Windemere’ (The McKenzie Brothers)

by Kimberly Nee

  She pulled her teacup closer and brought the cup to her lips. The mouthful of tea gave her a chance to gather her thoughts. When her wits were sufficiently gathered, she lowered the cup and managed a, “Good morning, Mr. McCallister,” that was neither too breathy nor too cheery.

  He smiled as he took his seat across from her. “A good morning to you as well, Miss McKenzie. How are you faring on this lovely day?”

  Garrett finally looked up from his paper. “Good morning, Julian.” His eyes narrowed sharply as he looked from Mary, to Emma, and then to Drew, all innocently sipping or chewing. “What did I miss?”

  Drew shrugged, setting down his mug. “Nothing yet. But watch.”

  Emma shot him a glare. “Just drink your coffee,” she muttered. Then, ever mindful of Drew’s knowing stare, she managed what she hoped was a normal smile at Julian. Thankfully, her belly remained calm and her nerves steadied. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. “I’m faring just fine today, Mr. McCallister. And yourself?”

  “Wonderful.” A surreptitious wink accompanied this, and it undid the calmness through her. The butterflies flapped wild wings as they flitted about from the pit of her belly up into her throat. She swallowed hard against them, willing them into quiet submission.

  “You’re awful cheery this morning, McCallister.” Garrett folded his newspaper to set alongside his plate. “Spend some time at Molly’s, did you?”

  “Garrett!” Momma’s gasp brought a smile to Emma’s lips and a chuckle to Papa’s, one he tried to hide behind his hand. Molly’s was one place that was rarely brought up in polite conversation, and never at the dining table. But that didn’t stop everyone from snickering, even if they were shocked. Even Mary snorted, although she did a fair job of hiding it behind her napkin.

  To his credit, Julian simply smiled. “No, McKenzie, I didn’t set one foot inside Molly’s. I slept well for the first time in months. No bed is as comfortable as one of Stonebridge’s.”

  “I think I might be sick.” Drew dabbed at his lips with his napkin.

  “Oh, hush,” Mary broke in. “He’s right. When we go to St. Kitts, I barely sleep a wink on that hard bed I always end up with. The floor is softer.”

  Emma picked up her fork to poke at her eggs. They were runnier than usual, and not appealing at all. But then her stomach growled to let her know a bit of toast just wasn’t enough for a meal. “These beds are comfortable. I hate having to get out of mine.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Julian groan as he sank into his chair? A faint flush swept over his cheekbones.

  Drew must have heard it, too, for he set down his cup to stare pointedly at Julian. “Everything all right over there?”

  “Everything’s fine.” Looking only slightly ruffled, Julian set down his plate and reached for his fork. “I just twisted funny.”

  It was Papa’s turn to affix his stare on Julian, and Emma waited for him to say something. However, all he did was bring his cup up, sipped from it, and then lowered it. “I’m going to attempt to go into town. Does anyone need anything?”

  Momma, who was pouring herself a second cup of tea, nodded. “I do. I think I’ll go with you.”

  “Just give me a list, love. I don’t want you out in this cold.” Papa took a sip of his coffee and added, “Garrett can go with me if it’s a long list. And knowing you, it is. I’m going to spend all day in Brunswick, aren’t I?”

  “Unfair. You make it sound as if I do nothing but shop.” Momma’s eyes sparkled at his teasing. “And for your information, Mr. McKenzie, there is only one thing on my so-called list. I need more cloves for the wassail. I’m afraid the guests would riot if I didn’t serve it.”

  “Is that it?” Papa asked.

  “You almost sound disappointed,” she replied, stirring a bit of cream into her tea. “If you like, I can add much more. I was thinking about redecorating the library and possibly Garrett’s chambers.”

  “What’s wrong with Garrett’s chambers?” Papa cut off a slice of ham.

  “Nothing, that’s what.” Garrett wiped his mouth then dropped his napkin onto his plate. “They’re fine just the way they are, and I’d rather not come home again to find new wallpaper and new draperies. The last time you chose to redecorate, it was months before I found all of my things. And I’m not even sure I have found all of them.”

