Christmas Forevermore, page 4
She looked on the opposite side of the room, from the men to the windows. The curtains were drawn across the glass to minimize the effect of cold air seeping through the glass and into the room. One pair of curtains, however, had a masculine shoulder peeking out from behind it.
Aha. There he was.
Jane rose and drifted across the room at an unhurried pace to avoid drawing attention to her movement. Then she stood beside the narrow opening in the curtains, placing her back to them while facing inward, her gaze sweeping over the party.
“We do not play hide-and-seek until Christmas Eve, Cyril.” She hadn’t spoken very loudly, and she lowered her chin enough that anyone watching probably wouldn’t realize she’d spoken at all.
A sigh emerged from behind the curtain. “It sounds as though I need more practice at that particular game since you found me so easily.” His deep voice emerging from the shadows sent a tiny shiver through her, though she immediately blamed it on the cool air sneaking through the windowpane.
“I will happily show you the best places tomorrow if you leave that spot tonight.”
A silence followed that made Jane rethink her words. Then blush. She hadn’t meant the suggestion as flirtatious, but perhaps it sounded that way to Cyril.
But his next words were curious rather than offended or, thank goodness, interested in returning a flirtation. “Why would you offer such a thing, even in jest? I am nothing to you, Miss Allen.”
She considered her answer carefully, then turned and stepped behind the curtain beside his. There the two of them stood, facing the darkness outside the window. The faint light from the house made patches of the snow below them glow. “You are a part of this family, Cyril Grant. It just so happens that I rather like the people in that room behind us. They have been kind to me, though I am little more than a servant. Your grandmother gave me a happy and secure home. Given your extensive knowledge of the world, I will assume you know what the alternative to such an existence for a woman might be.”
She saw the shadows shift as he turned his head toward her, but he didn’t speak.
“I care very much about your grandmother, and I know she is eager for you to enjoy your time with the family. I would do anything for her, and that means I will help in whatever way I can to help you.” She smiled to herself. “Of course, no one can force an attachment, even between family members. If you wish to make an effort, I promise I will do all I can to see that you come to know your family better.”
It was as direct as she had ever been with a man. With anyone, really. He still said nothing, so she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. At last he sighed. “You seem well intentioned, Miss Allen—”
“Jane.”
“—but my family members are strangers to me.”
“What better time to alter that than now? Christmas is a time of hope, is it not? We come together, in the first days of winter, to renew our hopes and dreams and celebrate the joy of life.” She put her hand on the curtain. He had things to think on now. “We are to take the sleighs out tomorrow to look for greenery and festoon every rail and archway in the house. Volunteer to drive a sleigh, and I promise you will enjoy the experience.” She slipped back into the light and returned to her chair.
The countess glanced over her shoulder at Jane and raised her eyebrows. Jane smiled in return.
“Are you warm enough, dear? Should you move nearer the fire?” the countess asked.
Jane shook her head. “I am quite content as I am, my lady.” And doing everything in her power to help Cyril feel the same. What a shame he didn’t feel part of all the joy and laughter in the room. But how was she to help him if he didn’t wish to help himself?
The sleigh rides tomorrow were her best idea at present. If she convinced him to get away from the house and his hiding spots, out in the open air with the other grown grandchildren, he couldn’t help but speak to them. Their merriment during the greenery gathering the year before had made Jane laugh until her sides ached.
Even someone as somber as Cyril Grant wouldn’t be able to frown through a morning like that one. Had she seen him smile at all, even once, since their first awkward meeting in the corridor?
Not really. Which was such a shame. A man as handsome as he, with a sister who laughed easily, and surrounded by loving family, ought to have reason to smile.
Cyril came out from behind the curtain several minutes after she had and made his way to the table where his uncles played chess. He took a chair and watched their game but didn’t speak much.
She resisted releasing her sigh of disappointment. At least that was some progress.
Tomorrow she hoped for a great deal more.
Chapter 4
The Earl of Mardale owned three sleighs, and his grown grandchildren filled them easily. At breakfast, Jane listened as the men discussed who would drive the sleighs that year. She watched Cyril from behind the rim of her teacup. He had kept his head down throughout the informal meal, poking at a pile of eggs on his plate. She couldn’t tell whether he even listened to the conversation.
Lord Mardale had three sleigh bells in hand, each with a ribbon tied around it to make a large loop. “One for each driver to keep as his own. Some of you are amassing quite the collection.” They laughed at that because the men rarely kept the bells. They were given to children, sometimes to wives, or tied to Cupid’s collar so the dog jingled through the corridors while the children gave chase, a favorite game for both the pet and the nursery’s occupants.
William Grant volunteered, as he always did. “I would be happy to lead the expedition, Grandfather.” The earl tossed him a bell, which William immediately asked his wife to tie around his wrist.
Then the eldest son of the earl’s eldest daughter said he would drive another, so long as his pretty wife sat beside him. He caught his bell and tied the long ribbon with gentleness around his wife’s throat, as though he adorned her with jewels rather than a rattly bit of metal.
“I would like to try my hand at it.”
