Christmas at Ravencrest: A Dark Hero Christmas Short (Reluctant Heroes) (3 page)

Elizabeth
was eighteen, younger than the maids who worked for her. Yet, she often felt like a schoolmarm trying to reign in a bunch of adolescent girls. The staff was new, hired just after she arrived as Donovan’s bride, so she was still trying to establish herself as the mistress here. It didn’t help that Elizabeth had been ill frequently since her arrival. And, it was Elizabeth’s duty to manage the female servants as they hadn’t yet hired a housekeeper to replace the awful woman Donovan employed previously. Elizabeth had a butler, but aside from directing the maids in their work schedules he had little time to concern himself with their squabbles.  The maids would always have their pecking order and Sally was at the top of it. Sally tended to make sport of Miss Ramirez when the opportunity arose, whether out of jealousy or spitefulness, Elizabeth couldn’t decide.

“Yes . . . it just slipped out.” Sally said, squaring her shoulders and giving Elizabeth a level look that clearly betrayed what her lips were saying.

“See that this rude behavior does not continue.” Elizabeth warned. “Or I shall be forced to make some decisions regarding staff positions that are not pleasant.”

The two maids
nodded and waited for further direction from their mistress, while Miss Ramirez looked away. Elizabeth did not miss the glaze of moisture in her friend’s eyes.

In keeping with tradition from her Irish ancestors,
Elizabeth had decided to host a Christmas dance to honor the household staff and her husband’s retainers on the plantation. The cook was preparing a feast for tomorrow night and a group of musicians had been hired for the occasion.

“We will
need to clear the room of the furniture to make room for dancing.” Elizabeth instructed her maids. “I’ve instructed Giles to have the footmen remove all the furniture from the room tomorrow after breakfast. Master Michael and Lord Wentworth will need chairs, of course, but the clutter of furniture must go. We’ll need just a few chairs around the perimeter.”

Excitement filled her
at the prospect of having musicians liven the old Plantation house with dancing and merriment. This would be the first Christmas she and Donovan shared.

It would also be Donovan’s uncle’s
first real Yuletide Celebration. Uncle Gareth was the love child of Donovan’s grandfather; the result of a forced union with a slave woman. As a boy, Gareth was pushed into the shadows, scorned and merely tolerated by his ill tempered father. Elizabeth asked him to help by devising entertainments for the family celebration on Christmas Day in an effort to welcome him into her husband’s new family.

She hoped the festivities
would banish the dark past that clung to Ravencrest and its inhabitants like pall of black smoke.

Grandfather Wentworth
didn’t understand the need to banish the lingering gloom. He was a guest here; he didn’t know the dark history of the island plantation.

A
s the new mistress, Elizabeth was determined bring in an era of happiness.

I
t would begin tomorrow night, on Christmas Eve.

Chapter Two

After directing Chloe and the staff regarding her wishes for the decorations, Elizabeth headed to the kitchen. The Austrian cook was one of the old retainers from Donovan’s grandfather’s time. The aromas wafting through the house had everyone anticipating the feast.

“My lady.” Fritz looked up from the worktable and grinned at her, his
thick, heavy moustache wiggling above his upper lip like a nervous mouse. “I’ve failed you miserably,
Comtesse
, I most humbly apologize. You may sack me if you wish.”

“There he goes again
with the dramatics.” A kitchen maid muttered with exasperation. “You’d think he’d killed the guv’ner of St. Kitts with how he does go on.”

“Stuff it.” Another maid whispere
d. “Her ladyship will hear you.”

Elizabeth
ignored the whispers as she strolled to the worktable near the hearth. “There will be no sacking of anyone at Christmas. What is worrying you, Fritz?”

“
I’ve searched the markets at Basseterre. I’ve sent word further abroad to the other islands, my lady. There is not a pheasant, a goose or even a plump peacock to be found. I’m afraid our only option is pork for Christmas dinner.”

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose. Pork
was the staple meat in the Indies, aside from a constant supply of fish. They could have wild goat meat but that, too, failed to tempt her appetite. “Is there no beef to be had? Don’t they ship live cattle here from England?”

She loved roast beef.
Fritz had been a dear to acquire a rare side of beef at the market for them earlier this month but it was used up with the influx of guests at the house.

“
It is a hard journey by sea and what few cattle arrive still alive are bought quickly. If I knew in advance, I might have prepared accordingly. Next year, my lady.”

“Roast Pork will do nicely for the family dinner
.” She lied, to both herself and to the cook.

“A thousand apologies, Madame Beaumont.”
He moaned. His moustache was twitching so when he talked Elizabeth had to quell the urge to strike at it like she would a hairy caterpillar. “I cannot make the mince pies you requested.  Unless you allow me to use goat or pork.”

