Candlelit Christmas Kisses: Captain Moorcroft's Christmas Bride / Governess Under the Mistletoe

‘Some chance I have of keeping you to your desk if you choose to go riding or visiting instead,’ Henry said, and gave him an approving nod. He smiled at Selina, as if reassuring her. ‘Millie discovered that I was embarking on the reorganisation of the library, and she nobly offered to assist me.’

‘She will be in her heaven,’ Amy said, and smiled at him. ‘It was kind of you to let her help, sir, because she lives for books. Papa indulged her, but Mama was afraid she might ruin her eyes.’

‘Oh, I do not think a love of books ever hurt anyone,’ Henry said. ‘If you need an escort into Long Melford, I should be glad to accompany you tomorrow. I think you will find it is the nearest town, and it has several shops that you will find of interest—though if you cannot find what you need, I should be glad to send to London for you.’

‘How kind you are,’ Selina said, recovering her tongue. ‘I think our needs are fairly simple, and most haberdashers will be able to supply us with silks and ribbons and some lace. We already have the cloth we require. A good general merchant should supply the other goods we need—almonds, essence and sugar to make marchpane, dates, nuts and preserves, of course. Cook has already started on her cake, and her puddings were made before we left home. We have been using preserves we brought with us, but must now replace them.’

‘You must send your accounts to me,’ the earl said. ‘If we are to share our Christmas celebrations and other meals, I insist on paying for the supplies we need.’

‘I should not dream …’ Selina met his gaze and blushed. ‘We shall provide the things I have named, sir—perhaps you would care to see to the beef, capons, ham—even a goose or even two?’

‘Our farms will supply everything of that nature, of course. If that is your wish. And you must leave the wines to me. I imagine our guests would enjoy my uncle’s champagne and brandy. And I have some very good Italian wine on its way, which I think we shall all enjoy.’

‘That sounds perfectly acceptable,’ Selina said, and smiled, her feeling of embarrassment fading. ‘The vicar is dining with us soon, and we are to have a small family party the week after next. I hope you will join us for each occasion, both of you. It is Millie’s birthday. She will be thirteen, going on thirty-five, and I have not yet decided what she deserves as a gift.’

‘I should like a book,’ Millie said promptly. ‘If you really want to know. There was a Bestiary I liked in Papa’s library, but that would be too expensive, Selina, so I do not mind what you give me.’

‘Well, you will just have to wait and see, miss,’ Selina said, and sent her sister a forgiving smile.

Looking round at the group about the table, she breathed a sigh of relief. Millie’s outspokenness had caused some embarrassment, but the earl seemed to have recovered his equilibrium and had actually gone out of his way to make her sister feel less uncomfortable. As for Mr Norton, he was kindness itself—and if the way he looked at Amy was an indication of his feelings, he already cared for her.

Selina noticed that the two of them were talking animatedly. Millie was butting in now and then, but not as often as she normally did. She glanced at the earl and saw that he was looking at her in an oddly thoughtful way. A little tingle started at the nape of her neck as she saw his expression. What was he thinking? Was it possible that he had remembered her? Surely not! That kiss must have been just a small, unimportant incident to him—as indeed it ought to have been to her.

Had she been given the season her mama had intended, she would almost certainly have married. Had there been no loss of Papa’s fortune and no suicide, she would not have spent so much time at home, caring for her delicate mama and her sisters. The romantic image she’d had of that moonlit garden should have faded. She should have fallen in love again …

She gave herself a mental shake. Had she fallen in love with Robert Moorcroft that night? Yes, of course she had. Selina had never truly understood what her feelings were—it was just an enchanted moment in her young life. That was it, of course. She had been so young—sixteen, innocent and impressionable—and Captain Moorcroft had been so handsome and bold, several years older. His kiss had inflamed her passions and captured her heart.

He was still a handsome man, but that boldness—that devil-may-care manner that had caused her to lose her senses in a madcap moment of sensual pleasure—had disappeared. Earl Banford was a different man—just as she was a different woman.

Selina was not sure whether or not she truly liked the man he had become. Surely there could be nothing left of anything either of them had felt that night? He had been drunk, and she’d been swept away on a magic carpet of enchantment. Selina was no longer that young girl. She had been foolish to allow herself even to think of that ridiculous incident—for that was all it had been, of course. Just a girl’s dream of romance, and it should be shut away like her other dreams.

