The Holly and the Ivy, page 36
“Never mind your singing.” He pinched her sleeve and gave an almost imperceptible tug. She dropped her hands for him, trying to put her embarrassment aside as he suggested. “Your idea worked, didn’t it? The boys were giggling and didn’t have any problems singing the final song as the parishioners left the church.”
His blue eyes danced in the candlelight, but she refused to be distracted by them. Her hand went back to fingering the music, as if the action would help her focus her thoughts. “I hope you have a better plan with your next idea.”
“I thought the last one rather brilliant.”
“Yes.” She laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “Mr. Knight realized his efforts to teach the boys was far more productive than wasting his time training an assistant.”
“See?” Mr. Perry said, leaning toward her. “A Christmas miracle. Our choir is saved.”
She might have been able to ignore his eyes, but when his lips pulled into a grin, her knees wobbled. She blinked several times. All these thoughts of finding her a husband had confused her. Mr. Perry was an aggravating man, not a potential suitor. Besides, she could never marry a clergyman, no matter how beautiful he was. She was the least worthy wife for such a man.
Lifting her chin, she said, “It feels like you have manipulated Mr. Knight and me, offering to help us both when it did the opposite. Even if your intentions were harmless, which I have reason to doubt, you cannot escape blame for the fruitless errand you sent me on. I saw no man fawning over me, begging to be my husband. Did you see one, by chance? I daresay you did not.” She poked her bottom lip out into a pout.
His gaze fell to her lip, protruding in what he surely saw as petulant. When the blue of his eyes darkened, she sucked it back in and bit down hard.
His gaze flicked back to meet hers. “Maybe after your next perfor-mance . . .”
Her eyes widened. “There will not be a next performance. You, sir, agreed to grant my ‘absurd request,’ as you called it. You may be a man of the cloth, but I daresay you have a forked tongue.”
Mr. Perry laughed. “Shh, someone might overhear you and think your insult sincere.”
“I am perfectly sincere.”
“Come, now. A forked tongue is a bit thick, don’t you think?”
“You agreed to help me. My chances are worse now than they were before. A forked tongue is quite a fitting description for you.” She folded her arms across her chest and grumbled. “It seems even a clergyman must fight his way into heaven.” She sat on the piano bench to face away from him. Just as she did, she remembered he had said he had news for her. Well, it would have to wait. She was too angry to hear him out, and he needed time to realize she was perfectly serious in her intentions and would not play his silly games.
Chapter Four
Thomas was completely baffled. Alice Hunt had not only arrived at the church for choir practice at the same time as the young boys but had marched past him with nary a greeting and sat down with them. He tilted his head while he observed her. Was she actually going to continue to aid Mr. Knight after all that had happened? He shook his head, sure she would give up her act at any moment. He folded his arms, content to wait another moment where he stood in the alcove by the door.
Young Samuel sat beside Alice. He was the least confident of the choirboys, but easily the one with the strongest and clearest voice. Thomas watched Alice smooth his russet hair and whisper something to him. In response, a wide smile broke out on Samuel’s face. Whatever she’d said, Samuel responded better to Alice than he did to most. Thomas had thought he had Alice figured out, but perhaps he was wrong. She was fiery one minute and completely tender the next.
He leaned against the arched doorway of the entry that doubled as the bell chamber. It had been three days since their Sunday dinner together, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of her. Her frank manner and ability to amuse him were unlike those of any woman he’d ever encountered. Her ambition to reach her goal had only impressed him further. Not that his impression of her would lead to anything. It wasn’t as if he would act on any of his thoughts since Alice was due to leave in a few weeks anyway. Besides, Thomas had no plans for courting or matrimony. He had far too much to do trying to serve and care for his congregation as his father had.
So why was he still standing by the door, watching her? She admittedly looked a picture sitting in his church, with her soft red curls framing her contagious smile. She was too pretty, and he was too affected. The choir practiced twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays, so if she insisted on helping Mr. Knight, Thomas would at least see her again come Saturday morning and then for church on Sunday. He didn’t think he was in any real harm by admiring her, but he also couldn’t get too comfortable with her there. The reality of his predicament made him reach for the door handle.
He took one last glance at Alice and slipped outside. The brisk air licked at his cheeks, but more in a refreshing manner than an unwelcome one. Walking to the side of the building, he knew of a task to help clear his thoughts. A kind parishioner had donated a tree that had died in his yard. The wagonload of logs the farmer had left behind would provide needed fuel to warm the church all winter long. Slipping his coat off, Thomas draped it across one log.
After rolling up his shirtsleeves, he picked up his axe and slammed it into the wood. One whack turned into several. The exertion lessened the circling ideas concerning the woman who seemed to attract trouble wherever she went. But after a few more hits, one thought would not dislodge from his mind. What had possessed Alice to keep participating in the choir? He’d thought her mortification had been sufficient to keep her from coming within a mile of the church.
Once he was in a rhythm, the time passed quickly, and Thomas was soon finished. He set the axe aside, ready to begin stacking the wood. He turned and nearly ran into Alice’s hand, extended toward him. She held a pair of work gloves in her fist and pushed them into his chest.
