Page 10 of Marie’s Merry Gentleman (The Bookshop Belles #2)

CHAPTER 9

Christmas Eve at Alston Castle

O n Christmas Eve, the castle bustled with activity. Mrs Ellwood and Morag wore gauntlets to protect their hands and forearms as they travelled from room to room with baskets of spiky green holly and prickly spruce branches. Soon every mantle in the castle had a pretty arrangement of green holly and red berries, along with sprigs of green pine needles and brown cones. Every portrait had ivy trailing along the tops of its frame, and the curtain rails had the plant wound along the rods and dangling beside the portraits of long-passed Renwick ancestors.

The scent of pine and spruce filled the castle, making Sebastian nostalgic for Christmases in his youth. He stood in the hallway, watching as Mr Martin worked his way up the stairwell banisters with much help from the twins, tying swags and bows of red and green ribbons. The bows were rather more lopsided than the ones his mother had made, but Sebastian didn’t care; his heart was full as Alston Castle came to life as it had not in many years.

“Those ribbons make the hall look so bright and lovely!” Marie said from by his side, and he looked down and smiled broadly at her.

“They do, don’t they? Perhaps it’s time to think about redecorating for the rest of the year as well. It is rather gloomy in here most of the time.”

“Oh, but it has so much character! Well.” She paused and looked around, then up. “Do you know, if you painted the ceiling white, that might help.”

It would never have occurred to Sebastian to paint the ceiling. He tilted his head and looked straight up, seeing the dark oak timbers that made up the base floor of the castle’s second storey.

“Do you know, I think you’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “It might be tricky - we’d have to build some sort of scaffold in here for the workers to get up that high - but it could be done. What a clever idea, Miss Baxter! I shall see to it, in the springtime.”

She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “I wish I could see it when it’s done, my lord. It will be a pleasant surprise for the boys when they come home for the summer.” She turned away again, looking back at the twins giggling as they became tangled in a great length of ribbon, unaware of the emotions her words had just stirred up in Sebastian.

She won’t see it. She won’t be here. The thought was an unexpected wrench, and Sebastian realised how incredibly comfortable he had become in Marie’s company in the last weeks.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine, happy to talk or remain in peaceful mutual silence as the mood took them, reading quietly or getting into an animated discussion over their books. She always had some thoughtful remark to make, some insight which made him look at the world in a new way.

Alston Castle will be the poorer without her presence. I will miss her very much when she goes home.

The feeling that churned in his stomach at the thought discomfited him so badly he had to turn away, striding up the stairs to go and rescue Richard and George from the muddle they’d made of the ribbons before poor Mr Martin despaired of them.

When he came back down again, Marie had been joined by Mr Charles, who was as usual looking at her with great admiration.

Sebastian’s gut clenched with an ugly feeling he refused to acknowledge. Perhaps it was time he had a quiet word with the tutor, Sebastian reflected; it did the poor man no good to break his heart over a woman he couldn’t possibly marry.

Not that Sebastian had any power to prevent the match! He would not be so petty as to withdraw his financial support from Mr Charles before his ordination: and he certainly had no authority over Marie, but he would not for the world see Marie marry a man who could not support a wife in reasonable comfort. A woman like her deserved the very best.

Morag came out into the hall just as Sebastian reached the foot of the stairs, and Sebastian stopped short at the look on the redheaded maid’s face. It was pure jealousy, directed at… Marie? And then Morag looked at Mr Charles, making a bee-line towards him, and the light dawned.

What a tangled web , Sebastian thought wryly, of people pining for those they can’t have . Morag for Mr Charles and Mr Charles for Marie. He refused to include himself in that situation. He marked himself out of that equation with his very next breath. Obviously he would never marry again.

Before he could contemplate the situation any further, Mrs Ellwood marched into the hall, caught the maid by the arm, neatly turned her about and marched her off again. The housekeeper was muttering under her breath and firmly shaking her head.

