Christmas Forevermore, page 2
“What has you so transfixed? It hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen snow, surely,” his cousin William, the heir of the heir, said. “The children are all out early.” William shook his head. “My boy isn’t out there, is he?”
After a quick mental check of the family tree he’d painstakingly memorized, Cyril answered, “Your boy is only three. I doubt his nursemaid would let him near the snow without your leave.”
William chuckled. “Too right. His mother would have a fit if she wasn’t there when he trundled out in his pantaloons and mittens. She enjoys cooing over him, as though he were the first baby in the world to lisp a nursery rhyme. Wait until your turn, Cyril. You’ll see what I mean.”
Cyril had no present intentions of taking a turn at parenting, so he changed the subject and nodded out the window. “Who is that woman? Jane is the only name I have heard. Kitty seems to know her, but I can’t recall ever meeting her.”
“Oh, that’s only Jane Allen.” William stepped away from the window to pile food on his plate. “Have you had any of the cherried ham? It’s as good today as it was last night.”
Not to be distracted from his inquiry, Cyril presented his question again. “What has Jane Allen to do with us? Is she a cousin? Someone’s betrothed?” He glanced at the two unmarried men at the table, neither of them above three and twenty. Too young to wed, in his opinion. They were barely more than boys still.
“She’s no relation of ours,” William said, but then Elizabeth arrived to take the cup from Cyril and see about her own hot chocolate.
“Who is no relation?” she asked, holding the cup in both hands. “I confess I have not my brother’s ability with names. Is there an interloper in the house?” Elizabeth had the misfortune of being nearly as tall as Cyril, which he feared would cause gentlemen to lose interest in her. But her dark hair and eyes would easily draw the right man to her side. He hoped.
“Jane Allen,” William said, as if repeating the name he’d already given was any sort of answer.
“Oh, I adore Jane,” Cousin Louisa said, turning in her seat at the table. “Why is she not joining us for breakfast? Grandmama cannot have need of her this early.”
“Why does Grandmama need Jane Allen?” Cyril asked, impatience simmering beneath the words. He’d studied all the letters from his father’s family on the sea crossing, along with his mother’s diary, in which she had copied down marriage and birth dates as she learned them, and he’d never once seen a Jane Allen mentioned anywhere.
That his information was lacking sent a jolt of anxiety through him he didn’t care for.
William chuckled and nudged Cyril with his elbow. “Come now, Serious Cyril. No need to turn brusque.”
The childhood nickname made Cyril’s neck itch. He kept his lips pressed shut and returned to the table. He hadn’t been around his father’s family much, but he remembered that unfortunate moniker all too well. If inquiring into the identity of Jane Allen meant being mocked by his relatives, he would leave off the subject entirely.
Elizabeth came to his rescue as she retook her chair. “It seems your adored Miss Allen—she is a miss, I take it?—is outside in the snow, playing with the children. Is she a nursemaid?”
“Not at all. Jane—she isn’t married, of course—she’s Grandmama’s companion.” His cousin Miss Georgiana Grant answered with a wave of her hand.
Another question formed in Cyril’s mind, but he gave a pointed look to Elizabeth, who understood well enough to ask it for him. “I didn’t know Grandmama needed a companion. Miss Allen seems so young. Why wouldn’t Grandmama find someone nearer her age?”
“You know how our grandparents are,” William said, plunking his full plate on the table a second time and ostensibly forgetting that Cyril and his sister did not know their grandparents well. “I think they find her amusing. They’ve collected her more so than employed her.”
“Fascinating. I cannot wait to make her acquaintance.” Elizabeth put her cup to her lips and sipped delicately, raising her eyebrows at her brother. But Cyril had no further questions, so he gave her a nod of thanks and eased himself into a conversation between two of his uncles.
A paid companion. Knowing that, he needn’t waste another moment thinking about Jane Allen. Or the way she’d laughed as she led the children, as though pleased to be one of them for an adventure out in the snow. Not something many women of his acquaintance would endure, much less enjoy. Yes, he could put her completely from his mind and satisfy himself that he’d done well in his study of the family after all.
