Joan Smith (4 page)

“That is an old wives’ tale, that it grows on oak,” Nick said. “I believe it had some special significance to the Druids when it grew on oak. Where we always found it was on apple trees, eh, Jane? I shall take Aurelia to the orchard. I hope Fogarty has not had it all cut away.”

Jane realized she had not quite recovered from her affection for Nick. She felt a twisting in her heart to hear him say he would take Aurelia to cut the mistletoe. She knew from experience that he would hold the bough over her head and steal a kiss. He always did that. In former times, she had been the girl under the kissing bough.

They lingered at the table for an hour, talking about old times and discussing plans for the future. The name “Aurelia” was often spoken. Eventually the lady herself appeared at the doorway, looking refreshed and angelic, and even more beautiful after a good night’s sleep. All the ladies present thought she was overdressed for a day in the country. Her blue sarcenet gown was lovely, and matched her eyes to perfection, but the sleeves stopped just below the elbow, and she wore no shawl at the rather low-cut neckline. Lizzie shivered just looking at the exposed nape of her neck.

Nick’s glowing smile announced that he found her perfection. He rose and filled her plate to overflowing.

“I could not possibly eat all that!” she said, laughing.

“Eat up. We have a strenuous day ahead of us. Right after breakfast we are going to call on the tenant farmers, and introduce them to the new lady at Clareview.”

“I believe it is the custom to take them some money at Christmas, is it not? I know Papa gives his workers a little bonus. He calls it blanket money.”

“Money!” Lizzie exclaimed in horror. “Oh, my dear, we never give money
.
”

“Here in the country, we give the actual blanket,” Nick explained.

“I shall feel like Lady Bountiful!” Miss Townsend said.

“Actually, the blankets have already been given,” he said, “but we have one box to deliver. One of our tenants’ wives has just had twins.”

“How sweet. I should love to see them.”

The lovers exchanged a melting look. Jane saw it and said, “I must be going now. I have knitted a few things for Mrs. Dooby. You can tell me where her Christmas box is, Lady Elizabeth.”

The other ladies sensed they were de trop and rose simultaneously, each inventing an excuse to leave the young couple alone.

As Jane left, Nick grabbed her hand and whispered, “Thank you, dear Jane. What a thoughtful creature you are.” Then he winked, and she hurried on after the others.

There was a little commotion of finding suitably warm clothes for Miss Townsend when she was preparing to leave. Her sable-lined pelisse would keep her warm enough, even in the gig, but her kid slippers would leave her feet cold. She did not possess such an inelegant and useful item as laced boots or shoes, and utterly refused to strap on a pair of pattens. She disliked to either wear a shawl over her bonnet, or leave the bonnet at home.

“Why do we not take your closed carriage, Nick?” she asked.

“The road is not suitable. It isn’t paved. I cannot risk my new carriage on that rutted lane. We have to take the gig.”

“Oh, I see. Why do you not pave the road?”

“The tenants don’t have carriages, so it would be a great expense for very little reason.”

“I see,” she said, but she did not sound convinced.

“Wear my shawl, Aurelia,” Jane urged, offering the shawl off her back.

“I would like to make a good first impression on the tenants,” she said artlessly. “They will think I am not a real lady if I come in a shawl.”

“But, my dear, you cannot go out in this frigid weather without something warm over your head,” Lady Elizabeth insisted. “You will catch your death of cold.”

“Well, I shall wear the shawl, then. Thank you, Miss Ramsey. But I shall carry my bonnet and put it on before I go into the houses.”

Nick squeezed her chin. “Vain creature. They will love you with or without a bonnet, as we all do.”

“I wish I had something to give the twins. Could we go into the village first, Nick?”

He drew out his watch. “We really haven’t time, my dear. We shall do it another day, and take your gift.”

Aurelia thought a moment, then said, “I shall give each of the babies a golden guinea. I daresay that would be more welcome than a basket of fruit or some such thing, and it is not like giving money to your tenant farmers, exactly.”

The ladies agreed, after she and Nick had left, that her heart was in the right place, even if she did think that the tenants required a paved road.

“I think she is a kind little thing at heart,” Lizzie said, “though it is rather strange—vain, really—for her to worry about making a good impression on tenants.”

