“This is a story about the Twelfth Night, the last of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and the highlight of the Yuletide holidays. Throughout the colonies, as they do in England, people dance, drink, and eat huge meals to celebrate. Sometimes they eat so much, they start to see things they normally can’t or do things they normally wouldn’t do. Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Polly said, “hurry.”
So Jane began. “This is the story called, ’The Haunted House; a Twelfth-day Tale’.” Jane paused to smile at the children.
“On Twelfth Night, in the Year 1771, a large Company was assembled at the Seat of Edmund Williams, Esq. in Berkshire, to partake of the usual Diversions of the Evening. When Supper was over, and the Twelfth-Cake had been shared, with the customary Scene of Frolic, the Company began to think of departing; but as the Weather proved unfavorable, and most of the Company had a considerable way home, Mr. Williams accommodated as many of them as possible with Beds; but there was still one young Gentleman (Captain Darnley) unprovided for and Mr. Williams frankly told him he had no room in which to lodge him, but one that was supposed to be haunted; and though (continued he) I have no Idea of such nonsense myself, we never yet could get any person to lodge in that Room. Young Darnley said he should be proud of lodging in such a Room; and Preparations were immediately made for his reception; a good Fire being Lighted, and a Candle placed on a Table near it. The Captain retired to rest, and after reflecting an Hour on the oddity of his situation, fell a Sleep. About three o’clock he was awakened by the opening of the Chamber Door, and not a little surprised to see a genteel Figure in White Walk slowly towards the Bed. The Candle burnt dim, and the Captain, with all his Courage, was too much alarmed to judge what the Apparition was. At length it turned down the bed cloths, and came softly into Bed. The Captain found that it breathed, and was then less terrified. At length he extended his Arm towards it, and felt a Finger, from which he slipped a Ring. Soon afterwards the Ghost left the Bed, stalked slowly across the Room, and shut the Door after it. The Captain slept in tranquility during the remainder of the Night, and in the Morning, when the Company were assembled at Breakfast, he asked if any Person had lost a Ring.”
“Had they?” Polly asked.
Jane looked down, and continued reading.
“Miss Williams declared herself Mistress of it.”
“What does mistress of it mean?” Martha asked.
“It means that she owned it. It was her ring,” Jane explained.
“Then what happened?” Little John asked. “Was she a ghost at nighttime?”
“Darnley related the particulars of the visit of the ghost, not a little to the confusion of the young Lady.
“Mr. Williams took up the matter in a fresh point of view, and said that as his Daughter had gone to Bed to the Captain without her Knowledge, it should be his Fault if he did not go to Bed to her in return.”
“What does that mean?” Martha asked.
“It means a young lady should never be in a man’s bedroom especially at night and in his bed unless they are married,” Stephen said firmly. “Since she was, and he did not prevent her, he was forced to marry her.”
Jane smiled at her husband, ever the protective father, and continued.
“The Captain most joyfully accepted the Terms; a happy Marriage soon ensued, and he has called his Lady by the Name of his Dear Ghost ever since.”
“That wasn’t terribly scary,” Little John complained. “She was just sleepwalking.”
“But it was romantic,” Martha said.
Stephen frowned at her.
“Aunt Artis, do you know any truly scary stories, ones like you told before about Scotland?” Little John asked. “Scarier than that one? And longer?”
Evidently, Little John’s standards for ghost stories were quite high, Sam thought.
“Oh, aye,” Artis responded, sitting up straighter in Bear’s lap. “’Tis said Scotland is the most haunted place on the earth. So, we have more than our share of both ghosts and ghost stories.”
“Nay,” Bear said, “she’s much too tired tonight to tell a story. Artis will save her story for Christmas Eve. I think we should all retire early. ‘Twas a long day for all of us and we need to be quiet so Catherine can sleep.” Bear’s big hand moved up and down Artis’ back.
Little John looked disappointed but was soon engaged in a debate with Martha about why ghost stories were much more entertaining than romantic stories. Polly seemed to be moderating.
