Holly and Hopeful Hearts

by Caroline Warfield

  Baumann made his face stern with apparent effort. Adam might have worried but… The old man has a twinkle in his eye. That bodes well, doesn’t it?

  “My daughter has very influential and gracious friends. The event is for a good cause. Why would I not allow her to attend?” Baumann leaned forward confidentially. “She has her aunt to lend her countenance, and I have had assurance from Her Grace that the proposed Jewish Free School will receive some support.”

  Astounding. Adam wondered how the rabbis would react to that support. Before he could ask, another implication hit him. “Does Esther know the school is intended for boys only?”

  His employer looked discomforted. “She should,” he said. He waved a hand as if to dismiss the matter. “Change will come with time.”

  Adam had no time to debate issues, religious or secular. Esther is at Hollystone in any case, probably absorbing the duchess’s well-known progressive views. He shook off disappointment. “It is Esther—Miss Baumann—I wish to discuss.”

  Baumann’s amusement broke into the open. “I thought you might. What is it you want?”

  Two hours later, Adam left in the Baumann’s carriage. He refused shelter for the night, changed to another set of clothes only slightly less rumpled from travel than the ones he wore, packed the best he had, and agreed to several conditions, one of which he planned to ignore. He would go through the motions of accepting a matchmaker’s services only after he knew Esther’s heart. If she would not have him, he would not force tradition on her.

  Hollystone lay one long day by carriage from London or at most a day and a half. Adam planned, insofar as he thought it through rationally, to travel through the day in spite of his late start, to change horses, travel through the night on the main road, and to arrive the following morning. He forgot the rest of the world celebrated Christmas, he forgot he lacked an invitation, and he forgot to consider the roads made soft by days of rain and crowded with holiday travelers. The pace of the Baumann carriage, lurching slowly along rutted and pitted roads, gave him ample time to reconsider.

  By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon and a posting inn loomed ahead glowing in the orange light of sunset, Adam had had enough.

  “Two horses, sir?” the innkeeper whined. “I be hard pressed to find you one good saddle horse.” Behind him, the sound of drunken revelry and ribald songs filled the air. “I kin offer you a good meal tonight an’ a feast to break your fast tomorra’, but you may have to sleep in th’ taproom.”

  A wise man would take the offer. After a good night’s sleep, the horses would be rested. He could make Hollystone by nightfall, barring a broken axel or mired wheel. He glanced toward the taproom. Hollystone Hall’s revels would surely be more refined, but he wondered what sort of English customs Esther would be part of. Worse. What sort of English gentlemen has she met? He would go on.

  * * *

  Standing on the brick pavement in front of the solid stone walls of the Haverford Orphan Asylum, Esther listened to her friends and fellow guests serenade the young inmates with Christmas carols but did not join in, much though she admired them. She wondered if anyone serenaded the inmates of the Jewish orphanage in London on their holy days and felt a frisson of guilt. Her parents were patrons of the place, but she had visited it only once. When she watched Her Grace distribute little gifts, pat heads, and inquire about each child’s wellbeing, she realized how important personal touch was to those poor unfortunates and vowed to do better.

  “I could teach you the words,” a voice hissed in her ear. The Weasel sidled up to her. Many of the gentlemen, Hythe included, had found reasons to be elsewhere, but the Weasel had happily announced he would, “Protect the ladies. Have ’em almost to myself, don’t you know.”

  She forced a smile. “I know many of them, Mr. Winderfield for I’ve heard them often, but they aren’t my songs.”

  He looked momentarily taken aback. “Why, they are everyone’s—but of course! Not your tradition. I see. Do your people have Christmas songs, Miss Baumann?”

  Esther narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. “We have music for all our holy days,” she replied.

  “Holy days.” The Weasel chuckled. “Different ones, right? Stands to reason. Clever that.” He winged an arm. “Her Grace is ready to return to the Hall. May I?”

  She took his arm, hiding her reluctance. Honestly, Esther, the man is harmless. Merely foolish. Foolish and insensitive.

