“I see.” Her eyes grew lidded. “And why were you so desperate to do that? I do hope business was not growing unprofitable for you.”
“Not unprofitable, no,” Robert cleared his throat as if he wished to change the subject but could not quickly conceive of a polite way to do so. “There were other reasons. Family concerns.”
“My dear wife took sick, Mrs Gale, God rest her soul. And it seemed important -”
“Father,” Robert broke in, seeking to change the subject, but before he could say more the butler had arrived, followed closely by Nash and Erasmus, bickering over some matter they would not be drawn on.
“Mr and Mrs Drew and Miss Drew,” the butler said, and Edmund felt the colour drain from his face. He spun around, surprised to see three guests he most certainly did not recall inviting to join them that evening.
“Good evening, Mr Gale,” Miss Drew said, dipping in a deep, theatrical curtsey. “Your mother was so kind to invite us - and on Christmas Eve too! We are delighted to be here.”
“Indeed!” Mrs Gale’s gaze swept imperiously from both Mr Hodges to the newest arrival and she beckoned Miss Drew closer to her. “What a beautiful dress you are wearing, Marianne! That blue is so becoming! How it makes your golden hair sparkle! Look, Edmund, do you not think she looks even more beautiful than at the ball, which fact I can scarcely countenance!”
Edmund’s eyebrows drew together in a frown and he stalked to the doorway, ignoring his mother’s protest. He would await the arrival of the Turners himself, and be first to explain the addition to their party. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Miss Drew charming Mr Hodge, as well as drawing the attention of all three of his friends, and let out a sigh.
You may scheme for my future all you like, Mama, but I have schemes of my own afoot this evening and I will not allow you to ruin them!
MADELINE HAD BEEN FOR meals at Northridge more times than she could count but this evening felt different. There was something in the air, the scent of evergreen and cinnamon, the magic of Christmas Eve, which she still felt now as she had as a child, even though she was two years past twenty!
“You are as beautiful as ever!” Juliet’s voice floated towards her, a little mournful, and Maddy turned to greet her sister with a laugh.
“You speak as if that were a bad thing!”
“Not bad for you!” Juliet retorted, sticking her tongue out and ruining the picture of elegance she would otherwise have been. She wrapped her arms around her sister, careful not to crease her dress. “You are sure to win any number of hearts this evening and for all I know you will wait only as long as Christmas Day before announcing your intention to marry!”
“Juliet, don’t be ridiculous!” Maddy wriggled free of her sister’s grip. “Honestly, if you speak to me once more of marriage I shall begin to think there is something the matter, for it certainly seems to be on your mind more than anything else.” She fixed her sister with a careful look. “There is not something you aren’t saying, is there? Some secret you are keeping hidden from the rest of us. You know you can tell me anything, I am your sister!”
This last comment seemed to strike deep, for Juliet flushed and the smile she shot her sister seemed oddly forced.
“No secret! No erstwhile marriage proposals either, at least not for me.” She held a hand up to her cheeks and took a step towards the window. “Let’s not linger by the fire, Maddy, for I do not want to be flushed and perspiring before we even arrive!”
“That is not likely to happen!” Maddy nodded towards the darkened window, shivering at the mere thought of stepping out into the winter night.
“Thank goodness we shall travel all together, cosied up in our carriage,” Juliet declared, looking like herself again all of a sudden. Madeline decided she must have imagined the peculiar look she saw cross her sister’s face and allowed her to steer them towards the hallway where they might meet the rest of the family and pile, as one, into their carriage.
The route to Northridge was easy, scarcely needful of a carriage but for the dark and the weather, and the fact that Louisa declared she did not intend on stepping a foot on the road for fear of ruining her new shoes. Juliet had teased her, then, asking whether that extended to dancing, should they be afforded the opportunity to dance that evening, and Louisa had tossed her head and claimed that she would like to see Juliet successfully clomp around in boots better suited for walking than an elegant dinner.
