A Country Christmas (Timeless Regency Collection Book 5) Read online

  Jonathan sighed, reaching down to fetch their glasses, then crossed the room to refill them. He handed one to Archie before resuming his seat. “I knew the two of you enjoyed each other’s company, but I had no idea your feelings were so strong. Looking back over the past months, I realize I’ve been rather too caught up in my own concerns to see what was taking place beneath my nose.” He took a slow drink, then nodded solemnly. “You, of course, have my blessing, and if you truly love Jane, I cannot think of a better husband for her.”

  “Thank you.” Archie rested back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. He rubbed his eyes, grateful for his friend’s understanding, as well as his honesty. “And I will make sure you and your family have an unforgettable Christmas.”

  “Don’t worry yourself too much about perfection. You know how out of sorts you get when things don’t go to plan.” Jonathan spoke lightly, obviously trying to return them to their earlier good humor.

  “That’s why it will all go to plan. A simple holiday celebration with close friends and a romantic Christmas Eve marriage proposal.” Just saying the words made his heart roll with nervous anticipation. He raised his glass toward his friend and grinned. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Chapter Two

  Jane pushed aside the curtains and leaned forward to look through the window of the coach. Snow was still falling in the forest, making the late afternoon seem darker than the hour warranted. She looked to the sides, both ahead and to the rear, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men accompanying them on horseback, but the heavy flakes made visibility difficult. She felt sorry for Archie and Jonathan, as well as the coachman. At least the two footmen had been sent ahead to Ashford with the luggage they would not need until they arrived at the larger estate. Archie had told them there was no need for them to accompany the party the entire way. Waverly had its own footmen.

  “Jane dear, move away from the window lest you take a chill.” Mother Kathleen arranged the wool blanket that lay across Jane’s lap, then sat back into her seat across from the sisters.

  “We should arrive at any time,” Maryann said. She patted her sister’s hand, then gave the smallest wink. She knew how it frustrated Jane to be constantly coddled by Mother Kathleen.

  The older woman meant well, and they were both grateful for her gentle care as Jane adjusted to her newfound freedom from the institution. Over a year earlier, fearing Jane’s affliction of nerves would be discovered by society, her stepmother had insisted she be consigned to a suitably discreet home with other patients of varying degrees of madness.

  The memories of that place turned Jane’s stomach, and she did not permit her mind to dwell on them. Instead, she imagined their destination, feeling a tingle of anticipation at what awaited: Christmas. She’d not celebrated Christmas—not truly—since her mother died thirteen years earlier. Her stepmother had her own ideas of how to enjoy the holidays, and they involved keeping Jane as far away as possible from anyone who might notice her condition. She’d not been to a Christmas party since she was a child, and the idea of spending the holiday with her closest friends in a country manor surrounded by a snowy forest sounded utterly delightful.

  Archie Clawson must truly be the kindest man on the earth. Jane’s cheeks warmed in spite of the chilly air. In truth, he was the principal reason she so looked forward to the celebration at Waverly. And she knew it was silly. He was charming and handsome, perpetually cheerful, and genuinely kind—which explained his attentions to her. He paid attention to everybody. Somehow, Archie made the people around him feel important and knew precisely what to say to raise a person’s spirits. Because of her ailment, Jane was unsure of herself and resigned to remaining in the background, but Archie always made a point to sit by her, talk with her. When it came to him, however, she wanted to be noticed.

  Jane blew out a long breath through her nose. Archie would never consider her as anything beyond a friend. He was heir to an earldom—an important man who would sit in Parliament and make decisions that directed the country. She was commonly born, shy, and her mind was damaged.

  Her spells of panic were rare, but they were enough to cause her parents and the local surgeon to declare her mad. The members of the marquess’s household treated her kindly, but she felt as if they were constantly tiptoeing around anything that might upset her, just waiting for another spell to overtake her.

  If anything, Archie felt pity for her, and in Jane’s mind, that was worse than if he didn’t care at all.

