The Yuletide Countess: Harriet's Traditional Regency Romance (16 page)

The vicar and the neighboring gentry who had been at
the service returned to Glencairn Castle for a wedding breakfast in the Great
Hall, at which champagne flowed, while a magnificent repast occupied the long
table.

Harriet approached Catherine after the meal and
hugged her. “I am so glad we will be raising Glencairn’s children together,”
she said. “I know that you have their interests as much at heart as I.”

“As to that Lady Glencairn,” Catherine began.

“No, no, no, I am still Harriet to you, my dear,”
she broke in. “It will not do for you to become just the governess to me.”

“Very well then, Harriet,” Catherine conceded. “I
will certainly stay if you should need me, but Douglas is in school, and Lady
Sophia is more in need of a finishing academy in Edinburgh than my teaching. “

“That is true,” Harriet acknowledged. “But I will
never send you away to a post in a house where you may not be well-treated.”

“As you know, there is a position where I would be
welcome, well-treated, useful, and very happy, Harriet, but a little assistance
from you may be required to achieve it,” Catherine responded a bit cryptically.

“I assume you speak of Mr. Beattie, and your hopes
of becoming his wife, but how can I assist you with that?” Harriet asked.

Catherine grinned at her. “I could certainly never
have asked this of his lordship myself, but now that you are the Countess of
Glencairn, perhaps you can intercede for us. If Lord Glencairn would but use
his interest on Mr. Beattie’s behalf to find him a good living, we could be
wed.”

“Oh!” Harriet exclaimed. “I clearly am not
accustomed to the notion of being Glencairn’s wife, for this had not occurred
to me at all. But of course, I will make certain that he finds a position for
Mr. Beattie.”

“You need not worry about recommending him; he is a
good and scholarly man, who I know would make an excellent vicar. And he is
taller than I am,” Catherine ended triumphantly.

“That settles it then, you must certainly marry
him,” Harriet said with a little chuckle. “Glencairn simply must find a
handsome living for him. Even if there are no incumbents on his estate that are
near retirement, he will know someone who has one open. I’ll give him a little
time to become accustomed to having a wife again, and will take it up with him
once we are settled.”

Catherine thanked her sincerely, as the coming new
year suddenly looked brighter than she had thought possible, while Harriet
rejoined her husband in accepting the congratulations of all.

Much later
that evening, Harriet and Glencairn sat by the fire in the drawing room, their
hands clasped tightly. Francis and Isobel had discreetly withdrawn some time
before, and now Harriet’s head rested on her husband’s shoulder as a feeling of
contentment washed through her. When she had arrived at Glencairn not a week
ago, she’d had no thought that on Christmas Day she would be the cherished wife
of its lord. She gave a tiny sigh.

“Are you
tired, my love?” asked Glencairn.

“I should be,
as it has been the most surprising day!” said Harriet. “But I am only very
happy, and amazed at what has occurred. You are far too good to me, Euan.”

Glencairn put
his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “It is impossible to be too
good to you, Harriet. You have opened up a new and happier path to me, and I
look forward eagerly to our future together.” He pressed his lips to hers, and
she gave a little coo of delight.

“My lord—” she
broke off.

“My lady?” he
asked.

“I will never
get used to being called my lady!” she exclaimed.

“Indeed you
will,” he assured her. “What did you wish to say?”

Harriet
flushed a bit. “When I said that I was not tired, I did not mean that we should
not retire for the evening,” she said hesitantly.

Glencairn
grinned. “I’ve had Janet move your things to the countess’ room. I hope you
find it to your liking.” He stood and raised her to her feet, and then, his arm
around her waist, escorted her to the door of the drawing room. “Would you like
to see your new bedroom?”

“I would
indeed,” said Harriet cheerfully.

“Then allow me
to escort you, my lady,” said Glencairn. He kissed her one more time and then,
hand in hand, they walked up the stairs.

