Old Acquaintances: Christmas Regency Tale (Regency Tales Book 2) Read online

  Mrs. Nickleby regarded Cecily’s drooping figure in some alarm. She drew back her skirts from possible contamination. “Fever! I do hope that it is not catching. My dear Miss Brown, surely you could have shown more consideration for the rest of us and stayed up in your room if you were ill.”

  “I am sorry. I thought at first it was only my nerves that made me feel so peculiar,” said Cecily. She sat down abruptly on a chair. Her flushed face had gone stark white.

  Judith stared at Mrs. Nickleby with acute dislike. “Madam, I doubt that any fever would dare take residence in one of your constitution,” she said. Mrs. Nickleby opened and closed her mouth, astonished and confused by the biting setdown.

  Judith tugged vigorously on the bell rope. The door to the drawing room was opened instantly by a footman. “John, Miss Brown has been taken ill. Ask Mrs. Wyssop to make up something for her fever. I shall myself help Miss Brown upstairs to her room.” The footman bowed and hurried off on his errand.

  Judith put her arm about Cecily’s narrow shoulders and helped her rise from the chair. The girl swayed and Judith steadied her. “There you are, child. I shall not let you fall,” she said gently.

  Cecil threw a grateful glance up at her face. “You are unfailingly kind,” she murmured. Judith admonished her not to speak but to concentrate on making her way up the stairs.

  When Judith returned from settling Cecily comfortably in bed, she discovered that the gentlemen had taken up residence in the drawing room and that they had been informed by Mrs. Nickleby of Miss Brown’s surprising collapse.

  Sir Peregrine looked over at Judith, his visage a bit sardonic. “Protecting her to the last, are you?” he asked.

  Judith’s already frayed temper flared. She said coldly, “I do not know what you mean, Sir Peregrine.” She turned her shoulder on him then and smiled encouragingly at Lord Baltor, who inquired rather anxiously of Miss Brown. “Miss Brown has apparently contracted a fever from becoming chilled yesterday, but I daresay that she will presently be much better.”

  Lord Baltor was struck with remorse. “It is my fault,” he said hollowly.

  “Indeed it was, your lordship. A heavier-handed whipster I hope never to see! It is a wonder any of us escaped with nothing worse than a few bumps after being tossed hurley-burley into the snow,” said Mrs. Nickleby with a decisive nod. She embarked on an involved recital of the accident to the mail coach and her thoughts on the matter.

  Judith could not stifle an impatient exclamation. Sir Peregrine had the audacity to laugh. Pointedly ignoring him, Judith pinned a smile to her lips and set herself to endure what was left of what had been for the most part a trying day.

  After a moment she heard someone whistling “Good King Wenceslaus”. She turned her head in relief. “Mr. Smith, what a truly happy notion,” she said.

  The gentleman broke off in mid-note, disconcerted and faintly alarmed. But Judith was no longer looking at him. “Lord Baltor, let us do as you once suggested and lift the ceiling with a few Christmas carols.” She seated herself at the pianoforte, the top of which was covered with an arrangement of laurel, bay, and rosemary that filled the air with spicy scent.

  Lord Baltor was completely amenable to the suggestion, especially as it served to distract Mrs. Nickleby from her droning recital. “I am at your service, Miss Grantham,” he said, positioning himself behind her shoulder.

  A carol was quickly agreed upon and they lifted their voices in song. Sir Peregrine came to lean against the pianoforte and added a pleasant baritone. After a small hesitation, the remaining three joined in the singing. When it was done, Judith began playing another familiar old tune and this time the caroling was more resonant.

  An hour had passed in the pleasant exercise when the butler entered the drawing room with a long taper. With some ceremony he lighted the kissing-bough candles, which had been lit for the first time on Christmas Eve and would be again each night of the twelve days of Christmas. As each wick caught, the appearance of the yellow flame was greeted with claps and good humor.

  The company broke up soon afterward and good nights were exchanged. With a quiet request, Sir Peregrine delayed Judith’s exit from the drawing room and he closed the door behind the others. Judith raised her brows in inquiry. She was astonished and obscurely pleased that Sir Peregrine’s expression was exceptionally friendly. She thought that her own expression must reflect the same amicability that had been induced in them all by the caroling.

