Giggles, followed by children’s voices singing O Come All Ye Faithful woke Amelia. A dream? Confused, she yawned and stretched. Disorientated between sleep and awareness, she rubbed her eyes.
The bedroom door opened a little. A shard of light from beyond it penetrated the room. Who was singing and why? Oh, the voices were children’s who now sang: Yea, Lord, we greet Thee.
Of course, it is Christmas Morning on the day when the faithful will adore our Saviour, Christ the Lord in cathedrals, chapels and churches throughout the kingdom.
The cherubic voices retreated down the corridor. It must be the custom at Longwood for Saunton’s young sisters to serenade the occupants of bedrooms on this holy day? A day on which she and her grandmother attended church, read the Bible in the afternoon and ate a hearty dinner.
Amelia missed her grandmother but wished ridicule and the cane had not been applied so often. Yet she had so much to be grateful for. No detail of her Christian upbringing had been neglected. Brought up to respect the Church, all its teaching and the clergy, it included Mr Wharton, whom Grandmamma invited to dine with them once a month. Amelia pressed her lips together, the vicar’s marriage proposal vivid in her mind, certain her grandmother would have disapproved.
She considered him unworthy of his office. His attempt to persuade her to wed him rankled but it did not shake her faith in God.
Blythe entered the bedroom followed by a maid.
When the dresser drew back the curtains and opened the old-fashioned wooden shutters, the glare from the snowbound landscape filled the room. Amelia blinked and sat up. Blythe arranged a warm shawl around her shoulders. The maid put a tray on a pier table.
“Light the fire,” Blythe ordered the girl, while she poured hot chocolate for Amelia. “Thank the Lord, Miss. At last, it has stopped snowing.” She put a cup and saucer on a table by the bed.
She handed Amelia a plate of bread, still warm from the oven, and a dish of butter. “There you are. It will save you from feeling peckish until you have breakfast with the earl and all his family. The butler told me they will eat together at ten o’clock and attend chapel at eleven.”
Flames danced up towards the chimney. Blythe glanced at the maid. “After you light the fire in Miss Carstairs’ dressing room, light one for Mrs Deane.” She wrinkled her nose. “No reason why the good lady should meet her death from cold in this wreck of a house.”
At last Blythe approved of Mrs Deane.
Amelia contemplated the rest of her visit. Blythe complained about the shabby rooms and cold at Longwood. Saunton’s lively sisters compensated for both. For the first time in her life she mingled with a family and enjoyed the experience.
“I’ve laid out your dove grey woollen gown, your grey and lilac Indian shawl and two flannel petticoats. Would you prefer your black pearl ring and earrings or your amethysts?” Blythe frowned. “Lord only knows how cold the chapel will be. After breakfast, you should put on your dark grey pelisse lined with squirrel fur.”
* * *
In the breakfast parlour, decorated with holly, yew and ivy, Saunton watched Amelia, who sat between Charlotte and Margaret at the oval dining table. While she sipped tea and ate small mouthfuls of toast spread with butter and plum conserve, she observed his youngest sisters with what he could only describe as hunger in her eyes.
“This is the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten,” Sophie declared, almost bouncing up and down on her chair. “Mamma, please may I join you every morning? In the nursery, we never have plum cake or pound cake for breakfast.”
Hortense shook her head. “Not every day, dearest.”
Cassie gazed earnestly at their mother. “May we have cake for breakfast every day?”
“No, I fear it would be too rich.”
Tears oozed out of Cassie’s eyes.
His ward leaned forward. “If you ate cake every morning, you would not enjoy it so much.”
Cassie’s cheeks reddened. Saunton hoped she would not have a tantrum, sob, lay on the floor and kick her heels.
“We would always like it, wouldn’t we, Sophie?” Cassie’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Sophie nodded her head. “Yes.”
“If you ever visit me you shall be served with plum cake, pound cake, seed cake or other confections every morning,” Amelia promised.
Cassie jumped down from her chair, ran around the table and managed to slip her plump little arms around Miss Carstairs’ waist. “I love you,” she declared. “I love you more than Mamma, more than my brothers, more than-”
Amelia patted the child’s head. “Shush!” She looked at him across the table. “If only hearts were won so easily.”
“Perhaps the role of Queen of Hearts suits you, Miss Carstairs.”
“Thank you for the compliment but I doubt I can play the part.”
Who would be the king of her heart?
“Cassie, please return to your chair,” he said to hide his sudden confusion.
He remembered the words of the old nursery rhyme, Where Are You Going My Pretty Maid. She replied, my face is my fortune.
Then I can’t marry you, the man who put the question declared.
