A Victorian Christmas (30 page)

“She’ll have the purchase price. Why should her welfare be any of my concern?”

“Indeed. Of course not,” the earl said. “She is merely an old woman of little wealth and even less import, is she not?”

As the men continued their discussion, Gwyneth gathered her shawl about her. It was no use now. She must return to the cottage and help Mum pack their trunks. In the morning, she would go down to the village to inquire after lodgings from Sukey Ironmonger’s family. At least this one night, the two women would be safe in the cottage. But on the morrow . . .

“I heartily congratulate you,” the earl announced, clapping his cousin on the back. “You have chosen a remarkable piece of property, Maxwell, and one that will give your family much pleasure for years to come.”

Lowering her head, Gwyneth made her way through the crowd. Mum would be asleep by now, nodded off with her knitting on her lap. The fire would be low. She would stir it. And perhaps make a cup of tea.

“I see that I was quite mistaken in my estimation of your character, Maxwell,” the earl said. “In offering to buy the cottage and land for a sum generous enough to retire Mrs. Rutherford’s debts, you prove yourself a worthy gentleman indeed.”

“Generous?” someone cried. “He is paying a mere seventy-five pounds for the entire property.”

“Seventy-five?” The earl’s eyebrows lifted. “Surely you must be mistaken, for I am certain my good cousin would offer no less than seventy-five
hundred
for such a finely situated estate.”

Gwyneth paused and tried to make sense of the earl’s words. She had heard Maxwell give the sum at seventy-five pounds. Was William so naive as to believe well of his cousin? Or did he hope to humiliate Maxwell into paying a greater price? Either way, all was now lost. The cottage would be razed, and she and Mum would have no choice but to leave the Lake District.

“Seventy-five hundred?” Maxwell said in a strangled voice.

“Surely no less, for you have seen what excellent forests, lakes, and streams the property boasts. Indeed, Maxwell, you are a fine fellow, and I shall welcome you as my neighbor. Shall we not all congratulate such an esteemed man?”

As the crowd began to applaud, William gave Maxwell a firm handshake. Then the earl stepped off the dais and searched the room. Though she could see the earl making his way through the crowd toward her, Gwyneth knew they must not be seen together. Indeed, she must race back to the cottage to inform Mum of this turn of events, for no doubt Maxwell would come this very night to clarify the matter.

“Seventy-five hundred pounds?” someone said as she passed. “It must be a very fine estate indeed.”

Confusion welling up inside her, Gwyneth grabbed her bonnet and hurried out the front door. She had hardly passed halfway down the gravel drive when she heard William calling out to her.
Dear God, send him away! His society must not see us alone
together. He will be humiliated—

“Gwyn,” he called, “stay a moment. I shall speak with you.”

She halted and stuffed her bonnet onto her head, the ribbons dangling loose down her dress. As she tried to tie them, he caught her hand and pulled her close.

“Gwyn, why do you leave me?” he demanded. “Why must you always run from me?”

“Oh, William, those people—”

“Those people matter nothing to me. They require my acquaintance in business, they imagine themselves graced by my presence and I by theirs, they consider themselves my peers. Yet not one of them can I call a true friend. Not one has warmed my heart or tended to my spirit as you do, Gwyn. You are beautiful and good, and I cannot bear—”

“Beaumontfort!” Maxwell barked as he and his company of friends approached. “Do you mean to have the Rutherford property for yourself, as your father took my family’s lands so many years ago? I assure you, my determination to regain my foothold in Cumbria remains unchanged. You were born to title and property, but I shall have them both in the end.”

“By deceit and treachery, Maxwell?” The earl nodded. “Indeed, such actions do befit your character.”

“You refer to my legitimate pursuit of your sister.”

“My sister was but thirteen years old when you set your sights upon her. Can the pursuit of a mere child be called legitimate? I think not.”

“Had you not interfered—”

“I shall interfere in your machinations as often as I find them odious, cousin!” The earl turned to Gwyneth. “Please return to the House, madam. I fear these matters do not become the sensibilities of a lady.”

