Penny's Yuletide Wish: A Regency Romance Novella (Branches of Love Book 7)

by Sally Britton

  They both reached for the same raisin, their fingers tangling a moment, hands colliding, and the brief hesitation it caused in both their movements sent the blue flames flickering over their hands, turning orange. Penny yipped in pain, snatching her hand back to cradle it against her chest. Robert had the raisin but closed his fist around it and shook out his hand, trying to alleviate the burning sensation.

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Brody rushed forward, putting her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”

  “No. Not terribly.” Penny laughed and nodded to Robert. “But my pride is stung. Did you win the sixth raisin, Mr. Ellsworth?”

  He opened his hand to show her in the dim light. “I did.”

  “We have our winner,” Mr. Brody announced, and the room erupted in good-natured laughter and applause.

  “Here. Allow me to help you, my dear,” Mrs. Brody said quietly, taking Penny aside.

  Robert hurried around the table to them. “Allow me, Mrs. Brody. I am afraid I sustained a small burn, too. I can assist Miss Clark and see to my injury at the same time.”

  “I am certain I will be fine,” Penny insisted.

  There was more cheering as Peter and another boy near his age began nipping raisins from the fire-lit bowl. Robert took advantage of the moment, his hand on Penny’s arm, and guided her out of the room into the hall where wall sconces remained let. Robert drew Penny to the nearest lamp and held her hand up to the light to inspect it.

  Her ungloved hand trembled slightly, and he reflexively ran his thumb gently across her palm to soothe her. The first finger on her right hand had a shining red patch near the tip, where she had burned herself. “It likely will blister and be tender for a few days,” he murmured softly. His heart pounded within his chest, demanding he pay attention to how close they stood, how the length of her arm pressed against his, and that she smelled of cinnamon and brandy, spicy and sweet all at once.

  “What of your burn?” she asked in a whisper. Her hand turned in his, and she stood on her toes to look over his wider palm, her fingers delicately touching his skin. The moment was torturous until she spied the small red spot on his ring finger. “Yours does not look too terrible. Does it hurt?”

  Robert swallowed back his emotion, tried to tuck it deep within himself. His beautiful friend, the girl he had once hoped to marry grown into a woman of grace, could not know how much he wished to take her in her arms and kiss her. He would soothe all her pains the rest of her life, if she would only allow it. If it were possible.

  “Not terribly,” he answered at last, his voice hoarse.

  Penny stilled and raised her eyes from studying his hand, meeting his gaze. They stood so close, alone in the hall, no one watching. For a long moment they stared at one another, then she tipped her chin upward and moved a tiny bit closer, her eyes falling half-closed.

  “Robert,” she said, her voice still whisper-soft.

  He bent toward her, heart racing, lips already parting in preparation to take hers up in a kiss.

  The door to the drawing room opened, and Robert stepped backward abruptly, while Penny became so rigid as though turned to stone. One of the servants stepped out backward, holding the now-covered snapdragon dish. Another servant followed with a cloth, two more carrying the small table between them. They paid no heed to Robert or Penny who stood there likely appearing somewhat guilty.

  Before Robert could turn back to Penny, she walked by him, following the servants to the kitchens. He watched her go, realizing belatedly she must be attending to her burned finger. He took a step back, then another, then turned and went directly down the stairs to the front door. If every time he came near her he made a near fool of himself, almost kissing her, their friendship would not last long.

  But—he paused on the steps—Penny had seemed on the verge of kissing him back. He stayed there, between ground and first floor, biting the insides of his cheeks while trying to think through what he ought to do. If he went back, would Samuel continue to torment him with jests? That was nearly reason enough to leave. However, to remain near to Penny gave Robert reason enough to stay.

  There were still games to play that might cover the awkward moment between Robert and Penny in the corridor. Charades. Apples in a barrel. The welcoming of the New Year.