***

Dearest
Pippa,

Once again,
I put pen to paper to let you know of my doings, and as so often happens, I
have a great deal to tell you. After Lord G and I visited with you and Mr.
Benderly in April (and I was so delighted to see that that our husbands liked
each other a great deal), we ventured to London, where we spent some days with
Lord and Lady Francis. As much as I love Glencairn Castle and my life in
Scotland, it was pleasant to see my London acquaintances, and to attend a few
parties and Almack’s. Dear Lord G, for all he says he has lost touch with his
old friends, was greeted with great joy, and I rather fancy that he will be
willing to return to London from time to time and perhaps even buy a house
there in a few years when Sophy makes her curtsey to Society.

We did not
linger long, however, for Lord G was eager to return home, and I found myself
anxious to see Sophy again as well as Glencairn Castle in the springtime, for,
while I have been there in the summer, the autumn, and the winter, I had not
yet experienced the beauty of Scotland when the leaves are just bursting forth
from the trees and the flowers are poking their tiny green shoots out from the
earth. How lovely it is, and the days grow longer now as well. Lord G is much
occupied with the planting of the crops and the ewes are lambing. There is
nothing more adorable, dear sister, than a lamb just a few days old. I had no
idea how charming farming is; I have a great deal to learn and Lord G is kind
enough to be patient with my questions.

Yesterday
Lord G and I attended the wedding of Miss Dalburn and Mr. Beattie. Lord G
kindly took an interest in Mr. Beattie’s affairs these past months, and has
secured him an excellent living on the Meyrick estate, not five miles from
here, which delights me, as I will be able to visit her often. So, my dear Miss
Dalburn is now Mrs. Beattie, and I am pleased to see that she is so
well-settled and positively glows with joy. The wedding was a merry affair at
the parish church, and Lord G was gracious enough to give away the bride and
host a lovely breakfast afterwards. We had dancing in the Great Hall and it was
warm enough to throw the doors open and enjoy the spring breeze. The scent of
flowers on the air made us all the more eager for summer to come. I look
forward to the day when Isobel returns to Dargenwater Cottage for that season;
it will be a great delight to me to see her and Lord F again.

Sophy will
miss her governess, but I will take her in hand for a bit, and then we will
possibly send her to Edinburgh to a finishing academy, though it will make me
very sad to part with her for even one year. Still, Lord G promises me that we
will visit her often, and so I am somewhat consoled.

So, dear
sister, you see that I am the most fortunate of creatures. When I think back to
a year ago and realize all that has changed, I am astounded. I have seen three
weddings this year, and each one of them seemed at times to be impossible! But
we are all very contented, though I cannot but think that, no matter how much
Lord and Lady Francis care for each other, or how glad that Mrs. Beattie is to
have finally been able to marry Mr. Beattie, Lord G and I are the luckiest of
all. For I never tire of talking to him and being at his side, and he has only
the kindest and gentlest words for me. I am the most blessed of women.

Finally, my
dear, I will tell you my greatest news! I am
enceinte
, and hope to
deliver a healthy son or daughter before the first anniversary of my wedding! I
had some thoughts when we were in London that I might be breeding, and the last
month has shown to me that I truly am. Lord G is delighted, and speaks of
christenings and names, though if it is a boy I think we should name it Euan,
as that is a name I truly love. So, I hope that you and Mr. Benderly will
consider a visit to Glencairn Castle at Christmas this year, and we can
celebrate the birth of your niece or nephew and my own great happiness!

Affectionately,

Harriet

A Word from the Author:

I hope you enjoyed reading
The Yuletide Countess It
was so gratifying to see Harriet have her Happy Ever After with Glencairn. It’s
always been my belief that it’s never too late for anything, be it adventures,
learning, and even love.

If you liked this book, would you consider reviewing it
on Amazon? It's very helpful to me as an author and to your fellow readers. I'd
really appreciate your contribution!

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COMING SOON!