Except his gaze wandered to the window again, noting the soft fall of snow. And he wondered, how had someone so young and cheerful beguiled his grandmother into hiring her?
Chapter 2
Jane had to make more promises surrounding snow and sweets to get the children back inside the house than she could possibly fulfill before Christmas. But she safely returned all the children to the nursery with their fingers still intact, even if their noses were pink from the cold. To avoid the censure of the nurses, she even stayed to help undress the children from their layers of wool and hang all the mittens she could find on little hooks before the nursery hearth. She even sent an order for warm milk and biscuits down to the kitchen before making her escape.
All her winter things slung over her arm, wet and dripping with melted snow, made walking with grace a somewhat difficult endeavor. No sooner had she deposited her things on a drying rack before the hearth in her bedchamber than a knock sounded at her door. One of the maids entered when invited.
“Miss Allen, Her Ladyship wishes to see you at your convenience. She’s in her sitting room.”
“Thank you, Anne. I’ll be right along.” Jane went to the mirror to smooth her hair while the maid took her leave, then hurried to find her mistress. Lady Mardale, nearing seventy years of age, had a kind and patient disposition. And while she might still speak of her wish for the powdered wigs and petticoats of her youth, she had an eye for the future.
Yet another reason, she claimed, to have taken Jane into her home. “Young minds breed young thoughts, my dear. Even in old people like me.”
Jane entered the countess’s sitting room to find Lady Mardale dressed in a deep-green gown with long sleeves and a bright-red shawl, her gray curls uncovered. She spotted Jane and waved her in. “There you are, Jane. Come, come. Tell me about your adventures this morning.”
“Has news of my exploits already reached you?” Jane asked, coming fully into the room. She bent to say hello to the massive French spaniel her mistress kept. She’d never seen such an animal before, but paintings in the country house assured her they had been loved by the family for generations. An intelligent breed, the dog was white with tightly curled fur and a long, elegant face. “Was it you who betrayed me, Cupid?”
“Tush. Cupid would take all your secrets, and mine, to the grave.” The countess chuckled. “I looked out and saw you with a parade behind you. My grandchildren certainly know how to choose their playmates. It seemed you enjoyed yourself too.”
“Tremendously.” Jane sat on the footstool near the countess. “I am not certain what I liked most: the beauty of the snow or the knowledge that there was a warm fire waiting for me inside.”
The countess’s smile softened. They rarely spoke of what Jane’s life had been like before Lady Mardale had rescued her from loneliness. Sometimes Jane could pretend she had always been a part of the lively and bright household. This was one of those times the countess knew there was much Jane could say about the “Before.” But after a moment’s pause, giving Jane the opportunity to speak or remain silent, the countess turned the conversation to their usual business.
Every day, they went over the countess’s schedule. They discussed social visits made and returned, meals and menus, shops and seamstresses, and correspondence. Jane wrote most of the countess’s letters for her and updated the small diary Lady Mardale always kept at hand. Then they read or began the day according to the dictates of Lady Mardale’s whims.
Today they spoke exclusively of the preparations for Christmas Eve and the twelve days of celebrations following. Having spent two Christmases with the family already, Jane had as much enthusiasm in the planned activities as any of the grandchildren did. There were parties for the family, parties with guests, greenery hunting, a ball, gifts, carols, ghost stories, and delicious foods. There were visits and sleigh rides and beautiful church services. So despite the cold and the long, dark nights, Jane looked forward to the celebrations with her whole heart.
“There is one thing I am concerned about,” the countess said, tapping her elegant fingers on the arm of her chair. “Indeed, I am quite distracted by something, and I am not certain what to do about it.” She sighed deeply and fully captured Jane’s attention. The countess almost never worried. And she went forward in life with more focus than Jane had the capacity to uphold herself. For the countess to admit to distraction and concern?