“Thank you, my lord, but I shall go home to my mother-in-law instead,” she said.

When Maxwell cut in with a curse, Gwyneth tugged her bonnet down over her ears and raced down the driveway.

“I cannot understand the earl’s purpose,” Gwyneth said, kneeling at Mum’s feet, “for you are certain the offer was seventy-five pounds.”

“Aye, Mr. Maxwell said it must be seventy-five and not a farthing more.” Mrs. Rutherford’s gnarled fingers clutched Gwyneth’s. “Oh, my dear, I am not pleased at t’ idea of that man comin’ here again.”

“Nevertheless, he will come to clear the matter. And we must think how to speak to him. Did William mean to humiliate his cousin into raising the offered price?”

“Nay, for then Mr. Maxwell would reject t’ purchase of t’ property—and who will buy my land if not Mr. Maxwell? Everyone will have heard of our debts now. No one will want t’ cottage for so great a sum, and we shall be turned out with nowhere to lay our heads. Oh, did you not speak in private with our dear Willie? I was so certain he could help us. Did you not go to him and kneel at his feet and beg?”

“I did go to him, Mum. But we had no chance to speak before Mr. Maxwell—”

At the hard knock on the door, Gwyneth grasped both her mother-in-law’s hands. “’Tis him. I can think only that we must accept the original offer and trust in God’s sufficiency to meet our need.”

Steeling her nerves, she rose to her feet and threw open the door. But no one was there. Gwyneth searched the dark, crisp night. Icy tree branches creaked in the breeze. The half-frozen stream trickled over smooth stones with a soft gurgle. A tiny tug at her hem drew her attention.

“Good heavens!” She knelt and scooped up a small brown and white puppy that stood wagging its tail and gazing up at her with huge brown eyes. “What has brought you out on this cold night?”

“He has come about t’ cottage and land,” Mrs. Rutherford said firmly from her chair before the fire. “You must take it, Mr. Maxwell. We agreed to t’ seventy-five pounds, and that’s all I have to say.”

“But this isn’t Mr. Maxwell at all! ’Tis a small puppy. And he’s wearing a red bow!” Cuddling the tiny ball of fur, she hurried to Mrs. Rutherford’s chair. “Look at him!”

“A corgi!” The old woman laughed in delight. “A corgi has come to us!”

“All the way from Wales, I might add.” The earl of Beaumontfort walked into the cottage and removed his top hat. With a smile on his handsome face, he gave the women a bow.“A blessed Christmas to you both. I hope my gift gives you great pleasure.”

“
You
brought him?” Mrs. Rutherford gathered the puppy in her arms and began to weep. “Oh, Gwynnie, didn’t I tell you our Willie was a good man?”

“’Twas I who told you.”

“Indeed, we both love you, sir!” Mum held out her hand to the earl, who knelt at her feet. “But what of your ball and all your friends? Have you left them?”

“Those people are not true friends. I put on the Christmas ball to make amends for abandoning them in the midst of the London social season. Tonight, after Gwyneth had gone away, I realized the gathering’s purpose was completely mercenary—on the part of the host
and
his guests.”

“Really?” Mrs. Rutherford asked.

“Indeed, the ball was intended to solidify business relationships rather than to honor faithful and beloved companions. But here, in this small, quaint cottage, I have discovered more of friendship and warmth and family—greater rest—than I have ever known.”

“My dear boy, how good you are.”

“It is you who truly are good.”

“Ah, what a fine lad, is he not, Gwynnie? And to bring us this wee dog! We have missed our beloved corgi so, and now you have given us this sweet puppy.”

“But what of Donald Maxwell?” Gwyneth asked. “Surely you know he offered only seventy-five pounds for the property. Mum and I have no choice but to accept Mr. Maxwell’s—”

“You will be hard-pressed to find him. The man has ridden for London this very night. To avoid publicly exposing himself for the cad that he is, Maxwell had no choice but to gracefully remove himself from the agreement—an action that will allow me to step in as benefactor.” The earl smiled. “Mrs. Rutherford, why did you not come to me with your plight at once?”