An Honest Deception: Letitia’s Traditional Regency Romance.
If you remember, Isobel (of
The Secret Bluestocking
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A Lady of
Passion
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An Honest Deception
is the tale of that friend, Letitia, and what happens after the events of
The
Secret Bluestocking
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An Honest Deception

Chapter 1

It was a January day in Wales and the skies were blanketed with those
peculiarly English low-lying clouds that enclose the world and make it small. 
A light snow fell, and the damp permeated everything, no stone, no plant, no
animal could be immune.  Morgan Place would have fared ill in this unforgiving
light even if the gravel of the drive had been recently refreshed, the shrubs
which ornamented it trimmed of late, and the building subjected to proper
upkeep.  As it was, the dilapidation of the estate was obvious as an elegant
traveling carriage, perched on the best springs and pulled by a team of very
sweet-goers bowled up to the house.  The door of the chaise opened and a
modishly dressed gentleman sprang out, his fair hair ruffled slightly in the
wind. He waited as the coachman pulled down the steps and then handed out an
extremely fine lady, whose traveling dress of grey silk twill was in the first
stare of fashion and became her tall figure admirably.  Her auburn tresses were
dressed rather severely and her hands were inserted in a large sable muff.

“Are there no servants here to assist Grissom with the horses?” wondered
the gentleman aloud.

“There may not be.  You know how very reduced Letty’s circumstances have
been,” his companion replied.

The fashionable gentleman grimaced. “It seems you will have to wait a few
moments for assistance,” he said to his coachman.  “I will have the butler find
someone to come out to you as soon as we are within.” 

The groom nodded and watched as the gentleman gave his arm to the lady,
helping her up the steps to the door.  It was swathed in black crape, and
together with the weeping skies and the crumbling stucco of the house’s facade,
the scene exuded a distinct air of gloom.  A black bow was tied about the
knocker, and the gentleman lifted it, rapping firmly twice.  The crepe muffled
the sound and the knock echoed hollowly.  They waited several moments in the
misty rain for the door to open.

“Upon my word, Isobel, no grooms and now it seems no butler either!”
exclaimed the gentleman.  “Shall we be required to show ourselves in, I
wonder?”

“It does seem very irregular, Francis.  Surely all of her servants cannot
have left Letty at such a distressing time.” Isobel Wheaton, Viscountess
Exencour, looked worriedly at her spouse and bit her lip.  She was just opening
her mouth to request that gentleman to open the door himself, when the sound of
the latch lifting could be heard, and an ancient and very decrepit servant
appeared.  He looked inquiringly at the visitors.

“Lord and Lady Exencour,” the gentleman said, entering the hall.  He
handed his hat and coat to the servant, and turned to help his wife remove her
muff and cape. 

“Where is Lady Morgan, please?” asked the lady, somewhat anxiously. 

“Her ladyship’ll be in the drawing room where his lordship is laid out,”
the old servitor responded.

”Well, show us there, man,” said his lordship somewhat impatiently. 
“Lady Exencour and I have made a long journey and have no wish to wait any
longer to see her.  Also, see to lodging for my coachman and provide some ale
and food to the postilions so they can return the job horses to the Sun and
Swan in Chester.”

Lord and Lady Exencour followed the butler across the hall to the drawing
room, where he opened the door and announced them in suitably dolorous tones.

 The drawing room had the air of a place where only money was wanting. 
It was spotlessly neat and clean, and the wood of the furniture shone
impeccably, but light spaces could be seen on the wallpaper where pictures had
once hung, and a close examination showed that the curtains, while clean,
well-pressed and made of fine damask, were old-fashioned and growing somewhat
threadbare.  Toward the end of the room, there was a bier, with candles burning
at either end of a coffin.  It was draped in black fabric, and floral tributes
were heaped about it.  On a settee a young and very beautiful lady sat wearing
widows weeds and a black veil, with two small children at her side.  Several
visitors were ranged around, talking in hushed tones.

At the sound of their names the widow leaped to her feet and came
forward.  Lady Exencour fairly ran to her, clasping her in a warm embrace.

“Oh my dear, we came as soon as we received your letter.  What a shock it
must have been to you.”

