I did a marathon bit of writing last night and finished the third Christmas story!
Chapter 11
Wickes left the lady to her melancholy thoughts and went out to the stables to find Sergeant Hamilton. Hamilton was a man the same age as himself, and had been his batman since Hamilton had been a raw recruit and Wickes had been an equally raw ensign, and had rescued George Hamilton from the unkind hazing of some older soldiers. They had supported each other so long that many of Wickes’s men believed them to be mollies who kept to each other’s company. They were incorrect in this assumption; but neither man liked the loud and raucous types of women that soldiery seemed to attract. Indeed, they rarely broke formality; and when they did, it was for a heartfelt reason.
“How’s my mare, George?” asked Wickes.
“Nasty bruise on her foot,” said Hamilton. “But I reckon we could get on the road tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she needed a farrier; I think one of her shoes is loose,” said Wickes.
“You aimin’ to stay longer, Tom?” asked Hamilton.
“I met a lady I like more than a little,” confessed Wickes.
“Reckon I might of done the same,” said Hamilton. “Runs a bakery when she ain’t involved in the tomfoolery o’ the gentry.”
“You pop the question as soon as you can, m’boy, nothing like a good cook,” said Wickes. “Not that I can talk, I need to find my way to it. If I muster out, will you come with me?”
“Aye,” said Hamilton. “Tom! There’s a young woman here, dark hair, who was making eyes at one o’ the grooms. I didn’t manage to overhear much, but seemingly, she wants him to take her to Chelmsford; reckons there’s a plot against her. Sounded like a tale she’d got from some trashy novel, that Mrs. Clitheroe is conspiring to marry her off to Mr. Curtis.”
“Ho! Well, she’d be so lucky,” scoffed Wickes. “Mr. Jeb Curtis might not flirt in the ways some gentlemen flirt, but a good farmer doesn’t discuss the number of piglings his prize sow gets in a farrowing if he isn’t serious, and he was being serious to that little redhead, and if they ain’t smelling of April and May, I’m mistaken.”
“Oho, so the grapes are sour, are they?” chuckled Hamilton. “Rejected by his lordship, as it seems Mr. Annesley is, and hiding it to catch a wench who ain’t after him for his title, and rejected by the farmer boy.”
Wickes sniggered.
“I’m sure you managed to find out everything there was to find. I wonder how chagrined she would be to know the views of the servants.”
“She’s the sort who would be not only surprised, but outraged, to find out that servants have thoughts and feelings,” said Hamilton. “I just hope young Ezra Slack doesn’t lose his place for her.”
“Is she the dirty tricks sort?” asked Wickes.
Hamilton got out a clay pipe and charged it from a disreputable looking tobacco pouch, which also contained a small horn of powder for his pistol, and opened a lantern to light the pipe from the wick.
“I wouldn’t say she wasn’t,” he said, having puffed a few times to get it drawing.
“So, did you catch what she wanted the boy for?”
“To drive her into Chelmsford before anyone else is up.”
“Well, now! I don’t say we should alert anyone over speculation, but what say you and I go early to bed, and rise before that little madam does, and be ready for anything she gets up to?”
Hamilton took a thoughtful puff, removed his pipe from his mouth, and blew a smoke ring.
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.
oOoOo
The younger people were enjoying themselves outside, despite the freezing, clammy tendrils of fog trying to insinuate itself into their clothing. Jeb and Edwin bickered over who could climb up the big oak tree for mistletoe.
“Oh, now, don’t make a race of it to prove something,” said Angela. “I don’t think either of you has anything to prove. Maybe you should let Will Wren show off.”
“Maybe we should,” said Jeb, with a laugh.
Will was nothing loath, and went up the tree with speed and aplomb.
“My brother is a great climber,” said Jenny, proudly. “He used to escape from the asylum, work a few days doing odd jobs, and break back in with treats.”
“What a fortunate coincidence for you to be reunited,” said Clara.
