A Christmas Affair (10 page)

“I have already promised the twins I would wear my uniform to the church,” he continued, crossing his arms across his chest. “But I thought it might be better to obtain your permission first. I wouldn’t wish to upset either you or your sisters by raising unpleasant memories.”

Amanda stared at him in surprise. “Why should your wearing your uniform upset me?” she asked in some confusion. “We were all very proud of Daniel!”

“That isn’t what he said” Justin replied, recalling the brief conversation he’d had with the young officer so many months ago. “In fact, he said you kicked up a devil of a dust when he first enlisted in the Infantry.”

“Only because he was threatening to enlist as a common foot soldier if I didn’t buy him a commission!” she protested, blushing to think Daniel had told anyone of their quarrel. “Naturally I was somewhat upset with him at the time. He was my brother, and I feared for his life.”

Justin frowned at her words. “
You
bought him a commission?”

Amanda nodded warily. “Most of Daniel’s inheritance
was entailed and it would have been . . . difficult to arrange for the necessary money to be released. He was determined to join the army and fight for king and country, so there was nothing else I could do.” Tears shimmered in her eyes before she added, “At the time I thought I was doing him a service, now I am not so sure.”

Justin’s heart softened at her obvious distress. “You gave the lad what he wanted most,” he said softly. “Never doubt that for a single moment. Your brother knew the risks and chose to take them; don’t blame yourself for that.”

She bowed her head for a moment, and when she raised her eyes to his face, they were warm with gratitude. How odd that only a short while ago she’d been stiff with resentment toward him, she thought, her mouth relaxing in a hesitant smile. Then she could have happily throttled him, but now she was feeling quite charitably disposed toward him.

“Thank you,” she said simply, knowing he would not welcome more effusive expressions of gratitude. “And I do hope that you will wear your uniform. It meant the world to Daniel, and I know it would please him that you should honor him so.

“Then, it is agreed,” he said, pleased that things should have been resolved so peacefully. He didn’t really think she would oppose him on the matter, but with Miss Lawrence, one could never be certain what she would do. She was every bit as stubborn as Daniel had said she would be, and just as managing.

The thought of her managing ways brought to mind the other reason why he had decided to seek a private audience with her, and he shifted forward in his chair until his arms rested on the polished surface of her desk. “Miss Lawrence,” he said, fixing her with a stern look, “I was wondering if I might speak with you regarding your
brother.”

“Do you mean Daniel?”

He shook his head. “I was referring to Stephen. I realize the lad is still wet behind the ears, but that doesn’t give you cause to treat him like a tiresome cub. He is fifteen now, and trapped between adolescence and manhood. I know from my own youth that this is a painful age, and —”

“I beg your pardon, Colonel,” Amanda said, her icy words cutting into his admonishing speech, “but my brothers are my responsibility. I thank you for your concern, but —”

“But you’ll not countenance any interference,” he concluded for her, his golden-brown eyes snapping with anger. “Come, Miss Lawrence, surely you can not be so petty a tyrant as that!”

“And surely you sir, must know that there can be but one commander in any enterprise!” she retorted furious with herself for being taken in by his show of sympathetic understanding. The man was obviously so accustomed to being the superior officer that he couldn’t abide the thought of anyone else exerting the smallest amount of authority.

“Blast it, ma’am, I am trying to help!” Justin roared, coming to his feet in an angry rush. He’d meant to discuss her behavior in a cool and rational manner, and instead he found they were once again at daggers drawn. He’d always considered himself to be a man of modest temperament, but Miss Lawrence seemed able to rouse him to fury sooner than any female he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. He shook his head and made an effort to obtain the cool control that had always been his.

“I beg you will pardon me,” he said, his voice straining with suppressed emotion. “Naturally, you must do as you see fit. As you have said, they are your brothers, and my
opinions are clearly unwanted. Good afternoon.” He turned and walked from the room, his back held stiff with pride.

Amanda watched him go, wondering what it was about the colonel that made her admire him one moment and then long to box his ears in the next. All her life she had been the one in control, hiding her emotions behind a brisk, efficient facade. Yet with him she was as much at the mercy of her emotions as any silly female.