“But why should you take pity on a poor widow who can offer you naught in return?”

“Dear lady, you have given me two gifts more wonderful than I could have imagined. When I was but a lad, you taught me about God and led my feet onto the path of Christianity. Though I strayed, I have found my way again. My eyes now look only to Christ for guidance.”

“Bless you, my boy.”

“And as for the second gift.” He stood and held out one hand to Gwyneth. “I have no certainty that I may claim it. Yet I am here to plead for the single joy that will give my life abundance beyond measure.”

As Mrs. Rutherford’s eyes crinkled with pleasure, the earl dropped to one knee at Gwyneth’s feet. She could hardly remain standing as she gazed down into blue eyes filled with such passion she feared she might drown in them. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

“Gwyneth Rutherford,” he said, “from you I have learned the true fulfillment that can come only through servitude. You have served me well. Now I beg that you will join me in a life of mutual submission. Will you consent to marry me?”

Unable to stand any longer, Gwyneth fell to her knees and threw her arms around him. “William, I could wish for nothing more than to live as your wife! But how can it be right?”

“How can it be wrong?”

“Your society will—”

“My society will soon understand the welcome news that the earl of Beaumontfort has taken a wife. They will convince themselves that such an unexpected union arose when the earl purchased a valuable property adjoining his estate. In addition, he has assumed responsibility for a Welsh coal mine, which he intends to make profitable once again. Not only did the earl enrich his holdings, but he took upon himself the welfare of his relatives by wedding the younger of the two. How very noble of him, they will say. What a fine fellow—and how clever to enrich himself in such a fashion.”

Gwyneth swallowed. It was possible the peerage would accept this explanation. And after all, perhaps it was the truth. Could this be the reason for William’s pledge?

“I doubt that my society will realize,” he continued, “that the riches I have gained have nothing to do with lands and cottages. I have found the rest and quietude I sought in coming back to Cumbria. More important, I have discovered their source. And that is you, Gwyn. I love you as I have loved no other. Please say you will abandon all hesitation and become my wife.”

“I shall,” she said, holding tightly to his hands.

Was it possible that God had heard and answered the secret plea of her heart? Had her heavenly Father truly blessed her with the home and family she had so desired? She was young enough yet that there would be children. And laughter. And skating parties, picnics, and strawberry picking.

Oh, yes! But more than that . . . God had brought her love. True love. She looked into William’s eyes as his lips met hers. How blessed. How wonderful. How—

“Glory be, Gwynnie, t’ puppy has hold of your knittin’!” Mrs. Rutherford cried. “T’ earl’s sweater will be in shreds! Help, help!”

“My sweater?” William asked.

“’Twas to be your Christmas gift!” Gwyneth exclaimed, leaping to her feet in pursuit of the rapidly unraveling sweater. The puppy took off around the table, trailing blue yarn that wrapped around the wooden legs. Flapping her skirts, Gwyneth raced after the scamp who scuttled underneath the bed. William got down on all fours and felt around in the shadows just as the pup bolted out the other side, her knitting in a tangle around his feet.

The puppy barked with excitement and bounded between William’s legs. As the yarn tied the earl’s legs together in a hopeless knot, Gwyneth fell back against a chair, consumed with giggles. Mrs. Rutherford chuckled as she made a swipe after the furry brown bolt of lightning. The sound of laughter filled the air and drifted like a warm blanket of hope as snow began to fall on the Christmas cottage in the woods.

GWYNETH RUTHERFORD’S
CRUMPETS

1 tsp active dry yeast

1 tsp sugar

¼ cup warm water

¹
3
cup milk

1 egg, lightly beaten

4 tbsps butter, melted

1 cup unsifted all-purpose flour

½ tsp salt

Mix yeast with sugar; add water and let stand 5 minutes until foamy. Stir in milk, egg, and 1 tbsp melted butter. Add flour and salt. Using a wooden spoon, mix until well blended to make a smooth batter. Cover the bowl with a cloth towel, and leave in a warm place to rise until almost doubled (45 minutes to 1 hour).