Even the squabbling of her sisters could not spoil Maddy’s excitement and enthusiasm for the evening before them, for she admired Northridge and no amount of familiarity with it or its inhabitants had yet managed to erase its charm. She recalled the pretty glasshouse that would boast flowers, even in the depths of winter, and the wide walls lined with elegant artwork and portraits of Edmund’s ancestors, whose history he could rattle off with all the ease of a schoolboy performing a recitation.
“I wonder who else has been invited,” Juliet mused, as the carriage bumped over a ridge in the road and sent her careening into Maddy’s side.
“I don’t suppose he will have asked anyone else, dear!” Mrs Turner said, smiling good-naturedly at her daughter. “Recall, he has those friends of his staying. Along with us, that will be quite a party for Christmas Eve!”
“Yes,” Juliet remarked, with a dark glance towards the window.
Maddy frowned. What was Juliet’s preoccupation with Maddy’s associations of late? She was forever questioning her choice of friends or playing conversational gymnastics in order to make mention of some gentleman or another. She sighed, reaching a hand up to massage her head which was threatening to ache before the evening had even begun.
“What is the matter?” Juliet asked, noticing the gesture and reading into it more than was necessary. “You are not unwell, I hope?”
“No,” Maddy whispered back, smiling to reassure her. “Merely eager to arrive.”
“Ah, here we are!” Mr Turner announced, as their carriage lurched to a halt outside Northridge Hall. Everyone tumbled out and Bess slipped closer to Maddy, allowing Juliet and Louisa to lead their party up to the front door, all concerns for Louisa’s delicate shoes evidently forgotten in her eagerness to arrive and be shown into the elegant parlour.
“I hope Edmund has not invited too many new people,” she murmured, shivering as a particularly wintery breeze snaked along her neck.
“Don’t fret, Bessy,” Maddy said, slipping her arm around her shy younger sister and smiling. “I am in no great humour to meet new people either this evening. But it is Christmas and I dare say Edmund wishes only for a quiet, friendly supper. And his friends are not so very terrible, are they?”
Bess pulled a face and Maddy laughed, wondering what Louisa would say to her younger sister’s opinion of the handsome gentlemen Edmund made a habit of surrounding himself with. Home-loving and shy, Bess preferred the company of those she knew to those she didn’t and seemed to possess a particular terror of fashionable London gentlemen.
“Perhaps I shall offer to play the piano,” she murmured, as they reached the entrance. “That will allow me some respite from making conversation and will be some way I can repay Edmund and his Mama for their kindness in inviting us.” She winked at Madeline, looking as momentarily merry as Juliet. “In any case, if Louisa is to exhibit her dainty shoes to greatest advantage she will wish to dance, and one cannot dance without music, can one?”
“One cannot!” Maddy laughed, as she and Bess tripped over the threshold and into the house, almost colliding with Juliet, who had stopped still at the entrance to the parlour.
“Turners!” Edmund remarked, with a wide smile. “Welcome, welcome. You already know everyone here, I believe...except, perhaps, for Miss Drew. Do allow me to introduce you properly.”
Chapter Eleven
Juliet’s throat constricted as she took in the image of the beautiful Miss Drew standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Edmund. They looked as if they had been carved from the same stone, an opinion
Mrs Gale evidently shared, for she beamed, nudging the two of them closer together in a manner that was too precise to have been entirely unintentional.
“We have met,” Juliet said, with a cold smile at Edmund and his most esteemed guest. She made as if to move past him, but he turned as she did, stepping lightly after her.
“That is all you have to say? No good evening, Mr Gale?”
Juliet rolled her eyes.
“When have I ever referred to you by your title?”
“Good point.” Edmund scratched his hair, rumpling it considerably and Juliet resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the dark curls down again.
“Well, Miss Juliet, do you see what I see?” He nodded over Juliet’s shoulder and she turned on reflex, despite it being precisely what Edmund had wanted of her, to see Madeline speaking to Mr Heatherington, a polite smile playing about her lips.
