A Winter Wager

by Rachel Osborne

  No, she thought darkly. To progress his plan! She must not leave Madeline unguarded, lest Mr Heatherington somehow manage to make her fall in love with him immediately.

  Standing, suddenly, Juliet pushed back her chair.

  “I suppose I ought to come and see just what that rascal wants,” she said, sliding her book into the space on the shelf that was reserved for it, and exchanging a secret look with her sister. “You can sit beside me, Bess, and help me mind my temper, for our dear Mr Gale is on a tear to infuriate me at present and I do not suppose I can tell him off in front of his friends as easily as I could alone.”

  Bess grinned and arm in arm the two girls made their way to join their guests.

  Chapter Nine

  “Of course, we had to wait until the very worthy clergymen bade us all farewell before we could even think of making our journey here....!” Erasmus Finch drawled, laughing at his own witticism and apparently convinced everyone else found him equally amusing.

  Edmund, standing at the mantelpiece, rolled his eyes and prayed his neighbours did not find his friend quite an insufferable as he did. This was the third time Erasmus had made the Worthy by name, worthy by nature pun and it had got less amusing each time he heard it.

  The door opened, then, and Edmund glanced up as Juliet flounced in, with Bess beside her.

  “Good afternoon, Juliet!” he called, striding forward to greet his friend in their usual companionable way. She took his hand stiffly, before shooting him a distracted smile and sliding past him into a seat beside Nash, who scarcely seemed to notice her, so entangled was he in a whispered conversation with Louisa on his other side.

  “I hope we didn’t disturb you, Juliet,” Edmund continued, determined not to be put off by her frosty welcome. “We were talking, my friends and I, about having a little Christmas Eve supper and Heatherington suggested we run over here and invite you all immediately, didn’t you Heatherington?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Michael had been poring over a newspaper and looked up at the sound of his name.

  Edmund swallowed a sigh.

  “You wished to ensure Miss Turner - that all of the Turners - would join us for dinner tomorrow.” Edmund smiled. That had been a calculated slip, but one he hoped would be effective. His eyes slid over Madeline and he was a gratified to see her cheeks colour as she attacked the fire with a poker, feigning obliviousness.

  “That is very kind of you, Edmund!” Mrs Turner said, with a genial smile. “Are you sure your mother is quite happy to host us all on Christmas Eve?”

  “Of course!” Edmund laughed. “Why would she not be?”

  His gaze swung around the room to Juliet, his smile dying a little as he saw the ferocity with which she was glaring at him. What have I done now? No wager, however successful he might be moments away from being, was worth sacrificing his oldest and dearest friend.

  “Surely she will want you all to herself, this close to Christmas,” Juliet said, slowly, dropping her gaze to Madeline, and watching her sister work. “As it is, your house is filled with guests.”

  “Filled with my friends,” Edmund conceded. “She will be more than happy to add a few of her own to even out the balance!” He turned back to Mr and Mrs Turner, the couple he valued as a second set of parents, and from whom he was rather more certain to gain an affirmative answer. “Do say you will come! I am inviting that Hodge fellow, as well, and his father, for they are but newly arrived in Clifton and no no-one.”

  Madeline started at this, leaving go her hold on the poker and turning to regard Edmund with curiosity.

  “That is very kind of you, Edmund,” she said, with that same vaguely regal affection she seemed to reserve for the neighbour she treated like a younger brother.

  “Tis hardly an effort, Maddy.” He grinned at her, pleased to be thought kind by the Turner’s most elegant daughter. He cleared his throat, seeing here an opportunity to ingratiate another into her favour. “It was Heatherington’s idea.”

  When his friend, who had returned to his newspaper, made no sign that he had either heard Edmund’s words or that he agreed with them, Ed resorted to kicking him brusquely under his chair.

  “What?” Michael grumbled. Spying Ed’s sharp gaze, he nodded, smiling vaguely in Maddy’s direction. “Oh yes, yes. Quite so. Quite so.”

