“I’M CERTAINLY GLAD TO SEE EVERYONE’S BEHAVING well today,” Stevie said, turning to Derek, and then once more glancing around the room. “I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” he answered, following the direction of her gaze, observing the other family members, who were sitting or standing in different parts of the room, chatting to each other. “They actually seem rather chummy, which is something of a relief. There’s usually some sort of contention going on, or an undercurrent. Mmmmm.” He nodded to himself, added, “And these are noticeably absent, Stevie.” Grinning at her, he said sotto voce, “As far as I’m concerned, they can all go off and murder one another later, so long as they don’t upset the applecart this afternoon. Blair’s been working for days to make this Christmas Day a very special one.”
“Yes, I know she has,” Stevie murmured, settling back on the sofa, “and everything will be fine, don’t worry. Why even Nigel’s smiling for once.”
“So I noticed. And he’d better keep on smiling. If he doesn’t, or if he starts any kind of trouble, I’ll have his guts for garters.”
Stevie began to laugh. “I haven’t heard that expression for years. Oh, Derek, look how sweet the little ones are being with Bruce…and he’s so proud, tickled to death to have great-grandchildren. I ought to take a picture, don’t you think? Three generations of Jardines.”
“It’s a great idea. Do it after lunch, when we’re opening the presents. And perhaps you’ll take one of your mother and me with the babies and Tamara. That would be a nice shot to have for our family album.”
“Yes, I will, and doesn’t Tamara look beautiful? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking lovelier than she does this afternoon.”
Derek nodded in agreement. “Red suits her; it looks fabulous with her hair. She’s got great style, you know, that one. It’s a special kind of chic only the French seem to have. Well, at least have naturally, and without having to make a big effort. I’m glad she’s part of the family; she’s been such a positive influence on Nigel.”
“Yes, he’s generally much pleasanter when Tamara’s around, that’s true. It’s a marriage made in heaven, thankfully. She seems to have a soothing effect on him.”
“She tempers his recalcitrant attitude. And makes him smile occasionally,” Derek added succinctly.
Stevie threw him a quick look. “Please don’t worry; no one is going to spoil the day. I won’t let anyone. I know how hard Mom’s worked. Incidentally, this room looks wonderful since she redecorated it.”
“Your mother’s very talented when it comes to design, but then I don’t have to tell you that.”
Derek once again swung his eyes, followed Stevie’s gaze, seeing the drawing room of the Regent’s Park flat objectively, through her eyes. And of course it was beautiful and grand and impressive, with its pale silk fabrics and fine antiques, the lovely old paintings gracing the cream silk walls.
So far from the Welsh valleys of his youth, the little back-to-back house where he had grown up, so far from the poverty and grind that had been his family’s lot in life for generations.
The grand leap.
That was the way he thought of it. And even today, after so long, there were moments when he would stop whatever he was doing and survey this world where he now lived—and he couldn’t help marveling at himself just a little. He marveled that he had been able to make that great leap from there to here. And the fact that he was here with a career, fame, success, wealth, and a title to boot said something for his courage, his nerves of steel, his strength of will, his drive, energy, and desire to succeed.
It was a leap out of a place and out of a class…out of the working class, the underclass, and the underprivileged. The poor boy from Wales…now the toast of the town…of many towns and cities and villages the world over. An impossible dream achieved. And only by looking clearly at his beginnings could he understand how far he had come, and just how high that leap had been.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Stevie said, touching his arm lightly.
“They’re not worth a penny, since I was thinking of nothing in particular,” Derek replied, tearing himself away from his thoughts.
He stood up, glanced at the champagne flute in her hand, and asked, “How about a refill?”
“I’m fine right now, Derek, thanks.”
“Back in a minute.” He excused himself and strolled in the direction of the dining room, where a small bar had been set up.
Stevie sat back against the cushions, looked around the room. Her entire family was present for once—her mother and stepfather, her three sons and daughter, her daughter-in-law and two grandchildren, and her father-in-law. It was not such a big family by some standards; there were others she knew of that were much larger. For a small family, they had had their fair share of troubles over the years, and still had them.
Stevie instantly clamped down on this thought before it took hold, not wanting to spoil the day, knowing that the problems would still be there tomorrow and could be dealt with then. If they could be dealt with at all.
She lifted her glass and took a sip of Dom Pérignon. A split second later her eyes were focused on Tamara.
Her daughter-in-law was coming toward her; she looked as if she were walking on air, so graceful was she. Tamara had the longest legs Stevie had ever seen, and the slender, streamlined body of a model. Her hair was her most spectacular feature though, being neither silver nor gold but a mixture of both, and it was most arresting.
Tamara’s face was narrow and elegant below her silver-gilt bangs. These stopped short of large jet-black eyes, a narrow nose, and a wide, generous mouth. She was beautiful in an offbeat way, and that was part of her charm and appeal. The red silk dress she wore swished slightly as she walked, its full short skirt fluid around those lovely long legs, the latter shown off by very high-heeled red silk shoes.
