Miss Davenport's Christmas (The Love and Temptation Series Book 6) Page 6

  Miss Charteris and Miss Andrews promptly begged to be taken as well, and Lord Paul noticed the disappointed little exchange of glances between Mr. Travers and Mr. Jensen before they gallantly agreed.

  He was about to suggest to Lord Ranger that they go as well. He had not skated with Mandy and felt he should have been more courteous towards the girl. She was such a confiding little thing. But Mrs. Tenby smiled on them and said they had surely remembered that they were to take Lady Harriet and Miss Lucinda to Oxford.

  Lord Ranger remembered Jilly had given him a little money to buy presents. At least he could do that for her.

  Chapter Four

  In her dreams, Mandy skated across the ice with Lord Paul. His black eyes glinted down into hers, he pressed her hands tightly. “I have something to tell you,” he said. “I love… I love…”

  “Me?” she cried. “Do you love me?”

  A look of hauteur crossed his face. “No, Lucinda, I love Lucinda.” And he released her hands and skated away from her. She could feel the ice beginning to crack under her. She called to him for help. But he skated farther and farther away.

  She awoke with a scream. Jilly started up at the sound of her sister’s voice and ran through to her bedchamber, crying, “Mandy! Mandy! What’s amiss?”

  Mandy struggled up against the pillows, her eyes shining with tears in the flickering light of the rush lamp in its pierced canister beside the bed. “A bad dream,” she said in a choked voice. “Nothing more.” She forced a weak smile. “What have I here to distress me?”

  “Do you want me to stay with you until you sleep? I know. We have not had time to finish Pride and Prejudice. I will read to you.”

  And so Jilly read until Mandy’s eyes began to close, and finally, just after the last sentence of the book, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Jilly rose and looked down at her sister. She wondered for the first time if something was wrong. Mandy swung between delight and sadness, her large eyes showing changing emotions like clouds’ shadows chasing each other across a field. Jilly tried to banish the worry firmly from her mind as she went back to her own bed. Worry, she associated with home, and she refused to think of home and spoil this golden visit.

  The girls were being fitted for their ball gowns the following day when Lady Harrington came in and said in an amused voice that four young people had come over from Colonel Tenby’s and brought a sledge with them.

  “Anyone else?” asked Mandy, pleating the thin material of her gown with nervous fingers.

  Lady Harrington gave her a quick look of sympathy and said, “No. Would you have the whole of Mrs. Tenby’s party here? She would never forgive me. Let’s have these gowns off and go and enjoy yourself.”

  Colonel Tenby had locked himself in his study. He had endured the full force of his wife’s wrath at bedtime the night before. How dare he ask Sir John and his party over? The colonel had replied with some force that Sir John was an old friend and a neighbor and he had thought those Davenport girls were utterly charming. This unexpected stand had left his wife speechless, but he knew she would return to the attack the next day, which was why he was sitting with his door locked as if awaiting an attack from the French.

  But the little spark of rebellion that had started the day before was growing into a flame. He was on leave. He should be relaxing, not crouching behind the locked door of his study like a guilty child dreading punishment to come. He had been out walking earlier. His greatcoat was lying on a chair in the corner along with his hat, gloves, and scarf.

  Almost without thinking, he went and put them on. He then went to the window and raised it and climbed out onto the terrace, and closed the window behind him. With one quick look round, he sprinted along the terrace and then began to make his way over the snowy lawns to the stables. He felt as cheerful as if he were setting out on a campaign as he swung himself up into the saddle and rode off down the drive.

  As he rode toward Greenbanks, he could feel the feathery brush of snow on his cheeks, and then as the old house came in sight, he could hear shrieks and yells from the hillside above the house where the young people were sledging.

  That flame of rebellion that had brought him this far was suddenly flickering. He felt unaccountably shy and not sure of his welcome.

  Jimmy, the Harringtons’ boy, appeared with a cheerful “Good day, sir. I’ll take your horse to the stables. Sir John and Lady Harrington are in the drawing room.”

