A Valentine For Christmas - A Regency Novella (3 page)

‘They are a set pair – Dorrie and Florrie,’ Merry giggled. ‘They even look alike, don’t they Mama? We’re always getting them mixed up.’

‘That is because they are sisters, dear,’ her mother replied.

His lordship looked at both Merry and Mama doubtfully. ‘I see. Well… I am sorry to disturb your… fun,’ at this, his eyes flickered to Charlotte who gave him a tentative smile, ‘but we have had an accident I’m afraid. The axel on our carriage has broken several hundred yards up the road. We do not like to impose upon you…’

‘I will see to it,’ Mr. Weathering said, with a gentle inclination of his head. ‘And of course, you will both spend the night. I am afraid the weather is less than clement and it is a good four miles on to the nearest village.’

‘Four miles,’ the stranger murmured, clearly dismayed.

‘No matter. We have plenty of room, I can assure you.’ This was untrue. With all seven of the Weathering siblings at home, there were very few spare beds but James and Harry would bunk in together as they so often did and there was one guest room available. ‘Boys?’ The two eldest boys rose to their feet and joined their father immediately, disappearing out the door although each looked lingeringly at the beautiful new arrival on the way past. Bardwell was not invited as he was inclined to a bad chest and the weather was dreadful.

Lord Valentine and Miss du Pont remained standing, looking at the remainder of the Weathering’s who returned their regard with interest.

‘You must both be frozen through,’ Mrs. Weathering said. ‘Come and sit by the fire. Charlotte, please take Lord Valentine’s coat and hang it up. And Miss du Pont’s cloak, as well. They will both take a chill, standing around in wet things.’

Charlie looked at his lordship, who looked back at her doubtfully. ‘I’m Charlotte,’ she explained, holding out a hand. ‘If you give me your coat, I will hang it up so that it airs out.’

‘Ah… thank you.’

Miss du Pont had already shed her bonnet and cloak, revealing herself in her full glory. She held it out to Charlie without a word, ignoring the proffered smile. Charlie gave an inward shrug. Perhaps she was in shock. A carriage accident could be quite traumatic.

Taking the garments, Charlie headed into the hallway to hang them up, her head busy with the unexpected turn of events. She had a feeling that the arrival of two such guests must be Meant. Extensive reading of both Mrs. Radcliff and Mrs. Edgeworth had taught her a thing or two about life beyond the sheltered walls of her home. It was a world populated by heroes and villains and all manner of maidens who had the courage to help them (and love them, but that was another matter entirely).

If the advent of this handsome stranger was not an act of Fate, she’d eat her bonnet.

Returning to the drawing room, Charlie momentarily forgot Fate and its machinations and eyed the tableau before her with a smile. It was always a treat to watch strangers deal with the Weatherings. If the poor man and his pretty cousin thought that they had fallen foul of circumstance when they had had an accident, they were now in the bosom of her loving family and what an evening lay in store for them. It would make a blizzard look positively peaceful in comparison and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if they each decided to walk those four miles into Barrow’s Cross.

Lord Valentine and Miss du Pont had been seated by the fire and that they were both being subjected to the scrutiny of four interested pairs of eyes. Mama had resumed her embroidery, not in the least bit interested (but always most polite) in the advent of new arrivals. Well, not
dis
interested, precisely, Charlie amended. It was just that she was so placid that very little ruffled her serenity. With seven children, it was just as well. Most women would have been quite mad by now.

To his credit, Lord Valentine did not flinch and look away but instead regarded those who regarded him, although it was hard to judge what he was thinking. He has a good card playing face, Charlie decided, moving forward. Which was an excellent thing to possess, in her opinion. In this house, he was going to need it. She was uncertain if this particularly hero was in need of her assistance, at the moment. That was yet to be determined. Certainly, he was handling the situation he currently found himself in with cool bravado. And Miss du Pont seemed to accept scrutiny she was being subjected to with aplomb. With those looks, she was probably used to it.

In Charlie’s opinion, an average evening had just become a great deal more interesting.

They had a full house at the moment. James was down from Eaton and Edward home from Harrow. Both boys were reasonably au fait with the world – although they would find Miss du Pont to be a wondrous addition, no doubt – but nobody could depend on fourteen-year-old Bardwell or thirteen-year-old Felix to behave as they ought, while Merry, being the youngest, was entirely unpredictable. Anne was more dependable. At sixteen, she fancied herself in love with any likely male who happened across her path (and Charlie was forced to admit that the good looking Lord Valentine was very likely). Not only that but, like Charlie herself, she had read the entire collection of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels and spent an inordinate amount of time fancying herself as Emily St Aubert or Adeline, depending on her mood. Charlie, being a very sensible eighteen years of age knew that she was no heroine out of a fictional novel. She was her
own
heroine and, as such, would forge her own adventures.

‘
Comment êtes-vous ce soir, mademoiselle?
’

Miss du Pont eyed him dubiously. ‘
Très bien, merci
.’

Precocious creature that he was, Bardwell could speak several languages fluently, so much so that his tutors had a hard time keeping up with him. Inclined to be delicate, he showed overdevelopment in other areas, specifically his intellect. It was gratifying to his loving family, without doubt, but it also made him difficult. He had a wicked taste for mischief and an unfortunate habit of saying whatever was in his head with no thought for the feelings of others. Such behavior was acceptable in twelve-year-old Merry, who frequently knew no better, but exceedingly uncomfortable in an often brutally honest Bardwell. He was eyeing Lord Valentine with a speculative look that made his sister a little nervous. Fortunately, the soothing presence of their mother had a quelling effect and whatever devilment was going through his head remained there.

‘English, I think darling,’ she said comfortably, ‘it’s always more polite to include everybody in the conversation.’

