The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance (10 page)

Dearest
Pippa,

I am such a
tizzy that I scarce know what to say! If my last letter has found you, you know
that Isobel and I left Ballydendargan nearly a fortnight ago, as Isobel had
urgent business in London. Some nonsense with her lawyer, I believe I told you,
as that is what she told me, but you will very shortly see that was a mere
fabrication! I was very sorry to leave Scotland, as you know how much I love
the heather and the gorse, and London is so dull this time of year; no one of
fashion is present, and it is very hot and dusty. But I was far less reluctant
to leave than I have been in the past; after all, I continued to be thrown into
Lord G’s company from time to time. While he was always a perfect gentleman, it
was, you may easily imagine, quite awkward. Also, I must admit that my fondness
for him has not grown any less, and it is difficult to be constantly in company
with a person one holds in deep affection, but who can offer only polite regard
in return. And yet, I was sorry to leave my dear friend Miss Dalburn and
Douglas and Sophy; some tears were shed when I made my good-byes, I am not
ashamed to tell you. I hope to see them again next summer under more pleasant
circumstances, and, of course, some day Sophy will come out, and I will be
delighted to observe that. I know that she will be the Toast of London.

But I
wander from my point, which, dear Pippa, I am sure hardly surprises you. We had
been in London only a few days when, yesterday, Isobel informed me that she
would be gone for some hours; she meant to visit her modiste in Bond Street and
purchase some gifts in the shops to send to her brother’s wife and children.
Then, she said, she would visit with a sick friend for the afternoon, and
return for dinner. I took little notice of this, for I was very morose; I was
missing Scotland and Lord G (who, I am sure, has not spared a thought for me of
late), and quite sunk in my gloom. I remained at home, for there is no one to
meet in the park or to pay calls on, and read a bit and napped. To tell you the
truth, my dear, I mostly moped about the house, feeling quite sorry for myself.
I am almost ashamed to admit it, but, as one who has turned down a proposal of
marriage from an earl (I still can scarcely believe I did such a thing), I must
tell you that at times indulging in a good cry can do wonders.

Several
hours passed, and I was lying in my sitting room, a cold compress on my
forehead, when Isobel burst into the room. You will wonder exceedingly when I
tell you she was wearing a coat and breeches! My dear, she was dressed as a
man, though her hair was not short, but rather tumbling about her shoulders in
a very unladylike way. It looked very odd, and quite indecent, though Isobel
can do little to shock me. Still, I thought perhaps I was dreaming. Instead,
she assured me I was quite awake, and that she had just become affianced to
Lord Francis Wheaton! As you know I have long hoped that she might find
happiness with that gentleman, but I was astounded by her announcement.

It took
some time to sort out the thread of her story—she was quite incoherent at
times, which is not like my dear Isobel. It seems that she was bold enough to
attempt to present her findings concerning her excavation in Scotland to the
Society of Antiquaries at the British Museum, dressed as a man and under the
name Marcus Paley! I knew she published her work under that name, but she felt
that she could carry off a masquerade, and had gone forth, dressed as a man,
with a wig to cover her hair.

At this
point you must think me mad, my dear, but I swear that I am speaking God’s own
truth. It seems that Lord Francis, prompted by some chance words I had spoken,
had traveled the length of the country to Wales and spoken to Lady Morgan.
There he learned of her travails, and assisted her by forcing her dreadful
husband to leave the country. In return, she told him of Isobel’s disastrous
plans, and he travelled posthaste to London, where he attended the meeting of
the Society, and rescued her from discovery by a very unpleasant gentleman. The
end result is an engagement that I have always wished for! Lord Francis assured
Isobel that he would give up any claim to her fortune, and she is so pleased
that he is willing to accommodate her whims, and even more important, I think,
so grateful that he has understood Lady Morgan’s plight and sent her vile,
adulterous spouse off to the Continent, that she has succumbed to his
entreaties! Soon they will be married, and I am very happy for them; it seems
that the plans Lord G and I planted have borne fruit, though I cannot share
with him my pleasure in the result.

Lord
Francis had come to Clarges Street with Isobel, so I went down to the drawing room
with her, and was able offer them both my felicitations, and partake of a glass
of champagne to toast their happiness. They make such a handsome couple, and
Lord Francis was so proud, and Isobel so blushing (which amused me excessively,
for she is no milk-and-water miss), that I thought it would not be possible for
me to be happier.

