Gayle Buck (28 page)

“So that was the substance of the unread codicil in Lord Robert’s will,” said Lord Damion slowly.
He stared down at his uncle in disbelief. “And you made it known to Lady Victoria that first day.”

Sir Aubrey nodded. His eyes glittered. “The moment I laid eyes on Lady Victoria I knew that she could match you fire for fire, Damion. I can yet recall the sparks in her eyes when you dropped her like so much wet baggage! My reservations against Lord Robert’s wish evaporated in that instant. The next day I urged the woman to look after her own best interests, but she refused to consider it.”

Lord Damion stared at him. “Did you say that she refused?”

“Ah, I see that my estimable nephew finds that of interest.” Sir Aubrey smiled thinly, then gave his careless shrug. “I did not believe her, of course. What woman would turn down the chance of snaring riches and a title, especially when coupled with the Demon’s much vaunted charm. But as you heard only a moment ago, Lady Victoria has once again done just that.” He watched expectantly for Lord Damion’s angry reaction. Sir Aubrey was amazed when Lord Damion threw back his head and burst into laughter. When his nephew’s amusement had abated, he asked in disgust, “Have you gone mad?”

Lord Damion looked down at him with a grin. He felt as though he had been relieved of an immense burden. He had at last discovered the nature of Lady Victoria’s scruples. “I do not expect you to understand, sir, but you have provided the answer to a thorny question.” Lord Damion strode from the library, leaving Sir Aubrey to stare after him.

Chapter Twenty-six

Victoria was unable to avoid Lord Damion, but when he made no reference to her interview with Sir Aubrey, she began to wonder if he had indeed overheard as much as she had feared. She hoped that he had not and she decided sensibly to put it out of her thoughts. But Victoria could not set aside so easily the faint unease that she felt whenever Lord Damion approached. She resorted to inviting Margaret into the conversation at every opportunity, thus successfully warding off any chance of private speech with Lord Damion.

When Dr. Chatworth paid a visit to check on his patients, he pronounced Jessica ready to resume her active life. Eliza was still in the process of recovering, however. He recommended gentle exercise as the best remedy for Jessica’s weakened state and it was Lord Damion who first escorted the little girl downstairs.

Jessica was quickly tired by the exertion of climbing down the many stairs and was happy to lie on the drawing-room sofa beside Lady Hortense and watch her embroider. But she was soon up to chase Lucinda and Smudge. The little dogs raced madly around the entry hall, barking shrilly. Lord Damion quelled them with a stern command. Quieted for the moment, they waved their feathery tails and sat down to wait for Jessica to slide once more off the sofa.

The performance amused everyone in varying degrees. Even Margaret found something appealing in the little girl’s exuberance. “I envy Jessica that renewable energy,” she said with a smile. She glanced at Victoria. “I suddenly realize that a mother must be a very hardy creature. Dorothea is in for quite a shock, I fear.”

“Not at all, sister, I shall enjoy it most prodigiously,” said Dorothea confidently. “It is Eve that I am anxious about.”

Her husband looked up at her with laughter in his bright eyes. He was bent over the cradle and a tiny hand grasped his finger with surprising tenacity. “All very well, Doro. But I wager that James and I shall get along famously. See, he has already a manly grip. It will not be many years before I may teach him the sporting life.”

The butler entered the drawing room to announce that dinner was served. Dorothea carried the baby into the hall and handed him to the waiting nurse, then she and Evelyn followed the others.

Jessica sat at the table, solemn in expression. She knew that it was an important occasion when she was allowed to take her dinner with the adults. Victoria, who was seated beside the little girl, gently squeezed her small hand. “I am proud of you, Jessica,” she said softly for her daughter’s ears alone. The little girl sat up as straight as she was able, her eyes bright.

It was Christmas Eve and the traditional dishes had been prepared. The butler took his place behind Lord Damion’s left shoulder and removed the covers from the first course. Christmas dinner began with mince pies, to be followed by barley soup, stewed Spanish onions, and mashed potatoes and gravy.

The second course consisted of the meat entrees, garnished with greens and carved vegetable roses, “The roast beef and horseradish sauce are excellent. Pray convey my compliments to Cook,” said Sir Aubrey, addressing the butler, who stood at the sideboard ready to serve the wines as he was called. The butler bowed.