Bardwell’s lip curled but he shrugged, accepting this ruling.

Charlie seated herself on a stool nearby, as interested as any of her siblings in the arrival of these two strangers; possibly more so, for good-looking men who were still far from their dotage were a rare occurrence at Brindabella Hall and she
was
of a marriageable age, after all. And it was comforting to know that the gorgeous creature seated beside him was not his wife. He might, possibly, be possessed of a wife but at least she was not the paragon who was looking around her in satisfaction, clearly delighted to be the object of so much interest. Not, Charlie amended mentally, that she was ever likely to be marrying the likes of Lord Valentine who anybody could see was completely up to snuff in
every
way, but a girl had to get into practice for the real thing somehow and country assemblies could only go so far. In less than six weeks she might possibly be heading to London. She had hopes of enjoying her first Season if only her Aunt Sophia could be brought up to the mark. In London, Charlie supposed, she would meet all manner of gentlemen like the one before her. At least, she hoped she would. She had managed to convince herself that anything was possible in the capital. Heroes would abound, along with adventures. Such thoughts kept the possibility of homesickness at bay, for she had never been away from home without the comfort of her family before.

Perhaps Miss du Pont could tell her a little about what to expect? Charlie looked at Miss du Pont and immediately dismissed the idea. With such airs and graces, she seemed extremely unlikely to indulge in comfortable girlish chats.

His lordship was putting himself out to be pleasant, responding to Mama’s questions with easy courtesy, but she wondered if he was as particular as his cousin. She had to admit, he was rather fine with his dark eyes and dark brown hair (cut a la Brutus if the periodicals she read were to be believed). She had just finished Scott’s
The Bride of Lammermoor
and was still inclined to dwell on Lucy’s tragic ending and her love for Edgar. Lord Valentine’s dark good looks, she decided, would not be out of place in such a setting although she had no doubt Anne would disagree and make him into Valancourt. They frequently argued the merits of their favorite characters. Never the less, Charlie could see the man before her wandering around some dank Scottish castle. So appealing was the idea that she did not immediately notice when he started looking back at her until suddenly she found herself staring into a pair of fathomless dark eyes. For a long moment, their gaze held and locked. Remarkably, it was Charlie who looked away first, dropping her eyes to stare at the hands she had folded neatly in her lap, disconcerted by the unexpected intensity of that brief glance.

Well… really. What in the world?

What in the world indeed. She felt unexpectedly flushed, far more so than the warmth of the room was responsible for. She did not look up again until her mother spoke, her tone gently enquiring. It was what all five of the Weathering children who were present had been waiting for; their mother to commence her delicate investigation into the business of the new arrivals. She did it with such gentle charm that the person being quizzed rarely knew that they were being thoroughly examined.

‘So, my lord,’ she began, giving him a smiling glance over the winking silver needle that darted in and out of the fine lawn cloth in her hand, ‘are you both travelling to join your family for the holidays?’

This made Mrs. Weathering pause. The embroidery settled slowly into her lap as she regarded him, blue eyes soft and enquiring as she glanced at Miss du Pont. ‘Oh, dear. It is a tragedy, not to have the comfort of a large family at this time of year, my dear.’

Madeleine du Pont looked at her rather blankly. ‘I suppose… I am spending it with
mon
cousin. We shall do well enough.’

‘You are from France?’ Mrs. Weathering said, surprised.

‘From Paris,’ Madeleine replied, shaking out her bright golden ringlets. ‘I have come to stay with Lord Valentine for the holiday.’

‘How delightful. It must be of great comfort to him.’

‘
Naturellement
.’

‘And are you the only family his lordship possesses?’ The sympathy in their hostesses’ tone was redolent. Charlie watched his lordship shift uncomfortably in his chair. It was he who replied.

‘We have an uncle and an aunt. And Madeleine herself has family back in France. But I am not overly fond of the Christmas season and find it more enjoyable to spend it quietly. We shall do very well in Norfolk.’

Charlie could only wonder at this. Miss du Pont looked as if a quiet life might be as alien to her as humility.

A small silence had fallen as all of the Weatherings absorbed the astonishing piece of news that some people preferred to spend the holiday in relative solitude. To not want to spend time with ones family in what had always been a particularly festive time of the year was incomprehensible to all of them. Their festivities at this time of year were boisterous, to say the least. Charlie stared at his lordship and knew that Fate had indeed taken a hand in things and had given her a hero in need. She wondered what great tragedy had occurred to cause such a terrible wound on his spirit that he did not want to spend Christmas with friends and whatever family he had. Although he did have Miss du Pont. Charlie regarded the girl with doubtful eyes. It was dreadfully sad to have such a poor supply of relatives but perhaps his cousin was vastly entertaining?

‘But don’t you have any brothers and sisters?’ Merry said, clearly amazed. As the youngest, she had spent her entire life surrounded by siblings who were a major source of companionship, emotional succor and, at times, homicidal intent.

So they did. Charlie had caught the condescending note in his lordship’s last remark and wrinkled her nose, not caring over much for it. Still, he was to be pitied more than scolded. If
she
had no siblings she knew she would be quite miserable.

‘So it is just Miss du Pont and your aunt and uncle? How very sad for you,’ Mama said, echoing her youngest daughter’s sentiments. ‘And what about you, my dear? Do you have much family in Paris?’

The girl shrugged carelessly. ‘My mother. Two sisters and a brother and more cousins than I could name.’

‘Oh my. I’m sure they will miss you. Perhaps Lord Valentine should have gone to you.’

Miss Du Pont curled a lip. ‘I doubt he would have been very comfortable. And my family, they are very noisy. It is one of the reasons I came to England.’