Miss Carstairs possessed a beautiful face and a fortune. Saunton doubted any gentleman she wanted to wed would reject her. ‘Why did you?’ his inner voice demanded although he knew the answer.
Miss Carstairs raised her eyebrows and studied his face. Did she want to ask him something?
His mother dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin. “We must not be late for morning service.”
* * *
In the chapel with Saunton, his mother and siblings, Amelia and Mrs Deane entered the box pew encased by oak panels, which secluded them from the rest of the congregation. Before Amelia sat she glimpsed decorated monuments dedicated to the earl’s forebears. She also caught sight of the stone altar on which stood a magnificent gold cross and a pair of candlesticks with tall candles that burned brightly.
Blythe need not have feared I would be cold. Two charcoal braziers in the box pew provided sufficient warmth for her to remove her gloved hands from her sable muff.
Memories of her grandmother filled her head while she participated in the opening prayers. After the beautiful carol, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, silence fell for the chaplain’s sermon.
While Charlotte gave each of the children sugar plums and gingerbread to keep them silent, Amelia’s attention wavered. When Mr Berry, the chaplain, an earnest young gentleman raised his voice at the conclusion she concentrated.
“Therefore, let us remember the blessed Christ Child, born in a lowly stable, gave the greatest treasure, his life to redeem those who believeth in Him. It is impossible to repay him, but those to whom much has been given should donate one tenth of their incomes to the church.”
Margaret peered down at him over the edge of the box pew. “Too much! Do you think he really believes Miss Carstairs would part with such a lot of money?” she asked Charlotte.
Amelia gasped, amazed by Margaret’s loud remark.
A finger pointed at his flock, the chaplain had paused. Everyone heard Margaret’s clear voice. Someone at the back of the small chapel sniggered.
Outraged Saunton stood. He glared at Mr Berry. Intimidated, his chaplain brought the sermon to a very hasty conclusion.
The rest of the family stood. To the accompaniment of the organ which flooded the church with J. S. Bach’s thrilling Christmas Cantata, Gloria in Excelsis Deo, Amelia left the box pew with its other occupants, embarrassed by Margaret’s outspokenness.
She followed Saunton, who escorted the countess, through the private door to the great hall converted into a music room.
In absolute silence, they proceeded to the modern hall. Margaret tried to scuttle up the stairs to the gallery in which minstrels once played. Grim-faced, Saunton grabbed her arm.
Margaret winced. “You are hurting me.”
“I apologise.” He released her. “Go to the library. Wait for me there.”
“I am sorry for what I said.” Margaret’s lips quivered.
“And will be even more sorry after I have spoken to you.”
“Mamma,” Margaret appealed.
As usual, when forced to confront anything unpleasant Hortense’s hands fluttered. “Don’t seek help from me, child. I am mortified by your outrageous remark.”
Amelia glanced from the countess to Saunton, even more embarrassed than before.
Miss Harrington gathered her subdued flock and ushered it upstairs followed by Nurse, Sophie and Cassie, and Mrs Deane who murmured something.
“Come, Charlotte.” Hortense’s feeble voice sounded like that of an invalid recovering from a fatal illness. “Help me to my bedchamber. The shock. I must lie down.”
Saunton’s dark eyes glared at Margaret. “The library, now!”
She obeyed him without a backward glance.
Alone with the earl, Amelia spoke. “I hope Margaret’s punishment will not be too severe.” A white line formed around Saunton’s upper lip. “I know she is too impetuous,” she continued hastily, “My grandmother once said, some churchmen are like leeches. Please don’t misunderstand Grandmamma. She did have full faith in the teachings of the church and ensured I received a Christian education, but no one could deceive her. Your sister said no more than many people might believe.”
Saunton’s mouth relaxed. “They were not rude enough to voice their opinion.” He smiled at her. “You are generous. I can only imagine your embarrassment when even the servants heard her.”
Accustomed to the many appeals made to her grandmother by the Church and Charitable Institutions, Amelia understood why most of them were declined. She imagined her grandmother’s reaction to a demand for a tenth of her income and found it hard not to giggle.
“To be truthful, Saunton, I tried not to laugh. Did you see the expression on the chaplain’s face after Margaret spoke out? I am sure she squashed any plan he might have had to ask me to part with some … in Shakespeare’s words …filthy lucre.”
The earl chuckled. “I do have a sense of humour, and to be fair Mr Berry should not have raised the subject. The tithe is the responsibility of land owners. How else could the church be maintained? Nevertheless, Margaret cannot be allowed to blurt out whatever comes into her head.
“But we are agreed you will do no more than scold her.”
“Very well, if it will please you. I hope she will learn discretion at boarding school.”
