A Family For Christmas (10 page)

‘Wassail is a special time.'

‘I really like Ben and Rose,' she
said. ‘I can't believe how snooty her mother is, though.'

Duncan's laughter sounded loud in the quiet
of the night. ‘She does have a certain aura, I'll grant you.'

Eliza hooted in derision. ‘That's not
what I'd call it. What was Rose's father like?'

‘Lovely chap. Too meek and mild for his own
good, though. He absolutely adored his wife and strove to provide everything she wanted. Not
that it was ever enough for Mother Evangaline. He worked himself into the ground, poor man. And
for what? Chattels, which, however fine, were never good enough, that's what. 'Tis
people that matter in this world, little un, not possessions.' He shook his head, then
turned to look at her. ‘Talking of auras, did you see any more of Great-Grandfather
Joshua?' Although he spoke casually, Eliza sensed her answer was important to him.

‘I didn't see him again but I'm sure I smelled
his pipe a few times. Or do you think that's fanciful?'

Duncan shook his head. ‘No, I don't.
Christmas and Wassail were his favourite time of year so if his spirit were to pay a visit it
would be around now.'

Suddenly the horse whinnied and came to an abrupt
halt. ‘Don't tell me you've seen him too, old boy,' Duncan called,
leaning forward and patting him soothingly. ‘Come along, walk on.' But the animal
was having none of it and refused to budge. Duncan peered into the darkness.

‘What the …?' The rest of his
sentence was lost as he leaped down from the wagon. Then Eliza heard him murmuring gently and
she saw he was trying to lift something into an upright position.

‘What's going on?' she asked,
clambering down and crouching beside him.

‘It's Fay,' he said, shaking
his head.

‘She's not dead, is she?' Eliza
whispered, staring aghast at the lifeless body.

‘Of course I'm not,' Fay
snorted, her eyes snapping open. ‘I slipped on that blooming glass frost. Well,
don't just stand there, pull me up, boy,' she commanded, holding out her hand to
Duncan.

‘Careful does it, Fay. Let's make
sure nothing's broken first,' he said, running assessing fingers over her leg. He
began pulling off her boot but she slapped his hands away.

‘If you think I'm lying in the
perishing cold whilst you play doctors, you've got another think coming. Come on, take me
home.' Duncan and Eliza exchanged glances but, knowing it would be futile to argue, they
began manoeuvring Fay as gently as possible into the wagon. It was obvious she was in pain, but
she stoically stared straight ahead and they knew better than to comment. Once they'd got
her onto the bench, Eliza covered her with the blanket, then went round and slid awkwardly into
the middle so she could support the woman. Duncan swung himself up next to her and, unbidden,
the horse began to move.

Eliza couldn't believe how much the
temperature had fallen. The higher they climbed the colder it got. All around, seemingly endless
moorland glistened with virgin white snow, which even in the moonlight hurt her eyes. Here and
there trees bent low by the harsh weather lined the path, their branches coated with thick
glittering ice.
She shivered; winter certainly
lasted much longer this high up on the moors.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a screech that
pierced the silence of the night. It sounded like a tortured soul in pain and Eliza shuddered,
feeling the hairs on her neck prickle. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, Duncan reached out
and patted her hand.

‘Easy, little un. That's just a vixen
calling for her lover.'

‘You mean that noise is normal?' she
gasped. He nodded and Eliza was sure Fay gave a faint chuckle from beneath the cover.

‘Listen and you'll hear him
answer,' he instructed. Sure enough a moment later, she heard a sharp bark echoing across
the fields. ‘There, that's the dogfox. I'll show you their tracks in the snow
one day, if you like. You'll be amazed how large their paw prints are.'

Eliza shivered, thinking that was one treat she
could do without. Luckily she was saved from answering as they'd reached the river and all
his concentration was centred on guiding the wagon over the narrow bridge.

‘Nearly home, Fay,' Duncan commented,
but the woman's eyes were closed and she didn't answer. However, no sooner had the
wagon come to a halt than she snapped awake, cast aside the blanket and attempted to climb down.
Her usually agile movements were clumsy and Eliza could see her wincing.

‘Stay there, old thing,' Duncan said,
jumping down and going around to her side. Making sure the blanket was tucked tightly around
her, he lifted her into his arms. As Eliza went to climb down, he shook his head.

‘Wait here. That ground's as slippery
as the glass the
frost is named after and it will
do none of us any good if you fall and hurt yourself as well. Hold out the lantern so I can
see.'