  It was clear to Edmund that his friend had no idea what he was cheerfully agreeing with but as his words served the purpose Edmund had intended, he let the matter drop. He turned to Bess, who had slipped into a chair beside Juliet and was attempting to engage her older sister in the folding of gold paper stars that would be used, Edmund supposed, to provide some festive decoration to the plain white walls of Aston House.

  “That is a pretty project, Miss Bess!” he declared, shifting his chair a little closer. “I do not suppose you are in need of another pair of hands to help with folding?”

  “You are too clumsy,” Juliet said, brusquely turning away and attending to the task herself.

  “Too clumsy? I?” Edmund feigned disappointment.

  “Here, I will show you,” Bess said, shooting her sister a confused look that did not go unnoticed by Edmund.

  Then I am not the only one surprised by Juliet’s moods! He was not unused to his friend’s capricious behaviour, for they were forever falling out and making friends again, but this particular grudge seemed to have been held longer than most, and he was ignorant as to its cause. If even Bess, Juliet’s particular confidant, could not understand it then there was no hope at all for Edmund.

  “Here!” Juliet declared, thrusting her own half-folded scrap into his waiting hands and leaping to her feet. “You may have mine, and my seat as well, if you want. I have some work to attend to and cannot sit around here all day.”

  Before Edmund could say a word to make her stay, she had reached the door and fled the room entirely, leaving its occupants staring after in mystified surprise. All except Erasmus, whose voice could be heard as he continued a rather one-sided conversation with Mr Turner concerning their plans for the rest of the afternoon.

  “...yes, yes. We might have come earlier, as I say, were it not for the rather worthy clergyman who called once and stayed above a quarter-hour. Worthy, I said. Ha! Worthy is his name, although I do not suppose any one of us should care to apply it to his character...”

  “WELL, I DON’T THINK much of the entertainments in this new town of yours, Gale!” Mr Heatherington remarked, giving his newspaper one last cursory glance and passing it to his friend. “You promised us galas and celebrations for the holiday as well as to celebrate the new town! So far it seems as if all will be quiet for the next few days.”

  “Well, it is Christmas!” Edmund responded, his smile not quite tempering the sharp tone of his voice. Maddy wondered, idly, if whatever spat that seemed to still be ongoing between him and Juliet was upsetting him more than it was her. She made a mental note to take Juliet to task over the matter, for she liked Edmund and did hate to see him distressed by her sister’s bad temper.

  Maybe there is more to it than that! she mused, smoothing a few wrinkles out of her skirt. She had seen the very pretty young lady Edmund had danced with at the Castleford ball, and how that very young lady had sought to flutter around him for the rest of the evening, hanging on his every word. Edmund might have been oblivious, indeed he often appeared oblivious to the interest he drew from young ladies far and wide, for he was both handsome and eloquent, charming and clever. But his lack of artifice rendered him almost unable to detect it in others, and he was quite unconscious of how people flocked to him, particularly pretty young ladies in need of a suitor. But if I noticed it then Juliet must have, Maddy realised, for Juliet was five times as observant as she. Research, she called it, and she was forever scribbling down her observations on scraps of paper that might one day make their way into a book, for she did so long to be an author, and compose better versions of the novels she loved to read.

  Maddy was quite sure her sis
ter would achieve her dream, too, for Juliet was nothing if not determined. Perhaps she did not quite like what she observed between Edmund and Miss whatever-her-name-was at the ball. Maddy felt a wave of pity for her sister, for Juliet did not love easily and those who won her heart won it for good. She nursed a private hope that her sister and Edmund might one day come to realise their strong friendship and affection could easily tip the scales to true and lasting love, but she would die before admitting as much, knowing that to do so would be to pitch her sister against the idea in a heartbeat.

  I shall never marry, Juliet was fond of declaring over the breakfast table, or when she and Maddy walked the grounds of Aston House together, musing over the local news and dreaming of their own futures. I shall be a literary spinster - and doting aunt to your brood of angels, of course! Maddy bit her lip. The notion of her own happy family seemed to recede more and more into the distance with every year that passed, and the approach of Christmas merely reminded her of that. She did long to marry, but she had yet to meet the type of man she could ever envisage spending her life with.