“Isobel, you cannot possibly imagine how glad I am that you are here,”
whispered the lady in black. “Alfred’s affairs were in such a tangle, that I
cannot think what to do. There is no one I can turn to and the creditors are
dunning me, even now, before his body is laid to rest.  But we must not speak
of it for,” she said, raising her voice, “here are Squire Musgrove and his
lady, and the Johnstones come to visit me.  Let me make them known to you.”

Letitia, Lady Morgan, drew Lord and Lady Exencour forward and made the
introductions.  For some little time the conversation was confined to those
subjects usually deemed appropriate on such occasions, until at last the
visitors left.  The children’s nurse was summoned and the little boy and girl
returned to the nursery, their immature countenances reflecting all the fear
and confusion that a death in a family produces.

“Letty, I hardly know what to say to you,” Isobel began. “I cannot say
that I am sorry for Alfred’s death, and it can only be most improper to say
that you are well off without him.”

“Oh, Isobel, your candor is so welcome,” said Letty, hovering between
laughter and tears.  “I have sat here for the past two days while the county
came to offer condolences, and I have not spoken a true word in the whole
time.”

“Well, you shall tell me the whole story, and tell it frankly, for here
are no censorious ears, only friendship and compassion.  How came Alfred to
break his neck in a hunting accident?  I had thought he was still on the
Continent,” Isobel said.

“He returned very suddenly.  I fancy that there must have been some
contretemps in Spain, which is where he had been staying for the past three
months.  Some woman, or gambling debt, no doubt,” said Lady Morgan bitterly. 
“In any event, Alfred appeared here just in time to banish all cheer, and has
done little but roister about the neighborhood and hunt ever since.   A fatal
accident befell him three days since, when his hunter stopped at a stone wall,
and Alfred was pitched over it.  The ground lay downhill, magnifying the effect
of the fall, and his neck was broken.”

Isobel was silent after Letitia recounted these events, only taking her
friend’s hands in her own and holding them tightly.

“He should have waited for his horse,” drawled Lord Exencour unsympathetically,
gazing at the coffin through his quizzing glass.  “It’s much more difficult to
come to grief when one is on top of one’s mount.  But then I make no doubt that
at the time that this mishap occurred Lord Morgan was in no condition to
ascertain his exact relationship to his horse.”

Isobel shook her head at this disrespect for the departed, but made no
reproof, for no one in the room had any reason to think well of the late Lord
Morgan. 

“Ah, I hesitate to distress you further, dear Lady Morgan, but you
mentioned the duns, some moments past,” murmured Lord Exencour in a gentle
tone, which was greatly at variance with the cynical accents he had employed in
remarking on the circumstances of Lord Morgan’s demise.  “If it is not too
trying for you, perhaps you had best reveal the situation to me, and I will
contact your man of business and attempt to assist you in settling matters.”

Letitia frowned.  “Alfred’s first action on returning home was to declare
that the bailiff had been cheating him of the estate’s revenue in his absence,
and he dismissed him and put him out of his house on those grounds.  It was
shocking, for Grieves has been here quite twenty years, I am sure.  I hope that
he remains in the neighborhood, but he may have gone to his sister in Bristol,
which will make it more difficult to find him.  As for our solicitor, Mr.
Linkwall, he is in Chester, and I have sent for him.  I hope that he will be
here by tomorrow.   But the situation is really most alarming; I have no notion
of the extent of Alfred’s debts, but there have been a number of individuals
who have called today who are apparently money lenders, and I do not know what
type of security Alfred may have given them, but I greatly fear—“

“Lay your fears to rest for now, Lady Morgan,” interrupted his lordship
in a soothing tone.  “I will engage to seek out Grieves and will meet with
Linkwall when he arrives tomorrow.  I expect that he will wish to read the
will, but surely that must wait until after the funeral.”

“Oh yes, that takes place in the morning tomorrow, and I expect that we
will hear the will read that afternoon,” Letty replied.

“Very well then.  You and Isobel are to enjoy a comfortable coze.  I will
undertake inquiries as to Grieves’ location, and at tea time, we will discuss
what is next to be done.” Exencour bowed elegantly over Lady Morgan’s hand,
and, with a warm smile at his wife, left the room.