“What is it, my lady? How may I help you?” Jane leaned closer. “If there is anything at all I can do, you must tell me. I am your companion, and that means it is my duty to take burdensome things out of your hands and into my own.”
Lady Mardale placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, I could not possibly bother you with this, my dear. Not when it’s something so personal.” She turned her head away, and Jane’s alarm mounted. It was Christmas. The countess’s family filled the house to bursting, all of them the people she loved most in the world. Nothing ought to weigh on her mind. Not when she was good and kind and did so much to help others.
“Please, my lady. You can entrust any of your worries to me. I promise I will say nothing of them to another soul, and I will do everything within my ability to set right anything that has gone awry. Please?” She tipped her chin upward, not disguising her determination. “After everything you have done for me, you ought not to deny my help.”
Her Ladyship’s shoulders fell, and she reached forward, taking Jane’s hands in hers. “You are too good, my dear, and kind.” The sparkle had returned to the woman’s eyes. “Very well. You are right. I can think of no one better suited to this situation than you. Mainly because there is no one who knows, quite as you do, what it is to feel lost.”
At this, Jane’s heart twisted. “You are worried for someone else who feels that way.” She knew Her Ladyship well enough to realize that immediately. Of course Lady Mardale wasn’t concerned for herself but for another.
A nod of affirmation confirmed Jane’s words. “I am concerned for my grandson Cyril.”
The gentleman with the dark hair and eyes and the disapproval of Jane that had appeared after mere seconds of their meeting. Her Ladyship was worried about him?
“Poor Cyril and his sister were never permitted much time with our family,” Her Ladyship went on, oblivious to Jane’s sudden stillness. “I have already had my spies tell me that Elizabeth is doing quite well among the family. From the few times I saw her in childhood, she had such a lively spirit. It is good to know that hasn’t changed. But Cyril . . . well, he’s always been somber and quiet. I cannot think why. His father, my darling son, had so much life to him.”
Her eyes took on a different quality, as though she were staring into the past. “When my son passed away, I begged Cyril’s mother to stay with us. She did for a time, but she was young and beautiful. When the opportunity to marry came again, she took it, and I was happy for her because she always seemed content with her choice. But I think her new husband was a jealous man, of sorts. He wasn’t nobility, and I think it mattered to him that her first husband was the son of an earl.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I do not know for certain. All I know is that I saw less and less of Cyril and Elizabeth, and Cyril never seemed as comfortable among our family as I wished.”
The dog rose, as though sensing his mistress’s distress. He came to sit by her side and laid his long snout on her knee. Then he turned his sorrowful stare to Jane, perhaps meaning for the only other human in the room to do something.
“I can see why you would worry after him, my lady. But . . .” Jane hesitated. How could she alleviate Lady Mardale’s concern? “He is a grown man now. It is up to him to decide how he feels about the family and whether he will attempt to know all of you. It isn’t something you can control. Though, I imagine if you had a talk with him—”
“Oh, I cannot possibly do that.” Lady Mardale stroked Cupid’s head. “He has always had a stubborn streak, that boy. If I address the problem head-on, I think it would hurt him. No. It is best to come at something of this nature . . . sideways. What is the military term? Heading him off, so to speak.”
Though that didn’t strike Jane as sensible, she didn’t say so. She was too devoted to Lady Mardale to argue with her. “What can we do?” she asked. “We cannot force him to feel comfortable or to enjoy himself.”
“No, neither of us is capable of such a thing.” Lady Mardale settled back in her chair, and then she smiled. A smile Jane had seen the very day Lady Mardale had arrived at Mrs. Harper’s School for Girls to take Jane away. Lady Mardale had a loving heart, and she brought as many into the fold of her family as she could. “But someone with your nature and bright spirit might coax him into enjoying the merriment of the season and perhaps help him come to know his family, without the added pressure of being part of that family.”