The table hushed as everyone turned to look with surprise at their cousin Cyril, and Jane held her breath. He sat the farthest from the earl’s end of the table, and he didn’t make eye contact with her as he stared at his grandfather. He had turned rather pale.
“Excellent.” Lord Mardale’s chest puffed out, and he nodded with enthusiastic approval. “Excellent, my boy. Yes, you should. And here’s your bell, Cyril.” The earl tossed it in a great arc along the table, and poor Cyril’s eyes went wide and as round as the moon as he leaped to his feet to make the catch. For an instant, Jane feared he’d miss and his cousins would tease him, but Cyril caught the bell in one raised hand, and the red ribbon dangled between his fingers.
His cousins cheered, and a few of them clapped.
“Perfect catch, Cyril.”
“He’d be a dab-hand at cricket.”
“Can’t play cricket in the snow. Are you daft?”
“Good throw, Grandfather.”
Jane lowered her eyes to her plate with a smile. The murmurs of approval and excitement continued, and someone suggested they hurry along and dress for the weather. A dozen of them meant to make the journey, several married couples in the group. Elizabeth secured a seat with her brother, and their cousins argued over who else would join them, as though it were a treat. Cyril would have a lively sleigh.
Rising from her seat, Jane followed the crowd from the room, when Cyril appeared at her side. “Are you coming on the excursion too?” he asked, voice low and unheard by anyone but her.
“If there is room in a sleigh for me.” She looked him up and down, but no ribbon or flash of silver peeked from his cuffs or at his throat. “What did you do with your bell?”
“It is in my pocket.”
“You had better give it to your sister if you don’t wish to wear it.”
“Why?”
“It’s tradition.” She shrugged and paused at the foot of the steps, watching as the others hurried upward to their rooms. “Someone in your sleigh wears the bell. At least, while we’re out. I haven’t any idea why, but it’s what the family does. Perhaps it’s for luck.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bell. “Ah. Do you want it?”
She drew back a step. “Me?” No one had offered her a bell before. “I’m not certain it’s done. I’m not family.”
“You told me to drive a sleigh,” he reminded her, sounding somewhat gruff. “And all of this means something to you, more than it does to me or even Elizabeth. Please, take the bell and ride in our sleigh. Then the tradition is intact.”
“Your cousin gave his bell to his wife,” she reminded him. “It may mean something to your family that it doesn’t mean to you.”
His glower darkened, but she noted his ears turned red too. Oh dear. Had she offended him? Before she could apologize, however, he gave a tight nod. “I hadn’t considered that.” He looked up the stairs, the set of his shoulders tense. “But you will ride in the sleigh with us?”
The poor grumpy fellow sounded rather nervous. Or shy. Things she hadn’t known a man from the earl’s family could be. Perhaps, once he overcame such feelings, he’d find the time spent with his family more comfortable. “If you wish, of course I will.”
He nodded, as stiff as if he were frozen, and gestured to the stairs. “Then you had better hurry and dress for the weather, or you will delay the whole party.” Had he almost smiled? He had attempted to tease her, she realized with some delight.
Her mouth popped open in surprise. “You are the one detaining me from that very thing, sir.”
His lips pressed together, and she caught the barest glimmer of humor in his dark eyes. “Am I?”
She laughed but had no further reaction from him, so she gathered up her skirts and ran up the stairs as quick as a wink. She had a seat in a sleigh, and she couldn’t be happier about it. The snow from the day before had piled high, and the sky promised still more to come. A world full of white awaited them.
Jane wasn’t the last in the large entryway, but most of the others had already gathered when she arrived. The ladies wore capes and coats of deep greens and blues. The gentlemen were in black and gray woolen overcoats, some with as many capes as London dandies, and others were dressed like country vicars with mile-long scarves wrapped thoroughly around their necks by their wives. Jane wore mittens rather than carrying a muff, and her wool coat was a gray-blue that Lady Mardale had bought her the winter before.
“I hear I have you to thank for my brother’s sudden enthusiasm for snow.” Elizabeth Grant had crept up to Jane’s side without the companion noticing. She wore a deep-red cloak, the hood lined in white and gray fur, framing her face beautifully. “However did you manage it, Jane?”
“Oh, you must be mistaken. I mentioned last evening he might enjoy driving the sleigh, nothing more.” Jane looked about, avoiding Elizabeth’s suspicious smile. “Who else is in your brother’s sleigh? Has everyone found their places?” Because if there were too many who wished to go, Jane would stay behind. She knew her place, and as much as she enjoyed pretending she was part of the family, she tried not to overstep. Overstepping was the surest way to lose everything she loved about her position, although thus far, no one had ever reminded her she was little better than a servant. She’d prefer to keep it that way.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows skeptically. “You forget I know my brother quite well. Whatever you have said to him, I thank you for it. Here.” She pulled a hand out of her fur muff and offered it to Jane.
Without pause, Jane held her hand out to accept whatever it was the other woman handed her. The instant a round ball touched her palm, she tried to return it. “Oh no, Elizabeth. I cannot take it.”