And now, my
dear, I have no doubt your thoughts have followed my own. If Miss Paley is to
be wed, what will become of me? She will have no need of a chaperone, after
all, and the young couple will wish to set up their own establishment. I know,
my dear sister, that you will always have a care of me, but, still, I would
prefer to not be a burden on you, as you have your husband and children to
think of. I said nothing at all, but Isobel turned to me after they had told me
the happy news and assured me that she and Lord Francis wished me to continue
as her companion! She had such kind words for my friendship and sagacity; she
even allowed that without my prompting, she might never have known her own
heart. Lord Francis merely kissed me on the cheek (such a handsome gentleman ,
it gave me quite a flutter!) and told me that he thought of me as a sister to
Isobel, and one who would always be cherished. They assured me that I will always
have a home with them, and that, when the children come, as they will, they
wish me to be an aunt to them, and help raise them. I was more touched than I
believed possible, and, of course, a few tears were shed, but I was honored
beyond words by their affection and solicitude.

And so, my
dear, we come to a happy ending for Miss Paley and Lord Francis. I confess that
my heart still aches when they speak of Scotland or Lord Glencairn, yet I must
think, despite what many would term my foolishness, that I have made the proper
choice. To be unloved, where one loves, is heartache indeed.

And so,
dear Pippa, I must to bed. Isobel and Lord Francis mean to wed as soon as may
be (such glances they give each other, that I think that is for the best!), and
I have promised to help with the details. I will send you a letter telling you
of the fun that was had!

Affectionately,

Harriet.

Lord
Francis,

It was a
sincere pleasure to receive your letter of the 18
^th
informing me
that you and Miss Isobel Paley had at long last come to an understanding and
announced your engagement and invited me to the wedding. I am glad you decided
to marry promptly before she had an opportunity to allow any additional doubts
to intrude!

I regret
that I could not attend your nuptials at St. George’s Hanover Square, but a
journey to London during the harvest season would have absented me from my
estates longer than I could support at such a busy time. However, I promise
that I will have a special barrel of ale brewed in your honor, and all will
drink to the health of Lord and Lady Francis Wheaton at the harvest home we
will hold on the threshing floor once the grain is in the bins for the winter.

Your happy
news emboldens me to confide in you that I fear I made a serious blunder this
summer, which I inform you of in the hope that you can assist me in recovering
from it. Having spent so much of your summer angling for fish and Miss Paley, I
do not know if you are aware that I spent many pleasant hours in the company of
Miss Walcott, who became a great friend of my offspring, as well as Miss
Dalburn, their governess. During this time it also intruded upon my awareness
that Sophia would soon be a young lady ready to embark upon a Season in London,
and that it was high time I find a wife. My daughter, in particular, is much in
need of a mother’s guidance at this point in her life.

I spent
some time considering what I needed in a wife, and had nearly resigned myself
to the necessity of a visit to London next spring in order to seek an
appropriate lady. However, fate having placed us in close contact, particularly
as we conspired to throw you and Miss Paley together, I came to realize that
Miss Walcott possessed all of the characteristics I required. Accordingly, I
made her an offer of marriage, the day after that on which Miss Paley sprained
her ankle. You will have realized that she refused me, of course, and may
wonder why. At the time I was far too surprised to reflect upon the matter, but
I realize now that I behaved with no gallantry, or even consideration of her
feelings, for I merely informed her that she met a list of my requirements, and
offered her my hand.

I was
shocked, but not hurt by her refusal, at least initially. But since Miss Paley
and Miss Walcott returned to England, I have come to understand how much I
enjoy her chatter, how charming is her ability to make everyone comfortable,
and how pleasant a companion she is, besides being quite the best female card
player it has ever been my good fortune to encounter! In short, in her absence
I have discovered in myself those feelings of affection for her which I never
thought I would be able to have for another lady after Elinor died. They are
not the same feeling, which is perhaps why I overlooked them, but they are
strong nonetheless, and I find myself miserable without her company.

Therefore,
I write also to ask your assistance in bringing Miss Walcott and me together,
as she and I did in bringing you and Miss Paley together through the mechanism
of the folly. I hope that I can convince you and your charming bride to spend
the Christmas season here at Glencairn and that you will induce Miss Walcott to
accompany you. I feel sure that during such a festive time there will be any
number of opportunities for me to demonstrate to her the depth of my feelings,
and how much I truly wish for her hand. Please let me know when I can expect
your party to arrive.

Yours, etc…

Lord Francis
put down the letter he had just read, and gazed across the breakfast table at
his bride. He took a moment to admire her gleaming chestnut hair, and the
graceful turn of her slender neck. He allowed his eyes to slide down to the
white skin of her chest where it moved gently above the lace at her
décolletage, before resolutely dragging them back to her piquant face.