  The front door was open and a pretty maid was bobbing a curtsy. He could hardly retreat now. He squared his shoulders and walked in.

  The drawing room when he was ushered in seemed to open its arms to engulf him in warmth and color. And there was Lady Harrington springing to her feet with a glad smile of surprise on her face, and Sir John, more lethargic, putting aside his newspaper and saying, “Well, this is a surprise and a very welcome one, too. You need a glass of mulled ale to put you to rights after your ride, Colonel.”

  The colonel had been schooled by his wife not to talk of military matters—“not suitable for polite company.” And so he was gratified to be plied with questions about the Battle of Waterloo and had he met Napoleon and was the little Corsican as mad as they said? A glass of mulled ale in his hand and a roaring fire at his feet, the colonel began to talk, shyly at first, and then fired by the rapt attention of his listeners, he relived the battle and then began to talk of Napoleon. “I was disappointed,” he said. “I thought him a petulant, shabby sort of fellow, but Wellington said his very presence on the battlefield was worth the strength of several regiments.”

  Back at the colonel’s, Mrs. Tenby was rattling the study door furiously for the umpteenth time. “May I suggest, madam,” said Peter, the footman, “that I walk along the terrace and look in the window and see if Colonel Tenby is all right?”

  Her heavy face cleared. “Do that. I will wait here.”

  Peter went outside and along the terrace. He looked in the study window and a grin crossed his face as he saw it was empty. He lifted the window and climbed in and went and unlocked the door. “The colonel is not here, madam,” said Peter.

  “Not here? Not here! But how did he get out? And where has he gone?”

  Peter, who had easily deduced that his beleaguered master had probably escaped by the window, stood wooden-faced and refrained from comment.

  “Oh, go about your duties,” snapped Mrs. Tenby. “See that there are enough logs in the drawing room.”

  Peter went to the drawing room, where a small group of people were sitting about, looking bored. “Where’s Travers and Jensen, not to mention Miss Andrew and Miss Charteris?” asked one young man.

  “I understand they have taken a sledge and gone over to the Harringtons’,” said Peter, taking logs out of the basket and building up the fire.

  “Lucky them,” said the young man moodily. “Wish I’d thought of that. Dead as the grave here.”

  “You will find, sir, if I may say so,” said Peter, delicately laying the idea on their bored minds as he laid a log on top of the blaze, “that it is not too late to join them, and the Harringtons are very easygoing, welcoming people.”

  The young man stood up. “I’m going.” There was a chorus of “Wait for us.”

  “There are some sledges in the tack room,” said Peter. “It would be a good idea to take some more.”

  So Mrs. Tenby, after driving about the estate searching for her missing husband, returned to find that a large number of guests had disappeared as well. She could only content herself with the thought that Lucinda and Harriet were in Oxford with Lord Ranger and Lord Paul.

  * * *

  Lord Ranger and Lord Paul were having a pleasant day. Both Lucinda and Harriet had been schooled all their young lives to please and flatter men. They were comfortably aware of the admiring stares they received as they went from shop to shop, of the quizzing glasses raised in their direction when they dined at The Mitre in the High Street.

  They were disappointed when the fallin
g snow, although light, prompted the gentlemen to make an early start home. Lord Ranger had made several purchases for Jilly and Mandy, but apart from that, had not thought of them much.

  By the time the carriages turned in at the drive of the Tenbys’, the snow was beginning to fall heavily. There was no wind and large flakes circled lazily down.

  Mrs. Tenby was there in the hall to meet them with a glad smile and to tell them that they had time to change and dress as dinner had been set back especially for them.

  “We did very well,” said Harriet after she had finished dressing and had walked through to Lucinda’s room, which adjoined her own. “Our gentlemen were vastly taken with us.”

  Lucinda gave a pleased little smile. “Not a mention of those hoydens over at Greenbanks. I do not think we will be plagued with them again.”

  Arms round each other’s waists, they went down to the drawing room and then stood in the doorway and looked into the room with surprised expressions on their faces. Apart from themselves and Lord Ranger and Lord Paul, there were no young people. “Where is everyone?” asked Harriet, moving into the room.