  Sir Peregrine advanced toward her. “I wished to apologize for my manners earlier in the evening. It was ill-conceived of me to accuse you of spiriting away Cecily under pretense of malaise,” he said.

  Judith was still affected by the surprising pleasantness of the evening and she discovered that his apology put her in complete charity with him. “I have quite forgotten it,” she said with her easy smile.

  Sir Peregrine carried her hand to his lips. “You are gracious, Judith.” He retained hold of her fingers. There was a decided twinkle in his extraordinary blue eyes. “You do realize that we are standing beneath the kissing bough.”

  Judith cast a disconcerted look up at the crown-shaped kissing bough and the mistletoe suspended from its center. She laughed. “So we are. Rest easy, sir. I do not subscribe to all of the Christmas traditions,” she said reassuringly.

  Sir Peregrine smiled. “But I do.” He took her into his arms and kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Judith’s thoughts tilted and tumbled into confusion.

  Sir Peregrine released her. There was a curious expression in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Judith,” he said softly, and he left the drawing room.

  Judith remained standing where he had left her for several seconds before she left the drawing room and made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  The two days following were marked by weak sunshine and the rising hopes of various members of the household that the snow had at last run its course. When the man who regularly delivered meat from the village butcher appeared at the servants’ entrance, it was felt that Elmswood Hall would soon be back to normal. “That noseybody is as good as gone,” said Cook with satisfaction, and she began to plan a special menu to celebrate the happy event.

  Miss Grantham would willingly have echoed her cook’s sentiments. She heard the announcement about the weather with welcome relief, Withers having chosen to deliver it himself to the entire company when they were assembled for luncheon. “That is wonderful, indeed.” She turned an inquiring gaze in the direction of her guests, her winged brows lifted. “Perhaps I may send a message to the posting house?”

  “That would be fine for Mrs. Nickleby and myself. We should be getting on with our visit to our boy,” said Mr. Nickleby. He tucked in the last bite of a meat pie. After eyeing the port wine trifle on the sideboard a moment, he regretfully decided against it. He had eaten well and he did not think that he could swallow another mouthful.

  Mrs. Nickleby’s lips opened as she prepared herself to deliver a comment. Ruthlessly, Judith passed over her to address Mr. Smith. “And you, sir?” she asked, her smile appearing again.

  Compared to the Nicklebys, Mr. Smith had been a paragon of a guest even though more than once his roaming about the house had served to give a fright to the maids when they had come upon him in unexpected places. She herself had discovered him again in the library and she had felt an initial surprise, for she had not thought he looked the sort who would enjoy books. But she had reminded herself that appearances could be deceiving. Thereafter she had made a point of commenting on some story or other that she had found of interest and Mr. Smith had seemed to appreciate her efforts because his eyes had crinkled up with a quiet humor that she had found endearing.

  “Aye, miss. And I will be thanking you kindly,” said Mr. Smith.

  Judith nodded, appreciating his quiet manners – quite unlike some she could think of, who had not once uttered a gracious word, she thought. She turned her gaze on Lord Baltor, who was looking unhappy. “Why,
is there something wrong, my lord?”

  Lord Baltor hesitated a moment, vacillating. At last he took his courage in his hands. “The thing of it, Miss Grantham, is that I do not feel that I can take my leave just yet. I mean to say, it was my doing that caused Miss Brown to fall ill. I would not feel right to leave Elmswood without knowing-“

  “You refine too much on it, Baltor,” said Sir Peregrine impatiently.

  Judith glanced at Sir Peregrine. She smiled warmly at Lord Baltor. “Your sentiments do you credit, my lord. Certainly, you may remain at Elmswood for as long as you would like. However, I do not wish you to sacrifice your time with your aunt. Did you not say previously that you were on your way to visit with her?”

  “Oh, but she has not notion that I was coming. It was to be a surprise, so I daresay that a day or two more will make little difference,” said Lord Baltor ingenuously.