Letitia, who had borne up under the many strains of the preceding six
weeks, proceeded to burst into tears.  Isobel held her hand and patted her back
soothingly, waiting for the storm to pass.  At length, Letty’s sobs grew
softer, and she sniffed audibly, searching for her handkerchief.  Isobel
withdrew a serviceable white linen square from her reticule and handed it to
her with a smile.

“A widow without a handkerchief, my dear?  It will not do.  The county
will surely surmise how little real grief you feel about Alfred’s demise.”

Letty smiled through her tears.  “You are quite correct, it is not Alfred
I weep for; it is a mere irritation of the nerves, I believe.”

 “One can hardly call Alfred a ‘mere’ irritation, Letty,” responded
Isobel with asperity.  “What happened when he returned?”

“Oh, it was really rather dreadful, Isobel.  He burst in here quite drunk
one afternoon last month, and announced that he had grown weary of the
Continent and intended to take up residence here at Morgan Park once more.  The
children were very much confused of course, for Emily did not know who he was,
and even little Jamie’s memories of his father had grown quite dim after an
absence of two and a half years.”

“Letty, why did you not let me know?” asked Isobel.  “Francis would have
been only too glad to run him off as he did before.”

Letty shrugged.  “I do not like to trouble you, and I thought perhaps he
might have learned his lesson, or would soon leave again. I think he must have
won a rather large sum of money at play before returning, for he arrived with
several horses and a new carriage, and all of his clothing is likewise new.  He
joined the hunt and had been behaving just as always.  So much so, that of
course it came to all ears and a fortnight ago, I was very much mortified when
Lady Pennibont visited and hinted in the most odious way that Lord Pennibont
had been very much shocked to have seen Alfred in the company of a rather
questionable lady.  Indeed, I am sure he did, but did she never wonder exactly
what Lord Pennibont had been engaged upon that he happened to encounter Alfred
in such a situation?” Letty asked in a vexed tone.

“Well Letty, it is all very bad.  But if Alfred has won a large sum at
play, perhaps he did not have a chance to waste it all before his untimely
death, and it may alleviate your circumstances,” said Isobel hopefully.

"It would have to be a vast sum of money to do that," said
Letitia wanly.  "But I suppose anything at all would be a help.  “I hope
Grieves is found quickly; it is a very raw day for Exencour to be on such an
errand for me.  I am so grateful to you both, Isobel."

"‘Tis little enough among friends, Letty. After the will is read,
and the financial matters untangled we must study what is to be done, and how
we can be of real service to you."

Letty shook her head smilingly, and was about to answer, when her aged
butler entered. "Lord Bainstall has arrived, my lady," he announced.

Letty's sweet expression instantly changed to one of vexation.  "My
cousin.  Well, to be sure, good manners almost require his presence, but I wish
he had not come."

“I can only echo that sentiment,” said Isobel.  “I’m sure your cousin is
the most tedious man alive, and I’ve never had to endure his company.  The
correspondence he sent you when you stayed with me in London was enough to give
me the vapors!”

Letty smiled despite herself.  “Perhaps it is not his fault; his mother
doted on him excessively, and he was accustomed to being the center of her
worries and concerns.  When my parents died so suddenly and he inherited the
estate, it only increased his notion of his importance.”

“For some reason people with no more than average understanding always
seem to feel they know best how to order the affairs of others,” observed
Isobel.  “I feel for you, my dear.”

Letty turned to the butler.  "Very well, Banning.  Please inform
Lord Bainstall that Lady Exencour and I will join him in the drawing room
shortly," she said.

"Letty, you must not allow him to bully you," Isobel urged her
earnestly.  "Remember that one of the chief advantages of being a widow is
the right to do as you please, without the censure of the world."

"‘Tis the censure of Lord Bainstall, which concerns me rather,"
replied Letty drily.  "My cousin, I believe, considers his own views of
such matters to be of greater significance than those of the world at large,
being possessed as he is a vast belief in his own opinion.”