Wrapped in a blanket, taken from the enormous four poster bed, with a powder-blue canopy edged with faded gold tassels, Amelia sat by the window. She removed a small area of the thin film of ice from the inside of the window. Outside, it had stopped snowing. The full moon cast silver radiance over a pure white landscape onto which snowflakes drifted down like feathers from trees.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed. A quarter to seven. Twelfth night. Amelia tucked her chin into the folds of the blanket. She glanced at the hearth. When would a fire be lit? To avoid misfortune throughout the following year the countess had ordered servants to sweep the ashes from all the hearths and remove the greenery which decorated the house. Moreover, her ladyship had explained no other guests would visit Longwood due to bad weather.
Before dinner, which all the children would attend, they would play games such like Hunt the Slipper. Earlier in the day, Cassie declared, her dimpled face all smiles, “I hope the bean will be in my slice of plum cake. If it is, I will be crowned Lord of Misrule and everyone will obey me.”
The child’s mention of the ancient custom amused Amelia; but heaven help them if Cassie were crowned. God alone knew which orders the little imp would give. Yet when the countess mentioned bad luck a shiver ran down Amelia’s spine.
Tears gathered in her eyes. On this day, which Grandmamma always called Epiphany instead of Twelfth Night, they read the miraculous story of the three kings, who followed the star to bring their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to the infant Christ. Afterwards they exchanged gifts in memory of those wise men who travelled afar to worship the King of Kings.
She stared out of the window at the bare landscape. Almost imperceptibly the sky faded to pale grey and gave way pale pink but the dawn of the new day did not alleviate her woe.
Through a film of mist, she perceived the outlines of trees with stark, black branches. They stabbed upward towards the bowl of the sky harsh as her acute anxiety, which prevented her from sleeping, while the echo of her grandmother’s last words repeated themselves in her mind. There’s something very important I should have told you. Amelia shifted restlessly on her chair. What had Grandmamma wanted to tell her? To give advice, deliver an instruction or reveal a secret? Whatever she intended to say, it must have been vital.
What of her future, barren as one of those bare branches in the middle of winter?
In the distance candlelight bloomed in the gatehouse and cast golden radiance on the snow around the building. Amelia sought relief in the realisation that light always banishes gloom. She had much to look forward to. The arrangement for improvements intended to ease the lives of workers in her cotton mill. The charity she intended to fund. An elegant town square to be named after her grandmother, and the completion of the refurbishment of her house in London in time for Saunton and his family’s visit in the spring.
Saunton! A soft glow like the golden candlelight in the gatehouse spread through her. When she trapped Saunton into proposing marriage, his fine figure, dark hair, and expressive eyes, so dark they were almost black, had captivated her. In her determination to secure such a handsome husband, she misread those delightful eyes, which never expressed more than courtesy, and later, impatience when they were together. Today, almost three years older than when she first met Saunton, the better acquainted she became with him, the more she appreciated him. To judge by his affection and care for his youngest sisters, in future, he would be an admirable father. Heat flooded her cheeks. In her customary, forthright manner, Grandmamma had explained how babies were conceived. With a gleam in each eye she had reassured her. When husband and wife love and want to please each other sharing the matrimonial bed is a delight.
Never again would she set out to entrap Saunton by underhanded means but- The idea of him at her side and in her bed for the rest of their lives thrilled her. Amelia clenched her fists and decided she must accept the sad impossibility.
A maid disturbed her. “Oh, Miss, yer awake. Begging yer pardon, I’m here to light the fire. I’ve already lit one in yer dressing room.”
Within a short time, wood blazed. The girl picked up a bucket filled with ashes and left the bedchamber.
Amelia went into the adjacent room where a fire crackled in the grate. She sat at the escritoire to write a poem in which she would describe shadows and moonlight, dawn and bare trees and the gentle promise of candlelight. Absorbed in her word pictures, she did not hear her dresser arrive with a tray of hot chocolate and a plate of thinly cut bread and butter on the upturned palms of her hands.
“Good morning, Miss.”
“Good day, Blythe.” Amelia penned the last word. “Nourishment for the mind and the body,” she whispered, too low for her dresser to hear.
* * *
After Amelia ate and drank, the words of her poem lingered in her mind while she dressed. A concession to the chill throughout Longwood at any distance from a fire, she wore a red flannel petticoat beneath a lightweight merino wool gown, with a high neckline and long sleeves. Grandmother had sworn warmth was more important than fashion which might cause a lady to almost freeze to death.
Amelia’s mirror revealed the fabric draped beautifully and her treasured black pearls added elegance to her ensemble.
“Blythe, please, fetch the hamper full of gifts I bought for the earl and his family.”
