Timeless Regency Collection: A Country Christmas Part 18

Well, that, at least, was true: plain wooden utensils, shabby furniture, and no happy chatter of family members or servants preparing for a party. In the air hung the odor of dust and mildew instead of antic.i.p.atory smells of a Christmas feast. It was, indeed, simple and quiet. He didn't consider the observation to be a positive one.

In a moment, Jonathan and Maryann joined them, wis.h.i.+ng all a good morning. Jane scooped porridge for the two.

"Sleep well?" Archie asked.

"Like a baby," Jonathan poured b.u.t.termilk onto his porridge and smirked. "Once my feet thawed."

"Well, you shall have plenty of time to warm up." Kathleen smiled and pa.s.sed the sugar dish. "The roads are impa.s.sible. We will be here at least another day."

"Oh." Maryann smiled at her husband. "Well, I was not looking forward to another carriage ride anytime soon. And it is quite cozy in this little cottage with the fire crackling and the snow falling outside the windows."

"I agree," Kathleen said. "And, Jonathan, have I told you about your great-grandfather in Northumberland? His son, your Uncle Bernard, was a Jacobite supporter and lost a foot in one of the border skirmishes . . ."

Archie's mind drifted from the conversation. He couldn't push away the anxious feelings tying his stomach in knots. Jonathan laughed at something Maryann said, then took another bite of porridge. The Marquess of Spencer-one of the most influential men in the country-was sitting on a hard chair, shoveling gruel with a wooden spoon when he should have been in a fine dining room, eating a delicious breakfast prepared by a master chef.

"It can't snow forever."

Archie hadn't realized Jane had moved her chair closer to him.

She spoke quietly, leaning to the side, so only he could hear. "Do not worry. We will still carry out all of the Christmas customs. Just on a smaller scale." She tipped her head to the side, looking up at him. "Do not be troubled any longer. We are all enjoying ourselves, yet I can see you are frustrated."

In spite of his worries, his tension eased at her words, or perhaps it was her closeness-he never could decide how she managed to calm him.

"I wanted to give you all a special Christmas," he said. He heard a whine in his whisper, but it was true. "Christmas shouldn't be like this. It should be exciting and splendid and . . ."

"You will see, the holiday will be special, even in a simple cottage," she said. "Spending time with those we care about makes it so."

He turned to watch the others, surprised to see them comfortable and happy. He slid down in the chair and leaned back so his head was near hers. "Miss Jane Croft, how is it that you are so wise?"

"I do not believe I have ever been called wise."

"Well, that is a travesty. You are one of the wisest people I know."

She remained quiet for a time, and he glanced over at her.

"Thank you." Her gaze locked on his, just for an instant, then dropped.

He leaned closer so their arms touched. She did not pull away. Archie hoped it meant he was forgiven for his actions the night before. He considered what she said. Could they truly enjoy Christmas in this place? It would certainly be one they'd remember. Would it be a fond memory? Or spoken about with dismay for years to come?

When the meal was complete, the women took the bowls and cups away, was.h.i.+ng them in a large wooden basin that must have been filled with melted snow.

"Come, Archie," Jonathan said, indicating the area before the kitchen fireplace. "This is the warmest spot in the place. Let's move the sofa and chairs closer."

Closer consisted of just a few steps from one end of the room to the other. They pushed the table against the wall and carried the sofa and two soft chairs across the room, arranging them before the fire in a crescent shape.

Mother Kathleen swatted the patched cus.h.i.+on of the sofa a few times, raising a cloud of dust, but she sat anyway, unrolling her knitting and counting her st.i.tches to resume.

Jane sat in a chair, and Archie took the other on the far side of the room. Jonathan and Maryann nestled into a corner of the sofa, his arm around her shoulders.

"Is everyone warm?" Archie asked.

"Very comfortable," Kathleen said.

The others nodded their agreement.

"Well, should we play a game, then?" Archie said. "The s.p.a.ce is a bit cramped for charades, but I suppose we could devise another sort of guessing game."

None of the group looked very interested in the idea. With the darkened sky and the long night, he thought they all must be rather tired.

"It is so nice to just sit quietly," Maryann said. "Perhaps someone could tell a story." She leaned against her husband's shoulder. "Or, Jane, will you read to us?"

"I have a book," Jane said. "But I think it is rather dreary for Christmas Eve."

"What is it?" Maryann asked.

"A new book written by an anonymous author: Frankenstein."

"I've heard of it," Jonathan said. "And I think you're right. Hardly the thing for Christmas Eve." He made a motion with his eyes toward his mother, and they all understood Kathleen would probably not care for a dark tale. "Do we have any others?"

Archie waited, hoping someone would devise a game or perhaps conjure a book, but none of them came forward. Finally, he sighed. "I have a book."

Jonathan twisted to look at his friend. "You?"