  The Weasel kept up a steady stream of chatter that required little of Esther other than nods and the occasional, “Why, yes, it was exciting.” The hunt. Lord Tipton's victory at billiards. Miss Cedrica Grenford’s victory at charades. It didn’t matter. He seemed more enthralled with his own commentary than Esther’s reaction.

  “I say, did you hear?” he asked at last, bending toward her.

  Esther sent a swift prayer of hope that he hadn't realized her inattention or noticed her heating face. “I apologize, Mr. Winderfield. I missed what you said.”

  “I asked what you planned for tomorrow. Not going to the church service, I’ll warrant.”

  “No. I’ll attend my aunt while the rest you go off to Saint Agnes in the Holly. We plan some quiet time. Perhaps we’ll peruse some improving tracts.”

  “I say, do Hebrew girls get those horrid tracts as well? My cousins loathe the things.”

  Luckily, Hollystone Hall loomed in front of them, their fellow guests let out a cheer, and no response seemed necessary. Esther turned her bonnet and cloak over to Reba, who met her in the front entrance, suddenly missing her mother more than she might have credited a week before. At Reba’s frown of concern, she managed a wan smile.

  A disturbance in the hall and murmurs of interest from the guests caught her attention, however. “Unexpected guest.” “Uninvited more like.” Other comments in speculative tones were unintelligible.

  Uninvited guest? A surge of hope almost upended Esther. Has Adam come? Did he have a change of heart? She tamped down her foolish thoughts. Adam was in France. Adam didn’t approve of house parties.

  “Good gad, m’cousin’s come!” the Weasel exclaimed.

  As high as her heart had soared, so it sank low. Esther took dejected steps up the stairs, determined to seek some solitude. She said a swift prayer for Adam, asking the Almighty to keep him safe, wherever he might be.

  Chapter 9

  Sleeping rough had become second nature to Adam, but when the lowing of sheep behind a low stone wall woke him up cold and hungry on Christmas morning, he vowed never to do it again. He had ridden almost to the door of Hollystone Hall in the wee hours of night before common sense led him to withdraw. Bad enough to arrive uninvited; worse to awaken the household hours before dawn.

  He rolled to sit, groaned, and put his head on his knees. Light stretched along the horizon at the end of the road. A few more hours loomed before he might present himself at the Hall. Two horses cropped the weeds where he had left them the night before. He rummaged in his bags for the stale, but filling, bread his erstwhile innkeeper grudgingly supplied along with the horses, one a decent hack and the other a reluctant carriage horse pressed into service primarily to carry his bags. The carriage nag had briefly served to relieve the other but was skittish when saddled.

  It took him an hour to locate a stream, and moments to wash. Adam briefly considered changing his clothing but gave it up as a hopeless case. Glancing at the sky, he shook his head. Still too early. Would the household be at breakfast? His stomach rumbled at the thought. No. I’ll wait another hour.

  His bound Torah with rabbinical commentary in the margins served him well and a stump made a perfect seat on which to read. His mind went unerringly to Beginnings.

  Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah. So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted.

  Isaac was comforted. He smiled at that and remembered Sarah Nahmany. Could Esther read this passage? Or the other… a man shall cling to his wife… Suddenly he wa
nted her to know Hebrew and the commentaries, too. Wanted it for her sake. When she was his wife, he would see to it. The thought warmed him while he waited for the sun to rise higher.

  * * *

  Esther suspected Aunt Dinah ignored every word she read, but there seemed little to do but go on. The household had gone to services. Surely they will be back soon. She sighed and continued reading.

  “Pardon the interruption, Miss Baumann. There’s a…” The footman’s hesitation seemed to rise from puzzlement. “…gentleman to see you. Shall I tell him you are not in? Ordinarily I wouldn't hesitate to deny him, but after the uproar yesterday, and Mr. Stanley said…”

  Clearly the unusual comings and goings had rattled the duchess’s staff. Esther heard over her morning coffee that both of the Duchess of Haverford’s sons had arrived quite late in the evening, causing almost as much of an uproar as the Weasel’s notorious cousin.

  “Did this gentleman leave a calling card?” Aunt Dinah sniffed. She had made her opinions of uninvited guests clear the night before.