  Robert turned around, resolved to stay. Whatever the night brought, being near Penny would finish out the old year happily. He walked up the steps and did not resist the smile that turned his lips upward. Penny had tried to determine which young lady held his favor. That meant, as of yet, she had not realized he spoke of her when they had discussed the subject.

  Entering the corridor once more, Robert raised his eyebrows when he saw Samuel standing outside the drawing room.

  “There you are,” Samuel said, a quick grin appearing. “Might I have a word with you, Rob?”

  “Of course.” Robert mentally fortified himself against the teasing, but when Samuel led the way into another room, dark and without guests, Robert followed curiously. “Sam? Is something wrong?” he asked when Samuel shut the door behind them.

  “Yes, something is wrong.” Samuel folded his arms, barely visible in the shadows of the room. “Rob, why are you not taking advantage of the hand fate has dealt you? Penelope Clark is right here, now, and unattached.”

  Robert stepped back against the door, hoping its solid strength would keep him upright for this unnerving conversation. “I am only a steward, Sam. She is the daughter of a gentleman—”

  “—and about to become a teacher at a girls’ school,” Samuel finished impatiently. “A teacher, a governess, is not above your position in any way. Stop acting as though you are an impoverished martyr and do something for your own happiness.” Samuel laid a hand on Robert’s shoulder, a firm touch that somehow made his words gentler. “You have a stable position. You are an honest man. Court her, wed her, and live happily the rest of your days.”

  Lungs constricting, Robert shook his head. “I cannot hope—Sam. She may not feel the same. It was so long ago that we dreamed, that we supposed what it would be like….” His voice trailed away, the memory of his last summer with Penny before she went away playing in his mind. Did she remember when they stood next to the pond, skipping stones and speaking of their futures? He had ventured, with what confidence a seventeen-year-old boy could manage, to ask if she might consider courting him when they were old enough. At sixteen, she had enthusiastically said she would.

  That was so long ago.

  “She would not have asked if you had your eye on a woman if she did not hope to learn you were free of attachment,” Samuel said, a stubborn sound to his voice that allowed Robert to easily picture through the dark the glower that must be on his brother’s face.

  “Do stop,” Robert said, then groaned. “I nearly kissed her only a moment ago, in the hall.”

  “Truly?” Samuel laughed and clapped him on the shoulder harder.

  “I see no reason to rejoice over it,” Robert muttered, rubbing at the spot his brother had struck with more force than necessary. “Do you not remember what happened when I kissed her at the ball? She ran as though she could not be rid of me fast enough. I have barely restored her trust in me after that incident.”

  When Samuel spoke again, he sounded chagrinned. “We both know it is my fault she ran. If I had not been present, things may have turned out differently. I am sorry for that, Rob. I promise I will not cause you any more trouble. I will remain firmly out of the way when it comes to Miss Clark.”

  Samuel could be right. Perhaps Penny had only been uncomfortable due to the public nature of that moment. Robert’s own reluctance had been strong, indeed, to act upon Samuel’s demands that Penny be kissed. And how incredible it had been, despite everything, to finally have a taste of her lips.

  Closing his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the wall, Robert released a deep-felt, long-suffering sigh. “Let me think on it, Sam.”

  “Do not think too long. She leaves the day after E
piphany,” Samuel reminded him. “You have six days, Robert.” Then his brother opened the door, letting enough light into the room that Robert couldn’t miss the concern on his elder brother’s face. He had such worry in his eyes. “You both deserve happiness, no matter your positions in life.” He stepped out, closing the door behind him, leaving Robert alone in the dark with his thoughts.

  Chapter 14

  Penny muttered darkly to herself as she picked her way through the mud, a lamp in one hand and her skirts held above the damp in the other. Although not at all superstitious, when her Aunt Elizabeth reminded her of this particular New Year’s tradition, Penny had leaped upon the idea with enthusiasm.

  As the last of the guests departed from the Brody house, her aunt had leaned near Penny to whisper, “You ought to go down to the well and get the New Year’s cream before someone else thinks to do so.”

