“What a pity she is such an insipid conversationalist, then, or else we might go on rather well together,” Edmund mused, leaning back in his chair. He waited a moment before speaking again and Juliet was about to glance at him to check that he had not fallen asleep when his lazy voice reached her ears.
“I see one couple that certainly seems to be getting on rather better than anybody might have supposed.”
“Louisa and Mr Finch?” Juliet teased, seeing her younger sister’s face flush white as Erasmus Finch’s foot clamped down painfully on one of hers.
“Ha!” Edmund’s eyes flew open. “No, I was thinking of another sister of yours.” He nodded towards Madeline and Mr Hodge, as Juliet knew he would.
“You needn’t smile so,” she chided him. “As if you somehow had some part to play in it. I note how she does not wish to dance with your choice for her.” She turned a scathing glance towards Mr Heatherington, who was dancing with Mrs Gale, all the while shooting bitter glances over his shoulders towards Madeline and Mr Hodge who neither noticed nor cared.
Edmund sighed, leaning a little closer to Juliet.
“In this, I am willing to concede a draw. Neither of us is the winner, Juliet, but at least Madeline might be happy. Was not that the purpose of the wager all along?”
Juliet’s eyes lifted to her sister and she watched as her pace and Mr Hodge’s slowed so that they were almost dancing to a different tune from their friends, turning and stepping in tune to a melody that only they were able to hear.
“Do you think she is happy?” Her voice caught. “Do you think he will make her happy?”
“I think he will try,” Edmund said.
Juliet felt his eyes upon her and was unsurprised when his voice grew quieter still and more serious than she had heard him use in a long time.
“She might do worse than allowing him the opportunity to try.”
Juliet’s heart began to pound in her chest as she realised Edmund was speaking now not of Mr Hodge and Madeline, but of another couple entirely.
She leapt to her feet, hurrying to put distance between them before their conversation could progress any further along that particular path.
“I think I shall go and help Bess turn pages. As host, you can hardly sit out another dance but I have little humour for it this evening. Good night!”
“MISS TURNER! I HOPE you are not about to sit down!”
Edmund strode forward, grinning, as Louisa pleaded with Bess to play “just one more piece”, and offered himself as Madeline’s partner for one last dance to round out their evening.
Maddy, whose feet were beginning to ache, glanced longingly towards the chairs, where Juliet was sitting, studiously avoiding looking at the dancers until Mr Weston caught her eye and bowed, wordlessly inviting her to join him.
“Very well,” Maddy said, shooting an apologetic look at Mr Hodge, who was almost immediately caught by Louisa, who demanded imperiously that he recall Madeline was not the only young lady present who desired to dance that evening.
“I trust you have enjoyed the evening?” Edmund asked as they began to dance, his voice lilting with a teasing tone he ordinarily reserved for Juliet but which Maddy was not immune to. Ordinarily, she rather liked it, for it spoke to the closeness between Edmund and them, more like brother and sisters than mere neighbours. This evening, however, it made her flustered, and she almost missed her footing, righting herself at the last minute and hurrying to recover her step without drawing the attention of any onlookers.
“You know we always enjoy dining at Northridge,” she said when she passed within speaking distance of Edmund once more.
“Ah, Miss Turner you misunderstand me. I inquire whether you, yourself, have enjoyed the evening. I can see from the imperious smile on Louisa’s face that she has enjoyed herself immensely, although she will never own as much if I ask her, claiming only to have liked it well enough, for she has learnt from her young age never to indulge one’s friends with too much praise.” He winked. “I trust yours has been a truly enjoyable evening?” He lowered his voice. “It certainly seems as if Mr Hodge has stepped out of his shell at last.” He glanced over towards where Mr Hodge and Louisa were dancing, and nodded as if he approved of the situation. “Yes, I think he will make a very agreeable addition to our small circle. Now, if only we could find the poor fellow a wife...”
Maddy flinched, concentrating her gaze straight ahead so as not to betray her true reaction to Edmund’s lazy musings.