  “No, ma’am. He said to tell Miss Baumann he came directly from France and had no time to—”

  Esther shot to her feet, the book forgotten in a heap at her feet. Her throat ached at the pounding of her heart.

  “Perhaps it is Viscount Rochlin. He was invited, was he not?” Aunt Dinah said in dampening tones.

  Esther stared over the footman’s shoulder through the open door.

  Aunt Dinah gave a weary sigh. “There is one way to find out,” the old woman declared. “Show him in, but remain at hand please.”

  The lanky form of Adam Halevy filled the doorway. The room seemed to shrink around him when he came forward to greet Aunt Dinah properly, though his eyes never left Esther who stood, stunned, in front of her chair.

  “Miss Baumann, my apologies for arriving unannounced. Your father informed me of your whereabouts and I… I, ah, had to come and see about your welfare,” he finished lamely.

  My welfare? The words shook Esther from her shock at the sight of him. My welfare? Why would I need a keeper? I’m under the duchess’s hospitality. All of her resentment rushed back.

  “I am well, as you can see,” she snapped. “I am a guest of this house, enjoying the duchess’s hospitality as you—” Are not…

  “Mr. Halevy! Mr. Stanley informed me of your arrival. I am so sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.” The Duchess of Haverford swept into the room, her cheeks rosy from the trip back from church, looked at the two young people, and quickly assessed the situation. “I understand you have a missive for me?”

  Adam bowed low. “Your Grace. I apologize for the intrusion.” Though his obeisance was entirely proper, Esther thought his travel dirt and dishevelment ruined the effect. What must Her Grace think?

  Adam retrieved a thick vellum packet from his coat. When Her Grace slit the wax and flipped it open, Esther recognized her father’s characteristic seal and dramatic handwriting.

  The duchess broke into a warm smile. “I’m delighted you have decided to contribute to our charity ball and even more delighted that you’ve arrived on time to assist with our holiday revels. I’ll certainly make you welcome as Mr. Baumann urges, but I fear accommodations are in short supply. You may imagine we are full to the rafters.”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, Your Grace. I’ll sleep over the stable if that would help. I don’t require much.”

  “Nonsense, young man! We do not put guests in the stable. Viscount Elfingham also arrived late. He took our last guest room, but he won’t mind sharing. I’m certain of it.” She looked him up and down shrewdly and murmured, “Yes, I think the two of you will get on nicely.” She rose, her warm smile encompassing both Esther and Adam. “Now, I’m sure you will want to clean up before you come to spend some time with our Miss Esther.”

  Cedrica Grenford entered.

  The duchess introduced the woman as her protégée. “She will show you up. You’ll find today’s itinerary in the room. Viscount Elfingham will be pleased to make your acquaintance. He could use an ally.”

  If that last remark piqued Adam’s curiosity, he showed no sign. He followed Cedrica. What else could he do? She watched him go, torn between relief and frustration. Why has he come? And why does the duchess think the Weasel’s cousin needs an ally?

  Chapter 10

  For one moment, regrettably brief, Adam saw joy in Esther’s face at his arrival. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, but the shutter went up too soon. He had no idea why expressing concern for her welfare made her dig in her heels, but it had. He suspected he might have to grovel. Does anyone understand women? he wondered, following the quiet young woman the duchess had introduced. I don’t. Perhaps a decent suit of clothing and a shave would help.

  She showed him to a modest-sized bedroom dominated by a massive and quite wide four-poster bed, before taking her leave discreetly. There will be room enough for two at least, he thought wryly. But I hope there aren’t more latecomers.

  A gentleman stood with his hands behind his back, looking out the window, and he turned at Adam’s arrival. His dark complexion and exotic air told Adam all he needed to know about Her Grace’s cryptic remark about allies. Adam wondered if anyone had told him he would have a roommate.

  The viscount seemed merely curious, if his raised brow was any indication.

  Adam straightened up and bowed. “My lord, I am Adam Halevy. I regret to tell you Her Grace has assigned me to share your room. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

  A warm smile lit Elfingham’s face. “No reason for regret. We latecomers must be grateful for any welcome at all.” He put out a hand. “Elfingham—James Winderfield. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Halevy.”