  “Why do men not have traditions this ridiculous?” She grumbled and stepped over a large puddle. Finally, she arrived at the old well near the rear of the kitchen gardens. The Brodys had long had a pump in their kitchen for water, likely for a few generations, but a well still stood ready to offer water to the kitchen gardens.

  Penny had performed this ritual only a handful of times in the past. The very first time had been in the early hours of the New Year just before her sixteenth birthday. The first maiden to drink from a well, or spring, on New Year’s Day, was said to be granted her heart’s desire. Some said it must be a wedding, or love, that would come to her before the year was out. That was all well and good, she supposed, but at the moment she worried less for herself and more for Robert.

  He deserved every happiness. So, she would drink the water and make a wish for him. Wishes were like prayers anyway. If one put their heart into the effort of the making, there was a better chance of something coming from that heart’s desire.

  Robert had nearly kissed her. She was certain of it. But why? Had he given up hope on the woman he loved, or only given in to the moment created by the two of them standing so near? The very worst thing Penny could imagine was that Robert had sensed her own longing and acted in order to please her.

  Penny lowered the bucket into the well slowly, trying to order her thoughts. When she had returned from tending to her burn, a damp cloth wrapped around her injured finger, she had found Robert in the middle of a game of charades. He made eye contact briefly, a reassuring smile on his face, before proceeding to avoid her the rest of the evening. He left shortly after the clock struck midnight, though the party went on for hours more.

  The bucket hit the water below with a splash, startling Penny from her thoughts. She gave it a moment to fill, then turned the crank to pull it up again. The cold seeped through the layers of her gown and underthings. Her bare arms prickled from the cold. When she left the house, she had not thought to be gone long enough to feel the sting of winter on her skin. Now it was evident she ought to have considered changing more than her slippers for half-boots before making her way to the well.

  The edge of the bucket came into view, and Penny grabbed it and pulled the bucket to the rock ledge. Belatedly, she realized she had forgotten to bring a cup or dipper with her. Penny stripped off her mittens and laid them on the edge of the well, then used her bare hands to scoop the frigid water into her hands.

  The lantern flickered with a cold breeze; the water in her hand rippled.

  Time to make the wish.

  Penny took in a deep breath. “I wish for Robert’s happiness, that he may find the courage to love someone who will love him in return.” Then, she bent to taste the water. It was cold upon her lips and tongue and chilled her throughout to drink it. Water slipped through her fingers to her bodice, making her shiver all the more.

  The whole thing had been a foolish waste of her time and made her risk a cold.

  Penny grabbed up her mittens and the lamp, and hurried through the mostly sleeping kitchen gardens and back to the house. A warm drop of water fell down her cheek; she brushed it away before it grew cool in the frosty night air.

  “I wish Robert loved me.” The words slipped from between her lips, the first she spoke after the silliness of what she had done struck her. “I wish he knew I loved him.” She entered the house, heart heavy.

  Aunt Elizabeth waited for her, however, in the guest room set aside for Penny’s use. Her aunt already wore her dressing gown and curling papers in her hair. Without a household maid in sight, Penny’s own comfort must wait.

  “How was it?” Aunt Elizabeth asked, eyes twinkling. “Did you have a vision of your one true love as you drank the water?”

  Penny had been too busy thinking about Robert to remember the silliest part of the superstition. “I did not.” She sat down and began unlacing her boots. “I made a wish on behalf of another.”

  “Oh? How intriguing. And selfless. When I was a girl, I wished for true love every time.” She laughed quietly to herself, the sort of laugh one indulges in when remembering childhood flights of fancy. “Eventually, I met Matthew, but I do not think all my wishes in the cold had a thing to do with it.”

  Penny sat up after pulling off one boot. “What is this? If you knew that, why send me traipsing about in the cold?” She shook her boot at her aunt, feigning insult. “That was not a kind thing to do to me, Aunt.”

