A Christmas Kiss (5 page)

Miss Pennington bowed. “How do you do, my lord,” she said quietly. “It was most kind of you to invite me. We seem to have arrived inopportunely, I'm afraid.”

Philip recovered himself at once. “Not at all,” he said, a reassuring smile lighting his face. “This is quite normal behavior in our household.”

Clarissa bustled up in time to hear his words. “Philip, what a dreadful thing to say! How do you do, Miss Pennington? Please forgive this confusion. If you'll bear with us until Mrs. Covington is recovered, we'll be able to see to your comforts as we should. Reggie, my dear, how good to see you! And Jamie, love, it's good to have you home.”

With a quick kiss for Jamie and a hug for Reggie, Clarissa turned to go back to the side of the still swooning Martha. A small, involuntary sigh escaped her at the sight before her—the maids hastily gathering up armfuls of lingerie and running up the stairs with them; Gervaise and Sally bending over the prostrate Martha; Edward Covington shaking his head and muttering, “I knew it, I knew something had to happen,” under his breath; and the twins, as boisterously as if nothing had happened, chasing each other up and down the staircase.

“I beg your pardon, ma'am,” came a soft, calm voice behind her, “but may I be of assistance? I would be glad to take the little boys and settle them in.”

Clarissa looked at Miss Pennington with an expression of gratitude and relief. “Oh my, that would be most helpful, and most kind in you.…”

“But my dear,” Lord Gyllford objected, “it would be unforgivable of us to put a guest to work, like a governess, as soon as she puts her foot in the door. We could not so impose on her.”

“If you please, my lord, I would not feel in the least imposed upon. I
am
a governess, after all, and I'd be grateful to be permitted to make myself useful.” And without waiting for an answer, Miss Pennington handed her cloak and gloves to a waiting servant and gracefully crossed the floor. Philip and Clarissa stared after her as she spoke a few words to a young woman they took to be her abigail. Then the astounding Miss Pennington took each of the twins firmly in hand and in seconds had disappeared with them around the bend of the stairway.

“Governess? Did she say governess?” Clarissa asked Jamie in surprise.

Jamie grinned down at his puzzled aunt. “Yes, she did. Wonderful, ain't she? Don't worry about it. I'll explain later.”

Jamie and Reggie moved into the hall, greeting the others. Martha soon revived, and by slow degrees the whole party made its way to the library, where hot soup and mulled brandy did much to restore order and good spirits. But Philip gave scant attention to the laughter and banter around him. He was staring at his son. Jamie must possess depths beyond his ken. He had brought home a young woman who, although perhaps beneath him in station and wealth, seemed vastly superior in character. Certainly she was not at all the sort of young woman whom Philip would have thought likely to attract a young buck so newly on the town. Philip had to admit that the sight of Jamie's choice had completely surprised him. In the past, he had prided himself on the aplomb with which he had withstood the shocks, disappointments and worries of fatherhood. But this time … well, this time Jamie had shaken him profoundly.

Five

When guests were lodged at Gyllford Manor, the two hours before dinner became the quietest time of day. The ladies were closeted with their abigails, who carefully dressed their hair; the gentlemen either stole a little time for a nap, or discussed with their valets the costume for the evening. Philip availed himself of the temporary lull in the day's activities to visit his son for a
tête à tête
. He found Jamie standing in front of his mirror doing violence to the third neckcloth with which his valet had provided him. Wellstock, the meek and modest manservant who had served Lord Gyllford for years, was always happy when Jamie was at home. Since Lord Gyllford rarely requested his assistance, it was only when young Everard was on the premises that Wellstock could employ his considerable talents as a sartorial expert to the full. Now he hovered about his charge, his face not quite masking the mixed emotions he was experiencing—delight to be assisting a gentleman of fashion again, and dismay at the sight of Jamie mangling his beautifully ironed neckcloths. On Wellstock's arm hung three more freshly pressed cloths which, he was certain, were destined for a similarly tragic fate.

Lord Gyllford surveyed the scene with amusement. “I see you have not yet learned to make a simple fold,” he remarked to his son.