Archie didn't take the bait and engage in the teasing banter his friend expected. He felt heavy as he climbed the ladder to the loft, then returned with the book wrapped in golden paper. His dream of finding a special moment to present it to Jane in front of the Christmas tree puffed out like a candle's flame.

"It is actually for you, Jane. I meant it to be a Christmas gift, but it seems we have need of it early."

Jane's face lit up, and she smiled. She tugged on the bow, untying the ribbon, then tore the paper free. "Oh, Archie." She ran her hand over the embossed leather. "It's beautiful." Turning it, she read the t.i.tle, printed in gold letters on the spine. "The Golden Donkey by Apuleius."

"I know you're interested in cla.s.sical works. The man at the book shop said this is a very good translation."

She pressed the book to her chest. "This is such a thoughtful gift." Her eyes were soft, and the look in them nearly brought him to his knees. She held his gaze for a long moment, then blushed and looked back down at the book. "I have heard the story is rather scandalous."

"I remember quite enjoying it at university." He shrugged and returned to his seat, trying to act as if his heart hadn't melted into his boots at her reaction.

"Scandalous is the preferred genre for students," Jonathan said.

"I, for one, could do with a bit of a scandal." Kathleen smirked, her eyes still on her knitting. "I should like to hear it."

Jane smiled. "Very well." She opened the book and turned slightly to allow the firelight to illuminate the page.

Owing to Jane's shyness, she had only read for them a few times-always short pa.s.sages in a soft voice-but today, Archie saw something different.

As she recited the story, her confidence grew. She sat tall in the chair with a straight back and lifted chin, holding the book before her. Her words were sure and strong. The inflections and cadence of her voice added nuance to the story and, at times, humor. The party burst into laughter more than once and listened raptly as she told the story of Lucius and his experiments with magic that eventually led to his being changed into a donkey.

After a particularly bawdy scene, the group's laughter forced her to come to a stop. Jane's face blushed a furious red, but her eyes were bright and an adorable smile pulled her lips. She caught Archie's eye and winked-something he'd never seen her do before. Perhaps Jane wasn't the timid young lady they all a.s.sumed. Perhaps she just needed an opportunity to display another side of herself. Archie wondered if they had all been so careful not to upset her that she felt smothered.

She continued to read, and his affection for her increased with every word.

After she'd read for the remainder of the morning, Jane came to a stopping point and closed the book. "I am sorry, we will have to hear the rest another day. My throat is raw."

Archie jumped up, applauding. "A marvelous performance, Jane!"

"Hear, hear," Jonathan said, rising as well.

The ladies stood. "If only I had roses to toss onto the stage," Maryann said, grinning.

"Utterly shocking tale," Kathleen said, smiling. "I enjoyed it very much."

Jane swirled her hands, raising her arms and bending into an elaborate curtsey.

Archie didn't think he'd ever seen her smile quite so brilliant. She practically glowed at the attention. He again wondered if they had been mistaken in their manner of caring for her.

Once the applause ended, she stepped toward Archie. "You were correct, Archie. You really are a marvelous party planner."

Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Archie did not think it improper at all at that moment to embrace her. "I have never heard an old Roman tale performed so gloriously," he said, keeping his voice low, though the others were only feet away.

She drew back but remained in the circle of his arms. Her hand rested on his arm, a few inches above his elbow, the other clutched the book. "Thank you, Archie. For the gift and for the chance." She shrugged, giving a small smile. "I-Thank you."

His skin felt hot beneath her touch. Had she always had those few freckles on the bridge of her nose? How was a man expected to remain coherent with her gaze trained upon him? Her eyes were the most perfect shade of blue-nearly gray that darkened slightly at the edges-and at the moment, they were focused completely on him. His collar seemed to grow tighter. Where was the blasted mistletoe when he needed it?

Hearing the sound of furniture sc.r.a.ping on the floor, Jane released his arm and turned, the spell broken.

Jonathan and Maryann moved kitchen chairs out of the way as Kathleen carried a covered basket toward the table. She lifted the cloth and peered beneath. "Shall we see what our considerate Eliza Cringlewood left for luncheon?"

With Jane's help, she laid the victuals on the table: a block of cheese, a loaf of bread, and a portion of ham. A simple meal, to be sure. Archie wrinkled his nose, thinking again of the fine meals he'd expected to give his friends.

Kathleen pressed her hand to her chest. "Oh, bless them."

Hearing her words, Archie felt a swell of shame at his reaction. The Cringlewoods had undoubtedly given the best they were able, and none of the others seemed disappointed by the meager offering.

Maryann looked in the kitchen cupboards and only found one knife. "I suppose I shall start slicing. Jane, will you fetch the plates?"

"Wait," Jonathan said. His mouth lifted in a smile. "Only the bread and ham. I have a better idea for the cheese." He crossed the room to his sleeping chamber and returned with an armload of blankets. A moment later, they were spread over the floor in front of the fire.

Archie's own smile grew. "Just like at Oxford, eh, old boy?"