  “The young people have gone over to Sir John’s,” said Mrs. Tenby. “They should have been back by now. Oh, what is it, Peter?”

  The footman bowed and handed her a note on a silver tray. “Jimmy, the Harringtons’ boy, has just brought this over.”

  Mrs. Tenby scanned the note and then her face darkened. “It seems that my guests have decided to stay with the Harringtons this night because of the weather.”

  “Where is Colonel Tenby?” asked Lord Ranger, who was fond of his host.

  “He has decided to stay at Greenbanks as well.”

  Lord Ranger looked around the glittering drawing room with its many mirrors and gilt furniture. In the shabby drawing room at Greenbanks, the carpet would be rolled back. There would be dancing or playing games. Jilly’s odd green eyes would be shining with pleasure and excitement and happiness, a happiness that seemed to fill the room.

  Lord Paul wondered what Mandy was doing. He hoped such as Jensen and Travers were behaving themselves. Mandy was so innocent and trusting, such a child. She needed someone to look after her. She needed to learn to behave like Lucinda, pretty and correct on all occasions.

  So why did the day they had just spent in such beautiful and correct company appear insipid, rather like a boring play?

  Lord Ranger was thinking for the first time rather wistfully about his army days, of the easy camaraderie and the jokes and the laughs. Why that should come into his mind when he was so relieved to be free of battles, he did not know, but as he led Harriet into the formal splendor of the dining room, he found himself wondering how early he could retire from the company and go to his room and read.

  Jilly was probably laughing and dancing with Travers, he thought as he sat down opposite Harriet. Jilly really did not know how to go on. She would stumble during the quadrille and fall against him. Harriet would never do such a thing. He had never thought of a wife in terms of passion. Ladies were not supposed to be capable of passion. Jilly and Mandy would not know that. They were a pair of unworldly innocents who would give their hearts and affections as freely and unselfconsciously as they gave their warmth and laughter. How insipid this food made by the Tenbys’ French chef tasted. How was it that the Harringtons’ cook managed to make everything taste so delicious?

  “What dark thoughts are preoccupying you?” asked Harriet.

  “Thoughts of you,” he answered automatically, and she raised her fan to her face and flirted with her eyes over the fringed edge of it.

  Jilly and Mandy were amazed the way the Harringtons’ household easily adapted to fit all these new guests. The dining table was extended and the food was as hot, delicious, and plentiful as ever, the maids carrying in the dishes and leaving the guests to help themselves in the old-fashioned way. At the Tenbys’, the dishes were carried round to each guest by liveried footmen.

  The noise was immense as all the young people chattered and laughed. Then Sir John interrupted to say that he found Colonel Tenby’s description of the Battle of Waterloo fascinating, and the gratified colonel was immediately plied with questions. There was no Mrs. Tenby to frown and say that no one wanted to hear about war. He blossomed under the attention, and Jilly and Mandy sat with their hands clasped, drinking in every word.

  After dinner there were games of charades, and, of course, the Harringtons had a large trunk full of all sorts of different costumes. Then there was dancing, and Lady Harrington was delighted to notice how well the girls’ dancing had improved.

  Jilly had almost forgotten about Lord Ranger, that tall and disturbingly handsome man. Mr. Travers was such free and easy company, and he was her own age. Miss Charteris and Miss Andrews, now on first-names terms as Belinda and Margaret, were such friendly, unself-conscious girls, and not at all like Harriet and Lucinda. The only thing to mar Jilly’s evening was the occasional sad look in Mandy’s eyes.

  They did not retire to bed until three in the morning. Jilly followed Mandy into her room. “What is the matter, sis?”

  “What should be the matter, Jilly? We are having such a splendid time.”

  “But at times, even during the dancing, you looked sad, Mandy. I know that this all must end, we both know it. But we must put it out of our minds and enjoy each minute. Why spoil the present by worrying about the future?”

  “It is not that,” said Mandy. She sat down at the toilet table and began to brush out her long hair. Jilly stood beside her, and both their reflections were framed by the oval of the glass.