Kelly, sitting next to William, had evidently been watching Bear and Artis too because she giggled.
Sam knew exactly what Kelly was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. He took a swallow of the wine and suddenly got an inspiration.
“Catherine is deep asleep. I just checked,” Sam said. “I don’t think we need to worry about keeping her awake. Bear, the night’s young and we don’t have a chance to visit that often. If Artis is tired, she can go on to bed. Why don’t you and I play a card game against Stephen and William? A nice long card game into the wee hours is just what I need to take my mind off everything.”
Kelly caught on quickly. “I agree, Sam. We will have precious few evenings for all of us to visit together. Why spend them sleeping?”
Bear’s brows drew together in a definite frown.
Sam had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.
William caught on and joined in, amusement flickering in his twinkling blue eyes. “A long card game is an excellent idea, Sam. The newlyweds will have plenty of time to sleep when they’re back at Highland.”
“I love that name for your new home by the way, Bear,” Sam said. “I want you to tell me all about it.”
Bear took a deep breath, and let it out.
Sam continued. “How’d you build it? How many rooms? Did you build it with logs or brick? How long did it take?”
Bear rolled his eyes and then frowned.
“Too many questions at once?” Sam asked. “Don’t worry, we have all night.”
Artis smiled at Bear and said, “I am rather tired husband. While you answer Sam’s questions, I’m goin’ to bed. Good night all.” She stood, gave Bear a quick kiss, and with of swoosh of her skirt, she turned to leave.
“Perhaps I should come too,” Bear said, quickly standing up, “ye know how ye get nightmares when ye sleep in strange places.”
Surprisingly, Artis didn’t pick up on Bear’s underlying intent or if she did, she was ignoring it. She turned around. “Bear, yer room here is the first strange place I’ve slept in since we’ve been married,” she said, “and I slept quite well last night. And I intend to again this night!”
As Artis left, Bear closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, giving up. His romantic intentions would have to wait for another night. He groaned a bit and then sat back down, arms crossed in front of his chest.
Jane stood to leave too. “Come children. Time to quit arguing and go to bed.”
Stephen stood up to go help his wife get the children to bed, as he usually did. “Come now, sweet dreams await you.” He reached out for Polly’s hand.
They all whined a bit, forgetting their promise to Jane, but they got up and trudged off toward their rooms followed by Jane and Stephen. “I’ll tuck Little John in for you Sam,” Stephen called back.
“I’ll be there in just a minute, Little John,” Sam said.
Kelly stood in front of Bear. “You’re looking a bit peaked, Bear,” she said, “don’t you think so Sam?”
“Yes, his color is a little sickly,” Sam answered. “I noticed that earlier.”
“His face does appear wan and drawn,” William agreed. “It could be he’s just overly tired.”
“Perhaps you should go to bed now after all, Bear,” Sam said, sympathetically. “I won’t have you getting sick just before Christmas. Kelly, you can be my partner in our card game.”
Kelly couldn’t seem to help herself and started giggling. She tried to hold up a hand to
stifle her giggles, but in spite of herself, she started laughing. William soon joined her, laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach.
When Sam could no longer hold it back, he laughed triumphantly. He was reminded of the days when they would play practical jokes on one another. This might be one of his best.
Bear stood, finally catching on to their game, his eyes lit with annoyance. He glared at the three of them, but only for a moment or two. Then, he threw back his head and his deep laugh rumbled through the air.
Sam slapped Bear on the back. “Go join your lovely bride,” he said, still chuckling. “And lock your door!”
“Aye, to be sure,” Bear murmured, half laughing, half crying himself.
Chapter 29
The next morning, Catherine dressed quietly to let Sam sleep. She could always come back later to polish up her hair and face and don her jewelry before their Christmas Eve celebrations. She had no idea what time he came to bed, but knowing his brothers, they probably kept him up half the night.
She found Mrs. Wrigley hard at work in the kitchen with Miss Henk and Rory both helping her. What was he doing in the kitchen?
“Good morning everyone!” she said entering. “Can a woman get a cup of hot coffee in here?”