She did as he asked, then watched as he slowly
inched his way along the path, carefully holding Fay. The wind rose, moaning across the vast
expanse of moorland and Eliza pulled the cloak tighter round her. Then Duncan was back, tossing
her bundle over his shoulder and lifting her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a
fistful of feathers. Gripping the lantern tightly, she held her breath as he slipped and skidded
towards the hobble.

Thankfully, they made it inside without mishap.
Fay, covered by the blanket, was perched awkwardly on the chair holding out her hands to the
fire, which had almost died. As Duncan lit another candle from the one in the lantern, Eliza
could see she was ashen, her face pinched with pain.

‘You get a blaze going while I take the
horse into the barn before the poor thing freezes. I'll bring in more wood when I
return,' Duncan said. His calm, authoritative voice spurred Eliza into action and she bent
and raked through the embers, adding twigs and the smaller pieces of chopped wood until it
flared. Thankfully the pot was full of water and after hooking it onto the arm she pulled it
over the fire to heat, then turned to Fay.

The woman had her eyes closed and was shivering
violently. Quickly, Eliza piled the sheepskins around her shoulders and on top of the blanket,
then eased the chair closer to the fire. She'd just finished when Duncan reappeared. He
took one look at Fay and shook his head.

‘Shock's set in,' he said,
taking a bottle out of his pocket
then going over
to the dresser and pouring liquid into a mug. ‘Right, Fay, drink this,' he urged,
holding it to her lips. To Eliza's surprise she meekly did as he said. Then, exhausted,
she sank back in the chair and closed her eyes. He dropped to his knees, ignoring her protests
as he tugged off her boots. Gently he began feeling along her feet and ankles. ‘Hmm, I
think that's wrenched but not broken or sprained. Now let's have a look at your
hands.' Meekly she held them up for him to examine. ‘A couple of cuts and
you've definitely sprained your right wrist. You must have gone down with a good wallop,
old girl,' he murmured.

‘Call me that again, whippersnapper, and
I'll toss you out in the snow, sprain or no sprain,' she grunted weakly.

Eliza saw the colour returning to the
woman's cheeks and realized Duncan had goaded her on purpose. While he gently cleaned
Fay's hands then bound her wrist and ankle with strips of old sheeting, Eliza busied
herself making them hot drinks.

They sat in front of the fire, sipping their tea
and listening to the ferocious wind howling around the building like a wild animal. Fay had
stopped shivering and was dozing quietly when Duncan, who was perched on the floor between the
two chairs, leaned forward and tossed more logs onto the blaze.

‘Time you got some sleep, ladies,' he
said, getting to his feet and pulling down their mattresses. Eliza stifled a yawn. The day had
been so eventful, she hadn't realized she was tired until now. As another strong gust of
wind buffeted the hobble, Fay turned to Duncan.

‘Weather's worsening. You'd
best stay the night.'

‘Only if you ladies promise not to fight over me,' he
quipped.

Fay snorted. ‘It was the horse I was
concerned about,' she muttered weakly, then winced.

Instantly, he was on his feet, mixing more liquid
and handing it to Fay. ‘Drink this, it'll ease the pain and settle you.' While
the woman drank it down, he piled her mattress with sheepskins. Then, he helped her remove the
greatcoat and placed it on top.

‘Look the other way, whippersnapper, whilst
we get into bed,' Fay grunted. ‘Got little un's reputation to think
of.'

‘I'll check the horse is all right
and bring in more wood,' he said. ‘When I return, I expect to see you both
asleep.'

Eliza smiled as he disappeared. Who would ever
have imagined Fay obeying him, she thought, watching as the woman sank down awkwardly onto the
mattress. Knowing better than to offer to help, she took off her cloak and spread it over the
sheepskins. She was just settling onto her own bed when she felt something prickle her hair.
Reaching up, she smiled when her hands came into contact with the coronet of laurel leaves.
Carefully removing it, she placed it on the table. She would press it to keep for ever. It was
just a shame she'd lost her grampy's box, she thought, pulling the covers over
her.

It had been such an exciting day. Her mind
drifted back to the Wassail. Who would have thought that she, Eliza Dryad, would spend the night
dancing? And in the arms of the handsome giant? She closed her eyes, reliving what it had felt
like.

