The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance (13 page)

Fate came to
her rescue in the form of Lord and Lady Francis.  Harriet heard a rustle in the
doorway to the drawing room, and turned to see them enter.  She placed her
glass on a side table and rose hastily to her feet.

“Oh, my dear,
how pleased I am to see you,” she said, moving to Isobel’s side. 

Isobel glanced
at Francis, and then turned to Harriet and gave her a brief hug.  “We saw each
other not three hours ago,” she said. 

“I was worried
that perhaps you were ill,” said Harriet.  “It is not like you to be late. 
Lord Glencairn and I were discussing whether I should go upstairs and see how
you were.”

“I assured
Miss Walcott that your husband could adequately assist you in any way,” said
the earl smoothly.

“There is
nothing wrong with me,” said Isobel with a laugh.  “I am late because I changed
my mind about which gown I would wear, and then Francis suggested I wear the
pearl set rather than the diamonds, and I had dismissed the maid, so he was
forced to assist me.  As clever a man as he is, he is not well versed in the
ways of women’s jewelry.”

“I believe I
gave you adequate assistance,” said Lord Francis with a lazy smile.  He glanced
at Lord Glencairn, his eyebrows raised a bit, and the earl gave a tiny shake of
his head. 

“May I fetch
you a sherry, my dear?” asked Francis of his wife.

“Thank you,”
said Isobel.  She sat down on the settee, and Harriet hastily plopped down next
to her.  Francis strolled back, carrying two glasses of sherry, and handed one
to each lady.

“Oh, thank
you,” breathed Harriet.  

There was a
moment of silence, and then Francis turned to Lord Glencairn with a polite
question about the recent harvest.  Talk turned to generalities, and Harriet
sipped at her sherry and allowed the conversation to wash over her.  She hoped
that her alarm at being alone with Lord Glencairn had not been too obvious, but
she rather thought that, by now, he must be less interested in her than ever. 
After all, she had babbled on like a complete fool.  She took another sip of
her sherry and gazed into the fire.

“Miss
Walcott?”

Harriet
jumped, very nearly spilling her sherry, and looked up, to see Lord Glencairn
standing before her, proffering his arm.  She gave him a bewildered look.

“Dinner is
ready,” he said.  “May I escort you in?”

“Gracious,”
she said hurriedly.  “But Lady Francis is the ranking lady present.  You should
give her your arm, and I will follow with Lord Francis.”

Lord Glencairn
smiled.  “We are among friends here, and I think matters of precedence may safely
be ignored.  I do not think Lord Francis would thank me for parting him from
his bride, and it would give me a great deal of pleasure to escort you, Miss
Walcott.”

Harriet
hesitated, but then realized further protestations would only make her appear
ridiculous.  After all, it was Lord Glencairn’s home, and if he wished to
ignore the conventions, that was his right.  Gathering herself together, she
managed a smile and stood, taking his arm gingerly.  She had leaned on his arm
many times this past summer, but tonight the action seemed particularly
fraught. 

She glanced
over at Isobel and Francis and thought for a second that Isobel was watching
them approvingly, but her cousin rapidly turned her head away and said
something to her husband that made him give a gentle laugh and murmur something
in return.  Relieved that they did not appear to be observing her, she allowed
the earl to lead her into the dining room.  The finest Learmouth china gleamed
from the snowy white of the table cloth, and crystal and freshly polished
silver winked in the light of dozens of candles.  Lord Glencairn had seen that
this room was dressed for the season as well, and holly sprigs and evergreen
wreaths hung on the oaken walls and from the sparkling chandelier.

“How lovely,”
Harriet murmured.

“Lady Francis
once told me how much you enjoyed this time of year,” said Lord Glencairn. 
“I’m glad you find it pleasing.”

“It is
beautiful,” she assured him.

Lord Glencairn
seated her on his left and Isobel and Francis arrayed themselves on the other
side of the table.

