Christmas with the Duchess (32 page)

“I heard she was here,” Emma said, relenting. “I don’t think she’s come to stay. I don’t think Charles will allow it.”

“What has Charles to say about anything?” he asked, chuckling as he followed her from her bedroom into her sitting room. “’Twas Lady Anne who invited the aunt. Put up to it by Octavia, no less.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Emma as he helped himself to a large glass of brandy. “Octavia is the biggest snob who ever lived, and Mrs. Allen’s money comes from Trade. Octavia’s marriage to Charles will wash the stink off, to be sure, but the bride would never stoop to associating with Mrs. Allen herself.”

“Oh, but she wants Wingate,” Colin explained. “She’s brought the aunt here to force Charles’s hand. No Wingate, no marriage. No marriage, no money.”

“That’s ghastly!” Emma said indignantly. “Charles may be a cad—in fact, I know he is! But he don’t deserve
this.
This is slavery, blackmail. Charles must be furious, livid! And I don’t blame him one bit if he is,” she added.

“You will admit it adds a dash of interest to an otherwise crashing bore of a holiday,” said Colin. “I’m sorry, Emma, but I’ve been bored to flinders since Monty left.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve been bored, dear,” Emma said tartly. “I myself have had just the right amount of excitement! I daresay I should have devoted more time to your entertainment, but I should think that hiring a man to seduce your wife so that you may divorce her with a clear conscience would be enough to keep you interested in life.”

“Oh, my own affairs always bore me,” Colin answered. “Now yours are beginning to bore me, too, I’m sorry to say.”

“I beg your pardon,” Emma said coolly. “But who’s to say that Mrs. Allen will be at all interesting?”

“Did you see the look on poor Charles’s face when he heard you-know-who was here?” Colin demanded. “
I
only heard about it secondhand from the second footman, and I am persuaded she must be
very
interesting indeed.”

“He did seem rather dismayed,” Emma admitted.

“Do put her next to me at dinner,” Colin begged. “I feel instinctively that Mrs. Allen is the sort of person from whom boredom runs away screaming.”

Mrs. Allen did not disappoint. She was a short, squat woman, swarthy of skin, with a mustache bristling on her upper lip, but the eye was not permitted to dwell on her many physical defects. Instead, the eye was walloped by the incredible, enormous lemon-yellow turban she had smashed down on her head in the mistaken belief that it was all the kick, as she put it. She carried a pop-eyed pug dog with her everywhere, even to the dinner table. Colin very quickly discovered that her attachment to her pet was more practical than sentimental. In fact, Pug was the widow’s necessity. Mrs. Allen, owing to her vegetarian diet, no doubt, suffered from agonizing waves of flatulence, and Pug’s chief purpose in life was to take the blame for his mistress’s unscheduled emissions.

“Good God! What is that smell?” the duke cried at dinner, as a strong odor of cabbage made its way to his end of the table.

“I don’t smell anything,” Mrs. Allen said, glaring around the table.

Emma had granted Colin’s wish to be seated next to the new arrival. Colin’s eyes filled with tears. More than one person was obliged to breathe through the filter of a damask napkin.

The scent of her aunt-to-be had not yet reached Octavia, who sat in safety on the opposite side of the table. She smiled and said, “Aunt Allen, you will be glad to know that Charles and I have found the perfect estate, a most eligible house. It belongs to my cousin, Lord Grey, but the duchess has offered us a very reasonable lease. We would very much like to take you to see it, wouldn’t we, Charles?”

Mr. Palafox, seated at Emma’s elbow, simply pretended not to hear. Sympathetic to his plight, Emma did her best to keep him engaged in conversation.

At last, unable to endure any more of Mrs. Allen’s company, Colin abruptly scraped back his chair and fled the room. Emma immediately rose from the table. “Ladies? Shall we adjourn for coffee?”

The next morning, Emma received a letter from her elder brother, the Duke of Chilton. She read it aloud to Colin as they sipped their morning chocolate. Cecily, Duchess of Chilton, had given birth to a son and heir. Lord Scarlingford was to be christened James Stephen Grey on Sunday, December 31.

“I suppose we shall have to leave the day after Christmas,” said Emma. “After Harry opens the alms box, of course. Harry will not be pleased,” she went on, setting aside Otto’s letter. “He wanted me to give a small party on New Year’s Eve. But we shall have to be at Chilton for the christening. Perhaps we could have a small party on Christmas Eve, after all. That doesn’t give us much time, of course. And I shall have to speak to Armand.”

She groaned, dreading the interview with her temperamental French chef.

“That doesn’t give
me
much time either,” Colin said bitterly. “A pox on Cecily! She could have had that baby any time. She did it on purpose.”