“No.” Elizabeth told him
. “What do we have on hand for meat for the servant’s party?”

“
Fish, crab, shrimp and turtle. I am making turtle soup for his lordship for Christmas Day, as he does favor it.”

Disgusting
. Elizabeth made a face. She abhorred turtle soup. “Well, we cannot serve soup tomorrow night at the dance. It’s to be appetizers, items easy to have on a plate; cakes, tarts, candies and some form of meat pie to compliment the sweets.”

“I’
ll make a jellied codfish and lobster cakes. I’ll come up with something, Mistress, I promise.” Fritz assured her. He quietly surveyed his domain and then his eyes returned to her. “We have cheese and bread. Some candied nuts, mango tarts. And marzipan. I’ve perfected the recipe, Madame. See, I made little green leaves and holly berries.” He gestured to his art work. There were delicate little candies tinted green and shaped like holly leaves. Beautiful little red balls completed the arrangement on the tray.

Elizabeth followed him around the kitch
en as he allowed her to inspect the various dishes he had the kitchen staff working on under his supervision. She took inventory as she moved behind the cook from counter to counter. There were sweet breads, scones, and candies. She’d hoped for a cured ham to augment the sweets. Fish would have to do.

“Voila, Madame!” Fritz removed a cloth from a tray, reve
aling little gingerbread cakes that were iced with frosting. “I found the recipe in an old cookbook brought from England by his lordship’s grandmother.”

“How lovel
y.” She smiled at him. “I remember having those once at Grandfather’s house.”

“And we have two Christmas puddings, my lady. A bread pudding similar to your English variety.”

“Did you put the charms in it I sent down to you?”
Her brother Michael had purchased some silver charms in England and bought them as a gift for her, with some mercenary inclinations as he expected her to make his favorite pudding and hide the charms in them. It was a tradition their mother had followed.  Elizabeth had been delighted to receive the charms.

“
Oui
, Madame. A curious tradition. They are baked in the cake just as you instructed.” He wrinkled his brow as he gazed at his creation. “It won’t be properly aged, so I cannot guarantee how well it will taste.” He moved toward the busy maid and gestured to the bowl she was stirring. “I also took the liberty of making corn pudding, the traditional dish served here every year. Master Gareth favors it, as did his father.”

It looked like cornmeal porridge.
Elizabeth wasn’t impressed by the gruel but decided to be indulgent with the chef. He was trying very hard to please her. She tasted a spoonful. It was a mash of cooked corn meal with coconut milk, a little rum, with molasses, cinnamon and sugar tossed in. Elizabeth returned the empty spoon to the short, wiry man and nodded her approval.

She turned
about and noted the fruits spread out on one table, exotic fruits from the Indies. Bananas, pineapples, guava fruit and mangoes. She wished there were still some hothouse strawberries to be had, but those were a distant memory. “Could you make an English Trifle? It’s a sponge cake sliced into cubes, splashed with a small bit of brandy and put into a large bowl with jam, sugar and clotted cream. Perhaps all this fresh fruit could be used instead of jam?”

“
That is an excellent idea, my lady!” Fritz exclaimed, a little too exuberantly. His nose was red, and there was an open jug of rum on the counter. She wondered if he had been sampling it while he worked. “I know the dish. I was trying the think of what to make with all this fruit. It will be a West Indian Trifle. Perhaps you’ll start a tradition of your own,
oui,
mistress?”

*       *       *

After leaving the kitchen Elizabeth went to her husband’s laboratory.

The room was not
tidy. Donovan had tables filled with glass vials and odd smelling potions. The wall behind his desk had shelves filled with glass jars of preserved specimens. Elizabeth always tried not to look at them. She admired his preserved animals and birds, many of which Donovan had dressed out himself. She frowned at the human skeleton hanging in the corner.

Oh, w
hat ghoulish things one had to put up with, being married to a scientist.

“At last, the sun
shine has deigned to visit my humble abode.” Donovan looked up from his worktable to smile at her. He was playing with one of his new gadgets. A series of lenses that magnified tiny creatures a person couldn’t see with the naked eye.
Wee beasties
, she thought he might have called them. His new instrument worked like a telescope only in reverse, so he’d explained. It made smaller things appear larger instead of bringing far away things closer.

“T
he sunshine has a bit of bad news.” She replied, pleased by his poetic description of her red hair.

“
Not another guest. Please tell me you don’t have another brother tucked away somewhere.” He covered his newest gadget with a linen cloth and turned to her.

“Of course not
.”

“If I knew
your entire family was planning to descend upon us for Christmas, I would have carried you off to another island, one not listed on a map.”

“
Oh, do stop.” Elizabeth scolded, “You’re behaving like a spoiled child who doesn’t want to share his playthings with the other children.”