  “It would be better if he came home to find all of his belongings somewhere else,” Drew chimed, leaning back in his chair, an angelic smile on his face. “Isn’t it time you set up your own residence?”

  “Why are you so anxious to for me to leave?” Garrett asked. “Am I under your oversized feet? And besides, I don’t see you offering to go anywhere.”

  “Funny. If you haven’t noticed, it’s miserable out there. Whoever insulted Mother Nature should apologize and fast. Maybe then we’ll get the sun back. And if we do, I’ll be more than happy to help you look for a new home.”

  “Or I can help you,” Garrett offered with a glower.

  “Now, now.” Momma clapped her hands, shooting both Drew and Garrett a sharp look. “That’s enough bickering. Fair enough, Garrett. I won’t touch your chambers. At least, not yet.”

  Emma sighed. “I don’t miss this at all when you’re both at sea. It’s much quieter then.”

  “You’re just peeved because we all know you don’t greet any morning bright-eyed. And yet, today…” His voice trailed off, only to return with a note of triumph in it. “Today, you look almost radiant, sister dear. It’s just a bit curious.”

  A bit of dry toast caught in her throat and she gagged, trying to stave off the cough. It wasn’t meant to be, and she sucked in a sharp breath, inhaling even more brittle crumbs. They clogged her throat even worse, and tears flooded her eyes as she hacked and sputtered in desperation to clear her airway.

  Whump! Her brother clapped her firmly across the back, and it almost knocked her clean out of her chair. She gasped and wheezed as Drew pounded on her once more.

  Finally, the toast cried quarter and she was able to clear her throat with a mouthful of tea. Thankfully it was only tepid. Had it been hot, she’d have begun choking all over again.

  “Are you all right, Em? Can you breathe?” Rebecca darted from her chair at the foot of the table and hurried to the far end to crouch before her daughter.

  Emma’s eyes still watered and her nose began running to shred the last of any dignity she had remaining. Still, she nodded and attempted to wave Momma off. “I’m fine, Momma. Or I will be in a few minutes.”

  Drew leaned forward, and she blocked him as he moved to clap her on the back again. “No. Don’t you dare touch me again, Drew. I think you cracked two bones in my spine and I can’t spare any more.”

  “Sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine,” she rasped. Her throat ached, feeling scratched and raw in places. She swallowed her tea, which offered only the slightest comfort. She just wanted to drink her tea and survive the rest of this family breakfast without anyone discovering that she and Julian were sharing intimacies that would soon lead them to even more intimacies.

  She rubbed her neck and shifted back to find Julian glaring at her brothers. His jaw tightened and he scowled at both Garrett and Drew. But he remained silent. Thank God for small favors. There would be no way to explain why Julian had suddenly turned on both of his friends.

  That made her smile, but she was quick to duck her head to keep it to herself. He wanted to court her. Marriage would be the next step. Her heart skipped that odd little beat as she bent over her plate. Married to Julian. It was all she had ever wanted.

  She forced herself back to the discussion over who was going into town.

  Momma sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand. “All of this over cloves? Perhaps I should just go and fetch them myself.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Papa’s eyes narrowed beneath their heavy brows, and he wagged a finger at Momma. “Garrett’s already coming and I think Drew should
as well.”

  Drew looked less than enthused, even as he said, “If I must.”

  “What about Mr. McCallister?” Mary asked, pushing her plate away. “You’re going to leave him here, surrounded by females? Do you think that’s wise? Or even a nice thing to do to him?”

  Julian smiled. “I have business of my own in town. I need to get a letter to Boston and hope Mr. Percival isn’t too put off by delaying our meeting. I can only hope he’s caught up in Christmas merriment.”

  Momma waved a hand toward him. “Give me your post, Mr. McCallister. Captain McKenzie can see that it gets on the mail boat to Boston.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. McKenzie. I’d greatly appreciate it. I’ll get it after breakfast.”

  And for the remainder of the meal, the bantering faded as one by one, Papa, Garrett, and Drew finished and left their plates for the maid.

