A Christmas Kiss (13 page)

“My word!” he exclaimed in real agony. “Mith Covington, you're not crying, are you?”

She nodded, and a sob escaped her. Reggie felt sick. He was absolutely incapable of dealing with a sobbing female. He glanced quickly down the road in a desperate hope that he might see a sign of Jamie, but there was none. He felt an overpowering urge to run down the road as fast as his legs could carry him, but he resisted—he was born and bred a gentleman, after all. With real courage he turned to her again and asked, “What ith it? Your fingerth? Did I hurt you? Pleathe, you muthtn't cry!”

The shoulders heaved more violently, and the sobs became louder as Marianne shook her head. “N-no, of c-course n-not!” she managed. “It's n-nothing
you've
done. It's m-me!”

“I don't understand,” Reggie groaned in mounting desperation. “Ith there anything I can do? Here, take my coat.”

“Don't you d-dare take your coat off!” Marianne cried, hastily turning to him. “I w-won't have you c-contracting an inflammation of the l-lungs because of m-me!” And her tears resumed.

“Ith
that
what'th worrying you?” Reggie asked amazed. “What a goothe you are! I am wearing a coat and a waithtcoat under thith greatcoat. I'll be fine.” He stripped off his greatcoat and put it around her shoulders.

“I know I'm a goose,” she sniffed. “You've been so p-patient with me, and s-so g-good and k-kind, and I've been such a b-bore!”

“A bore! How can you think thuch a thing! I've never heard thuch thtuff and nonthenthe,” Reggie exclaimed with perfect sincerity. “It'th all my fault. I never know what to thay to young ladieth.”

“It's you who are talking stuff and nonsense now,” Marianne sniffed. “You've been a perfect gentleman, and you t-tried so hard to c-converse with me. But I can n-never think of things to say. And I so wanted to be interesting!” And with a fresh flood of tears, she dropped her head on Reggie's shoulder.

It seemed only natural for Reggie to support her by slipping his arm about her waist, and patting her back sympathetically with his free hand. If Marianne were not wearing that terrible bonnet, he would have put his cheek against her soft brown ringlets. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth and strength flowed through him, and he found himself hoping that Jamie would not turn up just yet. “There, there, Marianne, don't cry,” he heard himself murmuring over and over. Without quite realizing what he was doing, he lifted her chin and, with the exquisite, lace-edged handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he tenderly wiped her cheeks.

“I'm s-sorry to b-be acting like s-such a b-baby,” Marianne said, her voice still quivering with tears, her wet lashes fluttering enticingly over melting blue eyes. Entranced, Reggie bent closer. She lifted her face to his and, to his utter surprise, their lips met. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Reggie felt dizzy, as if his head were flying off into the air. Then he realized what he was doing. He was kissing a girl!
Jamie's
girl.

“Oh, Lord!” he groaned and jumped to his feet. Marianne stared up at him in trusting and innocent surprise. “Marianne!” he said in a choked voice, “I mean, Mith Covington … I'm very thorry. I don't know what to … I don't know what came over me! It wath unforgivable, I know, but I give you my word it will not happen again.”

“Oh,” Marianne said in a tiny voice, and a tear started down her cheek again.

“Good God, you're not going to cry again!” said Reggie in despair. “I know what I've done can be very upthetting to a young girl, but it wath not tho very bad, really. Pleathe, Marianne,” he begged, sitting down beside her and grasping her hands. “Truly, you can trutht me. I've given you my word. I won't break it.”

“I don't w-want your w-word!” she said between sobs.

“Marianne! What can you mean? You cannot
want
me to kith you!”

“Why not?” she asked, sniffing into his handkerchief.

“Becauthe … becauthe … well, for one thing, everyone knowth I've no way with the ladieth. I'm much too fat, and I lithp—”

Marianne's usually limpid eyes flashed. “You have a way with me! And you are
not
fat! Everybody says you always look in the height of fashion. Jamie says you're top-of-the-trees! I heard him! And as for your lisp, well—”

“Well—?”

“I think it's … lovable!”

Reggie gaped at her in astonishment. “Lovable? I don't want to be rude, Marianne, but are you thure you're not touched in your upper workth?”