Well, at least his redoutable housekeeper was aware of the Morag situation, and obviously had the problem well in hand. Mr Charles would be gone soon enough, returning to Cambridge to complete his own studies and be ordained this summer, after which his visits to Alston would be few and far between. It meant Sebastian would need to find a new tutor for the boys, though. His heart sank a little at the thought. Mr Charles had been so good for them. Perhaps the soon-to-be curate might be able to recommend an acquaintance from Cambridge who would be interested in the position? Someone young, with plenty of energy.

He should speak to the tutor now, while he still had the chance.

“Would you have a moment, Mr Charles?” Sebastian said. “In my study? If you’ll excuse us, Miss Baxter.”

“Why, of course, my lord.” She smiled up at both of them from her chair, and the men bowed politely to her.

As soon as Sebastian had closed the study door, Mr Charles asked, “How may I assist you, my lord?”

Sebastian took a seat behind his desk and invited the tutor to take a chair. “I want to commend you for your attentiveness to the boys,” Sebastian said. “They are still boisterous, but they are no longer as heedless and thoughtless as they were when you first commenced your tutelage. They have matured and thrived under your direction.”

Mr Charles beamed happily, obviously pleased at his praise. “They are good boys, and clever. A credit to you, my lord. I have no doubt they will do very well in life.”

“Sadly, they will not have you for the next holidays, as you will be going on to bigger and better things yourself, as you well deserve. I was wondering if you could think of anyone you might recommend for your replacement?”

“Oh.” Mr Charles tapped his finger against his lips in thought. “I might, at that. Please, allow me to make some enquiries among my fellow students when I return to Cambridge, and I will write to you with a list of potential candidates.”

“Very good.” Sebastian hesitated, but he thought it best to approach the next topic head-on. “I am not sure whether you are aware that the maid Morag might fancy herself a little in love with you?”

“Oh.” Mr Charles looked exceedingly embarrassed. His cheeks pinked and he cleared his throat. “I hope you do not think I have given her any encouragement in the slightest, my lord!”

He wanted to laugh at how uncomfortable the young man was, but he spared the tutor any further embarrassment. “I did not think it for a moment. Mrs Ellwood has the matter well in hand, but I do caution you against leaving your door unlocked at night.”

Sebastian felt a tinge of colour come to his own cheeks even as Mr Charles blushed furiously and nodded in agreement.

Both of them ended up laughing at how awkward the situation was.

“Was there anything else, my lord?” Mr Charles asked once he had recovered himself.

Sebastian tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “There is one other small matter. Miss Baxter…” he paused, trying to think of how to phrase his words without sounding accusing. Drat it all, this was a tricky tangle. He tried approaching the topic from a different angle. “Unfortunately, as I have no currently available living to bestow upon you, you will need to make your way as a curate for a while, and that lifestyle will not enable you to support a wife.”

He was almost pleased with how diplomatically he had put it, but he dare not smile.

“Indeed not, my lord, I should not think of it,” Mr Charles agreed promptly.

Sebastian sighed with relief.

Then the expression on Mr Charles’ face changed as he obviously put two and two together from Sebastian having accidentally let Marie’s name slip at the start of his sentence. “Wait, you don’t think I… and Miss Baxter… oh no, goodness no my lord!” He blushed furiously again. “Miss Baxter is everything admirable of course. Even if I were ten years older with a living of my own…” he was stumbling over his words, obviously in a frantic rush to get them out and convince Sebastian of his sincerity. “I know my place, my lord! Miss Baxter is far beyond my reach.”

He wanted to sigh with relief, but he held it in. “I am glad to hear it confirmed, that you are as sensible a man as I have always believed you to be,” Sebastian said, a feeling of intense happiness coming over him. He stood up and offered the tutor his hand.

“And I thank you, my lord, for your faith and generosity in me. I shall always be in your debt,” Mr Charles said fervently, shaking his hand.

“You have amply repaid it already with what you have done for the twins,” Sebastian disagreed.

Thank goodness that artless, floundering conversation was concluded.

They returned to the hall together to find Marie at the foot of the stairs with the boys sitting in front of her chair, listening raptly as she spoke to them in her perfect French.

“Admirable as she is,” Mr Charles said, a little diffidently, “it strikes me that Miss Baxter might well be wasted as mistress of a parsonage somewhere.”