  Emma breathed a silent sigh of relief when Julian set his coffee cup down and rose.

  “If you will excuse me, I’ll get that letter for you, Mrs. McKenzie. A good morning to you, ladies.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Mr. McCallister.” Mary smiled up at him, and Emma wondered if her own face showed the same moonstruck expression that lit up Mary’s face. She hoped not. Words written across her face couldn’t give her away more easily.

  Her stomach jumped when Julian smiled at them. Her skin tingled. How was that even possible? The runny eggs were tasteless in her mouth, so she swallowed convulsively to get them down. She coughed again and reached for her tea.

  “Are you all right?” Momma asked, rising.

  Emma nodded, waving for her mother to remain in her seat. She forced down another mouthful of lukewarm tea. Her windpipe cleared and she managed to croak, “I’m fine. It just went down the wrong way.”

  Although she didn’t look entirely convinced, Momma lowered back into her chair. When it was clear Emma wasn’t about to drop dead out of her chair, Momma’s forehead smoothed and she looked from Emma to Mary. “So what do you girls have planned for today?”

  Mary dropped her fork into her plate to bury her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled as she groaned, “I’m still fighting with that lace. I just can’t get it straight, Momma.”

  “I can help you,” Emma offered. She didn’t know how much help she would be, but at least it would help pass the time. Her own gown was laundered and pressed and ready for the next day.

  The McKenzie Christmas festivities were one of Emma’s favorite events. Her family didn’t host many parties or balls, but she couldn’t recall a Christmas where Stonebridge wasn’t alive with her family’s closest friends. And this year, with everyone home for the first time in several years, it would be even more special.

  Julian would be here.

  “Would you? I’d like that.” Mary stood to add her plate to the growing stack on the sideboard then paused in the doorway to add, “Momma, may I add something to your list?”

  Momma smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask. What is it?”

  “Scotch’s had the most wonderful rose-scented perfume in these beautiful little bottles. All the way from France.”

  Momma sighed, but nodded. “How many bottles did you want? Or is one enough?”

  Mary let out an airy laugh. “One is fine.”

  “And you, Emma?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, Momma. I still have the perfume Papa brought me back from the West Indies.”

  “That one that smells like fish oil?” Mary asked.

  “It doesn’t smell like fish.” Emma stacked her plate atop Mary’s and slid her fork into the basket beside the plates. “It smells like coconut and I love it.”

  “It’s awful, Em.”

  “Why? Because it doesn’t smell like roses? Everyone smells like roses. I, on the other hand, don’t want to. Besides —” she tossed her knife into the basket with a little more force than was necessary “—you like roses. I don’t. I prefer coconut. Is that so terrible?”

  “Enough,” Momma broke in before Mary could respond. “One is no better than the other, and both are lovely in their own right. Now, Emma, before you go up, I’d like a word with you. Mary, you may go now.”

  Mary’s brows rose as she looked at Emma. She angled her head toward their mother, and gestured with it as if to ask, What’s going on?

  Emma shrugged.

  “Mary.”

  “Yes, Momma.” Mary left the room without looking back.

  Emma moved to the chair closest to Momma’s. “Is something the matter, Momma?”

  “Is something troubling you? You still seem a bit flushed. I know you don’t have a fever, but how do you feel otherwise?”

  “I’m fine, Momma. I woke up with a headache, that’s all.” Perhaps it should have bothered her, how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, but since the truth was far scarier, it didn’t bother her at all.

  Still, guilt rose up as her mother’s expression went from stern back to concern, her eyes softened and worry lines creased her forehead. “Another one? Perhaps we should send for the doctor.” She leaned across the table to press her cool hand against Emma’s forehead.

  Emma swallowed hard. She should have said anything other than not feeling well.

  “That isn’t necessary, Momma. They usually go away before supper, and this one probably will, too.” She forced a smile to her lips. She didn’t like lying to her mother, or to anyone, for that matter. It would be a relief when the time came when she wouldn’t have to lie, when she could beam in Julian’s presence and pretend to be horrified and shocked when someone made a joke about Julian being the reason for her glow.