  “What is it?” asked Jilly quietly. “We were never really able to talk together before we came here, you know. We were only just beginning to get to know each other, and I… I love my little sister, very much.”

  Tears welled up in Mandy’s blue eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

  Jilly took the brush gently from her hand and set it on the toilet table. “Tell me,” she said.

  Mandy raised her skirt and tugged a handkerchief out of her garter and mopped her eyes.

  “I am in love, Jilly.”

  “In love?”

  “With Lord Paul.”

  “Oh, Mandy, we are so inexperienced in the ways of the world, but one has only to see Lord Ranger and Lord Paul with Harriet and Lucinda to know that they are both very accomplished flirts. They are charming gentlemen and have been kind to us, but you will ruin this Christmas holiday with hopes and yearnings that can never come to anything.”

  “I cannot do anything about it,” said Mandy in a tired little voice. “I have caught the infection of love and must let the illness run its course.”

  In vain did Jilly try to reason with her. But Mandy became more composed and agreed, yes, she would try to forget all about it, but something in the back of her eyes belied the hopeful statement.

  Jilly went through to her own room and undressed and got into bed. She lay staring up at the canopy. If only this hadn’t happened! And then she had a sudden bright vision of Lord Ranger’s handsome face. His blue eyes glinted down at her.

  She threw herself on her side and closed her eyes tightly. One of them being miserable was enough!

  Lucinda and Harriet had decided on a plan before going to bed. Keeping Lord Ranger and Lord Paul away from their rivals might not be the answer. Besides, Harriet had overheard Lord Ranger say he had some things he had bought for Miss Jilly in Oxford and meant to ride over to Greenbanks. “We must go as well,” said Harriet. “By our very elegance and beauty, we will expose how unsuitable those Davenport girls are.”

  Lord Paul and Lord Ranger were surprised to find Harriet and Lucinda standing in the hall, awake and dressed to go out at eleven in the morning, an hour when they were both usually asleep.

  “We have decided to accompany you,” said Lucinda, drawing on a pair of lavender kid gloves. And confident of their welcome, both girls moved towards the doorway.

  “We are both riding,” said Lord Ranger. �
�I do not know if the roads will allow a carriage to get through.”

  “Then we shall change into our riding dress,” said Lucinda.

  And without waiting for an answer, both ladies went back upstairs.

  “Perhaps we should take the carriage after all,” said Lord Ranger. “The sun is quite hot and Greenbanks is not very far.”

  But for some reason he could not quite fathom, Lord Paul was suddenly impatient to reach the Harringtons’.

  “If we take the carriage,” he said, “we might find part of the road impassable. If we take the carriage, the ladies will promptly keep us waiting further by putting on their carriage gowns, and if we have to return, they will then change back into their riding dresses and we will never get there.”

  “Well, that’s one thing about the ladies,” said Lord Ranger “always keep you waiting. I’ll send someone to the stables to get a couple of mounts for them.”

  He walked away and therefore did not hear his friend’s acid remark. “Lay you a monkey the Davenport girls wouldn’t keep us waiting.”

  An hour later, Lucinda and Harriet came down the stairs, elegant in the latest thing in riding dresses and blissfully unaware that both gentlemen were thoroughly cross with them.

  Lord Paul felt as they rode out past the lodge gates that the whole day had been ruined, and he wished now that they were not going. Instead of a hard gallop with Lord Ranger, he was forced to slow his mount to a slow amble to fall into line with the ladies.

  By the time he saw the low, sprawling length of Greenbanks at the foot of the hill, he could bear it no longer. “See you at the house,” he said suddenly, and spurring his horse, he rode off in front of them.

  Lord Ranger, following at a sedate pace, envied him.

  Lord Paul found the company seated in the dining room, having a cold collation. His eyes flew immediately to Mandy, who was listening intently to something Mr. Jensen was saying and did not appear to be aware of his arrival, even though Sir John called out, “Take a chair, Lord Paul, you are most welcome.”