One by one she examined the parcels wrapped in gold or silver paper, on which the recipients’ names were written, and checked them to make sure not one had been forgotten. An almanac for the countess, a memorandum book bound in red leather for Saunton - oh, she should give something to Miss Harrington. Should she choose a brooch from her jewellery box to give the pleasant lady? Would she prefer money? Governesses earned little. She would put two guineas in a reticule and give it to her.
“Blythe, please fetch the purple satin reticule with black tassels I have never used.”
The dresser rummaged in a closet. “Here you are, Miss,” she said, a few minutes later.
“Thank you.” Amelia slipped the guineas into the reticule, sat at the escritoire and wrapped up the present. She smiled and hoped the governess would be pleased when she received it.
Amelia mended the crow’s quill, then wrote notes to the earl and the countess in which she expressed her appreciation of their hospitality. Tomorrow, she would give them to Saunton and his mother when she departed if the weather permitted.
“Blythe, put the packages back in the hamper. Instruct a footman to carry it down to the small drawing room, where the countess told me gifts will be exchanged after breakfast.”
* * *
Saunton admired the silver lockets Miss Carstairs gave to Charlotte and to Margaret, who had joined the family and his ward for the first time since her accident.
“Thank you very much, Miss Carstairs. You are very kind. I shall think of you whenever I wear it, which will be often,” Charlotte said.
Margaret held up her locket engraved with her initials set in a circle of vine leaves and flowers. “Thank you, I love it. I will always treasure it.”
“Mere trifles, but I am glad you like them,” Miss Carstairs said.
Elizabeth ran to Miss Carstairs, her gift, a pair of turquoise earrings, on the palm of her hand. “Thank you. Please put them on for me.”
“And for me,” Diana said and held out her coral earrings.
“Lady Diana,” Miss Harrington prompted.
Diana curtsied. “Thank you for my Christmas Present and-”
Sophie and Cassie’s delighted shrieks cut her off as Sophie and Cassie cradled their exquisite dolls in their arms. With their free hands, they rummaged in a small trunks of miniature clothes.
“Look, Mamma, look at these!” Sophie exclaimed.
Cassie ran to Miss Carstairs, climbed onto her lap and kissed her several times on the cheek. “Thank you. You are my best friend.”
“And mine,” Sophie said.
Miss Carstairs looked at Saunton over the top of Cassie’s head of dark curls. “I’m glad Sophie and Cassie like their presents.”
Saunton smiled. “Enraptured by them is a better description. You are very kind.”
“Who could resist buying such a beautiful pair of dolls for them? I could not.” She spoke hesitantly as though she feared he might condemn her extravagance.
“They are perfect presents. Thank you for giving my sisters so much pleasure.”
At the sight of Cassie seated on his ward’s lap he realised that, one day, Miss Carstairs would be an affectionate mother. He smiled comparing her to a bud which opened gradually.
With every sign of delight, Miss Carstairs received gifts, which Cassie helped her to unwrap. “Oh, a book from Saunton!” Cassie exclaimed and immediately thrust it aside.
He hoped Miss Carstairs appreciated his choice of Mansfield Park.
“Thank you, Saunton. How kind of you. I admire the author’s novels.”
He inclined his head. “Good, I hoped you would be pleased with it.”
Cassie thrust a small, untidy parcel tied with string into Miss Carstairs’ hands. She beamed. “From me.” She took it back and unwrapped a paper fan.
“Thank you, Cassie, it is beautiful.” Miss Carstairs wafted the pleated, painted paper decorated with sequins to and fro.
“Miss Harrington helped me to make it,” Cassie explained.
“I shall treasure it.”
An hour later, servants conveyed the Twelfth Night largesse to the recipient’s rooms, except for the dolls and trunks of clothes, which Sophie and Cassie refused to be parted from.
“Refreshment,” the countess suggested.
Footmen served cakes sprinkled with coloured sugar, mulled wine for the adults and hot cordials for the children.
Saunton looked out of a window. “It has stopped snowing and the wind has died down. I shall take a turn in the shrubbery. Who will join me?”
“I will,” Margaret answered.”
“No, you must not exert yourself,” Hortense said.
His other sisters went to bundle themselves up against the cold.
“Miss Carstairs? Fresh air will invigorate us.”
“Yes, it will,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation.
Fifteen minutes later, stout boots protecting his feet, Saunton, dressed in his slate-grey greatcoat with half-a-dozen capes, escorted his sisters and ward to the walk through the shrubbery.
Light from the bleached sky penetrated an irregular roof formed by branches overhead. Snow balanced on every leaf and twig and crunched beneath their feet. Diana grabbed a handful with her leather-gloved hand. She made a snowball and aimed it.
“You little monkey!” he exclaimed when ice cold snow hit his face. He retaliated. Elizabeth joined in the fun, then tried to escape him. She bumped into Miss Carstairs, who lost her footing.
In response to her startled cry, Saunton lunged forward. He caught her in time to prevent her falling onto the ground. One arm around her waist, a hand on her upper arm, he stared deep into her eyes the colour of the sea on a summer’s day. Eyes a man could drown in and never wish to resurface.