Emma burst out laughing. “What is the matter with you?”

“If we leave Chilton, the Hindenburg will probably leave too.”

“Don’t you want her to go?”

“Not without giving me grounds for a divorce, I don’t!” said Colin. “With what I’m paying Schroeder, I should have had
ample
evidence by now! Instead, he seems to be paying more attention to
you,
Emma.”

“Only when Nicholas is around,” Emma protested.

“Then where the devil is my evidence?” Colin wanted to know. “Methinks the major doth double-cross me!”

Emma bowed her head. The major had told her about his war wound in confidence, and, as close as she was to Colin, she could not, in good conscience, tell him.

“You’d better talk to him, Emma.”

“Moi?”

“Yes, you,” he said. “He is your ‘lover,’ after all. You brought him here. He is in your employ. Get him to come to the point—and soon. He must rendezvous with the Hindenburg, and they must be discovered in flagrante delicto.”

Emma made a face. “
I
would not want to be the one to find them together.”

“Who else?” said Colin. “You’re perfect. You, Emma, must find them together and give evidence at the trial.”

Emma shook her head vehemently. “I shall do nothing of the kind,” she said firmly.

“Emma, you must. I saved your life. It’s the least you can do.”

“When did you save my life?” she demanded.

“How quickly we forget!” he complained. “When we were born, I let you go first, even though there was no air to breathe in my mother’s womb. I could have died giving you life.”

“However, you did not.”

“Emma, please! I didn’t mind being married to the woman, as long as she stayed at home. But now she’s
here.
I cannot stay married to her another year! Come, now, you don’t want her for a sister-in-law, do you? She’s already ruined your beautiful rug. Who knows what she’ll do next?”

Emma stood firm. “No, Colin. If I find them together, people would probably come to the conclusion that Fritz
is
my lover. It would be insupportable. Harry and Grey would be humiliated. I’ve just been granted a pardon by society. I’ve just been reinstated at the Court of St. James. I can’t risk being involved in a divorce.”

Colin scowled at her. “You never cared about society before,” he pointed out. “You never cared about the Court of St. James.”

“Harry would never forgive me if my name were dragged into it. I can’t be linked to his tutor. I’m sorry, Colin. I cannot help you.”

“I shall have to ask Aunt Harriet, then,” he said grumpily, climbing to his feet. “You disappoint me, Emma.”

“I will talk to Fritz, of course,” Emma offered. “But that is all I can do.”

“Well, if it’s too much trouble…”

“I got involved in one of your schemes last year,” she reminded him. “That turned out beautifully, didn’t it? No, thank you.”

“Never mind! I shall see to the matter myself,” he said coldly.

“What are you going to do?” Emma asked nervously.

“Perhaps you’d rather not know,” he said caustically. “Don’t you have things to do? Christmas Eve is the day after tomorrow, you know. One would think the Duchess of Warwick might have a thousand things to do.”

“Quite,” said Emma. “I must speak to the chef, the housekeeper, the wine steward, Carstairs, of course—”

“If you’re too busy to talk to Schroeder, I understand.”

Emma threw up her hands and left the room.

Colin brooded for a moment. He finished his chocolate. Then, seating himself at his sister’s escritoire, he pulled out a sheet of paper. He began to write.

Emma had no luck finding Major von Schroeder, but she did find Nicholas and Palafox in the billiard room. With them was her younger son. Grey was watching the two men play the game. As she came into the room, the two gentlemen stopped their game and bowed.

Grey did not stand on ceremony, however. “Mama! Lord Camford says he will take me sailing anytime I like.” He spoke before Emma could open her mouth.

Emma frowned at Nicholas. “You’ve never spoken of sailing before, Grey.”

“Yes, I have,” the twelve-year-old argued. “Next year, for Christmas, I would like a yacht, please.”

“It’s a bit early to think about next year,” Emma said, chuckling. “Anyway, I have just bought you an estate, young man. Now you want a yacht.”

“I shan’t be able to live at Wingate, not for years and years!” said Grey, twitching his head to one side to get his hair out of his eyes. “Anyway, you’re giving Wingate to Mr. Palafox and Cousin Octavia! I could go sailing
now,
Mama, if I had a yacht.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” said Emma. “Right now, I’m looking for Major von Schroeder. Have you seen him?”

Grey scowled at her, his red hair falling into his eyes again. “It’s winter recess, Mama. I don’t have lessons at the winter recess. No one does.”

“I am not accusing you of anything, Grey,” Emma said impatiently. “I am just looking for the major. Your Aunt Cecily has had her baby; a boy.”