Her good looks aside, Tamara was a kind and considerate young woman who did not have a bad bone in her body, and Stevie had always adored her. Like Blair, Tamara had been a model before her marriage to Nigel, and both women shared certain characteristics, chiefly the desire to be a wife, a mother, and a homemaker more than anything else.
“Can you come to dinner tomorrow, Stevie?” Tamara asked, hovering in front of her mother-in-law. “I’d love it if you could.”
“Are you sure, Tamara?” Stevie frowned. “Or perhaps I should say does Nigel want me to come? You see, darling, he’s been a bit odd with me lately.”
“Of course he does! We both want you to come. And please don’t pay attention to Nigel’s temperamentality. He’s been a bit snotty and irritable with me these last few weeks. I hope he’s not sickening for something. And the Christmas rush always gets to him, you know that. Please come, Stevie, with Chloe. And perhaps Miles and Gideon will come too!”
“What’s all this about Gideon?” Gideon asked, drawing to a standstill next to her.
“I want you to come to dinner tomorrow, Gid, well, supper really. A Russian supper on Boxing Day. Doesn’t that tempt you?” She eyed him, laughter bubbling inside her.
“Ha! I knew you’d have to come up with a foreign meal at some point this Christmas,” Gideon teased, looking at her fondly, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Why not a bit of good old roast lamb and Yorkshire pud for a change? Instead of all this foreign mishmosh.”
Accustomed as she was to Gideon’s teasing, she laughed and said, “Beluga caviar and Scottish smoked salmon a mishmosh! Goodness me, Gideon.”
“How wonderful it sounds, my pet. And I’d love to come. What’s the rest of the menu? Are you going to make that delicious borscht?”
“If you like. With piroshki. And what about your favorite, chicken Kiev?”
“That’s great. But you’re making me hungry.” He turned to Stevie. “It’s almost four o’clock, Ma. When’s Grandma going to serve lunch, do you know?”
“In a few minutes. At four.”
“All joking aside, I love your cooking,” Gideon announced, turning back to Tamara. “I bet they didn’t teach you how to make chicken Kiev at that snooty English boarding school you went to.”
“You know they didn’t, Gid. It was my Russian grandmother who taught me everything I know about cooking.”
Suddenly Gideon swung around as a small boy hurtled across the room, calling, “Uncle Gid, Uncle Gid, look what Papa Bruce gave me!” As he came to a sudden stop next to Gideon, he opened his hand. “A little car!” he exclaimed, and showed it to his uncle, beaming up at him.
Gideon bent down to examine the new possession. “Aren’t you the lucky boy. And it’s a Jaguar, Arnaud.”
The four-year-old’s big blue eyes fastened on Gideon’s face and he said carefully, “Jwagwar.”
“Me. Look me,” Natalie cried as she ran to join them, holding out her arm. “Papa give me.”
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Gideon said, smiling at her as he examined the slender silver chain with a heart, which Bruce had obviously just fastened on her wrist. That was a favorite game of his grandfather’s, pulling surprises out of his pockets.
Natalie laughed and ran to Stevie. “Granma, look!”
“Oh, how lovely.” Stevie put down her flute of champagne quickly as the three-year-old scrambled onto her lap unexpectedly. Natalie looked into her face and patted it. “Love you, Granma.”
“I love you too, Natalie.” Stevie hugged her vivacious little blond grandchild closer and kissed the top of her head.
A moment later Blair came back into the living room and announced, “Lunch is ready at last, everyone. Shall we go into the dining room?”
Nigel suddenly appeared in front of Stevie, looking happy and lighthearted. He smiled warmly at his mother and said, “Can I relieve you of your little burden, Ma?” As he spoke he reached forward and lifted his small daughter out of Stevie’s lap and placed her on the floor. Then he offered Stevie his hand. “Here, let me help you up,” he said, and promptly pulled her to her feet.
Leaning into her, he smiled again, much to Stevie’s astonishment, and then kissed her on the cheek. “I haven’t had a chance to wish you a Merry Christmas yet.”
“Thank you, Nigel,” she replied. “And the same to you.” She was relieved that he was in a friendlier mood than the last time she had seen him, in New York on her birthday.
Gideon said, “Let’s go in, Ma. I’ll escort you.”
“Along with me,” Miles said, joining them, taking her other arm.
Stevie laughed and allowed them to maneuver her across the floor.
Gideon said in a quiet, confiding tone, “Can I talk to you later, Ma?”
“Of course. But is there something wrong, Gideon?” she asked, quickly glancing at him.
“No, no. I just wanted to tell you something. It’s nothing bad, honestly. Good, really. I’ll drive you and Chloe back to Eaton Square after lunch, and we can have our little chat then.”