  Mr Heatherington blew his nose loudly and Maddy flinched. Louisa had jumped at the noise, too, and let out a giggle that Mr Heatherington did not dignify with a response. Mr Weston, on Louisa’s right, made some whispered comment that Maddy could not discern and this provoked another giggle, which suggested the comment ought not to have been made at all.

  Edmund shot his friend the slightest, most fleeting of scowls, and came to sit between Maddy and Mr Heatherington, handing his friend the newspaper back, unread, with a grin.

  “I suppose, then, we must contrive to make our own entertainment.” He turned to Maddy. “Our Christmas Eve dinner, for instance. You will come, won’t you, Maddy? I know Heatherington here will be delighted for you to spend the evening with us. He speaks of you often.”

  Maddy darted a glance at Mr Heatherington who was hastily rearranging his features into something approaching a smile. He speaks of you often? Why, we are scarcely acquainted!

  Her cheeks reddened, nonetheless. He was handsome, accomplished and, as Edmund had intimated on previous mentions of his London friends, really very wealthy. He would be, in the words of Mama’s Aunt Madeline, for whom Maddy was named, a fine prospect. Maddy bit down on her lip. She ought to be delighted that such a gentleman took any notice of her at all, let alone showing partiality enough to request her presence on Christmas Eve. Why, then, was the face that swam before Maddy’s eyes not Mr Heatherington’s, but that of another gentleman altogether? Robert Hodge was not as handsome as Mr Heatherington but his eyes were kinder. He had no title and his fortune was surely far less than Edmund’s friend might possess. He had been polite at the ball, friendly even, but where had that led? He had not asked permission of her or of Mr and Mrs Turner to call on them. Perhaps he was not interested in me at all!

  She glanced sideways at Mr Heatherington, wondering if she ought to heed her long-absent aunt’s advice. A good prospect is not to be discouraged, my dear, for you are the eldest of your sisters and must do all you can to provide for their future as well as your own!

  Edmund cleared his throat and when Maddy shifted her glance back at him she realised he was watching her. Doubtless, he had witnessed her staring at his friend and the smug smile he wore suggested he was already reading more into the look than was accurate. Maddy got to her feet.

  “I’ll go and see where Juliet has got to, Edmund. She has not given you an answer about Christmas Eve yet but if you ask nicely she will surely not be able to refuse!”

  Chapter Ten

  “...and she is fond of harp music, although she does not play herself.” Edmund paused, lifting his head from the scribbled list he held before him to look at his friend. Michael, who had feigned attention at the beginning of Edmund’s lecture, had listed in his chair and was at that moment poorly concealing a yawn.

  “I’m sorry, do you find this dull?” Edmund tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but if Michael noticed it, he was unfazed. He smiled, lazily, and waved off Edmund’s irritation.

  “It is hardly scintillating and hardly relevant!” Retrieving his pocket-watch, he glanced at the time then looked back at Edmund. “Why are you so determined that I should know all there is to know about Miss Turner? It is incredibly detailed, I assure you, but I do not see -”

  “You seemed somewhat taken with her at the ball,” Edmund said, folding his paper into a stiff square and jamming it into a pocket. “You danced with her twice!”

  “Yes, out of politeness.” Michael’s smile grew. “And she did look rather pretty in the candlelight. Certainly the most charming of all your neighbours.” He nodded at Edmund. “If you admire her so why do you not marry her yourself?”

  “I do not admire – that is, she would never care for someone like me.” Edmund amended his answer at the last minute, his friend’s suggestion reminding him of the very conversation with Juliet that had led to their wager in the first place. Their competition now threatened to consume their friendship along with any hopes of securing Madeline the happy future she deserved.

  He changed tack, thinking that things had been rather too easy for Michael before now.

  “Well, if you are not interested, I dare say it won’t matter. As you say, she is quite the prettiest of all my neighbours and has too many suitors to count. I merely wished to offer you an advantage, as my friend.”