When Papa had died and left them almost penniless, and Mama had become so ill, requiring Selina’s constant attention, she had put away her dreams of love and marriage. She knew now that even if she stretched her slender funds to the limit, they could barely afford for Amy to have a season, even if one of Mama’s old friends would act as her chaperone. Selina must keep her thoughts firmly fixed on the future and the position she must seek once her younger sister had found someone she could love. Amy must be given every chance. She would not be allowed to throw herself away on the first man who offered, because with her vivacity and her looks, she might aim higher than a mere baronet. Perhaps even a marquis … or an earl?

Glancing at the earl, she found his eyes disconcertingly still on her, even though her sister was laughing and making Millie and Mr Norton laugh too. No, she could not convince herself that Moorcroft, as he would have her call him, was showing any interest in Amy. Rather he was staring down the table at her, an almost pensive expression in his eyes. She could not tell if he were annoyed, bored, or merely lost in his own thoughts.

He had eaten his soup and his meat, but as the puddings were carried in, he pushed back his chair, rising to his feet and saying, ‘No, Henry, stay and finish your meal with the ladies. I have something I wish to attend to—if you will excuse me?’

With that he was gone. His leaving caused silence to fall once more—a silence that made Henry feel it necessary to apologise for.

‘It happens sometimes,’ he said. ‘You must forgive Robert, Miss Searles. At times he feels that he cannot bear to see others happy. I daresay he was remembering … something that happened when we were in Spain. It haunts him still. You must not be distressed, for he did not mean to be rude.’

‘There is no need to apologise, sir,’ Selina said, and smiled. ‘I daresay we can be rather noisy at times.’

‘Would you consider calling me Henry when we are together like this?’ he asked. ‘I feel myself family already, and I wish to be of service to you in whatever way I can.’

‘Thank you, Henry,’ Selina said, and smiled again. ‘I think I should like some pudding. After all, we should not let all Cook’s work go to waste, should we?’

Alone in a garden sadly without the benefit of a summer moon and distinctly chilly, Robert wondered what had made him leave the company so abruptly. He had been in the habit of taking solitary walks at night in Italy, where it was very much warmer, and had come out without his greatcoat. If he were not much mistaken, winter had taken a turn for the worse and they would soon have snow.

Watching Miss Searles with her family, he’d suddenly felt like an outsider, shut out from the warmth and the intimacy of the group. Henry was obviously accepted by them as family, and he had taken on the role with evident pleasure. Always honest, he’d already admitted to Robert that his feelings were engaged, and that should Miss Amy show any preference for his company, he would offer for her, even if his chance of her accepting was slim.

She would be a fool to turn him down; although, given her chance to shine in society, the beautiful Amy Searles would undoubtedly become the rage—just as her sister had that night in Bath. The pity of it was that because of their straitened circumstances, she would probably never get her moment of glory—which was a shame for her and her family. However, should Nor propose and be refused, Robert’s sympathy might be transferred to his friend. Henry’s scars were not something that could be hidden away or forgotten; he must live with them for the rest of his life. Robert could sometimes forget his pain—at least for a while.

He had forgotten for a short time at dinner. Watching, rather than participating in the lively banter, he had felt happy for a while—and then something had brought the memory to mind, and he’d felt guilty that he was alive and enjoying himself. How could he be happy when Juanita lay in her grave—murdered by his men? Men he ought to have taught to behave in a civilised manner even under the heat of battle. All that beauty and passion gone for ever, only her pain a living memory that haunted him day and night. And he was to blame, because he had not controlled his men.

After so many years the pain should have dulled. Indeed, he hadn’t been aware of it for most of the day, with his thoughts preoccupied with the house, the estate—and the intriguing family who had settled in his home. They were like cuckoos in a blackbird’s nest, and if he’d had any sense, he would have found an empty house on the estate or in the village and moved them there before he arrived.

It was too late now to make them move before Christmas. Henry was enjoying life for the first time in years, and he—he had no need to be sucked into their enchanted circle. Good grief, the house was large enough. If he chose he could shut himself away in his wing and never see them …

The trouble was that he was like a moth being drawn to the flame. He wanted the warmth of their charm and beauty. His lonely soul was craving something he had lost so long ago. But his instinct told him that if he drew near, he would singe his wings.