“I think she wants that for Nick’s sake,” Jane said. “She wants him to be proud of her.”

“If he were any prouder of her, he would burst,” Lizzie said crossly.

They acknowledged amongst themselves once more that she would soon be the acting mistress of Clareview, and they might as well accept it. This had been thoroughly discussed and settled by the time Pelham Vickers arrived.

He came shivering into the Gold Saloon, where a fire blazed in the grate, hollering, “Merry Christmas to all. Where is the hot punch, Aunt Lizzie? I am frozen to the marrow. What must happen but I lost a wheel, and had to wait an hour in the freezing carriage while it was repaired.”

Lady Elizabeth was, in fact, no relation to him, but from hearing Nick calling her Aunt Lizzie, he had adopted the term as well. Pelham was not a man to strike off on original paths. His papa had been a bishop, and he took holy orders, too. Although he had no real interest in the church, he liked to be called vicar.

He was of medium height and build, with a spreading stomach due to a love of ale. His brown hair seemed always either too short or too long. His philosophy was that if he got it cut short, he wouldn’t have to have it cut again for a few months. He was due for a trip to the barber. His hair rested on his collar, and one wayward lock fell forward over his rosy cheeks. His teeth had a slight tendency to protrude in front, but not to a disfiguring extent. No one had ever called him Rabbit. His main charm was his good nature, which never took offense and never intentionally gave it.

“Where is Nick?” he asked, toasting his icy fingers over the fire.

“He has taken his fiancée to visit the tenants,” Lizzie said.

Pelham looked at Jane and bunked. “Eh? You and Nick are going to be hitched? Jolly good. Congratulations and all that, but what are you doing here when you are out calling on the tenants with him?”

Jane was glad it was only Pelham who was asking this embarrassing question. “He is marrying a Miss Aurelia Townsend, from Manchester,” she explained.

“The devil you say! Now, there is a shock for us all. Is she pretty?”

“She is extremely beautiful,” Jane said.

“Trust Nick.”

“And rich,” Lizzie added. “Her papa is a brewer.”

“You never mean he has landed Edward Town-send’s chit? By the living jingo. Townsend brews more ale than Whitbread. We will all be swimming in Oldham Ale. Townsend owns a string of tied houses as well.”

“What’s that you say, Pelham?” Lizzie asked, her nose quivering in curiosity. “He owns a good many houses?”

“Tied houses. It is what they call them when a big brewer buys a tippling house and sells only his own brew. Whitbread has a string of them as well.”

“Well!” Lizzie exclaimed, her crocodile mouth stretching in a grin. “Nick mentioned nothing of this! Tied houses, eh? Surely that is more respectable than brewing.”

“Respectable has nothing to do with it,” Pel said. “He is rich as Croesus. Does she have any sisters?”

“Yes, two, both married. And her brother is married as well, alas,” Jane said.

Pelham sat on the sofa beside Jane. “Since you have lost out on Nick, p’raps you would like to marry me,” he said, unoriginal as ever. He had always assumed Nick would marry Jane; therefore, she must be an excellent catch. In his simple mind, she was filed under the category: desirable brides.

“Perhaps I would,” she replied, assuming it was a joke.

“When are they tying the knot?”

“Very soon,” Lizzie said. “As soon as possible. How many of those tying houses does her papa have, Pelham?”

“Dozens. Perhaps hundreds by now. He is snapping them up right and left. A regular nabob.”

“I think we must have a party to introduce dear Aurelia to society,” was Lizzie’s next speech. “A ball—a New Year’s Ball.”

“There isn’t time to arrange a ball,” Jane said, although the notion of a party pleased her.

“A big party at least. You don’t suppose she will expect us to serve her papa’s ale? Dear me! I hope he won’t go making Clareview into one of his tying-up houses.”

“It don’t work quite like that, Aunt Lizzie,” Pel-ham said, and went on to explain in a disjointed fashion that the tied houses were commercial establishments.

When her head began to reel, Mrs. Lipton decided it was time to change the subject. “Nick mentioned wanting you to perform the wedding, Pelham.”

“Me?”
he asked in astonishment, tinged with horror. “How the devil should I know how to perform a wedding? I ain’t a minister. Well, in a way, I suppose I am. I shall have George do it.” George Saintbury was his curate.