“Catherine!” Rory said. “How do you feel?”
“Never better,” she answered truthfully.
“Any pains at all?” he asked.
“None at all. I’m just exceedingly thirsty,” she said, pouring herself a cup from the pot hanging in the hearth. She added a touch of cream and sugar to make it easier on her stomach and blew on the brew, anxious for it to cool.
“We have everything already underway,” Mrs. Wrigley said, “thanks to these two helping me.”
“Don’t tell me you can cook too?” Catherine asked Rory.
“No, but I follow instructions well,” he said, chuckling.
“He’s doing quite well,” the cook said. “As is Miss Henk. She has the mincemeat all ready for my pie crusts.”
“What’s for breakfast?” Catherine asked. “I’m ravenous.”
“I just put your favorite cinnamon rolls in the oven. They should be ready in about a quarter of an hour,” Mrs. Wrigley answered.
“Is anyone else up yet?” she asked.
“Only Mrs. MacKay,” Miss Henk answered. “She put on her coat and went outside a short while ago.”
“Thank you, Miss Henk,” Catherine said. “I think I shall do the same and join Artis.”
“Don’t stay out in the cold too long,” Rory cautioned.
“I’ll help you with your cloak,” Miss Henk volunteered, drying her hands.
“No, you’re entirely too busy. I can manage,” Catherine said.
She found Artis standing on the front porch drinking her coffee. The crisp air outside made Catherine shiver a little, but it was pleasant, refreshing even after the warmth of the hot kitchen. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morn to ye,” Artis replied, turning around. “Are ye feelin’ well?”
“Yes, indeed,” Catherine said.
“I’m elated Sam and Rory were able to turn the babe successfully. Ye must be so relieved,” Artis said.
“It was a miracle. It took me a while to go to sleep simply because I had so much to thank God for,” Catherine replied. “Are you enjoying the view?”
“’Tis lovely, without a doubt,” Artis answered, gazing about them.
“Anything like Scotland?” Catherine asked.
“A wee bit. There’s far more trees here than the Highlands. And we have more rivers and lochs. But they are both beautiful in their own way.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Aye. But I miss my Da and Mum more than anything. And the rest of our clan too.”
“Are your parents dead?”
“Aye. My Da died of an illness the year before I left.”
“And your mother?”
Artis swallowed and chewed on her lower lip for a moment before she spoke. “She was murdered, right before my eyes. At the hands of the Countess of Sutherland’s estate factor. He burned our entire village and forced us off our land. My mother refused to leave.”
Catherine gasped and took hold of Artis’ gloved hand. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry. I wouldn’t have asked had I known.”
“My Mum was a fine woman and I loved her dearly. I miss her greatly,” Artis said. A tear slid down her rosy cheek. She let go of Catherine’s hand and swiped it away.
They both watched a cardinal land on a nearby tree branch. Its striking red color stood out bright and bold against the white snow.
“They say that when a cardinal appears in your yard, it’s a message from heaven,” Catherine told her. “From someone you love.”
“Aye? Do ye suppose it could be my Mum?” Artis sounded like she desperately wanted it to be true.
“I do,” Catherine said. “She heard you say you loved her and missed her. That’s what brought her messenger here.”
“I’m glad,” Artis said, with a wide grin. “Perhaps she’ll see how happy I am here in Kentucky with Bear and his wonderful family. And how very much I love him.”
“And how greatly he loves you,” Catherine said.
Beneath Artis’ pretty smile, Catherine could tell there were hidden wounds. What had she gone through before she found Bear? Catherine sensed that there was a great deal more to Artis’ story. However, now was not that time to pursue it. She needed to get back inside for her baby’s sake.
“You know, I once heard someone say,” Catherine said, “that a person should write their hurts in sand and their blessings in stone. I bet it would work if you wrote your hurts in snow too.”
“Aye, perhaps ‘tis somethin’ I should try. But I’ll write my blessin’s on me heart so I can keep them forever.”