“I know it is
very unfashionable to sit with your husband,” said Isobel.  “But I am sure the
two of you will forgive us.”

“I am so
delighted to see you wed, that I would forgive you almost any social
transgression,” said the earl.  “Do you not agree, Miss Walcott?”

“Indeed, I do,
though I imagine Isobel is very tired of hearing me say so,” enthused Harriet. 

“We are
overjoyed ourselves, and I, at least, will never tire of hearing good wishes,”
said Francis.  “And if it were not for Miss Walcott, our wedding day would have
been far less enjoyable, and certainly far less beautiful.”

“’Tis true.  I
was in such a taking that I could scarce plan a thing,” said Isobel.  “We
wished to be married very quickly, and I thought perhaps we would not have a
wedding breakfast, but Harriet took it all in hand.  I am sorry that you could
not be there, my lord, for you would have been amazed to see the number of
people who returned to London to celebrate with us, all at Harriet’s behest,
and of course, she made sure I had a beautiful dress and that all was as it
should be at St. George’s and the breakfast afterward.”

Harriet
beamed.  “It was nothing, truly.  Lord and Lady Francis have so many friends,
and I knew they would wish to attend the wedding if it was in any way
possible.  Anyone who lived within a day’s ride thronged into London, and I had
only to make sure that they were well fed.  It was far simpler than Isobel
imagines.”

“At any rate,
I could not have done without you,” said Isobel. 

“I do have my
little specialties,” said Harriet triumphantly.  “While I may not be the most
fashionable or most clever woman in any room, I do imagine that am the most
likely to be able to insure that everyone has enough to eat!”

Lord Glencairn
patted her hand.  “An exceptional talent, Miss Walcott, and one that will
always be appreciated.”

The servants
began to move around the table, serving the first course, and Harriet exclaimed
at the excellence of the soup and the freshness of the salmon.  Lord Glencairn poured
a fine champagne into his guests’ glasses, and a toast was drunk to the season
and the company of good friends.  Time passed amicably as they moved on to the
second course and thence to the sweetmeats.  Eventually, Isobel and Harriet
retired to the drawing room, with Isobel giving Francis a teasing glance and
reminding him not to linger too long over his port.

Isobel and
Harriet arranged themselves on the settee by the fire, the better to enjoy its
warmth.  Harriet stretched out one hand to it and looked around the room,
admiring its fine proportions.

“I passed many
hours at Glencairn Castle this summer, but much of that was spent in the
gardens,” she said.  “It seems to be a lovely home in every season.”

Isobel nodded
her agreement.  “While I would not choose to live in a centuries-old castle,
Lord Glencairn has truly made it into a home.  You can feel how happy he and
his children are here.”

“How can you
say you would not choose to live here?” objected Harriet.   “For all it is the
dead of winter, every room is warm and well-lit, and I vow one would never know
it was snowing outside!  The walls are so thick one cannot even hear the wind!”

“I meant no
insult!” laughed Isobel.  “It is an exceedingly comfortable dwelling.  I prefer
something a bit smaller, and nearer to London, but no one can blame Glencairn
for not wanting to leave such a residence.”

Harriet
subsided, and gestured vaguely, realizing that she had responded a bit
strongly.  “It is just that I came to be so fond of Glencairn and its residents
this summer,” she murmured.

“Of course you
did,” said Isobel, taking her hand and squeezing it.  “We all know how very
close you are to Sophy and Douglas, and what a good friend you have in
Catherine Dalburn.” 

“Exactly,”
said Harriet eagerly.  “It is my feelings for the children that make me care
for this place so much.”

Isobel gave
her an enigmatic glance, but did not have to respond, as Lord Francis and Lord
Glencairn entered the room.

“We could not
do without your company,” said Lord Glencairn.  “Lord Francis’ mind was clearly
not on his port.”  He stopped in front of Harriet and bowed slightly.  “May I
propose a rematch of our card game from some months ago?  I feel that tonight
Lady Francis’ and my luck must be in, and we shall best you and Lord Francis.”