Marianne was forced to giggle. “Oh, Reggie, you're so droll!”

A distant sound of horses' hooves brought a sense of urgency to Reggie's next words. “That'th all very well, Marianne, but you mutht promithe me to forget what … what'th happened here today.”

“But why?”

“I haven't time to explain. Jamie'th coming. You do like Jamie, don't you?”

“Oh, yes, but—”

“And he liketh you. Therefore, you mutht promithe me—”

Marianne looked dangerously close to tears again. “I don't understand. Don't
you
like me?”

Reggie looked toward the approaching vehicle in desperation. Jamie was practically upon them. “It don't matter whether I like you or not,” he explained hastily. “He liked you firtht, you thee?” A rather shabby phaeton was drawing up in front of them. Reggie pulled Marianne to her feet. “You do underthtand, don't you? And you won't cry, will you? That'th a good girl!”

Jamie, cheerful and self-satisfied at having rescued his party from a nasty fix, was full of the adventures he'd encountered. He'd found, on his arrival at Ashwater, that the livery stable where he was known had no one in attendance, and that he had not a penny in his pockets. His account of his attempts to establish credit made for a lengthy and humorous monologue, which occupied him through the entire trip home. If his passengers were somewhat preoccupied and unusually quiet, Jamie seemed to take no notice at all.

Clarissa knew that the evening would not go well. All the signs of trouble were apparent even before nightfall. First, one of the horses that Jamie had taken appeared at the stable wild-eyed and riderless. When she had finally found Philip, who had unaccountably disappeared for over an hour, he calmly told her not to worry, that Jamie was quite capable of handling any emergency on the road. His reassurances fell on deaf ears, for she knew that Martha would fall into hysterics if she got wind of the news that something had happened to the curricle in which her daughter was riding. By the time Jamie and his party finally appeared, looking cold and exhausted, it lacked only half an hour to dinner time. The rest of the household had already gathered in the drawing room, and the necessity of keeping them amused for an additional half-hour while Jamie, Reggie, and Marianne dressed, severely taxed her nerves.

The second trouble sign was the news that Martha imparted to her. Freddie, one of the twins, was complaining of an earache. Clarissa tried to make light of it to Martha, assuring and reassuring her that children often have complaints in the evening which disappear magically by morning. But earaches were often symptoms of severe infection, as Clarissa well knew, and the fear of a serious illness invading her household hung over her like a cloud.

But the trouble that most depressed Clarissa was her relationship with Gervaise which, he had made clear this afternoon, was approaching some sort of climax. He wanted her to marry him. He had always, as long as she could remember, wanted her to marry him. He'd been an admirer in her youth, and she knew that he'd never married because of a strong sense of loyalty to her, although she found it hard to believe—his protestations to the contrary—that his love for her could persist into middle age. She believed that it was simply a habit with him to think of himself in love with her. Nevertheless, his unwavering devotion had been a source of comfort to her through many years. He had been a trusted adviser, an escort, a gentle and cheerful friend. She counted on his support, enjoyed his company, and found his comfortable companionship one of the necessities of her life.

But now he was threatening to withdraw these from her. He had made it clear that he wanted a wife, not a friend. He had told her quite firmly this afternoon that he wanted some time alone with her as soon as she could arrange it. She knew what he would say. And she knew what her answer had to be. She had other obligations. She could not marry. But she did not want to lose his friendship. Why, oh why, had he chosen this time to force this dilemma upon her?

He ought to have realized that the Christmas season was the worst time of year for additional pressures. She had so much to see to and to organize. Christmas Eve was only two days off. There were the Christmas baskets still to get ready for distribution among the tenants, the Yule log ceremony, and the transportation to midnight mass to arrange, to say nothing of the late supper they would have afterwards. Then the enormous Christmas dinner for the next day had to be planned—a particular problem since she never knew how many neighbors would be dropping in. Then there was Boxing Day following, when it would be their turn to prepare the feast and entertainment for the servants' special day, and give them their Christmas boxes. Trust Gervaise to muddle her at such a time!