  The woman waved her hand to dismiss the pretend affront. “We all need a little bit of whimsy if we are to make it through this life, Penelope Clark. It is not so much the activity that matters as it is the spirit with which you undertake to perform it. You said you made a wish for another, which only proves my point. You put someone before yourself in that moment, which is quite selfless. Tell me. What will you do to make that wish come true?”

  Both boots off and tucked beneath the chair where Penny sat, she studied the floor. “I am not certain I can do anything for it, really.” She rose and went to her dressing table, sitting before the mirror so she could see all the places in her hair where pins had been tucked and hidden. “I already tried to help once, and it did not go well.” Robert had not at all appreciated her questioning his brothers about his affections.

  “Then try again,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “We never give up on those we care for, my dear.” Aunt Elizabeth rose and came to Penny’s side, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “You are an intelligent young lady, full of fire and strength, and you shine brighter than you know.”

  “Are you going to try to talk me out of becoming a teacher?” Penny asked, one corner of her mouth going upward.

  “Did I not just say how I admire your strengths? Though I do believe you would make an excellent instructor to other young ladies, I know your heart does not relish that path.” Aunt Elizabeth gently turned Penny to face her, her brown eyes darker than Penny’s own, yet alike in shape.

  “When your dear parents died,” Aunt Elizabeth said quietly, her expression soft, “I vowed I would raise your brothers and you to make them proud. I have done my best, and you made it a joyful responsibility. But I also promised myself, and your dear departed mother, that I would see you happy.” She bent and kissed both of Penny’s cheeks one after the other. “Penelope.” She stared into Penny’s eyes with all the love of a mother. “Grant all the wishes you can for others, but do not neglect your own.”

  Penny said nothing until her aunt turned at the door. “Good night, dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said, her cheerful smile returning.

  “Good night, Aunt Elizabeth.” Penny sat for some time at her table, not quite meeting her eyes in the reflection of the mirror hanging above it.

  Even if she found the courage to work toward her own wish, the other half of the effort would need to be made by Robert. Lifting her gaze at last to stare into the mirror, Penny searched for the answers in her own reflection.

  “The worst that could happen is that I lose a friend,” she said to herself. “But he will be lost to me anyway should he marry another.”

  Her aunt saw fire and strength in Penny. Perhaps it was time Penny foun
d it within herself and did something about her wish.

  Chapter 15

  January 4th, 1826

  A sneeze shook the window casings of Robert’s study. At least, he imagined his sneezes now had the power to make the windows, shutters, and the foundations of his house quake. For three days, he had sneezed without reason or provocation. He also nursed a terrible headache that no amount of peppermint or willow bark tea could cure. He had grown ill the first morning of the New Year, which some might view as a bad omen. Without thought, he had reported for duty to Devon only to be immediately turned out of the house.

  Harry Devon acted as all anxious new husbands and expectant fathers, keeping illness as far from his wife and unborn child as possible. “You may return when you stop sneezing,” Devon had told him crossly, practically shoving Robert out the door himself. “Take some rest, Ellsworth. We wouldn’t want you to miss the masque for a trifling cold, would we?”

  The masque would be held the very next day, after most had lit their bonfires of Christmas greenery and any with yule logs still blazing would put them out. It appeared that Robert would not be free of Devon’s edict and, necessarily, would not attend the masque. One of his last chances to see Penny before she left with her aunt and uncle.

  A note from the Devons had arrived that morning with his character assignment. He still didn’t know what to make of it. “Lord Justice.” Was he to dress as a judge with a wig? That certainly didn’t appeal to him. Not when he hoped to see Penny there. Hoped to speak to her for a few moments alone. Perhaps even say goodbye. He had already made himself a fool, and he needed no wig to add to it.

  A knock at the front door echoed down the corridor. Robert rose slowly to his feet and turned to face the doorway to his study, somewhat confused. Anyone coming from the grand house to speak to him had come to the rear door, at the kitchen, to relay messages from Devon. He wasn’t expecting visitors.