“Here’s a
tangle,” he said, tapping the letter with one forefinger.

“A tangle?”
asked Isobel. “I thought it was a letter from Lord Glencairn. What manner of
tangle can such an upright and straightforward gentleman possibly have?”

Francis
hesitated. “It seems that he is fonder of Harriet than we had thought.”

“Indeed?” said
Isobel. “I know that they spent some pleasant afternoons together, strolling
through the gardens, and at one point you indicated you thought something more
might come of it, but she left Scotland quite willingly, and has not mentioned
Lord Glencairn since.”

“I noticed
that, and thought it odd,” said Francis. “After all, she spent most afternoons
with his children, and seemed to like his lordship a great deal, why would she
not mention him again?”

Isobel
shrugged. “Well, clearly she did not like him that well, or she would be
lamenting the lack of his company.”

“Or so it
seems. And yet, we are often unable to see beyond the ends of our noses. No
doubt we were too concerned with our feelings to think of Harriet’s—or
Glencairn’s.”

“What do you
mean?” asked Isobel. “I’m in no mood to answer riddles, Francis. What does
Glencairn want?”

“He wants us
to bring Harriet to Scotland for Christmas.”

Isobel looked
startled. “Whatever for? I always have Christmas at Kitswold, which Harriet
adores, and I see no reason my habits should change. Furthermore, the very
notion of a journey to Scotland in December is barely to be considered,” she
said shuddering slightly. “I’m not certain there are enough hot bricks or fur
rugs in the kingdom to keep us warm on such a journey.”

Francis picked
the letter up in his long fingers and perused it again. “Perhaps this year must
be the exception. It seems, my dear, that Glencairn proposed to Harriet last
summer.”

Isobel emitted
what could only be considered a most unladylike squeal. “He did what?” she
demanded, and, reaching across the table, wrested the note from his grasp.

Francis
watched with some amusement as she read it, gasping from time to time, one hand
at her throat. When she was done, she looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“I had no
notion that this went on!” she said. “I must have been very blind. Poor
Harriet, to go through such a thing and not tell me so I could comfort her!”

Francis shook
his head. “We were both much occupied with our own contretemps,” he said. “I
had no inkling that he had proposed to her either. Of course, that was the day
after I proposed to you, and you turned me down so abruptly and managed to
sprain your ankle.”

“Yes, and an
idiot I was, too,” said Isobel. “We might have married a month earlier than we
did, and spared ourselves a great deal of pain and annoyance.”

“My victory
was much sweeter because I earned it,” observed Francis. “Nor would I have been
able to assist Lady Morgan in ridding herself of her husband’s presence had you
accepted me.”

“Still, it was
a great waste of time,” said Isobel. “And now it seems that Harriet has been
grieving this whole autumn, and I had not a single thought for her. She must
think me the most selfish creature on earth.”

“You need have
no worries, Harriet always thinks the best of everyone; it’s part of her
charm,” replied Francis. “Nor are you selfish, my love. You and I were
certainly less observant than we might have been, but we meant no harm. But
now, perhaps we can help Glencairn to woo Harriet, and she can be as happy as
we are.”

“That would be
impossible, but I would be glad to help her become the second happiest woman in
England!” said Isobel. She paused. “But I have no idea how we will convince her
to go to Glencairn; she most likely has a distaste for the place now, and it is
a dreary trip in winter. She loves Christmas at Kitswold with my brother’s
children. We hang wreaths, the villagers sing carols, and the house is so cozy
and warm; she says it is her favorite time of year to be in the country.”

“I have no
idea either,” said Francis. “But it must be done. It seems we owe all our own
happiness to Glencairn and Harriet. They conspired to throw us together by
promoting the construction of a folly, and Harriet intentionally let slip Lady
Morgan’s difficulties so that I would seek her out; of that I am sure.”

“Dear
Harriet,” murmured Isobel. “I shall miss her. And only fancy, she will be a
Countess! Goodness, how sour the London tabbies who have patronized her will
be.”

“Only if we
can get her to Scotland,” said Francis.

The door
opened and Harriet entered, looking charming in a morning dress of pale
lavender. The sleeves were ruched above the elbows, with a plum velvet ribbon,
and the cuffs of her long sleeves and the hem of her skirt were ornamented with
a band of pleated white organza quite three inches deep, matched by the ruffle
at her neckline. She smiled brightly at Francis and Isobel before seating
herself at the table and helping herself to some toast and fruit.

“Good morning,
my dears,” she said.