“Thank you, Saunton?”
“A pleasure to be of service to you. In days long gone I would have asked for a favour which I could carry into battle.”
Diana aimed a snowball at him. It hit him on the mouth. She jumped up and down clapping her hands.
Miss Carstairs brushed the snow from his face with a gentle hand encased in soft leather. Her floral perfume assaulted his senses. “Time to return to the house.”
* * *
During the afternoon Amelia participated in children’s games until, exhausted, she went upstairs to her bedroom to change into an evening gown. From where did Saunton’s four youngest sisters get their energy? They shrieked while playing blind man’s hood, hurried under an arch made by Saunton’s and Amelia’s clasped hands while Miss Harrington sang the old nursery rhyme, Oranges and Lemons, with sinister implications in the final lines. Here comes a candle to light you to bed, the governess trilled to the accompaniment of giggles. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head the governess sang while the children tried to rush along. Chip chop, chip chop, the last man's dead, the governess concluded. Amid laughter Amelia and Saunton captured Elizabeth.
Until today, Amelia had neither imagined how many games a lively family knew nor how enjoyable but tiring they could be. She needed a short rest.
Who would receive the slice of plum pudding with the bean? Alarmed, she hoped she would not be the recipient. She would not know how to play the ancient part of the Lord of Misrule. Amelia opened the door of her dressing room, sadly aware she could never play a real role in Saunton’s family, or could she?
When Saunton had steadied her in the shrubbery and stared into her eyes, she could not look away from the fire in his eyes that aroused a peculiar but not distasteful sensation.
* * *
With enjoyment, Amelia ate portions of roast goose, venison and pheasant, mashed turnips seasoned with salt and pepper, carrots and creamed cabbage, until she decided she could eat no more. However, to bring good luck, she always followed the custom of eating a fresh mince pie every day during the twelve days of Christmas, so she forced herself to eat her final one.
When a footman carried in enormous plum pudding, Amelia almost groaned. Could she eat another mouthful? She must. Everyone considered it almost obligatory to indulge in a portion on Twelfth Night.
Boiled in a pudding cloth it resembled a perfect, glossy ball. The footman placed it in front of the earl.
Saunton removed a sprig of holly with bright red berries from the top. He picked up a sharp knife and prepared to cut a slice. “So, who will be the Lord of Misrule?”
After the footmen served everyone seated around the table, the adults probed their portions. The children broke their portions apart and chattered excitedly.
“I will find the bean first,” Sophie shouted.
“No, I will,” Cassie shrieked.
“Me,” screeched Margaret, whom Saunton allowed to join them for the festive meal. She held the small bean aloft. “I have it. All of you must obey me.”
“Oh, no,” Saunton muttered.
At first Margaret asked each of her sisters to sing a carol. Next, she ordered Saunton to describe what he did in Portugal on Twelfth Night. Subsequently she demanded tributes of Saunton’s signet ring, her mother’s imitation diamond earrings and other items.
Amelia began to relax until the wretched girl commanded her to drink wine from her slipper. Displeased, Amelia took off her dainty footwear.
“Fill it with wine,” Margaret instructed a footman.
Somewhat hesitantly the man obeyed.
Aware of her cheeks flushed with annoyance, Amelia pretended to sip the wine.
“You must obey me. Drink all of it,” Margaret insisted.
Amelia slopped a little wine when she put the slipper down on the table. “No, I will not.”
“I shall make another decree.” An excited glitter in her eyes, Margaret looked around the table. “Saunton, I command you to kiss all the ladies.”
“Margaret,” Hortense protested.
The earl stood, kissed his mother on the cheek, raised Miss Harrington’s hand toward his mouth but saluted the air above it, and kissed Charlotte on each cheek. Finally, he stood in front of Amelia. “Turn around on your chair, Miss Carstairs.”
Reluctant to draw more unwelcome attention to herself than she could avoid, Amelia obeyed and looked up at him.
“With your permission and an apology for my sister’s command.” He stooped, his eyes intent on her face. A strange sensation quivered in the pit of her stomach. She could not look away from his lips. Very slowly, his head drew closer to her. His soft mouth touched her lips for a second.
Margaret applauded.
“Saunton!” Hortense protested.
Too shaken by a delightful sensation she had never dreamt of, Amelia stood. She summoned her dignity. “This has been an enjoyable evening.” She smiled at all of them. “Countess, please excuse me. Whatever the weather, I shall leave early tomorrow morning. With your permission, I shall retire.”
Her back straight, she began to walk slowly from the room. Cassie ran to her, flung her arms around her legs and looked up at her with tears in her dark eyes. “Please don’t go.”
Amelia picked the child up and kissed her satin smooth cheek. “Don’t cry, you will visit me in my London house.” Who could resist Cassie?