Jonathan nodded. He searched through the kitchen and, in the end, looked through the wood pile, pulling out a handful of long, thin branches.

Archie brought the plates of sliced ham and bread and the lump of cheese. "What are you waiting for?" He knelt on the blankets, setting the plates next to him, then jerked his head to the side-a signal for the others to join him.

Jonathan removed his coat and sat before the fire, wearing only his s.h.i.+rtsleeves. "I hope you don't mind my attire," he said, loosening his neck cloth. "The hearth gets dratted hot."

"Eating luncheon on the floor is hardly the time to be worried about propriety," Maryann said. She sat with her feet to one side, adjusting her skirt over her legs. Kathleen knelt beside her.

Jane sat beside Archie.

Jonathan distributed the sticks, keeping two for himself. "Now, the trick is in the timing. You want the bread toasted, the ham hot, and the cheese soft and warm, but not fully melted. When it is done right and all are ready at the exact same time, the result is-"

"Exquisite," Archie said.

Jonathan nodded. "Exquisite." He handed a slice of bread to Archie, picked up a slice of ham, and broke off a chunk of cheese. "It works best with a partner." He swept his hand toward the flames with an exaggerated gesture, holding his two laden sticks in one hand, s.p.a.cing them between his fingers so the ham and cheese didn't touch. "Allow us to demonstrate."

Archie poked the end of the stick through the bread and extended it. He glanced at his friend and saw his nod, and a flood of memories crashed over him: sitting on the rug in a chilly Oxford student's apartment; all the hours of conversation, the laughter, the grand ideas; discussing theories, coursework, and ladies; complaining about professors.

Jonathan was the Earl of Rensfield then-an ambitious young man, a serious person by nature-but now Archie could see the toll this past year had taken. With his father dead, the responsibilities of a great house sat squarely on Jonathan's shoulders. He was a member of an important parliamentary committee and had a new wife, grieving mother, and troubled sister-in-law to care for. Now he often seemed heavy-burdened.

Yet today, Archie caught a glimpse of the younger man. He was relaxed and untroubled here in this simple cottage. Perhaps taking the time away from society, his house, and government duties, and being able to focus on his family was good for a man.

Jonathan twisted his wrist, adjusting the angle of his sticks to cook the cheese and ham evenly.

Archie turned the bread around to toast the other side, careful not to burn his fingers. The stick was every bit as effective as a long-handled fork, but it didn't grow hot as a metal utensil did when held over a flame. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

At length, Jonathan held out his sticks, and Archie removed the toasted bread, folded it, and used it to slide off the ham, then the soft cheese, smas.h.i.+ng it between the two halves until it pushed out the sides.

"A masterpiece," Jonathan said.

"As fine a creation as I've seen, sir." Archie grinned and gave the toasted sandwich to Kathleen.

"Shall we allow these apprentices to try?" Jonathan made a show of sizing up Maryann and Jane.

"Yes, please." Maryann reached toward the cheese.

Jonathan stopped her hand. "Patience, my dear. Patience is essential, or you end up with cheese overcooked on the edges and cold inside." He shook his head as if this were an unbearable travesty.

"Bread that is too soft or chewy ham," Archie added. "Creating a toasted sandwich requires more refined skill than one would a.s.sume."

"I don't know if they're ready for such an enormous responsibility." Jonathan sighed. "Perhaps a few years of training and they just might-"

Maryann swatted his arm. "Enough already. We'll starve before the two of you finish expounding on your staggering talent."

Archie chuckled and handed Jane a slice of ham, helping her fix it in place on her stick. He held his hand over hers, guiding the piece of meat to just the right spot where it wouldn't cook too quickly, but would be warm and just a bit crispy when the other ingredients were ready.

She looked up at him, hand in his, firelight flickering in her eyes, and smiled. "Everyone is so happy today. I'm glad you brought us here, Archie."

"It has been a fine day." His neck cloth was loosed, but still he felt a difficulty breathing. How did this woman have such an effect on him?

"More than a fine day," She s.h.i.+fted her legs, leaning slightly against him. "One of the best days."

Archie tipped his head to rest on hers, and at that moment, everything felt right with the world.

For the next hour, the five sat like children before the fire, the quiet broken only with calls of, "My cheese is ready to drip! Who has a bread?" "My ham is done." "Here's a bread, does anyone have a cheese?"

Archie watched his friends taking part in an activity he would never have antic.i.p.ated, and his heart was soft. His worries about Christmas eased, albeit slightly, and he allowed himself to enjoy the moment with people he loved. Not the least of whom was the excellent ham-crisper leaning against his arm, sending a jolt of awareness through him each time she moved.

Finally, the food was gone, and their bellies filled.

Kathleen returned to the couch and took up her knitting. Jonathan slid back to rest his shoulders against a chair as he munched on a sandwich. Maryann sat curled up beside him, her head on his chest.