed. “I know. But I do care for him.” She looked at him through watery eyes. “He will leave us. I know he will. I wish I could help him.”

  “He will care for himself, better than you might think.” He set his hands on her shoulders. “To forget their misery, some men drink, or fight, or take women to their beds. Borland is different. He will bury himself in his work. He will transform his suffering into something extraordinary. I wish more of us did the same.”

  “Yes, mayhap this time.” She brushed tears from her cheeks. “But he cannot deny his feelings forever. Someday they will catch up to him. And then what?”

  He gave her a large handkerchief. “Then we will help him however we can.” He folded her into his arms again. Julia was right about Borland leaving. He would come back only to resign. But Robert would find him another job, if he wanted one.

  They waved once more at Borland’s departing figure, but he didn’t look back. Then he took a turn in the road and disappeared from view.

  Julia wiped her tears, and Robert turned them both back into the house’s warmth.

  Julia stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket. “I must check on the basket of food I will take back to Mrs. Henry.”

  “As you wish. Let me know when you want to go. I will be in the library.”

  Back in the library, Robert walked slowly around the desk. A piece of paper lay on the floor. He bent and picked it up.

  The bank draft. He tapped the paper against his chin. One way or another, he would make sure Borland received the money. If he remembered aright, Borland’s sister had married a London solicitor. Robert would have his man of business find this solicitor and entrust the money to him.

  He leaned a hip against the desk. His interview with Borland and the man’s departure had gone poorly.

  He twisted his lips. What an understatement. He looked like he wanted to hit me. I almost wish he had.

  Chapter 24

  “And here we are, back home.” Robert stopped the curricle on the drive in front of Julia’s house.

  The chickens cackled their usual greeting, and Mr. Henry strode over from the barn to see to the horse and carriage. A light dusting of snow covered the landscape, although the sky was clear and blue. A perfect winter’s day.

  Had he first driven here less than a fortnight ago? How much a man’s life could change in a few short days.

  Julia, beside him in the driver’s seat, removed the lap robe from her knees. “Although I thoroug
hly enjoyed visiting London, I am happy to return.”

  He jumped down and tossed the reins to a smiling Mr. Henry, and then helped Julia to descend. Then he held her close for a long kiss. “I am happy to be back, too.”

  The front door opened and Mrs. Henry emerged, wrapping her shawl around herself. “Welcome. Come in out of the cold.” She stood back to let them inside. “Oh, miss, you look fine as five pence.”

  “Do I not?” Julia twirled on the top step. She wore a brand-new red pelisse of superfine wool, a matching dress trimmed with velvet, furlined gloves and a white bonnet layered with silk flowers. “Robert’s mother took me shopping.”

  At Robert’s direction, his mother had taken Julia to her own modiste, who outfitted her with an entire new wardrobe in the first stare of fashion. Julia was beautiful in her old brown dress and paint-stained smock, but with new apparel, she sparkled like the Diamond of the First Water she was.

  His mother, wise woman that she was, had tut-tutted when Julia said she couldn’t wear colors yet because her father’s death had taken place less than a year ago. He and Julia would remain in the country, where few, if any, of the local people cared about such strictures, until her year was out.

  His mother, as her gift to them both, had also directed the modiste to create some very special items for Julia to wear on their wedding night. No matter how many times he and Julia asked what she had ordered, she refused to tell them. She just said they would be pleasantly surprised.

  Whatever Julia did or didn’t wear on their wedding night, he would be more than pleasantly surprised. But the fantasies he spun kept him warm until then.

  After they divested themselves of their outerwear, Mrs. Henry shooed them before her to the drawing room. “Her ladyship has excellent taste in clothes. As do you, your lordship, in ladies.”

  Indeed, what a difference a few days can make. Gone were the worn-out furnishings. A deep, soft carpet of royal blue covered the floor, with a matching sofa before the hearth. Leather wing chairs and polished tables that looked to be straight from the cabinetmaker filled the room. Gold velvet drapes framed the window, and the sweet scent of beeswax tapers filled the air, a welcome change from the burning-fat stench of the cheap tallow candles Julia had used before. The flowery beeswax odor mingled with the pungent fragrance of the pine boughs draped on the mantle and hung above the doorway. A large, cheerful fire leaped and snapped in the grate.

  Robert warmed his icy hands at the flames. “I see the coal I sent has arrived.”

  Mrs. Henry beamed. “We are now quite comfortable, thanks to you, sir. I keep the fire in the stove burning almost continuously as I bake holiday treats. I so enjoy that.”

  Julia also extended her fingers toward the warmth. “Your treats are a sight to behold. And even better to eat. I look forward to them.”

  Robert chuckled. “Use as much coal as you like. Plenty more where that came from.”

  “Miss, there have been so many improvements here since you left. Inside the house, and outside, too. And all due to you, sir.” Mrs. Henry bustled to the doorway. “Give me a moment, and I will fetch you some tea. Along with some of my treats.”

  Robert and Julia settled on the sofa, and he pulled her to him. Her softness fit so well beside him. He would never tire of holding her.

  She relaxed into his embrace. “So much has changed.”

  “As you say. And all for the better. We now have a special license, so we can wed at any time.” His blood heated. Soon, they would be able to express their love whenever they wished. “How about today?”

  She laughed, music he would always love to hear. “Gracious, we stopped off at the vicar’s house only an hour ago. Give the poor man some time. He is most willing to preside whenever we set the date.”