The next thing she knew, cold grey light of the
morning was filtering through the window. Fay was still sleeping
but of Duncan there was no sign. Surely he hadn't spent the
night outside in the freezing weather? Quickly she removed the beautiful dress, shaking out the
creases before tugging on the old warm shirt and trousers of Fay's. Then she riddled the
embers until the fire blazed once more.

The door burst open and Duncan appeared, buffeted
in on yet another strong gust of wind. He was carrying a pail of fresh water in one hand and had
more logs under his other arm. Eliza hurried to push the door closed behind him.

‘Morning, little un. Fay's still
asleep, then?' Eliza nodded. ‘Best thing for her. That's a fair blaze
you've got going there, so let's get some water heated for a drink. I'm
parched. Fay keeps a good wood store but we don't how long this weather will last so
I'll bring in some peat before I leave. You can use that to keep the fire in overnight
without using up her stock.'

‘You're leaving?' she asked,
staring at him in dismay.

He nodded, opened his mouth to say something but
Fay winced and he hunkered down beside her.

‘Hmm, temperature's high. How are you
feeling?'

‘Stiff as a board,' she moaned,
trying to sit up. Duncan helped her, propping her back against the sheepskins.

‘Your ankle's like a puffball so you
won't be getting your boots on for a few days. In fact you are going to have to take it
easy.'

‘I wasn't thinking of going for a
sprint over the moors,' she snapped.

‘Maybe not, but you'll have to stay
indoors so I'll bring in a gazunder for you to use.'

‘Do that and you'll be wearing it over your
head,' she grunted. ‘Besides, I keep me onions in it. Haven't you anything
more useful to spend your time doing, like making me a good brew?'

He grinned. ‘Luckily for you, Eliza's
already got the water heating. Now let's have a look at those cuts and bruises.'

‘I haven't got any bruises,
whippersnapper.'

‘That's where you're wrong, old
woman. There's one as black as the hobs of hell on your forehead. Now let me look at you
whilst Eliza makes us that drink. If you're very good, she might even fry you an egg and a
chop of bacon.'

The woman cackled. ‘Oh, and I just happen
to have luxuries like that around here, have I?'

Duncan nodded. ‘Indeed you have. Ben
insisted on giving me some supplies last night in appreciation for Eliza helping with young
Joshua.' As Duncan pointed to the table by the window where he'd placed the food,
Eliza looked up in surprise.

‘Don't ever say nay to recompense for
a job done, girl,' Fay told her. ‘Well, come on, get cooking. My stomach thinks my
throat's been cut.'

Leaving Duncan to deal with Fay, Eliza tossed fat
into the large, battered pan and whilst it was melting, made their tea. Before long, the
delicious aroma of frying bacon and eggs filled the room, making her stomach growl.

As she dished up their food, Duncan grinned,
producing a package from his capacious pocket with a flourish.

‘Bit of bread to mop up the juices,'
he said, hacking at it with a knife.

‘We'll have a feast,' Eliza
exclaimed, adding a thick slice
to Fay's
plate and passing it to her. ‘Would you like me to help you?' she asked, glancing
down at the woman's strapped wrist.

‘You keep your hands off my food, girl. I
can manage just fine,' she grunted, slipping her wrist out of the makeshift sling.

‘'Tis a shame you injured your right
wrist, Fay,' Duncan commented.

‘Why? You know full well I'm
left-handed,' the woman smirked, digging into her bacon with determination. Eliza shook
her head. He really did know how to pull her strings, didn't he?

‘That was a good meal, young un,' he
commented, tossing his plate on the hearth.

‘Why do you call me “little un”
and “young un” when I'm neither of those things?' Eliza asked.

He stared at her in surprise. ‘'Tis
only names.'

‘But I'll be fifteen next
month,' she cried, hardly understanding why it suddenly mattered he should know she was on
the threshold of womanhood.

‘So I understand,' he said, frowning
at her outburst.

Sighing, Eliza got to her feet. Why she was
feeling restless she had no idea. And did it really matter what Duncan called her?

They were sitting in front of the fire sipping
their tea when another gust blew a cloud of thick smoke back out of the hearth, making them all
cough and splutter.

‘Seems to be getting even worse,'
muttered Duncan, inclining his head towards the back of the building where the north wind was
howling.

No sooner had he finished speaking than the blast
of
the storm increased to a wail, followed by a
loud crack and the tearing of wood.

‘My God, did you hear that?' Fay
gasped.