  Adam shook his hand, relieved the man didn’t seem to mind. How will he feel when he knows I’m a Jew? Rochlin didn’t mind. Perhaps this one won’t either.

  A discreet clearing of throat drew Adam’s attention, as did some commotion. His baggage had arrived. “If I may, Mr. Halevy, I will see to it your clothing is pressed and returned to you. If you have some to be laundered, may it wait until tomorrow? Her Grace gives servants some time for themselves on Christmas,” the young footman who brought it said earnestly.

  Adam thanked him and requested hot water for shaving.

  The footman promised it would arrive but said, “We being that short today, and you with no valet, it may be some time before I can return to shave you.”

  “Not needed. I manage to shave myself daily.”

  The servant withdrew, looking absurdly grateful.

  “They do like to make us helpless, don’t they?” Elfingham said. “As if a man can’t see to his own needs.”

  Adam counted that notion in the viscount’s favor. He took a good look at the man he would be forced to share space with for a week. Tall and dark, the viscount gave the impression of coiled strength. His manners put Adam quickly at his ease, particularly after Adam laid his Torah with its Hebrew titles on the shared desk, and Elfingham did not so much as raise an eyebrow.

  Sometime later, Adam paused at the door behind which the buzz of conversation rose and fell. He would socialize. He got on easily with Elfingham, and he counted Rochlin a friend. Perhaps he could even find Esther’s comfort with English society, if not her joy. He would even celebrate their holy day if he had to. But he would talk to Esther alone as soon as he could manage it and lay his heart open. He could only hope she might do the same.

  * * *

  * * *

  Esther floated through the afternoon in shock. She could think of only one reason Adam had come. Papa sent him to check on me. She was not about to give the arrogant man the time of day and put her efforts into staying away from him.

  Cards, music, and quiet occupations filled the afternoon, and Esther managed to sidestep Adam at every turn. For once she had been grateful for the Weasel, who danced attendance and managed to avoid completely insulting Adam when he realized Adam was Jewish as well.

  Th
e one time she found herself alone, he began to walk toward her. She spun around to Cedrica Grenford and begged her to come upstairs to check a tear in her hem. There was, of course, no problem with her gown.

  When she returned to the drawing room, tea had been delivered, and people sat in small groups around the room, enjoying the bounty of the house. Her restless gaze found Adam standing with the Belvoir ladies and their brother. He smiled down at Felicity Belvoir, who looked utterly rapt.

  Esther knew she should move. All afternoon she had avoided him, but at that moment, she could not make her feet move. What has Felicity so fascinated? Is he telling her about Spain? Did he actually meet Wellington? What of his perilous journey? Longing to know kept her fixed in place even as her stubbornness urged her to move away before someone noticed she stared. Too late! Hythe glanced up, saw her, and smiled.

  Hythe bowed over her hand and said, “Your friend has had quite an epic adventure.”

  “Is that what he’s telling Felicity?” she asked with a haughty shake of her head.

  Hythe’s lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks heat. When he offered his arm, panic set in. Does he mean to walk me back to his sisters? Adam is there, the wretch!

  Hythe followed the direction of her eyes. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Miss Baumann?” he asked. When she laid a shaking hand on his and nodded, he patted her with his gloved one, changed the topic of conversation to riding mishaps at the hunt, and soon had her laughing.

  An hour later, Esther, relieved to have passed the afternoon without being cornered, felt composed and less shaken. If Mr. Halevy wishes to speak with me, I’ll permit it. It is foolish to allow him to discomfort me. I’ll be all that is cool and in control.

  When she spied him across the room speaking with one of the Duke of Ashbury’s daughters, he looked at her across the expanse of room and smiled with such sweetness that her heart skipped two beats, her composure fled, and her toe caught on the rug. Esther might have stumbled had not a gentleman caught her elbow before she fell. She looked up at a tall gentleman with piercing eyes and a swarthy complexion. The Weasel’s cousin. How could two men be more different? she wondered, even as she thanked him graciously.