He furrowed his brow. “What’s this?”
“Someone must think of the cut and blister on your hand. You must not own a pair of your own, so I took the liberty of remedying that for you.”
His lips pulled into a slow half smile as he admired the gloves. He had owned a pair but had recently given them away to a farmer in greater need. “This is quite thoughtful of you. Is it to thank me for helping you find your place in my choir?”
“Don’t be daft.” She gave him a dry look. “Just put them on before you ruin your hands.”
Put on gloves from a lady? He knew the implications of such a gift. He paused, catching Alice’s wide, innocent eyes, waiting for him to accept her act of kindness. And so he did, relishing the feel of the smooth leather. His measure of her character only ever seemed to increase. “I did not expect to see you this morning.”
She fingered the clasp on her forest-green cloak and took her time answering him. “I might be guilty of many things, but I do not go back on my word. I said I would help Mr. Knight and help I will.”
Incredulous as her confession was, her loyalty was admirable. But considering the discomfort it must bring her, it was too much to ask. “I can keep looking for another volunteer.”
She shook her head. “Only if you intend to find help for the church service, as I can only offer my assistance during practices. I assure you I have no intention of making a fool of myself again. Come Sunday, I will be sitting on my family’s pew, and Mr. Knight will be entirely on his own. I will have to maximize my time during the week to keep my end of the bargain.”
“I see.” Mr. Perry was sure Mr. Knight’s preference would lean toward her not helping at all after how horrified he’d been with her singing, but Mr. Perry had not the heart to tell her. He eyed her, sensing there was more she was not saying. He guessed that Alice’s desperation for a husband had been a strong component in her reasoning. Apparently, her determination outweighed her pride.
She sighed, as if reading his mind. “And it gives me a ready excuse to leave the house without my grandmother or sisters becoming suspicious.”
He had not expected that answer. “I imagine you sneaking off to plot with a man would pose a problem.” He gave her a wry smile.
“A clergyman, you mean. There is a vast difference.”
Sudden annoyance flared. His profession did not change that he was first and foremost a man. He did not expect her to fall madly in love with him, but he did not consider himself to be an offensive choice either. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “At dinner this last Sunday, I had hoped to inform you of another service idea. However, it might be irrelevant now since you are content with the choir.”
She folded her arms across her cloak. “I am not so delusional to think my time with the choir will conjure up a man to marry me. However, neither have I proved myself worthy to God. Tell me what other idea you have, and I shall tell you if I find it worthwhile.”
“Mrs. Clark was blessed with another baby last month—her ninth child, to be exact.” Squatting down, he scooped several pieces of wood into his arms and transferred them to the side of the house, arranging their triangular ends so they fit tightly together. “Her older children work during the day, and she has her hands full. I thought you might visit her and offer your help for the day.” He snuck a glance to gauge her reaction.
Her hand went to the nape of her neck, and she massaged it. “Do you think me qualified to tend so many children?”
Gathering more splintered sticks in his hand, he replied, “Mrs. Clark is an experienced mother; she will let you know exactly what needs to be done.”
“It is not a grand service like I imagined, but I suppose I could attempt it if it’s as simple as following her instructions. Heaven knows I am desperate to make up for my last attempt.”
“Excellent. I will visit her and arrange a time.”
Alice nodded slowly, her uneasiness with the idea painted in her expression. “Please send word to Ravencross when you discover a time.” She gave him a half smile, half grimace and turned to begin her walk home.
“Thank you,” he called out.
When she turned, he lifted his hands and turned them back and forth to display his gloves. Her smile was real this time, and it brought a matching one to his own lips. Miss Alice Hunt was a strange beauty, and he didn’t know what to make of her.
* * *
Thursday morning, just after breakfast, Alice received a note from Mr. Perry. She unfolded it over the open secretaire desk in the corner of the drawing room. She scanned the contents and breathed out an anticipatory sigh. She dearly wanted this to work. The note instructed her that he would pick her up in his carriage the following morning at a quarter past ten. Fingering the small square of paper, she wondered that Mr. Perry was well-off enough to own a carriage. Perhaps rectors were not so very poor as she had previously believed.
Grandmother interrupted her thoughts. “Is that note from Ivy? I hope she hasn’t canceled coming to tea this afternoon. Julia convinced Fairmore Hall’s cook to experiment with different poultice recipes, and I’m eager to know what they’ve determined. My dedicated housekeeper refuses to sit and rest for even a moment, but her cough is dreadful, and I will not let her suffer if I can help it.”
Alice couldn’t tell her grandmother who the note was from, but she couldn’t lie and say it was from Ivy either. If she told Grandmother the truth, Alice would have to explain everything, and her grandmother already thought her ridiculous. She wouldn’t possibly understand. Besides, without a proper explanation, a note from a gentleman construed all sorts of ideas.
“It’s a note . . . for myself . . . reminding me of an obligation.” There. She’d managed to avoid telling a lie.
What was left of Grandmother’s thin white eyebrows couldn’t be seen from her fireside chair, but the lines of her forehead wrinkled under her mobcap enough to let Alice know exactly what she felt. “When your sisters came to visit, they too tried to avoid telling me things. I would not recommend it.”
