Page 13 of Marie’s Merry Gentleman (The Bookshop Belles #2)
CHAPTER 12
Boxing Day gifts
M arie grimaced in anticipation as she placed the slightest pressure on her bad ankle. It held, although it was tender. Nothing at all like the searing pain of the weeks before. Being careful, she would be able to get about a little. Staying close to the interior walls was the best thing, as she could put a hand out and balance her weight.
It wasn’t quite the miraculous recovery she’d hoped for, but it was good progress. Enough that she’d be able to join Mrs Ellwood and Morag as they visited the tenant farmers with boxes of gifts for the year.
The carriage was ready and to her surprise, Mr Charles would also be joining them. He assisted Marie into the carriage and Mrs Ellwood pulled her up from the inside and helped her to a seat.
Morag was delighted to see the object of her affection joining them, and Marie wondered if perhaps something had happened between them.
Of course, she remembered a moment later, he was a son of one of the farmers, and that was why Lord Renwick was sponsoring him.
In the carriage, Mr Charles smiled and politely coped with Morag as she peppered him with questions about what gifts he’d brought for his family. Morag was doing her best to be understandable today. Perhaps she’d been taking some elocution lessons from Mrs Ellwood?
Marie turned to Mrs Ellwood who theatrically rolled her eyes at Morag’s display.
It wasn’t until they arrived at a farm where the name ‘Charles’ hung on a shingle near the main gate that she realised why the tutor was accompanying them.
“Here we are,” Mr Charles said, as soon as the carriage came to a stop.
It had been slow going because a fresh dumping of snow had fallen over the roads. Mr Charles climbed out first and asked the coachman to take the horses into the barn so they wouldn’t become chilled standing in the snow.
Marie carefully eased herself down a step onto her good foot, but she would need to put more weight on her bad one. Mr Charles extended his hands to her and said, “I’ll lift you, if you like?”
“Thank you, you’re most gallant to offer.”
He lifted her by the waist and gently placed her on her feet, where her boots vanished into the snow. She might need some of it to pack around her bad ankle if she did anything silly.
“I’d like a lift,” Morag said as she stood on the top step.
Mr Charles gave a hearty laugh and said, “Of course.” He lifted her just the same as he had Marie, and Morag grinned the whole time his hands were on her.
Mrs Ellwood handed them all the parcels, then made to climb down. Mr Charles also offered his services.
“Tosh, I can get down fine on me own.” The housekeeper laughed at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “No need to be gallant for me, young man!”
Once they were ready, the coachman took the horses into the barn and they entered the farmhouse.
The fire was roaring in the hearth with a Yule log sticking out of it as well. Aromas of burning pine, honey and roasted vegetables filled the air. An older man took the boxes from Mr Charles and beamed, his arms wide for an embrace.
“John, you are a sight for sore eyes!” The two men embraced and Marie realised the older man must be Mr Charles’ father.
A woman came bustling in, fresh tears on her face, “My darling John, come here!” She held her son and hugged him, rocking him sideways and nearly throwing him off balance.
A much taller man then walked in, ducking his head as he came through the doorway. He was built like an oak, his legs as thick as tree trunks. “Baby brother!” the giant called out.
“Andrew!” Mr Charles cried. When Mr Charles embraced his brother, there was a marked gap in their heights. Clearly the elder boy had never lacked for food!
Morag gasped, “My word! Lookit ye!”
Had Marie been with the household so long she could truly understand the wild girl?
Mrs Ellwood reached out to correct the young maid, but stopped as the elder son quickly gasped and said, “I shall return the favour, pretty lady!” His eyes were fixed on the Scots girl’s fiery red locks.
What had just happened? Marie looked at the maid, whose eyes were virtually turning heart-shaped in front of them. Then she looked up to Mr Charles’ brother, who wore an enormous grin in response.
“Morag Campbell, kind sir,” the maid said, making a quick curtsey to him.
“Oh dear!” the giant of a man said, “You know what they say, ‘Never trust a Campbell’. Not that it’s yer fault, like.”
“Weil,” Morag twirled her skirts, flirting furiously, “If ye think it’s a bad name, marry me and i’ll change it to yers!”
The parents roared with mirth and laughter. The father said, “She’s got yer number, my lad.” Then he looked at Morag and said, “Come and sit by the fire and warm yourself, hen. Andrew? Get her a drink. John? Tell me all about how your training is going?”
They spent a wonderful, if confusing, hour at the Charles’ farmhouse. When it was time to go, they almost had to drag Morag away from the elder brother.
“Why don’t you pick me up later when you’re on the way back?” she suggested.
“Morag!” Mrs Ellwood said, sounding utterly outraged, “You’ll do as yer told.”
As they returned to the carriage, Morag reprimanded Mr Charles. “Whydintya teil me yer brother were so handsome, and like to inherit the farm too! To think ahve bin wasting me time with the likes of ye!”