At the
challenge, the last vestiges of Harriet’s shyness fled.  “I find that very
unlikely, my lord,” she said, tilting her chin at a martial angle. 

“Oh ho,” said
the earl, extending his hand.  Harriet placed her own in it and he raised her
to her feet, leading her to the card table.  “Lord Francis, did you hear that? 
Miss Walcott is certain that she can carry your poor skills with her own.”

“An insult!”
said Francis merrily.  “I agree with Miss Walcott.  Prepare yourself for a
drubbing, Glencairn!”

“No one has
asked me what I think,” said Isobel plaintively.   They all turned and looked
at her.  “I think that Harriet is very likely correct, and we shall be soundly
beaten, my lord.”

“I will have
no such craven statements in my home,” protested Lord Glencairn.  “Steel
yourself, Lady Francis!  I have declared war!”

With much
laughter the foursome sat down to a game of whist.  It was apparent from the
start of play that the couples were no more evenly matched than on the previous
occasion.   Harriet’s standard of play was well up to Glencairn’s and he simply
could not compensate for Isobel’s lack of interest in learning the rules of
bidding.  

As they
finished the first rubber, Isobel said in a hopeful voice, “Perhaps we should
allow Harriet to declare victory and retire from the field now, Lord
Glencairn.”

“Certainly
not!” he replied. “I will not be deprived of the chance to prevail, and we
certainly cannot be so poor-spirited as to prevent Miss Walcott from the
opportunity to crow over her possible win.” 

When, after
three rubbers, the score was totted up, Harriet and Francis, to no one’s
surprise, had scored a victory.

“To you, Miss
Walcott,” said Francis, raising his brandy snifter to her.  “I would not have
managed such a feat without your assistance.  Lord Glencairn appears to have
been making a study of the game.”

Harriet
grinned back.  “He will have to study a great deal more before he can best me,”
she said.

Glencairn
smiled at her warmly.  “Miss Walcott, I will not challenge you again.  I know
when I have been bettered. When we play next, I hope you will be my partner.”

Harriet looked
up at him and their eyes met for a moment.  Startled, she looked down at the
tabletop, and gathered her cards together.  Stacking them neatly, she stood.

“I think I
must retire now,” she said.  “I’ve promised Sophy I will paint with her
tomorrow, and she, being young, will wish to begin early.  I thank you for a
lovely evening, Lord Glencairn.”

“It was my
pleasure to have you here in my home, Miss Walcott.”  The earl bowed politely,
and Harriet moved toward the door. 

“I will send
Janet to your room, to make sure that you have everything you need,” said Lord
Glencairn.

“No that is
not necessary, I—“ began Harriet, but his lordship waved her words away.

“I insist,
Miss Walcott,” he said.  “I wish you to be as comfortable here as you would be
in your own home.”

Harriet, who
had never felt the need for a maid and dressed herself each day, decided not to
argue.  “Thank you, my lord,” she said simply.  “Isobel, I will see you in the
morning.”

“Pleasant
dreams, dear,” said Isobel, and Harriet floated out of the room, not quite
certain what had happened that evening, but aware that somehow, something had
subtly changed.

The following
morning Harriet arose far later than she had intended, and was then plunged
into a whirl of activity that astounded her. She painted again with Sophy, and
then strolled in the Long Gallery with Catherine and Isobel, admiring the fine
portraits of the Learmouth family. Just as the ladies were finishing a light
luncheon, Lord Glencairn appeared, and sent Sophy into transports of delight by
announcing that he had had the sleigh brought out and it awaited them at the
door for a ride.