“Is he looking for a wife?” she ventured, at last, unable to quiet her curiosity and wondering, then, if there had been some conversation between the gentlemen to which she might now be made privy. “You have spoken of marriage?”
“Not spoken of it, no,” Edmund said, with a lopsided shrug. “But he is a gentleman of both age and means.” He smile grew strangely taut. “Whatever certain people may think. I dare say he wishes to marry, for who could not think their living arrangement might be improved by the presence of a wife? No, the question is not does he wish to marry but rather, who does he wish to marry?”
Madeline’s heart thrummed painfully in her chest and it was on the tip of her tongue to bid Edmund stop with this speculation which was surely ill-mannered and too familiar, even amongst friends. There was something in his dancing eyes that reminded her of Juliet, who often deployed this teasing manner when she fancied she knew something and wished to trip her victim into betraying a confidence.
“I’m sure I do not know what you mean,” she said, lifting her chin and executing a perfect turn. “And I certainly do not think you ought to be speaking of it to me.”
“Don’t you?”
Edmund’s smile broadened so that Maddy could quite well understand why Juliet so often found herself compelled to launch cushions at his head. The thought of her sister offered her another solution to her predicament, a better one, and she decided to play Edmund at his own game.
“You certainly seem to be the expert on young gentlemen’s opinions of marriage, Edmund.” Her gaze swept the room until it rested on the pretty figure of Miss Drew, sitting sandwiched between Mrs Gale and her own Papa, and gazing balefully at the dancers as if she would like to trip every one of them up as punishment for neglecting her. “And yet I note that you, yourself, make no progress in securing a wife of your own.”
“What need have I of a wife?” Edmund smirked. “When I have four young ladies but a mile from my house more than capable of interfering in all of my affairs?”
Maddy coloured, before a glance at Edmund’s face reassured her that he was teasing her and she smiled.
“You are not quite as enamoured with Miss Drew as your mother evidently wishes you were, then?” she ventured, sensing a change in the air that indicated Edmund might speak truthfully, if only she afforded him the opportunity to.
“She is a very accomplished young lady,” Edmund allowed. “Quite charming, in fact. And yet.” He tilted his head to one side, regarding Maddy carefully. “I might pose the same question to you, Miss Maddy. Do you see my friend Heatherington? He is one of the wealthiest young men in London, standing to inherit a title as well, and one of the cleverest friends I possess, discounting my own considerable brains, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And yet I wager -” A strange muscle jumped at the corner of Edmund’s mouth as he used this particular word. “Still you would not choose him. And even if certain other gentlemen -” Here he somehow succeeded in alluding, quite indirectly, to Mr Hodge in a manner that Maddy was sure was not accidental. “Possessed neither wealth nor position you might still prefer a future on their arm than poor, lonely Michael.”
When Maddy did not respond straight away, Edmund prompted her, squeezing her fingers as they momentarily clasped hands.
“Am I wrong?”
Maddy’s eyes strayed to Mr Hodge, obediently attending to Louisa, who spoke a hundred words a minute as she lectured him on some personally pressing matter.
�
�No, Edmund,” Maddy said, realising, with a sigh, that she could not deceive her friend any longer, nor would it profit her to try. “You are not wrong.”
“Good,” Edmund murmured, as Bess struck a final chord and the last dance of the evening drew to a close. He bent his head close enough to whisper a final few words to Maddy, quiet enough that only she might hear them. “Then I give you leave to like him. You could certainly do a lot worse, and Christmas is an ideal time to fall in love.” He winked. “You see if things are not all but settled before the year is out!”
Chapter Fourteen
“I am so tired I do not think I could move from this spot for anything!” Louisa Turner announced from her seat, lounging on a sofa in the Turner parlour. It was Christmas Day and after such great exertions as attending church and indulging in celebration - including far too much food - all of the sisters were sitting together, lazily listening to the minutes tick by while they decided what to do next. Mr Turner had abandoned all pretence and was happily snoring in the corner. Mrs Turner’s own head bobbed a little over the sewing she only half-heartedly attended to and Juliet was trying, unsuccessfully, to read.