“Oh?” Sebastian found himself bristling a little on Marie’s behalf. He didn’t like the direction this was taking.

“Indeed.” The tutor cast him a knowing look.

Something ominous flipped in his stomach.

Mr Charles then added, “I do believe she would be much better suited to be mistress of a far greater estate. Somewhere like Alston Castle, perhaps?”

Sebastian’s ears grew very hot, and there was a faint ringing in them. He mumbled something, he knew not what, and hurried hastily forward, desperate to disengage from Mr Charles and the conversation which had taken a most uncomfortable direction.

“Boys, come along! The ribbons may be done in here, but I want to hang ivy from the beams in the parlour, and I shall need your help!” he exclaimed.

He had no idea where he’d managed to rescue that line of thought from, but he was grateful that the boys jumped up, eager to help. Sebastian followed them into the parlour, careful not to look at their tutor who stood watching him, with a knowing look on his face.

That was so utterly uncalled for, but he shook his head and decided the young man had merely been having fun, perhaps caught up in seasonal cheer. He shouldn’t have reacted so badly, as it must have been a jest.

Redirecting his energies into putting up decorations with the boys helped Sebastian overcome his acute embarrassment at the tutor suspecting the direction of his feelings to Miss Baxter.

“Dear boy,” he said to George, “I’m going to lift you up, so you can hang the branch from the rafter above me.”

“Yes, Pa,” George said, holding a branch in one hand and a knot of sap in the other. “Ready!”

Sebastian lifted him up by his middle, but there was still far too much distance the boy’s hands and the beams.

This was not going to work. “Hold steady,” he said, bringing the boy down and into his chest. “Keep your torso firm, I’ll lift you by your thighs.”

With a little grunting and adjusting, Sebastian lifted him closer to the ceiling and the boy reached the rafter and stuck the greenery to it.

There were grunts of achievement and effort, and Sebastian brought him gently back to the floor.

“My turn next,” Richard said.

His heart was puffing from the exertion but he was ready to go again. “All right, Richard, ready?”

Richard nodded and held his arms upwards.

This time Sebastian bent his knees to grab the lad, again from the thighs to give him more height, then hoisted him skywards.

“Nearly, nearly, nearly. Got it!” Richard cried.

The three of them cheered with success.

Sebastian brought him back down again and ruffled his hair. “Good job, Richard.”

Mr Martin came in and said with droll delivery, “We have a ladder, my lord. Shall I…”

Had the man waited for him to almost injure his back before making the suggestion?

“Bring it in, yes, please do,” Sebastian agreed with a laugh at his own expense. The boys were getting too big for this, already as tall as his shoulder, they were almost young men now. He really couldn’t lift them repeatedly without doing himself an injury. He already had an injured Miss Baxter, he didn’t want to add to his staff’s woes by hurting himself.

His eldest came over with another bough and said, “Ready to go again. Lift me up, Pa.”

“Steady, lad,” Sebastian put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t need to do myself a mischief, and wiser heads have prevailed. Mr Martin is fetching a ladder for us.”

Mr Martin came in with a ladder which they could lean against the wall. Mr Martin held one side steady, Sebastian held the other side and held his hand out for the boy.

“Righto junior, up you get.”

As he watched the boy ascending the steps, his vision caught on the sight of Miss Baxter wheeling her chair to the doorway. He acknowledged her presence with a nod, but then turned back to keep an eye on the child at the top of the ladder to make sure he didn’t fall.

“Easy!” the boy said as he stuck his prize to the cornice. “Can I come down now?”

“Yes, mind your footing,” Sebastian said.

With Mr Martin’s help and the boys’ enthusiasm, they soon had the room bursting with greenery stuck on every imaginable surface. Was any of it level or co-ordinated? Not a chance. A troll could have sneezed in the room with more care, but it did look festive and that was the plan.

More than that, the pine scents really brought the seasonal joy indoors.

“Well done lads,” he said, giving Richard another tousle of his hair. “Now, off for more lessons and I’ll see you at nuncheon.”

“Bye, Pa,” they said as they left the room, “See you soon, Miss Baxter.”

She’d been there the whole time, watching them decorate. He couldn’t help but smile at her and the rosy glow on her cheeks.