  “Quite,” said Judith, not daring to glance at Sir Peregrine. She could sense that he was deriving much the same amusement as she was from Lord Baltor’s artlessness. It was passing strange that she and Sir Peregrine could be so alike in some ways and yet set one another’s backs up so readily, she thought. “Well, that is settled. I think that we shall all be glad to get on with our individual plans for the holiday, though I must say it has been quite an experience to have all of you here at Elmswood. I do not think that I shall ever quite forget it,” she said with an encompassing smile.

  “Quite,” murmured Sir Peregrine.

  Judith ignored the thread of irony in his voice. She glanced at him in a determinedly friendly fashion. “Sir Peregrine, I know that you in particular have chafed at your enforced stay at Elmswood. But like Lord Baltor, I assure you of continued hospitality until Miss Brown is well enough to travel. Perhaps you would like to visit with your ward later today? Though I have not talked to Cecily, I think that a visit from you might underscore your concern for her well-being.”

  Her suggestion was couched with all the trappings of the solicitude of the polite hostess, but the gentleman to whom she addressed it was well able to gather a more pointed meaning to it. It was but another skirmish line in their ongoing battle.

  “An excellent suggestion, Miss Grantham,” said Sir Peregrine in appreciation. “I shall certainly do so.” He smiled at her and he was surprised by the answering spark of merriment in her eyes. He realized that she also derived a certain enjoyment from the repartee between them. They had scarcely spoken more than a few sentences to each other in five years and it seemed that they were equally determined to make up for that oversight.

  In particular, he recalled how right she had felt in his arms under the kissing bough. He could not for the life of him see where that could possibly lead since the past still hung there, unalterable and unpalatable. At the thought, his smile faded and a distinct chill entered his eyes. Luncheon was done with for all intents and purposes and he excused himself to the company.

  Judith had seen the instant that Sir Peregrine’s expression changed. His manner had gone cold of a sudden and the warmth in his eyes had become shuttered. It unsettled her. She had assumed after he had kissed her that their differences were on the way to being mended. However, she was not particularly sorry when he left the dining room. She thought that if there was anything that she was sorry for, it was that Sir Peregrine would be remaining at Elmswood yet a while. His uncertain moods made the atmosphere distinctly uncomfortable.

  That afternoon, shortly before the dinner hour, a commotion was raised abovestairs in a flurry of furious voices. Judith, who had been reading in the library, left her book in the chair and hurried out into the entry hall. The altercation was rapidly becoming louder and attracted the notice of all within earshot.

  Sir Peregrine and Lord Baltor emerged from the billiards room, Sir Peregrine exclaiming, “What the devil?”

  The footmen and a maid or two left their various tasks to step into the entry hall and Mr. Smith appeared from somewhere. They all stood in the hall, their faces raised in the direction of the balcony where the ruckus was originating.

  Mrs. Nickleby hove into sight and marched down the stairs in full sail, her high accusing voice rising above the scared protestations of a slight maid, hauled along by Mr. Nickleby, who recommended the girl to keep her mouth closed or she would accuse herself all the deeper.

  Mrs. Nickleby spied her hostess below. She seemed to swell. “Miss Grantham! I do not know what kind of household you find acceptable, but believe me, I would be ashamed to employ such persons as this wanton thief! A fine thing! As your guest, I expected much better. Indeed I did, ma’am!” The Nicklebys and their captive came swiftly down the stairs, Mrs. Nickleby never letting up in her loud diatribe. Mr. Nickleby punctuated his wife’s unrelenting scold by nods and occasional utterances of agreement.

  Judith raised her voice. “Mrs. Nickleby! Pray calm yourself, madam. I cannot make any sense of this at all.” She might as well have tried to quell a storm.

  Sir Peregrine was not so helpless. He said in his direct way, “Mr. Nickleby, if you do not have the decency to shut your wife up, then I shall be forced to do so.” His level gaze was hard.

  Mr. Nickleby apparently took him at his word. He let go of the maid and shook his wife’s arm. The maid scuttled quickly behind Withers, who had come into the hall, and peeped fearfully out around him at the Nicklebys. “That’s enough now, pet. We have Miss Grantham’s undivided attention, of a certainty.”