He could never put himself at risk of such pain again. For a moment he could hear Juanita’s screams, and he put his hands to his ears, trying to block out the sound. But it was inside his head and could never be shut out.

When he was restless like this, he needed exercise. It was bitterly cold, and he was not dressed for it, but he needed to run and run hard. The only way to shut out this tearing agony was to exhaust himself physically, so that when he returned to the house he would fall asleep and achieve that peace he longed for so desperately.

Selina stood at the window at the top of the hall and looked out. Trent had told her that the earl had gone into the garden without his greatcoat and had still not returned by the time the others parted and sought their beds.

‘It’s bitter out, miss,’ the elderly butler had said. ‘I fear for him on a night like this—his family had weak chests. If he were to take a chill …’

Selina understood his fear of losing the last of the line. If the earl died, the estate must pass to the Crown, and it would probably stand empty for years until every effort had been made to discover a distant relative. If none were found, it would eventually be sold, and by then it would have decayed to the stage where it would almost certainly be pulled down.

‘I should not worry too much, Trent,’ she’d said kindly. ‘The Earl survived the war and must, I think, be stronger than his cousins were.’

‘I hope so, miss—but it isn’t wise. It isn’t wise at all.’

Selina could not disagree. She had gone to her room but, finding it impossible to rest, had donned a warm wool robe and taken up a position at this window, which looked out over the front of the house, watching for Moorcroft’s return.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning when he finally returned. She saw him walking towards the house. He paused for a moment and looked up, almost as if he sensed he was being watched. Then she saw someone go out to him. It was Henry Norton. He took hold of the earl’s arm and half pushed him inside. She could hear nothing, but she sensed that Nor was using the privilege of old friends to scold Moorcroft.

A feeling of relief crept over her as she realised that Henry must have done this many times before. He would know how to care for his friend—because they were friends, rather than employer and secretary. Henry Norton did not work because he needed to, or to amuse himself, but because he could not leave his friend. They had both been terribly scarred but in different ways.

Selina’s throat caught, and for some nonsensical reason, she found that her cheeks were wet with tears. She brushed them away. How foolish! She had hardly cried when Papa died, though she’d sobbed for Mama—to cry for a man she scarcely knew was beyond foolish. He would not want her tears.

Turning away, she went back to her room and threw her robe over a chair. She was glad to snuggle down into her bed, and after a few minutes of rather serious reflection settled down to sleep.

‘You damned fool,’ Henry said in a severe tone. ‘This isn’t Italy, and it’s cold enough for snow. What the hell did you think you were doing?’

‘To be honest, I didn’t think,’ Robert replied, and gave him a rueful smile. ‘I am sorry to keep you from your bed, Nor. You really must stop watching over me as if I was your child.’

‘When you start behaving like an adult, I’ll go to bed and leave you to yourself,’ Henry said. ‘Now, drink this hot toddy and no arguments. I don’t want you going down with a chill.’

‘I never have chills,’ Robert said. ‘I’m as strong as an ox. Give it here and I’ll drink it—but you must go to bed. And, Nor …’

Henry turned as he reached the door.

‘Thank you. I’m a fool and I’d be dead without you.’

‘Rubbish,’ Henry said. ‘You are a fool, but you would survive.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Let it all go, Robert. I know what happened, I know you feel responsible, but you were not to blame. Those men lost their heads in the heat of their bloodlust; they weren’t the first and they will not be the last. It is a beast that lives in some men, and you could not have known.’

‘Yes, you are right.’ Robert shivered. He was still cold all the way through, even though he was sitting by a roaring fire wrapped in blankets. ‘I’m trying. Believe me, I don’t want this nightmare to continue.’

‘I was hiding in Italy just as you were, Robert. I’ve decided it’s time I started to live again—and so should you.’

‘I’m glad for you. I really am. You deserve to be happy.’

‘I’m not sure I shall be happy. I have no right to ask her, Robert, and unless I can be sure I could make her happy, I shan’t—but whatever happens I’m not going to hide away. I am who I am—scars and all. People may love me or hate me, but I’m not going to apologise for how I look.’