Marie had to bite the inside of her cheek to not burst into fits of laughter. It was a truly fast turn around in affections from the young maid. Mr Charles was laughing and looking suddenly relaxed. Morag’s change in romantic target had quickly resolved a particularly sticky situation of her holding a flame for the tutor who was destined for the church.
The rest of the farm visits were short and merry. With the last one, Marie remained in the carriage so she could rest her ankle. One of the farmer’s wives came out to see her and offer her a small apple cake. The kindness of the gesture robbed her of speech. There was a little girl holding on to her mother’s skirts. “Can I come in? It looks grand?” the little girl begged, eyes wide with wonder.
“Pet, no…” the mother started.
“Be my guest,” Marie said, and nodded to the farmer’s wife to climb up as well. It would be warmer in here than standing outside.
“Is this really an earl’s carriage?” the girl said, eyes as round as saucers. “Are you a princess?”
“Very far from it,” Marie said, “but I do feel very much like a princess in this carriage. It does belong to the Earl of Renwick.”
“Are you going to be the new lady in the castle?” the girl then asked.
“Hush child,” her mother said. “I do beg yer pardon, my lady, she’s at that age when she’s full of questions! She didn’t mean no offence.”
“It’s all right, no offence taken, she’s allowed to dream,” Marie said, giving in to some fantasies of her own. Riding around in an Earl’s carriage was something she could get used to. Not that she should, and not that she’d even let herself believe it was possible. In fact, she really shouldn’t let herself dream like that, because before long she would wake up and be back in regular old Hatfield.
“And I’m not a lady.” Marie broke her apple cake and offered half to the little girl, whose mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise.
“Thank you!” the girl said, “Come over again soon and Ma will make more.”
The mother chuckled at how much enthusiasm her daughter had. “Come on, little one, they need to get back to the big house before it gets dark.”
It snowed so much on the return home, Marie wondered if they might need to find a nearby barn for them for the night, because it would be cruel to keep the horses out in these conditions. The driver too must be buried under a freezing white blanket.
When they did change direction, it was to bring them back to Alston Castle. The horses kicked through the snow and pulled them safely into the stables.
The grooms were quick to give them oats and brush them down, paying attention to carefully get more blood flowing through their lower limbs.
Marie was careful too not to rush back into the castle, knowing a bad step could set her recovery back. To her utmost surprise, Lord Renwick appeared at the stable door with a blanket. He wrapped it around her, then picked her up and carried her back into the castle. He walked her all the way to the library, where George and Richard were sitting by the fireplace, holding an iron shovel full of chestnuts over the coals.
“Have you hurt yourself again?” George asked.
“We were hoping to give you a tour soon,” Richard said.
“No, I’m not hurt. Your father decided to be gallant,” she said. “But the tour might have to wait another day. I am quite tired, I’m afraid.”
“Shouldn’t have let you go out in this weather,” Renwick said, seemingly chiding himself, as he settled her in an armchair. “Dreadful risk.”
“I had a wonderful time,” Marie contradicted him firmly. “I haven’t been out of doors since I arrived here, I very much enjoyed the fresh air, and meeting Mr Charles’ family too.”
He looked a little thoughtful at that.
“And young Morag also had a marvellous time,” she added. She left the comment there and would tell Renwick more later, when they didn’t have an audience.
“I wish we could go out too,” George said regretfully as the first chestnuts began to pop. “We haven’t even had a chance to build a snowman yet!”
“That must surely be remedied,” Renwick said with a laugh. “Let me see what I can do.”
The following morning, Mrs Ellwood bustled in to help Marie dress, smiling broadly. “Warmest petticoats today, my dear!”
“Why is that?” Marie asked curiously. Despite the ruined approaches to Alston Castle, the renovated portion was warm and comfortable, with fires lit in every room and few drafts. She couldn’t imagine why she would need to dress more warmly even if the weather were to turn worse, and today looked better; the sun had actually come out, shining almost blindingly on the snow-covered landscape.
“His lordship has an outing planned for you and the young masters,” Mrs Ellwood said cheerfully, but she refused to share any more details, miming turning a key beside her lips when Marie pressed her.
Mrs Ellwood offered her arm for support, and they made their way slowly to the front door. Her ankle was even better this morning, and as long as she was careful, she would be able to accept the boys’ promise of a tour very soon.
Mr Martin smiled and opened the door for her, and Marie cried out in surprise at what awaited her at the bottom of the steps; Lord Renwick there with his two sons, in a horse-drawn sleigh!
“I saw you piling the greenery in this sleigh, on Christmas Eve,” Marie said, as Renwick entrusted the reins briefly to George and came up the steps to collect her.
“Quite useful when the snow is this deep - and we don’t need to stick to the roads.” Renwick lifted her and carried her easily down the steps, then tucked her into the sleigh. It had two bench seats, rear and front. Marie sat in the back with Richard, and George in front with his father, who promptly delighted the boys by cracking the reins and shouting “Ho!” to the horse.