“I cannot concentrate on anything today!” she declared, stifling a yawn. She closed her book and stretched out on the same sofa she shared with Louisa, unceremoniously nudging her back over to her side of the seat. “I wish we might have some entertainment but am too comfortable to suggest anything!”
“It looks as if Providence is about to suggest something for us!” Bess announced, from her spot by the window. “Edmund is coming to call on us and he has his friend with him - Mr Weston, I think.” She squinted, before nodding. “Yes, Mr Weston. They both look very merry and as if they are about to suggest some enjoyable occupation for us all.”
This sparked a flurry of activity as each of the sisters became suddenly energised, tugging on skirts and pinning loose curls in place so when the door to the parlour opened, Mr Gale and Mr Weston found four young ladies reading, sewing and writing with industry. Only Mr Turner continued to snore, unhindered until his wife kicked him swiftly in the shin. His head flew up and he blinked in surprise at the two gentlemen.
“Oh...Mr Gale! Mr Weston! Good afternoon.” He beamed genially at the new arrivals. “And Merry Christmas!”
“A Merry Christmas to you, sir!” Mr Weston said, cheerfully. He bent over Louisa, examining the embroidery she had snatched up at the last minute. “Very pretty, Miss Louisa!” His smile fell. “You see, Ed? They are all far too busy to be bothered with our nonsense today. Did I not say as much?”
“You did,” Edmund said, his smile tight. “Repeatedly.”
This captured Juliet’s attention and she laid down her book, which she had not managed to read more than a page of all day, frowning at her friend.
“What nonsense?”
“Oh, nothing you would be interested in, I am sure...” Edmund said, feigning a sudden interest in his cuffs. It was an obvious ploy but Juliet could feel it working, in spite of herself. She tapped her fingers noisily on the hard cover of her book, waiting for her friend to relent first and tell them his plan without her needing to ask. After a long moment when all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock, she could wait no longer and threw up her hands in frustration.
“Oh, tell us, do! I can see you are desperate to!”
“Very well.” Edmund grinned, sliding into a chair next to her and leaning forward to survey each of the sisters in turn. “Nash and I are off to do our duty and spread a little Christmas cheer throughout the village, and I wondered -” Here, Mr Weston cleared his throat. “That is, we wondered,” Edmund corrected himself. “Whether we might persuade any or all of you to join us.”
“Where are your friends?” Juliet asked, wondering if four young ladies - along with four young gentlemen - might be rather too many to attend to such a task.
“Ah, well...” Edmund strove to hold back a laugh, evidently struggling to compose an appropriate answer to explain his friends’ absence. “They both elected to stay at Northridge. The weather, you see, and they are both a little delicate -”
“Too much food and too little exercise, Miss Juliet,” Mr Weston said, cheerfully. “They are staying at home to nurse sore heads and full bellies. Edmund and I are itching for some activity, so we thought we might see if we could persuade you to come. I dare say our baskets will be better received from pretty young ladies than from two rogues like us.”
Juliet thought he might have winked at her, then, but the gesture was so quick she might have imagined it. Still, she could not help but feel a prickle of heat at the handsome Mr Weston referring to her as pretty. He was teasing, she knew, and flirting as he seemed incapable of not doing but still she welcomed the compliment and it encouraged her into action.
“Well, I am certainly keen to help.” She stood, brushing a crease from her skirt and surveying her sisters. “Even if you all prefer to stay at home.”
“I would come,” Louisa began, wetting her lips as she rapidly constructed an excuse. “Only, I am a little tired. That is -” She clutched at her throat, her voice growing faint and croaked. “I am coming down with a cold, and I think -”
“Very well, Miss Malady,” Edmund said, with a laugh. He had seen through Louisa’s excuse in a moment. “You may stay cosy and warm by the fire. We hardy souls shall soldier on without you.” He stood, offering his arm to Juliet, who pretended not to see and turned towards her other sisters.
“What about the rest of you?”