  “Especially since I gave him a large donation for the church.”

  “Stop funning. He would have done as much for anyone.”

  “Mayhap.” He grinned. “But the donation will make him all the more eager to wed us today, if we choose.” He nuzzled her neck. “And if we cannot marry today, how about checking the changes in the house? We can start with the ones in your bedchamber.”

  She laughed. “Not yet.”

  He pulled her nearer. “While I am vastly disappointed, we will spend our wedding night at Tyndall House.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We can try out your bedchamber here another night.”

  She laughed again before nestling closer to his side. “I liked staying at your townhouse. And I like your mother.”

  “She likes you, too.” How could anyone not like Julia? She was the most remarkable woman on earth.

  “I think she was surprised to see me.”

  “She was. For years, she has urged me to wed. And now, to show up with a bride a mere fortnight after her latest harangue? To think, I left London to escape from her insistence that I marry. How glad I am that I did.”

  “I worried when she asked to speak to you alone.”

  “Merely to confirm that I was happy. But you did all the work. You completely won her over. She is now over the moon about our betrothal.”

  “What a success the trip was.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “The gallery owner even paid me for my painting. I was afraid he would refuse.”

  Robert snorted. “With the man who bought the artwork standing beside you? Especially since that same man will soon be your husband? He would have been a fool to refuse.”

  “But I shall not send him any more paintings.”

  “A wise move. I am certain we can find you a better dealer.”

  “Thank you for letting me continue to paint.”

  “There is no permission on my part. I want you to be happy, and painting makes you happy.” He grinned. “I win, too. I wanted the artist who created Morning Mallard to paint pictures of my birds, and now I have her. And if you can make some coin by selling your other canvases, so much the better. The world should know of your talent, and pay to do so.”

  The clattering of china from the corridor announced the arrival of Mrs. Henry with the tea tray. “Here you are. Such fine Indian tea, sir. I thank you again.”

  Robert selected a red-and-green frosted biscuit from the plate she offered. “And here are your famous holiday treats.” He saluted the housekeeper with the confection. “For which I thank you, madam.”

  She blushed and urged him to take another. “I have plenty more in the kitchen.” She fussed over the tea things for a moment before quitting the room.

  For the next few minutes, they busied themselves drinking tea and sampling all the different types of biscuits.

  Julia finally sat back, her hands pressing against her stomach. “I do enjoy her treats, but I am now so full I may burst.”

  “More for me.” He bit into another biscuit.

  “You do like those sweets.” She walked her fingers up his arm. “Can I distract you?”

  He dropped the biscuit, grabbed her to him and kissed her.

  Sometime later, Robert leaned against the sofa back. “As much as I would like to stay, I had better return to my house.” He rose and pulled her up with him. “Until tomorrow, then. But first, I want a closer look at the changes the workers I sent over have wrought.”

  They bundled up and then stepped outside. The workmen had uprooted the ragged weeds from all around the house, scythed the unruly grass and replaced the rotted fence posts with new ones. Halfway down the drive, Robert shaded his eyes with his hand. “Ivy on the house all trimmed. Now we can see there is a building there, and not an enormous plant run wild. At my first sight of the place, I wondered if elves and sprites lived there.”

  Leaving footsteps in the snow, they rounded the house to the stable, and then the barn and the chicken yard.

  Robert stopped before the chicken pen. “The workmen did a good job of scraping the peeling paint off the barn and stable. But the new coat of paint will have to wait until the temperature warms in the spring. As will most of the rest of the outside work.”

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sp; “But everything looks so much better. And there is plenty of feed for the animals. A new start for the new year tomorrow.” She hugged him. “Thank you so much.”

  “Anything for you.” He grinned. “And, soon, the estates will merge.”

  “If I did not know better, I would think you wanted to marry me to acquire my farm.”

  “The farm is simply an added inducement. I really want to marry you so I do not have to pay for your paintings.”

  “Fustian.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Let us see what Machiavelli is up to.”

  “I had almost forgotten that fiend. Shows how you occupy my thoughts. For a while, I spent all my time cursing that blasted goose.”

  Loud honking sounded from the goose pen.

  “Ah, yes, happy goose calls.” He set his arm around her shoulders.

  Machiavelli swaggered around his pen, as arrogant as ever.

  Robert leaned an arm along the top rail of the fence. “Machiavelli, I thank you for introducing me to Julia, so to speak. I also take back my threat. You will never be the main course at my dinner table.”

  Machiavelli stopped. He swept one wing out to the side, put one large orange web in front of him, and with his weight on his back web, bent into a courtly bow, all the while looking at them. He paused as if awaiting their reaction, and then he straightened, folded his wing and waddled to his hut.

  Robert’s jaw sagged.

  So did Julia’s. “Did I see what I thought I saw?

  A chill swept over Robert’s skin. “More than once I have wondered if Machiavelli could understand English.”

  Julia bit her lip. “So have I. But we both know that cannot be true.”

  I hope not.

  One side of Julia’s mouth quirked up. “But if something involves Machiavelli, you can never be sure.”

  Robert shook his head. “There must be a rational explanation.” There has to be.

  He snapped his fingers. “Stretching! Yes, he stretched! I have often seen ducks and geese stand on one leg, while they stretch the wing and leg on the other side.” He frowned again at Machiavelli. “Yes, that is what he did. He stretched.” But I never saw a bird stretch like that.