* * *
Due to the bitter cold which prevented her from going outdoors, Amelia decided to promenade in the long gallery. But what would the rest of the day bring? Hungry, she hoped luncheon would be served at one o’clock. Her mouth watered at the thought of freshly baked bread, soup, cold sliced meats, cheese and fruit, most probably apples and pears stored to be eaten in the winter. Maybe, some little cakes, sweet pastries, particularly her favourite ones filled with marzipan, and curd tarts would be served.
On her way to her bedchamber, her forehead creased. Although she preferred London to the country in the winter, she had arrived at Longwood Place full of doubts because it would be preferable to Christmas spent alone with Mrs Deane. To her surprise she really liked her first close contact with a large family and Saunton-. What of him? Warmth suffused her. She still considered him the most handsome gentleman she had ever seen.
* * *
Saunton joined his sister in the library in which rank upon rank of books, some almost falling apart, others mildewed, were lined up on shelves from floor to ceiling.
Margaret, who stood opposite the door, clasped her hands together. “Truly, I am sorry. I don’t know why I am always impelled to speak my mind. Saunton, I love you and want to please you. In future, I promise to try to be discreet.”
He loved her. Tempted to say he loved her, he refused to weaken. She must learn a lesson. “If I am not mistaken this is not the first time you have promised to consider your words before you speak.”
“You know it is not, but what can I say to make amends?” she said close to tears.
Without haste, he walked across the scuffed oak floor boards to his desk and sat behind it, his back to the window.
“I hope I am a gentleman, who may be judged by his respect for ladies, even a very young, foolish one.” He sighed. “But as Charlotte said you are still a heedless child although you are nearly sixteen.” He shook his head. “A wayward one who has disappointed me and needs discipline.”
Tears trickled down Margaret’s cheeks.
“Don’t think you can cozen me by crying, no matter how repentant you are.” Deliberately, he hardened his voice. “I have seen soldiers younger than you flogged for minor misdemeanours. What do you think your punishment should be?”
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t know; but you would not, could not-” she protested in a shrill tone.
“Apply the cane?”
She nodded, tears oozing from her eyes.
“I have the right.”
His sister sobbed. “No, please don’t beat me, I promise to be good.”
“Be quiet. Do you believe I would apply the rod, even if you deserve it?”
“N…no. Oh, Saunton, you are a very kind brother. In future I promise not to -”
“Don’t make a promise you might break.” He toyed with a silver paper knife. “When you make your debut in society, if you haven’t learned to bridle your tongue you will shock it and be ruined.” He got up from his chair, crossed the room and stood in front of her. With his forefinger, he raised her chin. “Look at me. It is my duty to protect you. If necessary, from yourself. Don’t look so woeful. After twelfth night, you shall attend Miss Chalfont’s boarding school, which has an excellent reputation. When you complete your education at the age of eighteen, I hope you will be an accomplished, tactful young lady.”
“Please don’t send me away.” Margaret’s breath whistled from her.
“I must do what I think is best for you. Until you leave I beg you to neither disturb my peace of mind nor give Mamma palpitations. Don’t look so woeful. You will make friends at school and learn many useful accomplishments.”
She hugged him. “Oh, even if you are determined to banish me, you are the best brother a sister could have.”
“Thank you, I am glad I have not forfeited your affection,” Saunton said drily.
Her eyebrows twitched. “It takes little to give Mamma palpitations, but I shall try not to.” She let go of him.
“Good. You may go.”
“Thank you.” She almost ran out of the library.
Saunton returned to his chair to consider his family. Except for Charlotte, whom Mamma hoped would make a good match, preferably with Midland, his mother delegated most of her responsibility for his sisters to Nurse and the governess. Even when they misbehaved she ignored his sisters’ faults. His conscience reproached him.
He trusted Nurse, who took care of him from the day of his birth until he left the nursery, but how old was she? At least fifty and inclined to leniency. He considered Miss Harrington, an unassuming woman some thirty-years-old or more. So far as he knew she maintained discipline without undue severity. He should question her about Elizabeth and Diana’s education. What did he know about the lessons an eleven-year-old and a nine-year-old should study?
His years in the army taught him nothing about the unfamiliar territory of a young ladies’ schoolroom. Well, he could find out how it should be conducted. Perhaps his ward could assist. Even if she still lived in Mrs Bettismore’s shadow, she had received a good education from a governess.
Shrieks from the gallery disturbed him. Startled by them, he realised Margaret left the library door ajar.
A few strides took him out of the library. He halted at the sight of Miss Carstairs surrounded by Elizabeth, Diana, Sophie and Cassie, who wound her dimpled arms around Miss Carstairs’ legs.