‘No need, Nor,’ Robert said, and sneezed. ‘Miss Millie told you she thought you were quite ugly but she still likes you.’ He laughed mockingly. ‘If one sister won’t have you, you may wait for the other to grow up.’

‘Go to bed, Robert,’ Henry said with a sigh. ‘Or I may very well strangle you.’

‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ Robert said, and sneezed again. ‘Get out of here before I infect you.’

Henry went. His expression was thoughtful as he sought his own room. Coming here might be the best thing that had happened to them both—or the worst.

‘Miss Searles …’ Henry Norton looked at her apologetically as he entered the breakfast parlour the next morning. ‘Forgive me. I promised to escort you and your sisters into Long Melford this morning, but I fear I must cry off.’

‘Oh …’ Selina’s heart caught as she looked at his face. ‘Is something the matter, Henry?’

‘I fear Robert took a chill last night,’ he said. ‘I waited up for him and he was frozen to the bone. As you must have seen this morning, the ground was hard with frost, even though there was no actual snow.’

‘A chill?’ Selina clasped her hands at her sides because she feared they might tremble and betray her. ‘Is he very ill?’

‘He is sneezing and he has a cough. I have forbidden him to get up, and I made him drink a hot toddy last night, but I think he is feeling rather unwell.’

‘Yes, I should imagine he might.’ Selina hesitated. ‘I could make him a tisane to ease him before we go?’

‘If your cook or your maid would do that, it would surely suffice,’ Henry said. ‘I see no reason why you should put off your day of pleasure, Miss Searles.’

‘If I am to call you Henry, you must call me Selina,’ she said. ‘I know Millie is looking forward to the trip, and I wish to buy her birthday gift, so I think we shall go. I am sure Moorcroft will do well enough in your hands. You have nursed him through worse, perhaps?’

‘Actually, it was the other way around,’ Henry said, and smiled oddly. ‘I almost died on the field of battle, Miss Selina—and should have done so afterwards had it not been for Robert’s devotion. He pulled me through by sheer force of will and because he would not leave my side. Juanita nursed me some of the time, but it was Robert’s determination that I should not die that made me cling to life when it seemed there was no point.’ His smile disappeared. ‘It was later that Robert … when she died in terrible pain and he held her to the last …’

‘Juanita? What happened to her? Is that why he looks so tortured at times?’

Was she the woman Robert Moorcroft had loved? The thought stabbed Selina to the heart.

‘He cannot forget her. He feels responsible for her death. She was very beautiful, and a creature of fire and passion.’ He shook his head. ‘We are a sorry pair, Selina—but there is a bond between us. I should hate to lose him to a chill.’

‘Yes, I am sure you would. I will ask my maid to make a tisane. She made them for all of us when we were ill—but if he is no better soon, you should send for the doctor.’

‘He refuses to have one—calls them quacks. They killed as many as they saved out there, you see. So many of our comrades died of fever and gangrene. Most prayed they would die on the field rather than suffer the ministrations of the butchers—as we called the surgeons.’

‘Please watch over him, and if need be, ignore his wishes for once,’ Selina said. ‘I shall speak to my maid—and I will speak to you again when we return.’

Selina did her best to put her concerns for the earl out of her mind as they set out for town a short time later. It was such a treat for her sisters to visit the shops, and she had put by some guineas for the occasion, giving them both a share to spend as they pleased, while keeping the larger part to purchase the things they needed for Christmas.

The shops in Long Melford were more than adequate for their needs, and by the time they had partaken of light refreshments at the Bull Inn, which was said to be haunted, they had already completed most of their shopping and were laden with parcels. Betty and their groom then took charge of their parcels to allow them to complete their shopping, and it was past three in the afternoon when they started back for Moorcroft Hall. The light was fading. By the time they arrived, it was dark.

Lights had been lit in several of the front windows and the lanterns outside the porch were blazing. A trap drawn by one restless horse stood outside the house, and was being walked up and down by a groom Selina had not previously seen.

She went up to him, her heart racing as the pleasure of the day was forgotten in her anxiety. ‘Has the doctor been sent for?’ she asked.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ the groom replied. ‘I’m the doctor’s man—he’s with the earl now.’