The customary goose, seasoned with a heady combination of sage, onions, and port wine, was presented in all its golden-brown glory. Evelyn tasted the savory, tender meat with deepest satisfaction. “Doro, I truly pity you,” he said.

“Pray do not assume that I shall abstain because I am nursing James,” said Dorothea tartly. “I intend to taste everything. And I hope that there are still stewed Spanish onions in that dish, for they are far and away my favorite.”

“I hope that our guests tonight also care for onions,” murmured Margaret, watching in awe her sister’s appetite for the pungent vegetable.

“I shall be more curious to learn little James’s reaction,” said Victoria dryly.

Margaret looked at her with instant comprehension. “Have you warned Doro?”

“Advice is never at its most effective until it is sought, Margaret. Perhaps Doro shall not need my words of experience. Infants never behave as one assumes they must.” Victoria laughed in wry amusement at herself. “Do you know, all of a sudden I am full of hoary wisdom.”

“But you are yet capable of errors in judgment, my lady,” said Lord Damion. His gaze was intense.

Victoria dragged her eyes away, but she was acutely conscious that he regarded her still. Her heart pounded and she turned in relief to Lady Hortense when that lady addressed her.

“Victoria, you once mentioned that you held particularly fond memories of an English boiled plum pudding at Christmas. I have myself prepared one for dessert this evening. I hope that you shall enjoy it,” said Lady Hortense.

Fresh plates had been placed around the table. The apple tarts, a rolled jam pudding, and charlotte russe were served, but the boiled plum pudding was voted the unanimous favorite. Jessica clapped her hands with delight. “My dear ma’am, it is wonderful! I have never tasted better. Whatever have you used to give it this delightful flavor?” asked Victoria.

Lady Hortense was beaming with pleasure at the enthusiastic reception of her plum pudding. “It is suet pudding, of course, with currants, raisins, eggs, bread crumbs, nutmeg, and ginger,” she said.

“Make a clean breast of it, Aunt. Unless my taste deceives me, you have added a touch of something else as well,” said Evelyn.

Lady Hortense laughed. “To be sure, but I shall not let a hint of it escape my lips. It is my own secret, you know.”

“Come, Mama. Surely you cannot mean to deny us on this holiday,” said Lord Damion teasingly.

“Certainly I shall,” said Lady Hortense promptly, bringing on a general laugh. No one had yet learned her secret ingredient when the family dispersed after dinner to dress for the Christmas gathering that the ladies had planned so many weeks past.

It was eight o’clock when the first guests began to arrive. Lady Belingham, Sir Harry, and Miss Erica were among the guests, as were Reverend Pherson and his wife, and the squire and Mrs. Terrell. Lady Hortense had invited sundry others, but Victoria did not know the other ten or so couples. Jessica was the only child present and Victoria thought she would be wise to enlist Dorothea’s help in watching her.

A standing supper had been set out for the guests in the dining room. Beef, ham, and tongue sandwiches, lobster and oyster patties, sausage rolls and dishes of cut-up fowl, various jellies, blancmanges, and custards in glasses, tartlets of jam, sweetmeats, and a few plates of biscuits were offered in the buffet.

The guests were free to stroll from the standing supper to the drawing room, which had been elaborately decorated for the Christmas season. Garlands offset by huge red silk bows looped across the mantel and a fir and holly arrangement was displayed on the top of the pianoforte. Bunches of candles blazed everywhere and the bright light was reflected in the large gilt mirror over the mantel. The kissing bough was hung from the ceiling. Shaped like a crown, the fragrant greenery was adorned with unlighted candles, red apples, rosettes of colored paper, and various ornaments. Suspended from its center was a bunch of gray-green mistletoe laden with white berries.

However, when the guests first entered the drawing room it was not the traditional holly and bay that drew exclamations of amazement. A small fir tree was set in a pot on an occasional table covered with pink linen. Red, blue, green, and white candles burned on its branches in three circular rows. Gifts of various kinds had been piled in front of the tree and the table was set against a wall so that the tree could be seen from three sides. “But how very unusual,” said Lady Belingham, delighted.

Mrs. Pherson eyed the festive fir tree with disapprobation. “Indeed. A foreign custom, I feel certain.”