At first reluctant
to confront the winter chill, Harriet allowed herself to be coaxed into donning
her heaviest cape, warmest bonnet, and a large fur muff and venturing outside.
The sleigh was pulled up in front of the castle, its lacquered sides buffed to
a high shine. Two draft horses were hitched to the sleigh, their manes threaded
with red ribbons, and their golden coats brushed to a sunny glow. They stood
stamping in the traces as they waited, as the bells on the tack jingled in
time.

“Oh, how
pretty they look, Miss Walcott!” Sophy exclaimed. “How I wish I could paint
this scene.”

“It is indeed
very appealing my love,” Harriet responded. “But I think you would catch your
death of cold attempting to capture it.”

She allowed
Glencairn to hand her solicitously into the sleigh and tuck her up snugly in
several fur rugs, to be joined by Isobel and Sophy, one on each side of her.

Lord Glencairn
mounted the box, and drove the sleigh himself, the coachman beside him, both
bundled up in thick coats, large hats and capes. Harriet admired the skill with
which he handled the horses, and found the entire ride utterly charming, as she
watched huge, sparkling snowflakes float gently out of the grey sky, and drift
over the branches of the pine trees as the sleigh threaded its way between
them.

When they
returned to the castle, the earl continued his particular attention to
Harriet’s comfort by giving her his arm as they walked up the steps. To
Harriet’s mingled embarrassment and pleasure, he insisted on rubbing her hands
with his own to warm them when she drew off her gloves and he realized they
were chilled. Once he determined her fingers were warm, he pressed upon her
another glass of heated mulled wine, and stood talking with her as she drank
it.

The evening
brought a drive to the nearby estate of Sir Colin and Lady Leithley for dinner,
followed by conversation and enlivened with music from the young ladies of the
neighborhood. Harriet barely remembered the drive home in the starlit winter
darkness, so late had the party continued, and tumbled exhausted into her bed.

The sound of
clinking china roused Harriet from her sleep the morning of Christmas Eve, to
see Janet standing by her bed, holding a tea tray.

“Oh, I’m ever
so sorry to disturb you, Miss Walcott,” breathed the girl. “I thought you’d be
awake by now.”

Harriet
glanced at the clock and saw to her horror that it was eleven-o-clock. “I most
certainly should be!” she said. “Why did no one awaken me?”

“Lady Sophia
wanted to, but her father would have none of it. ‘Leave Miss Walcott alone’
said he. ‘She’s been dancing attendance on you since she arrived, and she’ll be
needing some time for herself.’”

Harriet had to
laugh at Janet’s imitation of the earl. “How very kind of Lord Glencairn. But I
have no time for tea in bed. I must get up.”

“His lordship
told me to make sure you take your time,” said Janet soothingly, depositing the
tea tray in her lap. “’There’s no need for Miss Walcott to worry herself,’ he
said. ‘She’s travelled many miles and done naught but entertain us since she
arrived. It’s Christmas Eve, and she deserves to stay abed if she chooses.’”

“Christmas
Eve!” said Harriet. “I had forgotten!” She glanced down at the tea tray that
kept her hemmed into the bed, and picked up the cup, taking a sip.

“Did you,
Miss?” asked Janet. “Well, you’ve been very busy of late. Me, I never forget
Christmas!”

“I had not
thought I could!” said Harriet. “But it has been such a lovely few days I have
quite lost track of time.”

“Christmas at
Glencairn is the best time of year,” said Janet firmly. “Today and tomorrow
will be the loveliest of all.”

“I hope so,”
said Harriet fervently. She stirred. “Now you have made me wish to get out of
bed so I can enjoy it. I have obeyed orders and had my tea; please will you
take it away?”

Janet laughed
and hefted the tray, depositing it on the dresser. “I’ll stay and help you
dress, shall I?”

Harriet
climbed out of the bed and put on her wrapper. “I can manage, Janet. You need
not stay.”

“His lordship
will never forgive me if I do not assist you, Miss Walcott,” said Janet firmly.

Harriet
shrugged. “Very well, if you insist.”