Christmas at Ravencrest: A Dark Hero Christmas Short (Reluctant Heroes)

Christmas at Ravencrest,

A Reluctant Heroes Short Story

By Lily Silver

Christmas at Ravencrest

A Reluctant Heroes

Christmas Short

By
Lily Silver

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Copyright Lily Silver 2012

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Chapter One

December 23, 1798, Ravencrest Estates in the West Indies,

“I want Christmas Pudding.” Michael Fletcher insisted as he eased up on one elbow in the bed and adjusted his position. He grimaced as the pain got the better of him. “Everything is different this year. Everything! Is it so much to ask to have a proper Christmas pudding? ”

Elizabeth gazed at her fifteen year old brother with sympathy. He was being irritable and demanding, and it w
as not his usual temperament.  Michael had recently arrived from England to live with them in the West Indies as her husband was to be his legal guardian.

And young Michael had been
accidently shot. He was shot in the derriere.

It started when a
convict escaped the indenture compound. He came to the plantation house seeking revenge upon the man who owned his indenture, Elizabeth’s husband, Count Rochembeau. The madman took Michael hostage. During the rescue efforts by the count’s men Michael was hit by the bullet meant for his captor. Fortunately, he was hit in a place that had a great deal of flesh and would heal in a matter of weeks.

Elizabeth
moved closer to the bed and took her little brother’s hand. “I’ll do what I can, dearest. I’m going to speak with the cook shortly.”

Michael nodded, but the severity of his features did not ease.

Her heart ached to see him in such pain.
Elizabeth reached up to caress his ebony hair. She kissed the top of his head. Michael was her darling. It was her responsibility to look after him after mama died. In truth, she had always looked after Michael. She worried over him and protected him even as a girl. On the nightstand was a slim bottle of pain medicine. She measured out a dose of Laudanum in the small glass and handed it to her brother.

He took it
gratefully, handed her the vial and then sank back onto the pillows. His face was glum. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas. It’s so bloody hot here all the time.” He waved irritably toward the open window. “How can it be Christmas without snow? Everything is different here.”

Elizabeth
adjusted the sheet about him and patted his arm. She understood her brother’s bewilderment. They endured too many changes in recent years. And few were for the better.

Mic
hael’s father had been a drunkard and a hardened gambler. When their mother died, Captain Fletcher’s debts quickly caught up with him. It was feared the family would be taking up residence in Newgate Prison. Fletcher fled London to avoid arrest, taking Elizabeth and Michael with him. The siblings survived by learning to live from hand to mouth. It was a difficult existence after the sheltered life they knew when their mother had been charge of the family purse strings. Mama had been an heiress, a cast off heiress who married beneath her. Their grandfather, the Earl of Greystowe, had given financial support to their mama when she was alive, but after her death they had been left to the care of Michael’s dissolute father, and hence their dire poverty. 

Their fortune
s changed this autumn when a mysterious stranger came to their rundown cottage. After a whirlwind courtship, Elizabeth married Donovan R. Beaumont and became the
Countess du Rochembeau
. The count owned a sugar plantation in the West Indies. Elizabeth was now the mistress of her own domain, a large plantation house that she had worked hard to restore to its former elegance after years of neglect. This was to be her first Christmas as married lady.

It
was a situation every young girl dreamed about. It was a measure of success, a signpost of having arrived in society--being a married lady. It meant having the freedom to plan your own parties, soirees and Christmas holidays with friends and family in attendance.

As a dream, it was a pleasant voc
ation. The reality of planning her first social event was daunting. A young, inexperienced bride might encounter difficulties with the execution of a Traditional Christmas dinner with her entire family in attendance.

Elizabeth had
plenty of difficulties laid at her door. She had trouble in spades this year.

Her younger brother’s expectations w
ere not the only ones she had to deal with.

Elizabeth’s g
randfather came to visit her from England for the holiday. And the Earl of Greystowe was very stiff in his starches.  Elizabeth’s elder brother, Mr. Kieran O’Flaherty, was also visiting her for the holiday. And if the task of providing a proper Christmas for her own family weren’t enough, she had the added strain of dealing with her husband’s family as well on this first Christmas as Mrs. Donovan Beaumont. His maternal uncle was in residence, and they were also expecting the count’s mother for the holidays, a woman Elizabeth had not met but who was reputed to be vastly intimidating.

She wanted this year’s celebration to be exceptional. It was a year of many firsts; her first as Donovan’s wife, her first in the West Indies, and the first Christmas she would spend with both
her brothers and her grandfather gathered together under one roof. It was also the first Christmas that Ravencrest Plantation would celebrate in many years, so it had to be memorable.

Perhaps
memorable
was not the best word to describe her efforts for the holiday so far.

There would not
be the traditional English Christmas pudding everyone expected at their table. They were in a foreign land and the ingredients necessary for the pudding were not available at the local market. Furthermore, the dish was prepared weeks ahead and must be allowed to ferment properly. Elizabeth had not thought of making the dish ahead, nor had she instructed their cook to do so. She didn’t have the heart to tell Michael his favorite dish would be missing from the seasonal celebration due to her negligence.

“There will be plenty of good things to eat,
Michael, dearest. Fritz has been laboring in the kitchens for days. You’ll be well fed, I promise.”

“But will there be
Christmas pudding?” He insisted irritably.

“I’m going to talk with Fritz shortl
y about the menu.” She said, hoping that by some miracle the chef would have come up with something suitable as a substitution as she asked.

Elizabeth
left her younger brother’s room and moved to the next sickroom under her roof. Her grandfather, as it turned out, had a weak heart and had suffered a dangerous episode during his visit. He, too, was confined to bed rest. As she turned the knob to enter Grandfather Wentworth’s guest room, she hesitated upon hearing voices within. Grandfather was speaking to her husband. They must be discussing her younger brother.