  “Well, now, Gale -” Michael straightened, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, more interested than he had been all day in what Edmund chose to share with him. “I did not say I wasn’t interested, merely that -”

  There was a creak as the door to the parlour opened and Mrs Gale swept in. Obediently, both young gentlemen leapt to their feet.

  “Mama! You look beautiful, as always!”

  “Indeed, Mrs Gale, surely better suited for the finest tables in London!” Michael echoed, bowing before his hostess.

  “Why thank you, Michael.” Mrs Gale beamed, always eager to receive compliments from Edmund’s more charming friends. “But you do us a disservice if you suggest that to be a guest at our table is less desirable than the finest tables in London!”

  Michael blanched, momentarily fearing that he had deeply offended his hostess, until Edmund chuckled and stepped forward, offering his arm to his mother and escorting her to a seat near the fire.

  “Careful, Mama. Not all my friends can tell when you are teasing them. They have not all grown inured to it, as I have, over the years.”

  “A pity,” Mrs Gale mused, with a look she reserved for her son. Edmund ignored it, delicately brushing a kiss on her cheek as he deposited her in her seat and retreated to the mantel, where he consulted the clock.

  “I dare say our guests will arrive soon!” he announced, rubbing his hands with delighted anticipation of the enjoyable evening ahead of them.

  “You have already told me more than is decent for me to know about Miss Turner,” Michael began, hurriedly glancing at Mrs Gale to reassure her that this was uttered in jest, and not an actual indication of what gossip her son had shared relating to their neighbour. “But what of her sisters? She has two, is that right?”

  “Three,” Edmund said, cheerfully. “Louisa is prettiest - after Madeline, of course. She is also very much aware of the fact, so if you were only to compliment her on her appearance, you would earn her friendship for life.”

  Mrs Gale sniffed. She did not disagree with Edmund’s estimation, but rather disapproved of him speaking of it in this manner before his friend.

  “As for Bess - Elizabeth - she is the youngest and possesses an unparalleled musical skill. Do you think, Mama, we might persuade her to play for us this evening?”

  “I dare say we shall,” Mrs Gale said, with a haughty nod. “That is if no other of our guests wish to, for I doubt she is the only accomplished young lady who shall dine here this evening.”

  Before Edmund could press his mother on this cryptic comment - for he
knew all four Tuners and knew that, whilst all had had lessons and could muddle their way well enough through a piece, it was Bess who truly adored music and was forever called on to play - there was a hustle and bustle in the corridor suggesting that their first guests had arrived. Edmund scowled that his other two friends were not here to greet them but rearranged his features into a smile just in time to greet the arrivals as the two Mr Hodges stepped into the parlour.

  “I’m so pleased you could come!” Edmund said, genuinely happy to shake the hands of first the elder and then the younger Mr Hodge. “Welcome to Northridge, do, please, make yourselves at home. You recall Mr Heatherington, I expect, but I am not sure you have had the good fortune yet to meet my mother, Mrs Gale.”

  He made introductions, shooting his mother a look when he noticed the imperious smile she offered their guests, a very particular expression she reserved for those she did not think equal to be called acquaintances but who must, nonetheless, be greeted politely.

  “...a very fine house, Mrs Gale!” the elder Mr Hodge said. “Quite the most elegant we have been in since our journey north, don’t you agree, Rob? Although I would be curious to know how it compares with Antigua!” He chuckled, ignoring the way his son paled at being thrust so unceremoniously onto centre stage.

  “Antigua?” Mrs Gale’s manner relaxed a little. “You have been in the colonies, then, Mr Hodge? I heard that you were here to invest in the new town.” She would not grace it with its name, for Edmund knew she privately nursed a growing sense of irritation that their pretty hamlet of Clifton would soon be inundated with “the old and the sick and the social-climbing” who flocked from spa town to spa town, much to his mother’s derision. “You are not, then, in trade?”

  “Not any longer,” Robert said, with a pale smile. “We have sold up, Mrs Gale. That was my purpose in being most lately in Antigua. To close our interests and return home.”