They did not rush off at a great speed despite this, the horse picking a steady pace through the crunching snow. It was a big draught horse, with dense hair around his feet and thick tail and mane to keep him warm. His huge hooves didn’t seem to sink so deep into the snow as the carriage horses’ slender legs, despite his greater size, and the sleigh was a great deal smoother than a carriage, gliding along with sparkling snow crystals flying up around them from the horse’s hooves and the boys’ laughter trailing behind. Marie could not stop smiling, even though she had to take her glasses off and put them in her pocket because they promptly misted over with snowflakes.
After twenty minutes or so, Renwick drew the horse to a halt in the lee of a large boulder, and threw a large blanket over the horse’s broad back to keep it warm.
“Here is a fine spot for your snowman, boys,” he said, gesturing grandly to the space in front of them. “He can look down on the castle from here, like a guardian angel!”
George and Richard cheered, jumping down from the sleigh and running forward. Well bundled up in heavy coats and knitted hats and mittens, they were soon rolling a huge ball of snow for the base of their snowman and arguing good-naturedly about exactly where to place it.
It was an excellent spot, Marie thought. They hadn’t come all that far from the castle, Renwick having steered the sleigh in a large shallow semi-circle up the slope, to avoid going too steeply, but they had a marvellous view of Alston Castle below them. From this vantage point, she could see how little of it was actually ruined; it really was only a small section in the front. She wondered how many years Renwick and his ancestors had been rebuilding it for, and indeed when it had originally been constructed.
“Are you warm enough?” Renwick asked Marie. “Half an hour or so and they should be done… there’s a blanket under your bench to spread over your legs, if you wish.”
“I’m quite warm enough, I thank you!” They were sheltered from the wind, where the sleigh was parked. The sun managed to peek out, and Marie found herself quite warm. She decided to stand up, because the bench seat was a little uncomfortably hard, and Renwick offered his hand to assist her out of the sleigh. She leaned back against the sleigh, enjoying the sun on her face for however long it lasted.
They watched the boys for a little while, Renwick leaning on the side of the sleigh beside her.
“I went through the list,” he said, and it took Marie a few moments to recall what list he might be talking about.
“Oh, the list from my sisters?”
“Indeed.” He took the folded paper from his greatcoat pocket and handed it to her.
Marie unfolded the list and glanced down it, before beginning to laugh. “My lord, you have ticked verily half this list! Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. And since I have decided to deliver you back to Hatfield in person before taking the boys to Eton, I can collect them myself, without needing to trouble you to post them.” He smiled in satisfaction. “I will enjoy browsing the shelves of your bookshop in person at last!”
“Very well.” She shook her head, still chuckling. He would be accompanying them back to Hatfield? How marvellous! She wanted to shout with glee, but suppressed the impulse, instead saying sedately, “I will send this back to my sisters and tell them to reserve the volumes for you… and hope none of them have been sold already.”
“They had better not!” he looked almost indignant, before shaking his head ruefully. “Goodness me, there I go being demanding. How could your sisters possibly hold all those books, on the off chance that I might want them?”
Marie bit her lip, wondering for a moment whether she should tell him that she and her sisters had nicknamed him the Earl of Demanding. No, best not, she decided.
“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he observed, “and yet you read down that list quite well, it seems?”
“I can do some things without them,” she admitted, “but it is very uncomfortable. I squint, and if I try to read more than a page or so I will get a dreadful headache. Outside it is better, I can see far away things quite well.” She looked up at him. “You, this close - are a little blurry. Still handsome, though.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Marie wished them back. Even though Renwick appeared a little blurry without her glasses, she could still make out his expression of startlement.
“You… think I’m handsome?” he said slowly.
Oh she could turn herself inside out right now with how awkward she felt. “Well, you are… tall, and dark, and have very fine cheekbones and a patrician nose and eyelashes so long they are quite wasted on a man.”
I’m babbling. Oh no. Shut up, Marie Baxter!
Renwick was smiling, she could see that much. He leaned in towards her and very gently, traced the tip of one gloved finger down the bridge of her nose.
She caught her breath on the gesture.
“Talk about my eyelashes?” he said softly. “Yours are so long they often brush the insides of your glasses.”
“How ever have you noticed that?” she said in astonishment.
“Because I look at you far more than I probably should, Miss Baxter.”
“Oh.” Her breath came short as he leaned closer.
He’s going to kiss me again. This time, I’m not going to let him pull away so soon…
“Pa! Come and look!” George’s shouts broke the tension, and Renwick turned his head away.
Marie could have quite happily throttled George for his interruption at that moment. She heaved a regretful sigh as Renwick walked away, and she almost thought the glance he gave her back over his shoulder was full of regret as well, for the missed opportunity.