She opened the door just enough to hear the conversation.

“You must not be too hard on him. Michael is young. He will learn to behave like a gentleman, in time.” Donovan said soothing tone she’d come to adore. Her husband could argue with the devil and win; he was that good at persuading people with his cool headed logic.

“In my
day, a youth was expected to mirror the correct behavior of his betters or he was reminded of his failing with a firm hand. You cannot allow him to run wild. His father has already ruined him through his neglect. A caning will bring him to heel, mark me.”

Elizabeth barely squelched her outrage at Grandfather’s remark.
No one would be laying a hand on Michael, and that was that.

“A man who raises a hand toward those he’s sworn to protect is a coward or a bully.” Donovan’s patient tone showed signs of being stretched.

That was the effect Grandfather had on everyone. Even so, Elizabeth was surprised to hear that slight tinkling crack in her Dark Hero’s armor. Donovan was not pleased by the sudden influx of guests in their home. He disliked being surrounded by people, and yet his house full up to the rafters with his wife’s relatives, none of them invited and all of them injured in the wake of the violence visited upon them just days earlier.

Elizabeth
hurried in, hoping to break the tension brewing. “Good morning, Grandfather. How are you feeling today? I brought you a book from the library.”

Donovan
’s smile as he turned to gaze at her was magical. Elizabeth loved him beyond words. Donovan crossed the room and placed his arm about her, drawing her close.

Elizabeth grinned up at him and received his warm kiss on the cheek. She shot a qui
ck glance at the man on the bed and was delighted by his scowl of disapproval. Yes, Grandfather was very strict, the typical English Earl. In contrast, Elizabeth’s husband was an American but had inherited his title from his French ancestors. Donovan was an original. He tended to be eccentric in his behavior and didn’t give two shillings what others thought about him. And he did seem to take wicked delight in deliberately provoking Elizabeth’s very proper English grandparent.

As she met her husband’s gaze t
he mischief in Donovan’s pale blue eyes was sufficient to raise Elizabeth’s spirits and her heartbeat. She leaned into him, hoping for a kiss. Donovan’s mind was keen to surmise her wish and he did not disappoint her. 

Grandfather’s awkward
throat clearing didn’t make Donovan retreat. He kissed Elizabeth for a few seconds more, just to assert himself in the earl’s presence. Elizabeth was the one to pull back from their embrace, more from an urge to giggle than any shame her grandparent might wish to imply. She tried to contain that giggle, but failed as it danced and glided about the room. 

Donovan’
s grin widened. His deep chuckle chased after her light giggle, and they shared an intimate second of amusement before he addressed the earl. “Something you needed, James?”

“No.”
Grandfather’s dour look in their direction brought more giggles from Elizabeth. She couldn’t help it. She sounded like a silly girl and yet, Donovan’s subtlety and the naughtiness of their kissing openly were too much to endure in silence.

“Meet me
in my laboratory.” Donovan whispered low with promise lighting his eyes.

Elizabeth didn’t miss the
sensual suggestion in his voice. She shivered with delight.

“And do not keep me waiting
, my lady.” He murmured in a more commanding tone, his deep, lyrical voice raising gooseflesh as he whispered against her nape. “I’m in sore need of your attentions.”

“Patience, my lord.” Elizabeth chas
tened, giving him a pleased grin. “We have family obligations we cannot ignore.”

“Saucy wench.” He
pinched her backside, making Elizabeth cry out with surprise. “I’ll be in hiding. When you run out of family to hover over, come to me.”  With that, he was gone.

Eli
zabeth glanced at her stern grandfather and blushed as she smoothed her skirt with her palm. She shouldn’t need to explain herself to her elder. She and Donovan were married four months past and had spent much of that time estranged. She almost left Donovan a month ago.

Almost, but
Elizabeth loved him so she couldn’t bring herself to go through with her plan.

What a trag
edy that would have been. She could not imagine living without Donovan. Just hearing his name made her insides twist about and her heart do a strange little dance step.

And yet, he was not always the char
ming prince. He was a scientist and a recluse, a fact he conveniently forgot to mention when he was courting her. Donovan disliked being around people. And having her relatives,
all of them
, suddenly descend upon his isolated island estate was trying for him. He lived here alone for years, with only his uncle--a man who was equal to him in age and a handful of servants. The house was kept shuttered and the rooms dark. There had not been a true Christmas celebration at Ravencrest Estates for many decades. 

Christmas was coming to Rave
ncrest this year. Elizabeth was determined to make it a joyful celebration of new love and of rekindled affections between relatives long estranged or forgotten.

“Elizabeth
.” Grandfather’s voice softened as he gestured for her to come near the bed. “Come, child, sit with me for a time. Your husband insists I must stay abed. I’ll humor him for now. What news do you bring of our lads?”

“They are in pain,
but Donovan has given them medicine to ease their discomfort.” She reported. Both her brothers, Kieran and Michael, had been shot by the intruder two days ago. Kieran had been shot in the shoulder. “Can you believe it, Grandfather?” Elizabeth sat in the chair beside his bed and took his thin hand. The skin beneath her palm was fragile, papery, giving evidence of his advanced years. “We thought Kieran was dead for so many years! It’s a miracle, a Christmas miracle.”

Ki
eran O’Flaherty disappeared before Elizabeth was born. She grew up believing he was dead. In truth, he’d been sold as a child, transported to the West Indies as an indentured servant. When Elizabeth’s husband sent an announcement to the newspaper in Basseterre regarding his recent marriage, Kieran noted the bride’s parents names were the same as his own and contacted the newlyweds. Elizabeth wished to mark his return with the celebration of the season.