“I shall come,” Bess said, biting her lip. “If only I might not be forced to go anywhere alone.”
“Not for a moment!” Edmund said, gallantly. He sacrificed Juliet for her sister and found his offer of an arm accepted rather more quickly by Bess than by Juliet, who smiled in spite of herself. Her own feelings to Edmund might be conflicted but she could not help but love him for the way he cared for her shyest sister.
“I shall come too,” Maddy declared, setting down her sewing and standing to join the group. “Christmas is a time for giving back, after all, and I have been too selfish today. I must at least make some show of atonement.” She smiled, sliding her arm around Juliet and steering her towards the door.
“Enjoy yourselves, dears!” Mrs Turner called, beaming at the group of merry young folk, even while she settled a little more comfortably into her chair. “And Mr Gale, you and Mr Weston must call for tea upon your return.”
“We most certainly shall!” Mr Weston agreed, his eyes bright. “Such hospitality, Gale! You are blessed indeed to have such hospitable neighbours so close to home. Well, ladies, are we ready? Charity awaits!”
“THIS WAS AN EXCELLENT idea, Robert!” Mr Hodge declared, eschewing the use of his cane as he and his son continued their stroll down the village high street.
Robert smiled to see his father in such high spirits. With a smile on his face and a spring in his step, he looked younger than he had done in months. Had Robert doubted whether coming north had been sensible, this sight was enough to persuade him otherwise.
“It seemed foolish spending our Christmas day at home alone,” he said, shifting the basket he held from one hand to another. “There are so many out there who would profit from a hearty meal and we shall eat plenty well enough this evening.” His stomach grumbled, but he felt a flicker of pride at the feeling. He and his father, both, had chosen to forgo their luncheon in order that they might share a little of their festive bounty around the village. The idea had been brewing in Robert’s mind for some days, and when Reverend Worthy had spent the Christmas Morning service delivering a long diatribe about the importance of charity, it had been decided for him. He’d briefly suggested to his father that they might prefer to go out this afternoon than remain at home and share food from their own well-stocked pantry with those who had far less to celebrate with. He’d barely finished outlining his idea before Mr Hodge had sprung to his feet with far more energy than he normally had and begun filling a box with the firs
t things he could lay his hands on. Robert had had to suggest, kindly, that a loaf of bread was probably more useful than a volume of Plato, but his father and he had had a great deal of enjoyment from gathering goods to distribute. Not only that, he felt as if he had begun to make genuine friends amongst those they delivered to. He had met a number of men who were working on the building of Castleford, for instance, and learned a great many new names of farm labourers and piece-workers who he would make a concerted effort to greet whenever their paths crossed in future. This was what he had missed most about England when he was overseas, for a great deal of social segregation could not easily be overcome in the colonies. Here, he was pleased to find his place in a varied society, and he could see how his father brightened to learn of one or two devotees of chess amongst those they visited.
“I think I shall form a league, Robert!” he declared, as they continued in their progress down the high street, still bustling with people in spite of the holiday.
Or perhaps because of it, Robert thought, as he lifted his hat and exchanged a cheerful Merry Christmas with yet another passer-by.
“You shall not want for competition, then,” Robert replied, smiling at his father’s enthusiasm as he began to plan aloud for what shape his new organisation might take.
“Mr Hodge!”
A familiar voice brought Robert to a stop and he turned, surprised to hear himself hailed and still more surprised to feel as though he recognised the voice that called out to him. A genuine smile broke out on his face as he recognised the head of another small party of generous Christmas visitors.
“Mr Gale! Good afternoon.” Robert shook his hand heartily. “Merry Christmas!”
“And to you!” Edmund grinned. “Both of you! Mr Hodge, you look well. I trust the holiday is treating you kindly.”
“Indeed it is, young Mr Gale!” Robert’s father said, turning to greet his friends. “I see you have quite a group with you today! Mr Weston, good afternoon! And Miss Turner! Miss Juliet and Miss Elizabeth. A very Merry Christmas to you all!”
A Winter Wager Page 10