Lady Belingham glanced sideways at the dour woman. “I think it vastly pretty. Hortense, pray tell us whose inspired mind gave birth to the tree?” Mrs. Pherson sniffed, but she waited to hear Lady Hortense’s reply.

“You shall not believe this, but Sir Aubrey positively insisted upon the tree for Jessica’s pleasure. He has developed quite a soft place in his heart for her, you know,” said Lady Hortense.

“You are right, I do not believe it,” said Lady Belingham. She saw Sir Aubrey passing and summoned him with a wave.

Sir Aubrey joined the three ladies, bowing to Mrs. Pherson and Lady Belingham with courtly grace. “Good evening, Lady Belingham, madame.”

The ladies murmured a greeting, then Lady Belingham tapped him on the elbow with her fan. “Now, sir, you must tell us about the little tree. Hortense has related that it was your own idea.”

“Lady Hortense compliments me unduly,” said Sir Aubrey, bowing to his sister-in-law with mock formality. “The custom originated in Germany, I believe. During my grand tour as a young man I saw many such firs during the Christmas holidays.”

“But what an utterly charming custom,” said Lady Belingham. She ignored Mrs. Pherson’s disapproving cough. “Pray tell us how the Germans decorated their trees. Were they candlelit as well?”

Sir Aubrey inclined his head. “Indeed, my lady. The German tree is set up in the parlor with roses cut out of many-colored paper and apples, wafers and gold foil hanging from its branches. As you may guess, the children are greatly interested in the procedure and the tree is mainly for their benefit.”

“Then perhaps I am still a child, for I am completely captivated, Sir Aubrey. I shall have a tree of my own next holiday,” said Lady Belingham. Mrs. Pherson had had enough of her ladyship’s shocking susceptibility to the frivolous and moved away. Lady Belingham watched her go with satisfaction and confided to her remaining two companions, “I have never felt at ease in that woman’s presence.”

“I compliment your insight, Lady Belingham,” said Sir Aubrey gravely. He bowed once more and walked away, leaning lightly on his Malacca cane.

“Well! I have never known Aubrey to be so civil,” said Lady Hortense, looking after him with surprise.

“The season apparently affects most of us favorably, Hortense,” said Lady Belingham. “Oh, the candles on the kissing bough are about to be lighted. Come, Hortense, we must not miss it.”

With due ceremony, the butler reached up a long smoking taper to each of the several candles nestled in the kissing bough. The onlookers laughed and clapped as each candle flared bright. The lighting of the kissing bough on Christmas Eve, an act to be repeated each night of the twelve days of Christmas, was a time-honored custom.

Victoria was as enchanted as the rest of the company. “I had forgotten how beautiful it was,” she said, half to herself.

“Recall that I have offered to reacquaint you with this particular English custom, my lady,” said Lord Damion, standing beside her. Since he had learned the contents of the codicil, he had made a point of being attentive. It was only a matter of time before Lady Victoria once again spoke of the barrier between them and he meant to have an answer for her. He smiled down at her startled expression and lowered his voice. “I intend this to be a memorable Christmas Eve, my darling Victoria.”

“My lord,” protested Victoria, feeling warmth suffuse her face. She glanced about them, alarmed that someone might overhear him.

“Yes, my lady?” asked Lord Damion hopefully. But she only shook her head and made a smiling excuse to leave. He watched her cross the room to sit beside Dorothea, not at all discouraged by her reaction.

Victoria glanced about casually. “Where is Jessica, Doro?”

Dorothea’s welcoming expression altered. “Did she not come to you, then?” she asked, dismayed. “She asked so sweetly if she could join you and naturally I allowed her to go. Jessica has been so good that I never dreamed—”

Victoria was canvassing the drawing room, but nowhere did she spot a small active figure in blue velvet. “Oh dear, I do not see her anywhere. Jessica can be such an imp when she wishes. I hope that she may not make a nuisance of herself.”

“I am so sorry, Victoria!” said Dorothea contritely.

Victoria shook her head, smiling reassuringly. “Pray do not blame yourself, Doro. Jessica is learning how to get her own way, and with such originality that I am sometimes amazed. I shall go look for her. She may have gone into the dining room for a sweetmeat.”

Victoria did not find Jessica in the dining room and as she returned to the drawing room she could not help but feel a certain anxiety. A little girl could go a great distance in a short time and Jessica was not familiar with the older, sprawling sections of the manor.