  She shifted and brushed against her reticule. A fluttering started in her chest when she thought of what was buried inside: a small box that held a carved wooden nativity strung onto a ribbon. The man at the shop had told her the ornament was from Germany and meant to adorn a Christmas tree. She’d thought it just the right gift for Archie. Heat rose up her neck as she imagined giving it to him. Would he hang it on the Waverly Christmas tree?

  The carriage bounced, causing Maryann’s knees to bump into hers. Jane smiled at her sister and leaned forward to stretch her back. Her stomach complained, and she wondered how many hours had passed since they’d eaten the luncheon the innkeeper had packed that morning.

  Are the men hungry as well? Surely they would stop soon. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the seat, envisioning Christmas dinner at Waverly. At Maryann’s insistence, Jane had packed her new ball gown. The dress was lovely, a daring red velvet trimmed with gold ribbons that made her feel beautiful. She imagined how she would have felt wearing it to the Christmas Ball in Ashford. Perhaps Archie would have asked for a dance?

  Even though Archie hid his feelings well, she knew he was disappointed to miss his mother’s celebration. A twist of guilt burned sour in her throat. It was selfish, she knew, but she felt glad they’d not be attending the ball. It pained her to think of him dancing and flirting with beautiful ladies in fine gowns. Of course it was inevitable that Archie would go to parties and dance with ladies once the Season began. He would eventually marry, and of course everything would be different then. The thought made her more miserable than it should. She resolved not to let her mind wander in that direction, to put aside her selfishness and be happy for him. And enjoy this Christmas. Because it was very probable that such a circumstance would not arise again. She was ready for a new start on life and excited for this opportunity to do it.

  She breathed out a contented sigh as she thought of Christmas at Waverly—the crackling fire, the Christmas hymns, the tree, the lovely things Archie had described. It all sounded like a dream.

  The carriage stopped, and Jane blinked her eyes open, realizing she must have dozed off. Outside, the night was dark, and it was so quiet. She glanced to the other women, then at the door as it opened. The cold wind that blew in took her breath away.

  Jonathan stood outside, a strange look on his face. His brow was wrinkled as if he were troubled. Or perhaps confused. “We’ve arrived.”

  “Oh, I cannot bear one more second in this carriage,” Maryann said.

  Jonathan’s eyes darted to the side, and he squinted. “Perhaps you should wait until the path is cleared.”

  Kathleen peered out. “I don’t mind a bit of snow, and if I don’t stretch my back, I fear I’ll remain cramped the remainder of my days.”

  He nodded. “Very well. But beware, the snow is rather deep.”

  Jane took his hand as he and the coachman helped her from the carriage and into the snow. She sank nearly to her knees. Heavy flakes were still falling, catching in her lashes when she looked up.

  She peered through the darkness, seeing nothing but falling flakes in the light of the carriage lantern. She couldn’t see a pathway anywhere. “Where is Archie?” she asked Jonathan as he brought Maryann to stand next to her.

  “He’s gone to the house.” He pointed with his chin, and Jane looked in the direction he indicated. Pulling her cloak tighter, she moved along the side of the carriage until she could see Archie’s rapidly filling footprints. Using tromping steps, she followed his path
away from the light of the carriage lantern, and squinted through the snowfall to see the dark shape of a large house. Was this Waverly Manor? She’d expected glowing windows, footmen clearing a path, and grooms hurrying out to tend to the horses. But the night was silent, noises muffled by the snow.

  She hadn’t gone far before a shape appeared in the snow, and Archie himself met her.

  In the dim light, she could see his face was tight. “Everything is locked. I do not know why the steps are not cleared of snow. And where are the grooms and footmen?” He spoke in a strained voice, taking off his snow-covered hat and pushing fingers through his hair. “Was my letter lost? Certainly the entire staff . . .”

  Jane laid a hand on his arm. “Perhaps everyone has retired for the night. Or they expected you later. It is all surely a misunderstanding.”