Alice balked. “Weren’t my sisters justified in their secrets? They managed to bring such happiness to themselves and everyone else with their actions.” She quickly folded her note again. “Perhaps you will just have to trust me.”
Grandmother’s brow remained wrinkled. “They never made me as nervous as you do.”
Fisting the note, Alice folded her arms against herself. “I will have to add you to my list of people I must prove wrong.”
“Oh, dear Alice,” Grandmother began, a glint of amusement in her expression. “It is better for a person to improve than to prove.”
“They sound the same to me.” She was right not to confide her plan, as Grandmother would clearly never understand.
“I would explain myself,” Grandmother said, “but I do not think you’re ready to hear it. You do whatever it is you have in mind, and then when it all falls apart, you’ll be keen to listen.”
Gaping at the condemning words that fell so easily from her grandmother’s lips, Alice turned away. Why was no one confident in her abilities? More than ever, she wanted to prove everyone wrong. But at least Grandmother had given her permission to try. Aunt Morris would never have offered her the opportunity for that. Alice glanced at the note she’d crinkled in her hand. A week and half of her time had already passed. That left two and a half weeks until Christmas . . . but only two weeks until Papa and Aunt Morris joined her at Ravencross. There was so much to do and so little time.
“Mr. Perry,” she uttered just under her breath. “I’m relying on your help.”
Chapter Five
Mr. Perry was not to be relied upon. Alice sat awkwardly on a wobbly wooden bench in the Clark home, wishing she had a better memory for names. Two wiggly ratty-haired boys flanked her side, and a small little girl with more hair than teeth sat across from her, sucking on a spoon. Mrs. Clark had asked Alice to keep the boys quiet while she got her baby fed and down for a nap in the back room. The ones at the table were mostly compliant, but the other two were wrestling on the ground, with complete disregard for their mother’s instructions. And where was Mr. Perry? That was what Alice would like to know. He had promptly excused himself, saying he’d be back in a few hours, and abandoned her with these crazed children.
One of the boys next to her scowled at her. He was quite intuitive for a child of four or five, or maybe it was not so very hard to tell Alice was failing royally in her duties. Fortunately, she did remember the name of the oldest child at home—Mary, a girl of about ten. Mary had managed to pin her wily brother of eight down on the ground in a few quick movements.
Embarrassment colored the girl’s features when her eyes met Alice’s, but Alice felt the need to congratulate her, not chastise her. Mary could handle her brother far better than Alice could.
“Excellent work, Mary.” She was reluctant to release the two charges next to her, but she had a plea to make. She swung her legs and skirts over the bench and put her face in the direct line of the boy on the floor. His freckles were as numerous as the stars. “Must you be naughty whilst I’m here? Couldn’t you wait until I’m gone?”
Freckles stuck out his tongue at her, and Alice’s hand flew to her mouth. She’d never had a brother before, but she had a clear memory of doing the exact same thing to her sisters. If this boy was anything like she was as a child, it was going to take more than a little begging to get him to cooperate.
She narrowed her eyes. “You must not have heard of the Christmas banshee before, or you wouldn’t have done that.”
Freckles’s eyes lowered, mimicking hers. “You’re not my mum, and nothin’ you say matters to me.”
“I said the very same thing to my aunt when I was your size. I wish I would have known then about the Christmas banshee. I would’ve kept my thoughts to myself.” Miraculously, the boy’s features relaxed, his anger replaced by curiosity.
Mary climbed off him and pulled her legs under her dress. “I’ve never heard of a banshee,” she said. “What is it?”
Alice moved to sit between the younger boys at the table again. “They’re ghostlike fairies who live in Ireland, or so I’m told. But the Christmas banshee has been known to travel to homes of naughty children all over England too.” Alice did what she knew best and weaved a tale full of wonder. Standing and circling the children, she let her voice crescendo at the frightening parts. At just the right moment, she reached down and squeezed Freckles’s shoulder. He let out a shriek, and all the other children fell to the floor, laughing.
Alice was sure Mrs. Clark would be done feeding the baby after she finished her story, but the woman had not come out. What now?
“Tell us more about the banshee!” one of the younger boys said.
Eyeing the unkempt floor and the dust gathering on the shelves, Alice got an idea. “If you help me with a few chores, I will tell you another story.”
The children leaped to their feet and made short work of the room. When Alice began her second story, she quickly became as lost in it as the children did. She started to describe the little men who lived in the sky and squeezed the clouds until rain or snow came out.
“What do they look like?” Mary asked, resting her head on her hand.
“Like wild babes, only half-dressed, with snowflakes painted on their cheeks.”
“Tell us what they did when the banshee came!” Freckles bounced on his knees, and Alice nearly laughed watching his excitement.
“Why, they screamed a high-pitched howl to scare her away, far worse than the moaning of the banshee.”
“Like this?” The piercing scream from one of the smaller boys seemed to trigger the rest of them to follow suit. Before she could stop them, they were on their feet and running around the room, wailing and screeching at the top of their lungs.