Even as he spoke, the door opened and she saw Trent standing there in the porch. The doctor was taking his leave as Millie and Amy gathered their parcels and walked towards the butler.

‘Is something wrong?’ Amy asked. ‘Is the earl worse?’

‘He is sick with a fever, miss,’ the doctor replied. ‘I have given him some of a mixture that may help but he was very hot. I fear the worst—this is a family prone to succumbing to such illnesses. I should have been called earlier.’

‘Is it true, Trent?’ Selina asked, following her sisters in, her arms filled with parcels. ‘Is the earl very ill?’

‘He is in a fever, miss.’ The butler could not hide his anxiety. ‘Two of his cousins were took this way … I never thought it could happen again.’

Selina caught her breath. ‘No, it must not be allowed to happen. Moorcroft is a strong man. He cannot be allowed to die of a fever.’

She hurried inside and dumped her parcels on a nearby sofa, then walked down the hall, through the library and into the earl’s wing. She was uncertain of where the earl’s bedchamber was situated, but as she started to climb the stairs, she saw Henry leave one of the rooms. He walked towards her, carrying a tray on which was a bowl of soup, cold and congealed, and a glass containing what had probably been a hot toddy.

‘Miss Selina,’ he said, sounding grateful to see her. ‘I am glad you’re home. He’s burning up and he won’t be sensible. He refuses everything I try to give him and says he wants to be left alone.’

‘I remember Papa was the same when he was very ill of a fever once,’ Selina said. ‘Has he had any of the mixture the doctor left?’

‘A few drops, but he spat most of it out. He hardly seems to know me … I think he is out of his mind with this fever. I’ve never known him this bad.’

‘He was so foolish last night,’ Selina said. ‘Let me see him, please, Henry. I nursed my mother for many months, through fevers and chills and other sickness. I have some little skill, and I shall be pleased to do what I can for him. I refuse to allow him to die just because his cousins had weak constitutions.’

‘Robert has borne so much. I fear he has given up and wants to die.’

‘Well, he shall not do so,’ Selina declared, setting her mouth in a hard line. ‘My sisters have seen enough sorrow these past months and years. I refuse to let Moorcroft spoil their Christmas. He is going to get better if I have to—’ She laughed as she saw the surprise in Henry’s face. ‘Well, I do not know what I shall do, but I am determined that he is not going to die.’

‘Thank you …’ Henry looked overcome. ‘I must confess that with all the gloomy faces from the staff and the doctor, I had almost lost hope.’

‘Well, I shall not,’ Selina said. ‘You care for him, and I will not have him ruin Christmas. Together we shall pull him through this fever. Now, take me to him so I can see for myself how ill he is.’

‘Are you sure it is quite proper, Miss Selina?’

‘I do not give a penny piece whether it is proper or not,’ Selina replied, with such fervour that Henry laughed.

‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘I feel much better already.’

Selina moved towards the room he had just vacated. She hesitated one second, then opened the door and went in, her heart jumping. A huge fire was burning in the grate and the bed was piled with blankets, which the earl had tossed back. He was moaning, and as she approached the bed, he screamed out and sat up in bed, staring at her with wild eyes.

‘It’s a bloodbath!’ he cried. ‘We’ll all be killed. Save the wounded … take them back through the lines …’

‘Now, you can just stop all that nonsense,’ Selina said firmly, and placed a hand on his brow. He was burning up and it was no wonder. She tossed back all of the blankets save for one light one, saying over her shoulder to Henry, ‘It’s too hot in here. See if you can pull one of the logs from the fire, please—and open the window for a few minutes to let in some fresh air.’

‘The doctor said we must keep him warm.’

‘There is a difference between warm and boiling hot,’ Selina said in a calm, practical tone. ‘I have found with fevers that it is best to keep the patient cool. However, someone must sit with him at all times, because he must not be allowed to turn icy cold. It may mean taking blankets off and sponging him with cool water—and then, later, he may need to be covered over again. I shall do what I can for him now. I suggest you leave us. Take time to eat and rest, Henry. We shall share the nursing between us—and Jane will make us a jug of her tisane, which is nicer on the tongue and of as much help as the doctor’s medicine, I think.’