“You can. I asked.” Elizabeth batted her eyelashes innocently. “Someone in the sleigh is supposed to wear it, and that person tells the rest of us what to do.”
That was the tradition? Jane had never asked, though thinking back on it, she supposed she ought to have realized how the bells worked. That was why the driver or his wife typically told the others which bits of mistletoe to cut from trees or how many branches they still needed to pack onto the servants’ wagon that accompanied them to the stand of evergreen trees upon the hill.
“All the more reason I shouldn’t take it.” Jane held out the bell again, but Elizabeth’s hands were both secure in her muff.
“Neither I nor my brother know what to expect from this outing. You are the perfect candidate for our group.”
Before Jane could argue the point, William flung the front door open from the outside. “Are you lot coming or not? If everyone continues to dawdle, Christmas will be here before we’ve returned. Come along, you lot of overgrown children.”
Jane followed the others out amid their good-natured teasing. Each sleigh could take four people comfortably, but on this day, they filled them with five or even six. The horses snorted and stamped their feet, eager to be on their way, as grooms held their leads. Sleigh bells jingled with each toss of the animals’ heads, and laughter flowed as freely and prettily as song as everyone found their places.
Cyril stood at the ready beside his sleigh. He handed his sister and married cousin into the rear of the sleigh. The married woman’s husband joined them there. Jane scampered across the snow-swept gravel drive to where the sleighs waited on what was normally a long green lawn.
Archibald Weatherford, Nancy’s eldest brother, was all of nineteen and joining Cyril’s group too. He waited for Jane and tipped his hat to her. “We’ve decided you’re to sit between us in front, Jane. That’ll keep you warm and safe.”
“Thank you, Archie. That’s quite thoughtful of you.” Jane let him hand her in while Cyril circled around to the other side of the sleigh. Most likely, Archie had liked the idea of sitting next to a woman more than that of squeezing in beside another male. Jane didn’t mind though.
The groom handed Cyril the leads, then went to climb onto the back of the sleigh, where a seat was suspended between the runners. He would care for the animals and could help direct the sleigh from the rear in a pinch.
Cyril slid onto the benched seat beside Jane, his shoulder pressed against hers, and she caught her breath. He leaned toward her, and Jane breathed in the scent of bergamot, as she had when they first met. He must wear the scent as cologne, or perhaps it was in the soap he used to shave. The pleasant smell distracted her for a moment, and she almost didn’t realize he was whispering to her.
“I have never driven a sleigh before.”
She tipped her chin up, meeting his concerned brown eyes. “Never?”
He shook his head. “One hopes it’s like driving a carriage,” he said, as though confiding another secret to her. “The horses do all the work.” Then he smiled. Barely a tilt at the corners of his lips. But she saw it, and the effect it had was quite pleasant, as she’d known it would be. In fact, he was twice as handsome when he smiled. Her cheeks grew warm. He was teasing her a second time?
How perfectly lovely!
There was hope for him after all.
***
Driving a sleigh wasn’t precisely the same as a carriage, but it was near enough that Cyril adapted quickly. He followed his cousins, content to bring up the rear of their party. The rush of the iron runners over the snow, the crisp air, and the scent of pine combined to make the experience of riding in the sleigh exhilarating.
When Jane lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes, he knew instinctively that she felt the same, that she tried to preserve the moment in her memory. He looked over his shoulder at his sister, and she met his gaze, her eyes alight with joy and wonder. Neither of them had seen snow for years, and somehow, he had only remembered all the trouble that came with it. All the ways snow slowed down shipments and that the cold weather made merchants cross.
He’d forgotten the magic of white-covered hills and crisp, cool air in his lungs.
“This is breathtaking,” Elizabeth said loudly enough for him to hear over the sounds accompanying the moment.
The bells jingled along the harnesses, and the horses’ hooves broke through the blanket of white with a pleasant sort of clomping sound. And when Cyril looked down at Jane again to find her expression glowed with an emotion he couldn’t name, he had to agree with his sister. Breathtaking.
The sleighs arrived at the edge of the earl’s woodland, where groundsmen waited with saws and tree-pruning tools on long poles. The servants were cheerful and polite as they followed the family through the trees, awaiting their orders. Jane, as their leader, knew each servant by name and asked their opinions as she pointed out growths of mistletoe on oak trees, then long, pliable evergreen branches. She discussed decoration with Elizabeth, Archie, and their married cousins. Cyril hung back, taking the scene in and enjoying each moment more than the last.
The wagon the servants brought was soon filled with greenery, and the scent of fresh-cut pine filled the air. The servants would take the wagon back to the house, where the boughs would be delivered to the ballroom for the women to decide where each piece would go to make the house festive.
“We found holly bushes,” William shouted as his group emerged from another path in the tree line. “With red berries still intact.”
“Marvelous,” Jane said from a few steps ahead of Cyril. “With our mistletoe, the red-and-white berries together will make lovely kissing balls. Elizabeth, do you think—” She turned around, energetic and cheerful, and nearly ran into Cyril. He caught her forearm to steady her.