Her lips thinned at the realization, and she vowed to keep a tighter rein on herself in the future. With her family’s future hanging in the balance, she could ill-afford the distraction of emotion. When next she and Justin met, he would find her as sweetly bidable as a lamb. No matter what, she promised herself, she would not allow him to draw her into another argument. He was naught but a guest here, and with that thought in mind she put her papers aside and set out to speak with Mrs. Hatcher. It was past time she was planning her guest’s Christmas dinner.

“A boar’s head, miss?” The elderly cook stared at Amanda as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Whyever would you be wantin’ such a heathenish thing?”

“I have told you, Mrs. Hatcher, it is for Colonel Stockton,” Amanda repeated in her most cajoling manner. She knew the other lady held a firm distrust of anything “new,” and that if she wished her cooperation, she’d have to tread very carefully. “He attended Oxford, you see, and ’tis the tradition there to serve a boar’s head at Christmas dinner.”

“Well, I’ve never heard the like,” Mrs. Hatcher muttered darkly, “Goose is what we serve of a Christmas Day, and always have to my recollection.”

“Nonsense” Amanda countered firmly. “My own father
attended Oxford, and when I was younger I often heard him speak of the ceremony and the speeches that accompanied it.”

Mrs. Hatcher looked thoughtful. “Aye,” she said reluctantly, “that he did.” And in the next moment she was shaking her head, her sharp knife slicing through the pile of currants she’d been chopping when Amanda burst into the kitchens.

“And next I suppose you’ll be wantin’ those fancy French pastries instead of my plum pudding,” she grumbled with the familiarity of an old retainer. “And what of my Christmas cake, eh? ’Tis baked and frosted, and the wee ones are already beggin’ for a taste. I’ll not be the one to tell them nay.” She shot Amanda a disapproving scowl.

“We shall have the Christmas cake, and the plum pudding, and the goose. The boar’s head is more for show than anything,” Amanda soothed, wishing she had waited until after dinner before approaching Mrs. Hatcher. The good cook was always more amenable after a glass or two of the spicy ale she took with her evening meal.

“A rather dear piece of show if you ask me,” she sniffed, but Amanda could tell by her thoughtful expression that she was already more than half won over.

“True, but only think how much the children will enjoy it,” she added, deciding she had nothing to lose by playing her trump card. “It will make a lovely memory for them.”

“There is that,” the cook agreed, her face softening at the thought of the younger members of the household. She set her knife down as she considered the matter. “John Turnbow’s oldest has a boar he was talkin’ of butcherin’. Mayhap I could have a word with him.”

Amanda gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Hatcher,” she said with a relieved laugh. “I knew I could count upon you.”

Mrs. Hatcher returned her hug and then quickly pushed her away, her cheeks bright red. “And you’ll be havin’ one of those infernal trees as well, I don’t doubt,” she snapped, turning her attention to her work. “Although why anyone should go to all the bother of hangin’ that folderol on a tree, I’m sure I don’t know!”

“It is called a
tannenbaum,”
Amanda corrected, not the least bit taken in by her objections, “and you know that it is a custom my great-grandmother brought with her when she came to this country with one of the Hanoverian princesses. We had them when I was a child, and I seem to recall seeing you admiring them from the servants’ hall,” she added with a knowing grin.

Mrs. Hatcher gave a loud sniff, refusing to own up to admiring something so decidedly foreign. “The candle-holders will be up in the attic with your mother’s things,” she said briskly. “And it will be left to you and the children to make the other nonsense. Heaven knows I shall have enough to do what with preparin’ the funeral meal and then my Christmas bakin’ as well.”

“That sounds delightful” Amanda replied, thinking of the paper chains and stars she and the children could make. It would help them pass the long evenings until Christmas. Perhaps Colonel Stockton would like to help, she thought, her lips curling in sudden amusement. She was willing to wager he’d never seen a real German tree before.

She remained in the kitchen discussing the buffet that would be served following Daniel’s memorial service, and then excused herself, pleased that she had the situation so well in hand. When she was almost to the door, Mrs. Hatcher called out to her.

“The plum pudding will be ready to pour by Monday, Miss. Will you and the children be takin’ your turns stirrin’ it?”