Mr Martin picked up the ladder and bid them both farwell.

Miss Baxter hid a small giggle behind her hands. “They have done a … remarkable job,” she said.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Sebastian laughed at his own expense. “I’m hoping they fall down on their own accord at some point as the sap dries. Otherwise someone will have to climb up and get them down,

“You didn’t hurt yourself lifting the boys so high?”

He rubbed his lower back and said, “I hope not, but I might need a hot compress tomorrow.” Then he stopped. “I have nothing to complain about. How is your ankle?”

“Mending at speed,” she said. She used her good foot to wheel herself into the room.

Sebastian closed the distance between them. “Allow me,” he said, grasping the back of the chair to push her along.

“Thank you,” she nodded. “I am so grateful for this chair. The boys have taken turns to gently push me around. They’ve offered to give me a tour of the castle as soon as I can walk a little, which I am greatly looking forward to.”

“Have they now?”

He moved her to the centre of the room where she could get a better view of the misshapen and haphazard decorations.

He smiled down upon her, but instead of returning his smile, she worried at her bottom lip.

“I wanted to ask something, but I fear it might not be my place,” she said.

He took a nearby seat so they could be at eye level for the conversation. He was in a festive mood. “Ask away.”

“It’s about Richard … and George.”

He tried hard not to wince at the name, and blinked instead.

“There it is,” she said.

“There what is?” he asked, suddenly wondering where this conversation was going. He had thought she might ask if she could become their French tutor, to which he would have readily agreed. Instead she was trying to pry open an old wound.

“You treat them very differently, Richard and George.”

He breathed in, feeling defensive. “Do I?”

“I’ve seen and heard you, and I do not want to come across as an unappreciative guest. You have done so much for me, and my sisters already have your substantial payment. Oh, I nearly forgot,” she produced a small purse and placed it on the table. “I meant to return this so much sooner, but I’ve been so entertained I keep forgetting. It’s the money for the books and my travel, which I no longer need.”

He tried to keep track of the conversation. She’d begun by talking about the boys, but diverted to the money. “To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about it, so I appreciate your honesty.”

“Back to what I wanted to ask you about.”

He gulped, not sure he liked where this was going.

“I’ve noticed… you have no hesitation calling Richard by his name, but when it comes to George it’s ‘dear boy’ or something else. It’s as if there’s some barrier…”

His pulse hammered in his head. She couldn’t possibly know. She couldn’t have guessed. If she’d seen a difference in the way he spoke to the boys, well, he’d deny it until the end of time.

It stuck in his throat to outright claim she was wrong, but he couldn’t lie to her. He had to think of something.

“He’s the heir, even if only by ten minutes or so, he is the heir and will always be treated that way. It’s not Richard’s fault he’s second. I’m trying, in my own poor attempt, to make him feel better at being second.”

Her face was so sympathetic. Did she believe him?

“Who’s the heir?” Marie pointedly asked him.

His guts churned at having to say his name. “George,” he gritted out. There, he’d said it.

Marie nodded, but there was scepticism in her expression.

Sebastian rose from his seat, wanting to be anywhere other than here, under Marie’s penetrating gaze. “I must see that Cook has all the ingredients for tomorrow,” he said and stalked out of the room as fast as he could.

Marie did not raise the subject again at nuncheon, nor that afternoon when they read together, and by dinnertime he had concluded with relief that she did not intend to. He relaxed, eating his dinner with enjoyment, and afterwards took hold of the back of Marie’s chair to push her into the library. Something caught his eye hanging above the door, and he paused, surprised. Who had put that there?

“What’s the matter, my lord? Is one of the chair wheels stuck… did my cloak catch in the wheel?” Marie twisted to look up at him.

“No… it’s not that.” He looked up again, at the sprig of greenery with white berries stuck above the library door.

“Oh, that’s mistletoe,” Marie said, promptly identifying it. Then her eyes went very wide, her soft lips parted in an ‘O’ of surprise.

How could he not honour the tradition of the season, especially when she looked so beautiful? Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, Sebastian leaned down and kissed her, right on that sweet mouth.