Sitting at the foot of the dining table, Clarissa surveyed her guests carefully. The snatches of conversation she heard sounded cheerful, the food was delectable and abundant, the candlelight gave the faces a warm, lively glow. But Martha looked strained and seemed to have her mind elsewhere. Sally, flirting with Philip outrageously, nevertheless seemed to be watching everyone with those cat's eyes of hers, as if she were a French spy trying to ferret out some dreadful secret. And Reggie was a little silent tonight—not like himself at all. Jamie, however, was persisting in his attentions to little Marianne, who was in high color tonight and looking very lovely. Evidently Philip had had no chance to speak to his son and was endeavoring to make up for it by keeping up a lively conversation with Evalyn. Well, things could be worse, she thought. We might brush through this evening after all. She stole a glance at Gervaise, seated at her right. He was regarding her with his apple-cheeked smile. “So,” he said teasingly, “now that you've checked all your other guests, you finally give me a glance.”

“Oh, pooh,” she laughed and patted his arm affectionately. “I don't trouble about you. You're quite one of the family.”

His smile faded. “I suppose I have been so,” he said, looking down into his plate, “but you must take no one for granted.”

Hutton, the butler, came up behind her at that moment and leaned over her, asking for instructions on serving the second course, so Clarissa didn't have to give Gervaise an answer.

While waiting for the men to finish their port, the ladies sat in the drawing room somewhat dispiritedly, Sally playing the piano without her usual enthusiasm, Marianne pacing about the room in obvious boredom, and Clarissa staring at the fire abstractedly. Evalyn, noticing the worried frown on Martha's brow, approached her and said, “You seem to be a little troubled this evening, Mrs. Covington. I hope there's nothing wrong with the twins.”

Martha looked up eagerly and made room for Evalyn on the settee. “I
am
a bit troubled,” she admitted. “Freddie's complained of an earache. Clarissa thinks it will go away by morning, and of course she's probably right. But it's my nature to fear the worst. If it should turn out to be an infection, I'm sure I shall suffer a
collapse
, for I don't know what I can do for him. Our doctor at home is quite capable and knows the twins so well, but he is too far away to be brought here, and I have no confidence at all in strange doctors.”

“I'm sure that, if a doctor were needed, Clarissa will know of a capable one,” Evalyn said comfortingly.

“Yes, but strangers are strangers, no matter how well recommended they may be. And a strange doctor would not know Freddie as he should.”

“But he need not be familiar with his patient if you or Mr. Covington can give him an accurate history of Freddie's past illnesses.”

“Oh, Mr. Covington is no help at all in these matters. He always says that I make fuss enough for two and retires to his study. Tell me, Evalyn, do you think I should give the boy some medication? I've brought some James's Powders with me, and some mint water, too. And I've heard that putting a roasted onion in the ear can be quite beneficial.”

Evalyn looked dubious. “Why don't we go upstairs and see if he is sleeping comfortably? Perhaps he has already gotten over his pain, and your mind would be at ease.”

“Oh,
would
you go with me? I know I shan't relax until I am convinced that the dear child is not suffering.”

The two women left the drawing room and did not return for over an hour. When they came back, they found that Philip, Gervaise, Edward, and Jamie were enjoying a lively game of silver-loo. Sally was still at the piano, Reggie turning the pages for her, and Clarissa listening to the music with all the attention she could muster. And Marianne was gazing moodily out of the window at the moon. Martha took a seat beside Clarissa, who leaned over and whispered, “How is Freddie? Is he sleeping comfortably?”

“He is now,” sighed Martha with relief. “Your Evalyn is a gem, truly she is. We found Freddie cross and uncomfortable, and quite unable to sleep. But Evalyn soothed him, and had her Nancy make him some herb tea and heat up some oil which she dropped in his ear. And before I knew it, he had dropped off to sleep. We stayed and watched over him for quite a while, but he seems to be sleeping so contentedly that we came away.”

“Oh, I'm so glad,” Clarissa said, relieved.

“Yes. You can imagine how grateful I am. Do you think, Clarissa, that Evalyn would consider taking a position as governess with us? I know she is a guest here, and I wouldn't dream of asking her without your permission, but do you know anything of her plans for after the holidays? Does she return to the Carberys, or has she another post?”