  Archie glanced down at his arm, then lifted his gaze to hers. He seemed to relax and, after a moment, smiled, though it appeared a bit forced. He put his hat back onto his head. “Yes. A misunderstanding is all.” He blew out a breath that swirled white in the cold, then took her hand, wrapped it around his arm to nestle in the bend of his elbow. “I will inquire at the caretaker’s cottage. But you and the other ladies should wait in the carriage. Your toes will surely freeze.”

  “My toes are quite snug in their boots.” Truly, she had forgotten about the cold with her arm nestled so comfortably against him. “I have been sitting in the carriage for quite a long time, sir. If it’s all right, I’d like to come with you.”

  He secured her arm more tightly and gave a warm smile. “I always welcome your company.”

  If her cheeks hadn’t been frozen, the look on his face would have caused a blush.

  The rest of the party chose to accompany them as well; apparently they were of the same mind regarding the appeal of remaining in the carriage versus trudging through the snow. Archie instructed Tom, the coachman, to care for the horses in the stables behind the house. He removed a lantern from the carriage hook, and the group set off.

  The expedition took longer than anticipated, due partially to the difficulty of walking through the deep snow—especially for the women in skirts—as well as the limited visibility. If anything, Jane thought the lantern made it more difficult to see. The light seemed to reflect off the falling flakes.

  Finally, exhausted and cold, they reached the cottage—a small stone house with glowing windows on the edge of the forest.

  In answer to Archie’s knock, the door cracked open, and a man’s face peered out. He was short with a bulbous nose and squinting eyes. A thatch of wheat-colored hair was flattened against his head. When his gaze lit on Archie, his eyes opened wide. He stepped back, opened the door all the way, giving a bow. “Lord Symons, please come in. You’ll catch yer death out there, ya will.” He made a waving motion with his hands. “Hurry up, all of ya. You look near to frozen.”

  A wave of warm air wrapped around Jane as soon as she stepped inside. The cottage was tidy with well-used furniture, a fraying rug, and a crackling fire. At the moment, Jane thought it the most welcoming place in the world.

  “Thank you, Simon,” Archie said. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late in the evening, but we’ve just arrived, and the house is locked up. It appears quite empty. I fear there’s been a mistake of some kind.”

  Before the caretaker could answer, an extremely pregnant woman entered from a back room. She regarded the group clustered in her house with some confusion, then seeing Archie, she bent in an awkward curtsey. “My lord, how nice to see you.”

  “You remember my wife, Eliza,” Simon said.

  Archie removed his hat, dropping a clump of snow onto the wooden floor. “Of course. How nice to see you again, Mrs. Cringlewood. And these are my friends, Lord Spencer, Lady Spencer, the Dowager Lady Spencer, and Miss Croft.”

  Eliza bowed again. “’ere, let me take them cloaks and hats, sirs and ladies.” Eliza helped Kathleen unfasten her cloak, then motioned toward the sofa. “And you warm yerselves up, now. Simon, put another log on.” She folded the cloak over her arm, accepted the other visitors’ outerwear, and left the room.

  Jonathan helped his mother to the sofa, and the other women joined her. Archie’s jaw was tight, and his eyes darted around the room. He was worried, but Jane felt inexplicably calm. She trusted in her friends. Archie and Jonathan would know what to do.

  Simon set some more wood onto the fire, then rose, scratching his chin. “I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t know you were visiting the property today or I’d have opened up the house for ye.”

  “I sent a letter a week ago." Archie plowed his fingers through his hair. “And where is the staff?”

  “Gone ’ome for Christmas. With the master gone, I didn’t see any reason . . .” His eyes darted nervously to his wife.

  Jane thought if he was worried of a reprimand, he must not know Archie well. She didn’t think him capable of chastising anyone.

  “No, of course you didn’t.” Archie drew his hand down to rub the back of his neck. “Perfectly reasonable course.”

  An expression of relief relaxed Simon’s face.

  Archie clasped his hands behind his back. “I know it is late, but could you open the house and send to town for the staff? We are all very cold and hungry.”