“I see. You make a special effort to ensure that your prospect is here but I see you neglected to invite poor Colonel Black.”
Edmund grinned - that same infuriating grin that made Juliet’s stomach lurch - and steered her towards the window, where they might be permitted to speak a word or two in relative private, while the rest of his guests exchanged pleasantries and introductions.
“Colonel Black is terrible company. If you knew him by more than reputation you’d know he cheats at cards and will drink the house dry. Besides,” His grin widened. “I want to win. Why not stack the deck in my favour?”
Juliet arched an eyebrow as she watched Madeline bid a polite but firm farewell to Mr Heatherington and slip carefully around him to where their father was already in contented conversation with both elder and younger Mr Hodge. Something Juliet had not quite noticed before - or perhaps she had noticed it, and merely chosen to ignore it - flickered across Maddy’s features as she greeted the younger Mr Hodge and his own expression visibly altered as she joined their small circle and he took a step back to widen it and allow her admission.
Frowning slightly as she strove to make sense of what she had witnessed, she turned back to Edmund, seizing on the first part of his comment.
“And how do you know that he cheats at cards and drinks to excess? I thought you had given up your gambling, caddish ways, or at left them in London where they belong.” She sniffed. “You know none of us admire such behaviour.”
“Aw, don’t go getting prim, now, Juliet. Certain young ladies do not approve of devoting quite so many hours to reading novels as you do, but you don’t see me complaining when you shirk larking with me for haunting the library, do you?”
“You have certainly made your feelings on the matter known,” Juliet said, haughtily.
“That’s more because you passed up time with me than because you were reading. Or whatever else it is you do in there.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “I see you left your reticule at home. No book this evening? Or did you fear being forced to surrender it to me before our evening ends, as per our agreement?”
“That’s only if you win our wager,” Juliet reminded him, reaching up to angle his shoulder back towards the fire, towards their friends. “If you’ll choose to observe your guests instead of pestering me, you might notice that my dear sister has found someone else to talk to. Perhaps your Mr Heatherington is not quite so close to winning you a victory as you like to think!”
Edmund looked, his face paling, and he walked so quickly across the room that Juliet could not help laughing at the desperate note in his voice as he clapped his hands and urged his guests to enjoy some refreshments before they began their meal.
Her laughter died as her eyes rested on Edmund’s mother. Mrs Gale was looking at her with an expression of such abject dislike that Juliet, who usually cared little for other people’s opinions, felt her blood run cold in her veins. She tried to follow Edmund back into their circle of friends, feeling a sudden need for companionship, but she was not quick enough to move to avoid Mrs Gale, who stepped lightly towards her, her smile pinched.
“Good evening, Miss Juliet,” she said, her voice overly sweet. “I see you successfully captured my son’s attention upon your arrival. I imagine that was your intent?” Her smile slipped and she regarded Juliet coolly.
“It is always my intention to greet my hosts with warmth and gratitude, particularly at Christmas.” She smiled. “I must compliment you, Mrs Gale, on your beautiful decorations. They make this room so warm and festive and welcoming.”
There was a flicker in Miss Gale’s eyes as if she read some unintentional slight in Juliet’s words. She folded her hands carefully at her waist.
“Yes, it was my son’s wish that we make the place as festive as possible. It is a true celebration, after all, and ought we not to do all we can to make our friends feel welcome?”
Juliet felt a cold shiver nip at her neck with the tone Mrs Gale placed on the word friends.
“The guest list, of course, was Edmund’s responsibility. Still, I think my addition has not unduly upset things.”
Juliet let out a breath she had not been entirely conscious of holding. Then Miss Drew was there at Mrs Gale’s insistence, and not at Edmund’s. Something about this thought cheered her and the parting smile she offered Edmund’s mother was a genuine one.
“I think it a very fine group, Mrs Gale. I am looking forward to our evening together very much.”