“I disliked being made to
play with other children. My mother tried to socialize me, with very unpleasant results, I might add.” Donovan replied, giving her that charming smile that always made her heart jump erratically. “Just ask her about it.”

“Your mother should have arrived by now. I do hope nothing has happened.”

“
My mother is not terribly conventional. She will arrive exactly when she pleases and not a moment before.” He slipped out of his silk vest and tossed it on the desk.  Elizabeth watched him as he walked to the bell pull near his desk and tugged it.

“Indeed.
” Elizabeth arched a brow at her terribly unconventional spouse.

“What is this bad news you speak of
?” He asked as he returned to her side. He kissed her brow and let his fingers move slowly along her waist and across her spine. She felt the gooseflesh rise as his breath caressed her ear.

“I may have upset Grandfather.”  She confessed, desperately needing to confide in him. “We disagreed about Michael’s father. He believes we should pretend to be in mourning and not hold the party tomorrow night. He’s trying to cancel Christmas . . . he thinks--”

“Lizzie, my sweet.” Donovan’s hands bracketed her face. He gazed down at her with concern as the pain overwhelmed her.  “Shhh, no, no, dearest. Don’t cry.”

Hot tears were spilling over her cheeks as she remembered her argument with her grandparent. “It was so easy to forget that awful man.” She sobbed. “I did as you said, I pushed him out of my mind and then Grandfather--he insisted--quite strongly--oh!” Her heart burned as she tried to explain it to her beloved. Donovan insisted she stop thinking of Captain Fletcher as a relative, as he’d caused only heartache upon heartache with his constant betrayals. Elizabeth was glad to do so, to take her wise husband’s advice and think of Michael’s father as merely a stranger who broke into their home last week determined murder them all.

She maintained the fiction in her mind at Donovan’
s request and it helped her through the past week as she tended her wounded brothers--the unfortunate victims of her stepfather’s assault. Donovan knew how much suffering her stepfather caused, and as a physician, he knew something about healing raw wounds. Thus he suggested she distance herself from the emotional turmoil that was devouring her from the inside out.

And
Grandfather’s rebuke punctured that safe cocoon.

Everyone hated Captain Fletcher. E
ven Grandfather,
especially
Grandfather, as the vile man murdered their mother--his only child, years ago. And yet, his insistence in cancelling a Christmas celebration out of respect for that dastardly creature was infuriating. Grandfather’s rebuke made it seem as if that wretched man were tormenting them still, from beyond the grave.

“He doesn’t understand how important this is.” She continued,
attempting to reign in her muddled emotions. “We had words. I’m afraid I vexed him a little.” She stopped, brushed at her eyes with her fingers and sniffled. “More than a little. I actually swore in his presence. I’m sorry, Donovan but the man is exasperating.”

“Lizzie, please. Stop fretting. It’s not worth the tears.”
Donovan whispered. He kissed her forehead. “It’s good for Lord Greystowe to be crossed now and again. He’s accustomed to everyone cowering at his every word.” As he spoke, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently brushed her cheeks with it. “And as for swearing at him . . . I’ve nearly chewed my tongue off trying not to do the same. Oh, Lizzie, sweet Lizzie, take heart. Someone else will annoy him by the end of the day. You may depend upon it and then he’ll forget about being upset with you.”

“Y
ou did say his heart condition was serious. You told me not to upset him.”

“
It is, my love. But I did not intend for us to give in to his every whim when I said not to upset the earl.” Donovan’s large hand reached up to capture a tendril of her hair. He wound it around his finger and then lifted the lock to his lips. “It’s one thing to drop the news on him of a lost family member being restored after years of believing the boy dead and another to disagree with your grandfather on how to run your own household.”

Elizabeth related the con
versation she had regarding the Christmas party tomorrow night to her husband, adding her convictions about why they needed to celebrate the season while leaving out the part about expecting his child. Her reasons sounded petty as she explained her feelings to her husband but the more she talked, the more she realized how important this celebration was
to her
, not to everyone else as she kept trying to pretend.

“M
y sweet girl.” Donovan’s tone and manner were at one purpose, to soothe her agitation. “Whose house is this?”

“Yours.”

“
No.
” He chided. “What did I tell you when we first arrived here?”

“You said the house was mi
ne to do with as I wished. You meant the redecorating.”

“No, I
did not. The house is
yours
, Elizabeth. Lord Wentworth is our guest. He will not dictate our behavior. We are not mourning the passing of that son of the devil. We are celebrating the defeat of our most treacherous enemy. We will dance tomorrow night and we will kiss.” He paused in his litany to do just that, kissing her quickly on the lips. “And we will toast our good fortune. No one died, despite Captain Fletcher’s plans to the contrary.”