  “So I should hope!” exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby. She pointed a shaking finger at the maid, who squeaked in fright. “That is the one! That is the thief. She denies it, but she has taken my rubies!”

  “I never, Miss Grantham! I couldn’t have done such a thing,” said the maid, practically in tears.

  “Miss Grantham, I assure you that no one under my command is capable of what this…lady suggests,” said Withers, not demeaning himself by even so much as a glance in Mrs. Nickleby’s direction.

  Judith nodded her awareness of the butler’s patent outrage. “Mrs. Nickleby, perhaps if you could tell me why you believe your rubies have been stolen, then perhaps we may come to some sort of conclusion,” she said calmly.

  “My rubies are missing and that little hussy stole them,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “All that talk of replacing a button on my cloak! Phah! She was but learning where my jewel case was kept, weren’t you, missy?”

  Pandemonium broke loose. The maid squeaked her innocence. Withers raised his voice, his indignation plain. “Miss Grantham, I must take leave to observe-“ Mrs. Nickleby roared her disbelief, reiterating her accusations.

  “That is quite enough!” Judith’s voice cracked through the air. Instantly the hall fell quiet, various pairs of eyes fixing on her face with surprise or approval, depending upon their owners.

  “Good girl,” murmured Sir Peregrine under his breath. He entirely approved of the tide of rose in Miss Grantham’s face and the manner in which her gray eyes flashed.

  Judith looked at Mr. Nickleby and said coldly, “Since your wife appears quite incapable of expressing herself with any degree of control, I should like to hear the tale from you. If you please, Mr. Nickleby!”

  Mr. Nickleby was nothing loath. “It is as my good wife has been saying, Miss Grantham. The ruby necklace and earrings are gone, as well as the ring, and a pretty penny I paid for them, too. That maid there has been serving Mrs. Nickleby since we come. She had the opportunity. And it did seem suspicious at the time that she claimed to want to replace a button on Mrs. Nickleby’s cloak without being told. Why, I ask you, what servant offers to do the extra thing? No, as I told Mrs. Nickleby, that maid has done the deed. She was but throwing dust in our eyes, being so helpful.”

  “On the contrary. Those I employ anticipate the needs of myself and of my guests. If that is not what you are used to, I am sorry for it; but certainly that does not give you leave to wantonly accuse any member of my staff of thievery or falsehood,” said Judith with distaste. “If your rubies are missing as you say, they h
ave probably only been misplaced and will certainly turn up in time.”

  “Did I not tell you, Mr. Nickleby? Did I not say that the servant was but an extension of the mistress’s own lax nature? I would not be a bit surprised to learn that Miss Grantham is every bit as larcenous as that wretched maid!” exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby.

  There were several indrawn breaths among the fascinated audience and all eyes flew to Judith’s face. She stood quite still, her face white and expressionless. Only her glittering eyes, which had paled almost to silver, gave away her cold rage. “Mr. Nickleby, your wife has worn out my hospitality. I shall appreciate your departure within a quarter hour. A carriage will be readied immediately to carry you to the posting house.”

  Mr. Nickleby found himself making a bow and he straightened up hastily, annoyed with himself that he had been intimidated by Miss Grantham’s lofty air. “There is still the question of my good wife’s jewels, Miss Grantham.”

  Judith looked at the gentleman for such a long moment that he became restive. She said thinly, “I am so anxious to have you out of my home that I shall happily pay whatever the wretched stones are worth.”

  “There! If that is not an admission of guilt I have never heard one,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “Tell her that I shall have my rubies, Mr. Nickleby.”

  Mr. Nickleby paid his spouse no attention. A shrewd look had entered his eyes. “The stones came dear enough, but I shall be satisfied with five hundred pounds for the set.”

  Sir Peregrine gave a short, sharp laugh. “My dear sir, you shall catch cold at this game. I shall not stand by tamely and allow Miss Grantham to be shamelessly fleeced. You’ll take a hundred pounds and count yourself fortunate that I do not throw you and your wife out on your collective ears.”