“Good morning,
Harriet,” answered Isobel.

A silence
descended over the room. Harriet looked at Isobel, who still held Glencairn’s
letter in her hand.

“Was there
anything interesting in the post?” she asked.

Isobel dropped
the letter as though it were on fire. “No, nothing in particular,” she
responded. “Some invitations, of course, and a letter from my Aunt Henrietta.”

“Dear
Henrietta,” said Harriet. “How does she? She always had that yapping dog with
her, and while I do love your aunt, Isobel dear, I could not like her pet. She
fed it sweetmeats from the table, which I cannot think is right, and once it
tried to bite me! And Henrietta merely thought it was cunning of the beast!”

“Yes, her dog
is dreadful,” agreed Isobel hastily, hoping to staunch Harriet’s flow of words.
“Harriet, what would you think if we did not go to Kitswold this Christmas?”

Harriet looked
up. “What a pity that would be, as I do love seeing the drawing room at
Kitswold covered with greenery, and the bunches of holly in the hall. I also
enjoy seeing your brother’s children—oh, I know you find them frightful, but I
do have a soft spot for them, and children at Christmas seem to be the best
part of the holiday!” She paused and looked from Isobel to Francis. “But of
course, you are married now, and perhaps you mean to go to Strancaster! Things
cannot always be the same, can they?”

“No, they
cannot,” agreed Isobel. She glanced at Francis, and then spoke very gently.
“But I did not mean we should go to Strancaster. We have received an invitation
to visit Glencairn Castle for Christmas.”

The pink in
Harriet’s cheeks faded. “Glencairn!” she repeated. “Oh! Well, how kind of Lord
Glencairn to think of you and Lord Francis. I’m sure Christmas in Scotland must
be lovely in the extreme. Certainly the two of you should go! I will go to
Pippa; it has been more than a year since I have visited her—such gadabouts we
are, Isobel—and her children are so very sweet. I have no doubt that her home
is beautiful at Christmas as well and I shall enjoy myself heartily.”

Isobel shot
Francis a despairing look, and he turned to Harriet. “It seems that Lord
Glencairn would like you to accompany us as well,” he said. “He asks after you
by name.”

Harriet turned
even paler. “Oh!” she exclaimed again. “I am sure that as he is so truly the
gentleman he would not wish me to feel excluded, and may in any event be happy
to have me spend more time with Sophia. Such a sweet child, and bidding fair to
be a real beauty! But indeed, I would not want to be a burden. Surely you don’t
wish to travel with me in your carriage, and Lord Glencairn will have far too
many guests for it to make any difference whether I come or not. I do think it
best that I go to my sister.”

“Nonsense,”
said Isobel. “You should visit your sister in the spring, when you can enjoy
the out-of-doors with her children. They are far too young to spend time with
now, when they must be indoors and will only cry and scream. No, Francis and I
have quite decided that you shall come to Glencairn with us.”

“I do not
think that would be the best idea,” said Harriet hesitantly.

“And why not,
pray tell?” asked Isobel. “I know you love Scotland, and you have not seen it
in winter before. Only think how beautiful Glencairn Castle will be in the
snow. I have a fancy to see the great hall decorated with wreaths, and I am
sure that you nurture such a hope as well. Surely you do not mean to be rude to
Lord Glencairn, and deny his request for our company?”

Harriet’s
shoulders sagged a bit. “No, I do not wish to be rude,” she said. “But I am
quite certain he will hardly notice if I am not there.”

“On the
contrary, he very much wishes you to be present. And now, let us consider the matter
closed,” said Francis. “Christmas at Glencairn; how lovely it sounds.”

“Lovely
indeed,” repeated Harriet, her voice hollow. She took a sip of her tea.

After eating a
very small breakfast, Harriet made her escape, saying that she needed to write
to her sister. Isobel watched her disappear through the door, and sighed
ruefully.

“It seems
almost cruel to drag her to Glencairn,” she said. “She is clearly mortified at
the thought of seeing his lordship again. I very nearly told her she need not
come with us.”

“Glencairn
couldn’t give a farthing if you or I are there,” Francis pointed out. “It is
Harriet who he wishes to be present. And, in the end, I hope she will thank us
for it.”

“As do I,”
said Isobel. “If Lord Glencairn does not romance her properly, he will answer
to me.”

“That will
fill him with dread, and thus ensure the most loving of behavior,” said
Francis. He smiled at his wife. “And now, speaking of loving behavior, perhaps
we should finish our breakfasts and retire to your sitting room for—for a
morning tête-à-tête.”