The last statement didn’t sting. Jane knew perfectly well she’d been treated like a family member since the moment she’d accepted the position of lady’s companion. But someone like Mr. Cyril Grant wouldn’t see her as part of the large gaggle of the earl and countess’s descendants. That might make things less awkward for him.
There was some logic to Her Ladyship’s suggestion. A sliver of reason. And that made Jane give in. Besides, she had made quite the case for taking on the project before she had known what it would entail. “What would you like me to do, Your Ladyship?”
The wrinkles around Her Ladyship’s eyes deepened, and she answered with her customary gentleness. “You are good to ask, Jane. I do have an idea, you see.”
***
People everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. In every room Cyril ventured into, he found others already occupying chairs, tables, and hearths, laughing with one another. In a house the size of the earl’s, it seemed impossible that not a single nook would be left to hide within.
Not that Cyril needed to hide. But finding a moment to himself had been easier aboard the ship that had brought him to England, and that had been a small vessel full of sailors and crates of goods. He had uncles in the library, aunts in the sitting rooms, and children clattering up and down the corridors with their toy horses and dolls. And everywhere he went, someone wanted to ask him a thousand questions about his life in the Caribbean.
His head ached, and he seriously considered withdrawing to his bedchamber until dinner. Except such a thing would be exceptionally rude, and a person did not show such a lack of manners as guest to an earl and countess. Even if that person was their grandson.
At least Elizabeth seemed to be enjoying herself. She had found common interests in gardening with one of their aunts, she shared musical talent with several cousins, and she could speak on the subject of art with their grandmother.
Cyril drifted out of the parlor, where his sister and grandmother chatted, the moment they weren’t looking. He walked along the edges of the corridor, making his way to the staircase. Then he realized the steps themselves were currently occupied.
Jane Allen, his grandmother’s companion, who didn’t seem to actually keep as strictly by Grandmother’s side as she ought, sat midway up the steps next to one of the younger boys. It took Cyril a moment to recall the child’s name—introductions to the children had been given quickly by a nursery maid early that morning, and Kitty had been the only child who hadn’t looked at him with suspicion.
Edgar Grant, the eldest child of one of Cyril’s first cousins, was the boy’s name. He had the same black hair and brown eyes Cyril had inherited from the earl. And those eyes, Cyril realized as he approached, were red-rimmed and watering.
“It isn’t fair,” the boy said in a tone most adults wouldn’t tolerate from a child. “Everyone else can hold them, but as soon as I do, I start sneezing and crying like an infant.”
Miss Allen had her arm around the child’s shoulders. She looked up as Cyril approached, and her expression changed so quickly that he couldn’t be certain, but he thought he had seen something like relief upon her face. That couldn’t be. Why would the sight of him give her any comfort? Then she smiled. “Mr. Grant.”
The boy’s head jerked up, his mouth popped open, and then his shoulders fell. “Oh. I thought you meant Papa.”
Cyril raised his eyebrows. “That would be confusing. I suppose that’s why we’re all going about as Cousin This and Uncle That.” He hesitated at the foot of the staircase. Now that he’d been addressed, he couldn’t simply walk by and ignore them. That wouldn’t be polite in the least. “What seems to be the trouble, Cousin Edgar?”
The boy sniffled. “Everyone is in the kitchen with a box of kittens, having a jolly good time, and I’m being sent to wash my face and hands when they aren’t even dirty.”
Miss Allen gave Cyril another sort of look, communicating that she sympathized with the boy but didn’t know quite what to do for him. “Edgar has an aversion to kittens, it would seem. And a strong one. He’d barely touched the little orange tom when he started sneezing.”
“Ah.” He understood the logic. Usually, people with an aversion to animals reacted only while touching said animal, but he knew someone who sneezed horribly every time they entered any stables, and he himself was prone to fits of sneezing when he encountered lilies—which rarely happened in St. Kitts. “Washing up might solve part of the problem.” Though, it wasn’t likely to cheer the boy.