Her eyes lifted towards the fire and chanced, at that moment, to rest on Mr Weston, who had been looking in their direction. He crossed the room in two long strides.
“Miss Juliet!” He grinned, bowing theatrically in front of her. “I have not forgotten your promise to dance with me again before the year is out. Edmund informs me one of your sisters is a musician: perhaps we might persuade her to play for us this evening.”
He seemed to notice the tension between the two ladies and acted immediately to diffuse it.
“And Mrs Gale, I hope you will not think it impertinent to request a dance with my most generous and elegant host.” He grinned, impishly as two dark red spots appeared on Mrs Gale’s cheeks. She nodded, imperiously, glancing between Mr Weston and Juliet as if trying to solve a puzzle she possessed only partial intelligence on.
“Excuse me,” she said, at last, sweeping back towards the fire and leaving Juliet and Mr Weston alone in their isolated corner.
“You appear to have made yourself an enemy, Miss Juliet,” he mused, his voice little more than a whisper. “What on earth have you done to set dear Mrs Gale against you?”
“I scarcely know,” Juliet replied, her eyes resting on the figure of her friend, as Edmund’s animated features moved quickly in conversation with her father and Mr Hodge.
“I was not teasing about that dance,” Mr Weston continued, offering his arm to Juliet and escorting her gently back towards their friends. “Come, remind me which of your sisters is the musical one, so that I may put my request to her to play something lively when dinner is over...”
“...DON’T YOU AGREE?”
Robert chuckled in lieu of giving an answer either in agreement or opposition to Edmund’s comment. He liked his host. He found him easy to get along with and rather more friendly and welcoming than his mother. The austere, distant Mrs Gale had not said more than three words to him that evening but the withering glance she had shot him had been eloquence itself. Her son and she were as different as night and day.
“Hodge, my man, your glass is empty! Here, allow me.”
Before Robert could say a word of refusal, Edmund had taken the delicate crystal glass from his hands and spirited away to refill it, leaving him and his father alone.
“Nice young man, that,” Mr Hodge remarked, lifting his own glass and wetting his lips. “Very kind of him to invite us here the night before Christmas.”
Robert murmured an agreement, his eyes straying, as if drawn by some mystical power, to Madeline Turner, who was once more engaged in conversation with the handsome, charming Mr Heatherington. He felt a flare of jealousy but swallowed it, remin
ding himself that he had no claim on Miss Turner’s time or attention and could in no way compete with Mr Heatherington.
He sighed, thinking wistfully of Antigua and missing the small, closed society in which he had flourished. He had been lonely, of course, missing England and his family and friends, but now that he was in England, he could not help but mourn the people and places he had left behind him. Am I forever to feel ill at ease and out of place? he wondered, tugging on the collar that was just a fraction too stiff and tall and dug into his neck uncomfortably.
“Here we are!” Edmund declared, returning with both glasses filled to the brim with rich, amber liquid. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Robert said, obediently downing half the contents of his glass in one swift mouthful. The rich liquid burned a course down his throat, warming him from within against the bitter winter cold and making even his most distant of dining companions appear more kindly to him.
“You’ll attend church tomorrow, I suppose?” Edmund asked, addressing his question to Robert’s father. “Have you met Reverend Worthy?”
“Oh, yes.” Mr Hodge shot a look at his son, barely concealing the curl of the lip that betrayed his true opinion of the overbearing, ingratiating minister.
“Aha!” Edmund grinned, his eyes dancing with merriment. “You have met him! I suppose he came to make your acquaintance as new residents in the parish.”
“Precisely his words!” Mr Hodge agreed, lifting his glass again. “I do not suppose he was greatly enamoured with us, was he, Rob? Nary a title between us, and nought but a rented house, for now.”
“Aye, but I suppose mention of your investment in Castleford endeared you to him at least a little? Our reverend is quite adept at discovering those with funds looking to bless the building up of the Lord’s earthly kingdom.” He took a sip of his drink. “Or at least the church.”
A Winter Wager Page 8