  Simon fidgeted, shifting his weight back and forth. “My lord, I’m sorry, but ’twould take hours to gather the entire manor staff. And with this amount o’ snow, longer.”

  Jonathan nodded. “He’s right. We were lucky to make it this far ourselves. A sleigh might pull through, perhaps, but the hour is getting late. Best to wait until tomorrow.”

  Simon squinted in the direction of the manor. “I suppose Eliza and I could start the fires, take the Holland covers off the furniture, and find clean linens for the beds. But the pantry is not stocked, my lord.” He hunched his shoulders and bowed his head.

  Archie shook his head. “Your wife is in no condition to perform such labor, and with the late hour . . .” He puffed out a frustrated sigh.

  An aroma came from the back room. Something was cooking. Jane’s stomach made a noise, and she pressed her hand against it, praying nobody heard.

  A moment later, Eliza returned. “I’ve some soup, if you’d like. Nothin’ fancy, mind. But ’twill warm yer bones.”

  “It smells heavenly,” Kathleen said, and Jane couldn’t agree more.

  “Come on into the kitchen, then.” She led them down a few steps into a low-ceilinged room and indicated a scrubbed wooden table with a bench on either side. Jane sat, sliding over to make room, then nearly slipped off the end when Kathleen scooted in beside her, followed by Maryann. The men sat across from them, their backs against the stone wall.

  Jane studied the kitchen. It was well used, just like the outer room, and very tidy. Eliza Cringlewood obviously took pride in her home. On one side of the room, their cloaks were laid over wooden drying frames, hats and bonnets beside them. Everything was clean and neatly in place. Curtains with yellow flowers hung over the window, the colors faded irregularly with the folds in the fabric, and above the table was a small painting of a seascape in a simple wooden frame. She saw a red ribbon tied around a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the doorway. Jane had come from a modest background, but her father had employed a cook, and they’d always taken meals in the dining room. She thought this humble kitchen was extremely cozy and liked the simplicity she saw around her.

  Eliza stirred a pot hung from a metal arm over the hearth, then ladled soup into bowls. She set a basket of sliced peasant bread onto the table as well.

  Jane inhaled. The food smelled delicious.

  Eliza curtseyed again when she set a bowl in front of Archie. “I apologize, my lord. We’ve only simple fare, and no fancy dishes to serve such important guests.”

  “This is perfect, Mrs. Cringlewood. Thank you,” Archie said and lifted a spoonful to his mouth.

  “If ya please, my lord,” Simon said, “I’ll say grace first.”

  Once
he’d finished praying, Simon bid them eat. He fetched a straight-backed chair from the other room for Eliza and helped her sit.

  Jane was touched by the thoughtful gesture. Watching the couple warmed her heart. They were much like Maryann and Jonathan in the concern they showed for each other, even though their stations in life were so different. How would it be to have a partner to look after her—and whom she could look after in return?

  “My lord, we’ve not much to offer,” Simon said. “But the lot o’ you are welcome to sleep here tonight.” He glanced at his wife, who nodded her assent to the proposal.

  “Your offer is very generous,” Archie said, “but I’d not dream of imposing on you more than we have already. We’ll either risk the road back to town and find an inn or make the manor habitable for the night.” Archie rubbed his face again, and the room was silent except for the sound of wooden spoons scraping against crockery bowls.

  Jane wanted to tell him the situation wasn’t as bad as he thought. They were warm and safe, with two kind people caring for them.

  Archie stared at a spot on the table, lines of worry pressed between his brows. He looked up, catching Jane’s gaze.

  She gave a smile.

  Archie grimaced. I’m sorry, he mouthed.

  She let her smile grow, hoping it looked encouraging. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, then returned to her soup, surprised at herself for such a forward action. But it seemed important for him to know he had her support.

  After a moment, Archie turned to their hosts. “This supper was just the thing for cold, weary travelers, Mrs. Cringlewood. You are a marvelous cook.”

  Her face reddened at the compliment. “Eliza, my lord.”

  Archie dipped his head in acknowledgment.