  But until that happened, she’d have to lie and hope she didn’t get her stories mixed up.

  Her explanation seemed to mollify Momma. She lifted the silver tea service to refill her cup. “If you say so. I suppose I’m worrying over nothing. Why don’t you go up and help your sister before we’re sending her to an asylum over something as silly as lace?”

  “I am, although we know how skilled I am with a needle and thread. You might wish to offer up a small prayer for her.”

  “I just might do that.”

  Emma moved to the door. “I’m going to have Amanda send us a tray for lunch. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a long afternoon for the McKenzie sisters.”

  She darted from the room before her mother could think of any other reason to call her back. Even after she moved beyond earshot, she hurried along the narrow hall to the rear staircase, the one closest to her room. An afternoon wrestling stubborn lace into place. It was going to be a long afternoon, indeed.

  Chapter Nine

  CHRISTMAS DAY STARTED OUT the same as it had for as long as Emma could remember, with Amanda breezing into her room, a warm, “Happy Christmas, Miss McKenzie” on her lips.

  Emma eased down from her perch on the corner of the low chest near the window, where she’d been watching a beautiful cardinal nestled in a pine tree. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Amanda.” She crossed back to her bed. “Am I the last one awake?”

  “No. Hardly.” Amanda went to the wardrobe, opening it to lay out Emma’s clothing for the day. “I believe your brothers and Mr. McCallister are still abed. I think they were out late last eve,” she added in a low, conspiratorial voice.

  She said this just as Emma was drawing her night rail over her head, and the words made Emma freeze halfway out of the gown. Julian had gone carousing with her brothers? That left a bit of a burn in her belly, one that brought a sour taste rising up in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard against it and hoped her voice didn’t squeak as she replied, “Were they?”

  “Oh, I think so.” Amanda whisked the night rail the rest of the way off Emma and draped it over one arm. “Dunstan was muttering about how the only thing that smells worse than stale smoke is—” She cut herself off and cleared her throat.

  A hint of a blush stained Amanda’s cheeks as she hurriedly deposited the night rail in the basket by the wardrobe and th
en returned with a fresh chemise, which she held out. “I beg your pardon, Miss McKenzie.”

  “It’s all right.” Emma donned the chemise then turned away from Amanda so the maid could lace her corset. From there, she dressed in a gown of soft peach and was ready to go below.

  Two hours later, the McKenzie women were in the carriage, while the men rode on horseback, and off they all went into town. Emma sat beside Mary, who smelled lovely wearing her new rose-scented French perfume, and across from her mother.

  Momma seemed to frown at first, but then the frown disappeared and Emma wondered if she’d only imagined it. Besides, what could her mother be frowning about? Emma couldn’t figure out why her mother should be upset. Her father had given her mother a pearl cameo on a delicate green velvet choker, so she couldn’t be upset at him. Emma had given her a bottle of perfume similar to the one Mary wore now, so she couldn’t be upset at her.

  So if her frown was real, what could have caused it?

  Emma bit back a groan. Did Momma suspect that she and Julian—

  Oh, please. Not that.

  Heat speared her through her middle and thankfully, it went no higher. The thought of her mother imagining her and Julian in their steamy embrace—oh, bloody hell—she wanted to sink right through the carriage seat.

  She was never so happy to reach the small white church on the corner of Sycamore and Pines Streets. It was crowded, with every family box filled. Emma found herself sitting behind Julian and Drew, which meant she would not be able to see the priest at all. Although Julian was shorter than Drew, she was still shorter than both of them. All she could see were the tops of ladies’ bonnets. Voices were phantoms, known only by timbre. Faces had to be imagined, which sometimes worked out for the best since occasionally, an odd-looking chap with a wart on his chin and a lazy eye would be saying Mass.

  “Miss McKenzie!” Lydia Morris smiled from her family’s box right behind Emma. “It’s so nice to see you. Is everyone ready for the invasion of merrymakers later?”