Jamie sighed and cast the crushed linen into Wellstock's waiting hand. “I seem to be all thumbs when it comes to tying these cursed things,” he grumbled, placing number four around his neck.

“Never mind. I'll show you an easy fold I've developed,” Philip reassured him. He smiled at Wellstock's ill-disguised expression of offense. “I know I won't do as well as you, Wellstock, but I think you may safely leave him in my care.”

The valet reluctantly took the hint and bowed himself out of the room. Philip, standing behind his son, tied the cloth in a few dexterous movements. “There. That should do.”

“It's excellent, father! A capital fold! What do you call it?”

“Call it?” Philip's eyes twinkled. “Well, let's see. Since it's so simple that even you can learn it, why not call it
the Incapable?
”

Jamie grinned back at his father. “Never mind,” he said, “I'll call it something modish, like
the Arabesque
or
the Windfall
. That ought to impress Reggie and the other Dandies of my acquaintance.” He gave the neckcloth an affectionate pat and turned away from the mirror. “Please sit down, sir. I suppose you've sent Wellstock away because you want to scold me about something. What have I done now?”

“Scold you? What makes you think that?”

“Isn't that what fathers always do when they arrange to speak to their sons privately?”

“Is scolding the only private communication possible between a father and son? What a lowering thought! No, I had no such intention when I sought you out.” Philip looked at his son keenly. “Is there something on your conscience that requires a scold?”

“I was afraid you might be put out about Miss Pennington. Do you mind that I brought her here?”

“Mind? Of course not. Why should I?”

“I don't know. Reggie thought you might not like being saddled with a strange female for the holidays. And a governess to boot.”

“I admit to being surprised. She's not the sort of person I would have expected you to bring home. But she seems a most well-bred and charming young lady, and we're glad to have her with us.”

“I knew it!” Jamie exclaimed in relief. “That's what I told Reg. I assured him that once you and Aunt Clarissa got to know her, there'd be no problem.”

“Problem?”

“Yes. Having a governess as a guest. Reggie thought it might be awkward.”

“I hope you told Reggie that your aunt and I are not so high in the instep.”

“Oh, he didn't think that!” Jamie said hastily. “He only thought that you might not want to concern yourselves—”

“How foolish of Reggie. Surely you both must realize that anything that concerns you concerns us. A fine parent I should be if I failed to be interested in all your concerns.”

“I knew you'd feel that way. But I must admit it's a relief to hear you say it. Evalyn—that is, Miss Pennington—deserves a bit of a holiday, you see. Lady Carbery is a real dragon to work for. She treated Evalyn as if she were a … a … cook maid! Never gave her a kind word. And then, with Geoff accosting the poor girl wherever she went, well, you can imagine what a dreadful time she's had.”

“It would certainly seem so,” said Philip, trying unsuccessfully to picture Jamie's involvement in that scene of domestic contretemps.

“Not that Miss Pennington ever complained,” Jamie went on earnestly. “Not she. She always handled everything with the most remarkable coolness. You should have seen her give Geoff a leveler. Knocked him down the stairs with an Atlas!”

“You don't mean it! That gentle little thing?”

“Word of a gentleman! Knocked him right on his keester. And then came down the stairs as calm as you please and brought him to. And when Lady Carbery appeared, Evalyn was not in the least flustered. Carried it off as if she were serving tea, by God! Really, she's the most redoubtable girl.”

Philip couldn't help smiling. What Jamie's description of his beloved lacked in romantic terminology was certainly compensated for in enthusiasm.
Oh, well
, he thought,
literature is full of cases of unlikely matches. Cupid is said to be blindfolded when he shoots his darts
. If his son chose to give his heart to a
redoubtable
girl, Philip had no objection. Jamie could have chosen much less wisely.

“Do you think Aunt Clarissa will like her?” Jamie asked.

“Of course she will. I think she likes her already. The way your Miss Pennington took over the twins this afternoon made a wonderful impression on both of us.”

“Good. Then Aunt Clarissa won't have any objection to making the arrangements after the holidays?”