“His heart is quite set on having you do it,” Lizzie insisted. “George will show you where to find the ceremony in the book. You have only to read it. It means a great deal to Nick. He has discovered tradition.”

“The tradition is that I pay George, and he does the work,” Pelham explained. “He knows the
Book of Common Prayer
by heart. He can rattle off a wedding or a christening or a funeral in the twinkling of a bedpost. It is all the same to him.”

“I’ll go over the ceremony with you, Pel,” Jane said, to appease Lady Elizabeth.

It did not escape her notice that Lizzie had discovered a new fondness for Miss Townsend upon learning that her papa was such a propertied gentleman. She did not fear, though, that Nick’s love was based on Mr. Townsend’s wealth. Nick positively glowed when Aurelia was in the room. It was going to be a trying week, but she had the New Year’s party to look forward to.

“Miss Aurelia goes beyond Incomparable! She is a Comparable!” was Pelham’s compliment to Nicholas, after meeting the bride-to-be.

Upon the actual introduction some moments before, he had said only, “G’day, Miss Aurelia. Happy to meet you, I’m sure. Any fiancée of Nick’s—” Then Jane had given him a prod in the back, and he stopped. “Heh heh. Not that he has many fiancées. Nor any, come to that. None at all—except yourself.”

Miss Aurelia found a curtsy beyond her, in her frozen condition, and just smiled. She had become thoroughly chilled during her trip to the tenant farms, despite the shawl and the sable-lined cape. She was placed before the blazing grate, where Lizzie courted her with a hot posset, leaving the gentlemen privacy to reestablish their interrupted friendship.

Nick was so happy to see his old friend that he ignored his foolishness and gave him a bear hug.

“And a great heiress to boot, I hear,” Pelham added, detaching himself quickly from Nick’s embrace. Pel did not care for these Spanish customs.

“This is not a case of cream-pot love, my friend.”

“No, no. It is not dairies the family is famous for, but ale. Townsend’s Oldham Ale. You can drink your way across England, free of charge. On the honeymoon, I mean.”

The weather is not good for travel at this time of the year. I expect we will go up to London for a week, and make a longer trip in the spring, if Aurelia likes. But enough about me. Tell me what you are up to, Pel.”

The same old things. Hunting, fishing, shooting. I read a book while you were away. But dash it, why waste time talking about me when you have been all the way to Spain?”

After a little conversation, they were called in to luncheon, where Lizzie soon turned the table talk in the direction of the wedding.

Pelham is the gentleman who will be performing your wedding ceremony, Miss Aurelia,” she said. “Or may I call you Aurelia, as you are practically family?” Aurelia smiled her permission. “And you must call me Aunt Lizzie, like the others. Tomorrow you will see the church where the wedding will be performed. It is small, but pretty. Norman, you know.”

Aurelia’s frown revealed that she was either confused or unhappy. “Norman who?” she asked.

“Norman architecture, my dear,” Lizzie explained, without a single sign of dismay. “The Normans who invaded England built it aeons ago. They were French, were they not, Nick?”

“Yes,” Nick said, and immediately changed the subject. He noticed Jane’s surprise at Aurelia’s ignorance of history, and was annoyed with Jane. “Do you think you can handle a wedding ceremony, Pel?” he asked.

“Jane has offered to help me,” Pel replied. “Mind you, George would do a better job of it. I would hate to make a mistake on such an important occasion and end up christening you.”

Aurelia looked helplessly from one to the other. “But are you not a vicar, Mr. Vickers?”

“I am a clergyman by profession. It is just that I am more or less retired.”

“You look very young to be retired.”

“I have been at it for years.”

“If Mr. Vickers is retired, why do we not be married in London, Nick?” Aurelia suggested. “I had thought we would be married at St. George’s, in Hanover Square, where my sisters were married. Now that Mama and Papa have a set of rooms in London, my family could stay there, and yours with the Huddlestons.”

“Everyone can stay here,” Nick said. “I look forward to our families becoming friends. They must come a week before the wedding and make a little holiday of it.”

“But they always like to take their holiday in London. There is so much to do there.”

“There will be plenty to do here, Aurelia,”
Lizzie
said. “We are going to have a great party to introduce you to everyone. And then the wedding a day or two later, whatever you like.”

“A ball?” Aurelia said, consideringly.