“It isn’t coincidence,” said Edwin. “I’d met Miss Cubitt in the village, and as I discovered Jenny and Will were children of a dependent I had inherited, I asked Miss Cubitt to take Jenny as I could scarcely have her in a bachelor household. And while I’m confessing, I own this house but I wanted to see how any short-listed girls took to it.”
“You mean the break-down was a fake?” said Clara. “You put Tommy and me through hell as a test?”
“I did not know until the last minute that you had lost your parents so traumatically but by then, all was in train, and I could not think of another way,” said Edwin.
“You might have said that the wheel was loose and you did not want to go any further,” said Clara, angrily.
Edwin stared.
“I did not think of that,” he said, quietly. “I... I can only apologise sincerely for frightening a child; Tommy, if I could take time back and undertake your sister’s clever suggestion, I would. I hoped that being near a house would mitigate any shock. I was foolish and I am sorry. But I hate living a lie, and I wanted to come clean.”
“Your honesty is commendable, but it will take a little while to decide whether I can forgive this high-handed masquerade,” said Clara, angrily. “Tommy, do you want to help gather more greenery, or do you want to return to the house of charades, and see if there are any other lies and mysteries to uncover?”
“I like gathering greenery,” said Tommy.
“There is one other implied lie,” said Edwin. “I am part Indian; and I did not want to marry a woman who would put up with it for my wealth and position. I wanted to meet ladies who accepted me for myself, and were content to be comfortable. I am the new viscount and something of a nabob. So, now you know.”
“I concede your wisdom in concealing that, my lord,” said Clara. “Especially from people like Esther, so we shall continue to call you ‘Mr. Annesley,’ shan’t we, Angela?”
“Yes,” said Angela. “I guessed. But then, I’m a local. And I heard of the old viscount’s brother who had the confounded cheek to be rich enough to bail out the viscount and his profligate sons more than once.”
“I can see it wouldn’t endear him or his son to a man with profligate sons; who died, I assume?” said Clara.
“One at Waterloo
, one at sea, with his wife,” said Edwin, shortly. “It was an unlooked for social promotion, but I knew it would cause trouble if I tried to form a connexion in the usual manner.”
“That, I understand, and therefore do not have to forgive,” said Clara. “But I am deeply hurt and injured by your ill-usage of us in scaring us.”
“What can I say? I did not think,” said Edwin. “I am at fault.”
“I give you credit for admitting to a fault, not trying to explain it away,” said Clara.
Tommy tugged on her sleeve.
“I wasn’t very frightened,” he said. “Miss Cubitt knew what to do. And Mr. Annesley is a great gun, and I don’t think he meant to frighten us. And decking the house will be jolly”
“Well, then, I will put my anger to one side, and work through it as best I might,” said Clara.
Edwin bowed to her.
Clara’s eyes prickled; she liked Edwin, but if he lied to her in one thing, what else might he feel it necessary to lie about another time?
Ram Gopal skilfully separated her from the others.
“Mr. Edwin was always a bit of a prankster, Miss,” he said. “He grew out of it, but you might say this was going to be his last prank, to test the mettle of the ladies he shortlisted, which was up to half a dozen. Now, consider, Miss Snowe, do you think Miss Mortimer would have shown her true colours if she had been taken to a regular house party?”
“I... no,” said Clara.
“Moreover, now his lordship knows that you can face any adversity with aplomb and élan,” said Ram Gopal. “Such fortitude is a necessary part of being a lady to a peer of the realm, who can face any social situation. And you took over running things very well indeed.”
“Is he given to secrecy?” asked Clara, bluntly.
“Indeed, no, and though he was like a schoolboy in devising how to break his carriage, he normally wears his heart on his sleeve, and I would hate to see him miserable if you could not forgive him.”
“I... I need time to come to terms with it,” said Clara.
“Let me escort you back to the house for a nice cup of tea,” said Ram Gopal. “Nobody can beat a nice cup of tea.”