“What!” exclaimed Philip, shocked. “After the holidays? As soon as that?” Surely his son could not be contemplating such a hasty marriage. “There's no cause … er … there couldn't be any special reason for … er … urgency, could there?”

Jamie looked puzzled. “Urgency? No, of course not. We just thought that after the holidays might be a good time.”

“Do you mean that you and Miss Pennington have already discussed a date?”

Jamie had an uncomfortable feeling for a moment that he had missed something in this conversation. “Well, no,” he explained patiently, “I haven't said much to Miss Pennington yet. I wanted to discuss it with you and Aunt Clarissa first.”

“You haven't asked Miss Pennington?” Philip was at a loss. Just how far had this affair gone? “I'm afraid, Jamie, that I'm a little confused. Do you and Miss Pennington have … an understanding?”

Jamie was shrugging himself into his coat. Now that he knew his actions had the approval of the family, he was finding the subject of Miss Pennington a bit of a bore. “An understanding? Well, yes, I suppose you could say that. She understands why she's here, of course. I told her she was sure to win your approval—and Aunt Clarissa's too—in a week or two.”

“But surely you didn't think we could make satisfactory arrangements in so short a time!”

“Well, as to that, it certainly doesn't matter to me how long it takes. We could leave it for Aunt Clarissa and Miss Pennington to decide, couldn't we?”

Philip stared at his son in amazement. Jamie had very easily been persuaded to delay his plans. The switch from loverlike impatience to reasonable indifference was most confusing. The younger generation was quite difficult to understand. Philip sighed and rose. “Well, I'll tell your aunt to give the matter some thought. Miss Pennington seems to be a sensible young lady. Between the two of them, I'm sure they'll know what's to be done.”

“That's what I told Reg. Leave it to my aunt, I told him. We won't have to trouble our heads about a thing.”

Philip blinked. “What has Reg to do—? No, never mind. I'd better go talk to your aunt before the guests assemble for dinner.” And Philip retreated hastily out the door.

A few minutes later, Jamie sat watching Reggie make a final inspection of his attire. Lord Reginald was resplendent in a coat of blue superfine covering a waistcoat of yellow satin embroidered with flower baskets in which each flower was a tiny jewel.

“How do I look?” Reggie asked, turning slowly before the critical eyes of his friend.

“That waistcoat—well, I don't know. Don't you think it's a bit overpowering?”

“Overpowering? How can you think that? You know nothing about thtyle.”

“Then why did you ask me? Anyway, I didn't come in here to inspect your waistcoat. I just want to let you know that the Pennington matter is settled. I've told my father the whole story, and he says Aunt Clarissa will take care of everything.”

“Oh, capital! I mutht thay, Jamie, it'th very kind of your father and your aunt. I don't think my mother would go to tho much trouble for a mere nobody.”

“My father doesn't like to think of people as nobodies. Y'know, I sometimes think my father is a radical thinker. Anyway, we've done our part, and now we can forget it. Let's go downstairs. I want to get another look at that little Marianne Covington. She's grown up to be quite a taking little thing. Did you notice?”

“No, I didn't,” responded Reggie flatly, “and I hope, Jamie, that you're not going to turn out ath big a bore ath Geoff.”

Meanwhile, Philip was apprising Clarissa of his chat with Jamie. “The long and short of it is,” he told her, “that Jamie wants to marry Miss Pennington as soon as the holidays are over.”

“As soon as that?” gasped Clarissa. “You can't be serious.”

“That's what he told me. But he's perfectly willing to wait as long as you and Miss Pennington think necessary.”

“How strange! Does he want us to announce the engagement right away?”

“I didn't think to ask him that. He says they have an understanding. Believe me, Clarissa, that's more than I have. His attitude is completely confusing to me.”

Clarissa looked at her brother tenderly. The idea of his having a married son was just too new to him. He needed time to become accustomed to it. “Don't worry, dear,” she said consolingly, “we needn't do anything at all until after the holidays. By that time, we shall have grown accustomed to seeing them together, and the whole matter will seem much less shocking. Give it a little time.”

“I suppose you're right,” Philip agreed.