Amanda’s pleasure vanished as a wave of pain washed over her. She could remember last year when she and the others had joined in the ancient custom of making a wish as they stirred the Christmas pudding. If only her wish had been granted, she thought, blinking back her tears. If it had, then Daniel would still be alive, and they would not be faced with the loss of their home and their very way of life.

“Of course we will, Mrs. Hatcher,” she said firmly, and then hurried away before she could disgrace herself by bursting into noisy tears.

Chapter Six

Tempting as it was to retire to her room and indulge in a strong fit of the vapors, Amanda returned to her study. The door was standing open when she arrived, and the sight of her brother standing beside her desk brought her to an abrupt halt.

“Stephen!” she exclaimed, a pleased smile touching her lips. “What are you doing here? I should think you would be resting after your long journey.”

In answer he held up the account sheet she had been laboring over. “What is this?” he asked, his dark blond eyebrows meeting in a worried frown.

Amanda bustled forward, her cheeks flushing with distress. “Really, Stephen,” she protested, attempting to snatch the sheets away from him, “I wish you wouldn’t snoop in my desk. Those are my private papers.”

He easily avoided her, holding the sheets just out of reach. “This looks like a ledger” he said, turning away and hunching his shoulders as he studied them. “And these figures are an account of some kind. What do they mean? What is going on?”

“Nothing!” Amanda ducked under his arm to make another try at the papers. “Stephen, would you just —”

“Blast it all, Mandy, I ain’t a child!” he cried suddenly, his eyes bright with emotion as he whirled around to face her.
“Tell me what is going on! Has this anything to do with Mr. Stranton’s visit?”

Amanda gazed up at him silently, noting how much he had grown in the months since she’d last seen him. When he’d left for school at the beginning of the fall term, he had been an inch or so shorter than her, now she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Colonel Stockton was right, she thought unhappily; Stephen was a man now, and she was doing him no favors by treating him like an ill-mannered child.

“Not precisely,” she said, realizing the time had come to tell him everything. “As I told the colonel, Mr. Stranton was anxious to offer us his condolences, but he also wanted to speak to me about Aunt Elizabeth.”

“What about her?” Stephen asked, his frown deepening. “Amelia told me she was here, but that the two of you had had words and the old girl stomped off to London. Can’t say as I am sorry,” he added with a grimace. “I wasn’t relishing the notion of spending my holiday listening to her jaw at me.”

“Yes, well, as it happens Aunt Elizabeth is my grandfather’s secondary heir, and now that Daniel is dead, she is the new owner of Lawrence Hall,” Amanda said quietly, determined to keep nothing from him.

“What?”
Stephen gasped, his cheeks paling in horror.

Amanda repeated what she had learned from the solicitor, and he began to angrily pace the room.

“But that is infamous!” he cried, his hands clenching into tight fists. “What of you and Amelia? You’re Lawrences too . . . aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, resuming her seat with an unhappy sigh. “But we are female Lawrences, unfortunately, and by the terms of grandfather’s will, that is not quite good enough.”

“I don’t see why not,” Stephen muttered, looking muti
nous. “Aunt Elizabeth is a female, and
she’s
inheriting everything!”

“Only because her father had the foresight to protect her,” Amanda replied bluntly. “But that is neither here nor there, I suppose. The will is valid, and Aunt Elizabeth will be assuming ownership at the end of January.”

Stephen uttered an oath which a few short months ago would have earned him a sharp rap across the mouth and gave her a searching look. “Do the others know?”

Amanda shook her head. “I’ve told Linsley and some of the other servants, but I haven’t had the heart to tell the children. They’ve been so upset about Daniel.”

“They’ll have to be told.”

“I know.” Her shoulders drooped in defeat, and she suddenly felt a thousand years old. She glanced at the painting of her father hanging over the fireplace, studying his bright red hair and flashing dark eyes with a wistful expression. Would Aunt Elizabeth leave the portrait where it was, she wondered, or would she consign it to some dark corner of the attic? The older woman had always expressed an acute dislike of it. . . .

Stephen shifted restlessly from one foot to the other at his sister’s brooding silence. This was the first time he’d seen her cast so low, and for a moment he was afraid. Then he remembered that he was now the man of the house and resolutely squared his shoulders.