The men, except Rory who stayed to help Mrs. Wrigley, all left very early together to hunt the Christmas turkey. By mid-morning, Catherine heard them raucously singing carols loud enough to awaken every sleeping forest animal.
The women, peering out through the front window, watched them return with a bird so large Catherine wondered how on earth Mrs. Wrigley would ever manage to cook it.
Catherine stopped the half-soused bunch of them at the door. “No, you’re not coming in here with that foul fowl!” she told them. “It smells.”
Bear stared at her for a moment and then smiled cheekily. “It can na smell—‘tis dead! Sam shot it!”
“That’s just silly,” Catherine said, smiling despite herself. She made them promise to pluck and dress the bird before they ever brought it in the house.
“Sam still has an eagle’s eye,” William said, his own eyes looking a bit blurry.
Sam, with an irresistibly charming grin, pointed to one of his eyes, and winked at her. Lord how she loved that smile. His time spent outdoors with his brothers must have been just what Sam needed. There was a bit of a whiskey induced twinkle in his normally steely eyes. His dark windswept hair framed his strong jaw and made him look more relaxed than normal. She took a moment to admire her husband’s impressive build. His coat hung open and his fawn-colored buckskin shirt stretched across the muscles of his broad chest. His black leather breeches clung to narrow hips and muscular legs. She lifted her eyes to his lips and suddenly found herself wanting to kiss them. Quickly, she cleared her throat and looked away, trying to recover her composure.
Stephen seemed to be the most clearheaded and told them, “Come on big brothers, let’s prepare this bird for a feast!”
Bear, William and Stephen stepped off the porch. They sat down at a nearby outdoor table, plopped the bird down in the middle, and started the plucking. She stepped back inside the house, but could hear their boisterous laughter even from inside.
Sam followed her inside to refill their flasks, and then the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Beyond his cold lips she savored the warmth of his mouth, tasting the sweet oaky taste of the whiskey he’d drunk. Enjoying the kiss, Catheri
ne sensed his need for her as he tugged her closer. But that would have to wait for now. When his hands started to roam, she reluctantly took a step back, out of his arms, and strode toward the kitchen. Smiling back at her handsome husband, she hurried away.
In the kitchen, she instructed Miss Henk to bring a tray out to the men bearing cups of hot apple cider and Mrs. Wrigley’s fresh cinnamon scones.
After they finished the plucking and delivered the bird to Mrs. Wrigley, Sam and Bear carried an enormous oak yule log through the front door and over to the front room hearth.
“That will never fit!” Catherine exclaimed.
“It will. I measured it before I cut it,” Sam retorted. “Measure first, cut second.”
To her astonishment, it did fit, but dampened by snow it took Sam and Bear both some time to finally get the oak to burn well.
While they worked on the yule log, Catherine asked the other women to scatter about the house and distribute the sachet bags they had all made while the men were hunting. They’d filled the little silk bags with dried rose petals, miniature pine cones, and pungent herbs and spices, including rosemary and cinnamon, infusing the home with a pleasant holiday scent. The delightful smell made all the hard work she’d put into her garden last spring and summer well worth the effort. When the three returned, she gave each of them a larger sachet to take home.
The men gathered outside again and built a huge bonfire, well beyond the front porch so as to not risk setting the house on fire. Catherine peeked out later and saw the bonfire blazing, the older children and men standing around it. She and the other women decided to join them and put on warm coats and cloaks, and bundled up Nicole and Samuel.
Playing his fiddle, William led them in singing several lively songs. As the evening progressed, the carols they would sing would become progressively more spiritual. He would save the most inspirational for last. Those carols, sung by night in the open air, were always the most moving and poignant to Catherine.
In keeping with tradition, at eight o'clock the children gathered in front of the house to welcome the spirit of Old Father Christmas with a merry peal. They formed a parade with makeshift cymbals, bells, and drums—clanging, ringing, and rat-a-tat-tatting—while William followed playing his violin as he tried to make sense of their music. Bear followed William clapping his hands and humming what sounded like a Scottish tune.
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