“I would be foolish to cut off my nose to spite my face; it... it hurts the more because I have a distinct partiality for Mr. ... for his lordship,” admitted Clara.
“Keep calling him Mr. Annesley until that baggage is out of the way, as I am sure she will be, soon,” said Ram Gopal. “Mrs. Elinor will demand that she be sent home, I am sure.”
“I hope so,” said Clara. “I dislike her very much, but I suspect if she knew that Mr. Annesley was a lord, she would promptly be as sweet as sweet to everyone.”
“And this is why he set up the advertisement, to meet young ladies incognito,” said Ram Gopal. “And to gain their honest opinion on his seat, which he loved from the moment he came here, and to see if they could weather difficulties, as there would be those in society who will make unkind comments.”
Clara nodded.
“I understand why he did it; logically, I cannot fault it, but my fear when we broke down interferes with my logical thinking.”
“I am sure his lordship understands that,” said Ram Gopal. “He was going to climb the tree for the mistletoe, because he is afraid of heights. I made him learn to climb trees and rough walls and ropes, so that he knew he could get down from anywhere. I know that he honours your courage in carrying on when you were frightened, when many women would have had hysterics.”
“You know, I had not thought of that; but fears should be faced,” said Clara. “I only came on a coach to Chelmsford because I wanted Tommy to have more chances. So it made me face my fear. But I still need a cup of tea and time to come to terms with it.”
“Perhaps you can sit in the boudoir, if Miss Mortimer is not there,” suggested Ram Gopal. “She said something about going back to bed as she did not feel well.”
“Oh, I hope so,” said Clara. “Though if she is laid up with a chill or a cold in the head, we shall be stuck with her for longer, for she cannot be sent home, possibly turning it into a pleurisy or pneumonia.”
Ram Gopal made tea, and Clara elected to sit in the kitchen rather than risk running into Esther in the boudoir. She chatted amiably to Mrs. Hymes, and Mrs. Partridge who were setting a baking of bread between them, something Mrs. Partridge might not feel able to do commercially, but which she was happy enough helping with for a large household.
The greenery-collecting party blew in the back door, laughing and stamping cold feet, and Edwin’s eyes sought out Clara. She gave him a rather tight smile and a nod.
He came and sat down beside her.
“I will do what I can to recoup myself in your good graces,” he said.
“Just be open with me,” said Clara. “I don’t like shocks and I don’t like being taken by surprise.”
“I’m not usually in the habit of deception,” said Edwin. “Maybe that’s why I made such a mull of it.”
“Which is encouraging, if so; for if you are bad at keeping secrets it means you are not used to doing so.”
“I’m good at hiding New Year’s and Birthday gifts, however, and even a thorough tickling from my sister will not make me reveal what they are, or where I hid them,” he added.
“Oh, stoic under torture,” said Clara.
“Extremely,” agreed Edwin.
“Tommy tries to wheedle things out of me when I’m not quite awake,” said Clara.
“I must remember that,” said Edwin. “Though if I say, ‘all gifts are in the secret room,’ that won’t leave him any further forward, will it.”
“What, there’s a secret room, too? Don’t tell me there are secret passages,” said Clara.
“Not precisely, but there are a couple of hidden stairs,” said Edwin.
“Famous!” said Clara. “Tommy will be ecstatic, if you let him look.”
“He’s more than welcome; he might even find those the Hymes’s don’t know, said Edwin. “It’ll give him something to do when the weather is bad.”
“I noticed that there did not appear to be a cupboard under the stairs for the back stairs,” said Clara. “They go up from behind the kitchen and the vestibule, with the housekeeper’s rooms on the other side, though I suppose the cupboard might be in her room. Because there’s no door at the end of the passage where the stairs go overhead, and no sloped ceiling, so the whole part has been closed off.”
“Well, it might have been closed off when the house was added to, and nobody taking any use of it,” said Edwin. “But there’s nothing to stop him tapping around the panelling.”
“Thank you,” said Clara.
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