Nicholas and Palafox offered their congratulations, but Grey said merely, “High time!”

Emma sighed. “We leave for Chilton on St. Stephen’s Day, and I need to speak to the major about—about the arrangements.”

“Well, he’s not here,” said Grey. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Perhaps he is with your brother. Do you know where your brother is?”

“I have not seen a glimmer of his grace all morning,” Grey replied.

“Well, if you see him, will you tell him I am looking for him?”

Grey shrugged. “If I see him.”

“That is all I am asking!” she said. Exasperated, she left the room.

“Emma!”

To her dismay, Nicholas was striding down the hall to her. She turned on him furiously. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she demanded. “I do not give you leave to use my Christian name. Grey probably heard you!”

“I don’t care if he did,” he replied. Forcing her against the wall, he brought his mouth down hard onto hers. He kissed her clumsily and passionately. After a moment of shock, Emma shoved him away.

“I should have done that when we were at Wingate,” he panted. “I have been kicking myself ever since.”

“My son is in the next room,” she hissed at him.

“Is that your only objection? Schroeder doesn’t love you, Emma,” he went on, as she stared at him. “He’s gone out riding with Princess Elke. I am sorry if you care for this—this gigolo—but he does not love you. Not as I do. I love no one but you. I shall never love anyone but you.”

Emma was trembling. “I don’t have time for this,” she gasped.

She hurried away from him.

The fir tree in the drawing room that Christmas Eve was a far cry from the huge
Weihnachtsbaum
that had graced the Great Hall the year before. “We shan’t need any special rigging for this one,” Harry said regretfully, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies after dinner. “Even if it
did
fall over, who would notice?”

“I am sorry I could not manage a better celebration,” Emma apologized. “Lady Gresham had so graciously offered to give a ball at Norwood when we cancelled ours. I could not steal her guests from her at the last minute. Or even her musicians.”

Harry laughed. “It’s quite all right, Mama. We’ve had a splendid dinner anyway. If Cousin Flavia will play for us, we can sing Christmas carols.”

Delighted by the request, Flavia ran to the instrument. Mrs. Allen, however, did not approve of merriment on the solemn occasion of Christmas Eve, and she soon commanded her nephew to escort her to her room. Octavia compelled her mother and sisters, with the exception of Julia, to follow Mrs. Allen’s example.

Princess Elke sat down to cards with Lady Camford, Lady Harriet, and Lady Susan. Major von Schroeder danced attendance on the ladies, bringing them cups of coffee, tea, and chocolate. Colin reluctantly agreed to give Nicholas a game of chess.

Rather to Emma’s surprise, her boys remained with her on the sofa.

“I shall be glad when Mrs. Allen goes away,” Harry said angrily, “and that ghastly pug of hers too!”

“Next year, my love,” Emma told Harry. “We’ll have an even bigger tree than we did last year. We’ll have a Christmas Eve Ball
and
a New Years’ Eve Ball.”

“And next year will be
my
stag hunt,” Grey put in. “May I invite some friends from school, Mama?”

“Of course, my darling. You may invite anyone you like. Next year it will not be so dull at Warwick, I promise. We’ll have games and music. I might even hire a troupe of actors to give us a play! And we shall have the biggest
tannenbaum
the world has ever seen. Your friends from school will be quite amazed.”

The corner of Grey’s mouth twitched faintly. “I suppose
that
would be all right.”

“But right now you must go to bed,” Emma said sadly.

“Mama!”

“It’s half past ten already. The
Kristkindl
will not come if you are awake.”

“I mean to stay up all night,” Harry announced. “And you needn’t bother with any surprises for
me,
Mama. I don’t believe in the Christmas Angel. I never did. I only pretended to for your sake. It’s just another one of Grandmama’s German fairy stories.”

Grey frowned at him. “If there is no
Kristkindl,
who puts the presents under the tree every year?”

“Your mother does, of course,” his brother answered, laughing.

“Harry!” Emma said furiously.

“I’m only joking you, Grey!” Harry said quickly. “Of course there’s a
Kristkindl.
You don’t really think
our mother
stays up all night wrapping presents, do you? Come on. Let’s go to bed. We can always sing Christmas carols tomorrow.”

Emma bade everyone good night and followed her sons from the room.

Julia yawned at the card table. “I’m so tired. I think I’ll go to bed, too. Nicky?” she called to her husband. “I’m going to bed. Shall I wait up for you?”

“No, madam. The game is at a very delicate stage,” Nicholas replied. “Lord Colin is on the verge of winning. If I do not apply myself, I may find myself at
point non plus.
I’m afraid this could take all night.”

With a shrug, Julia departed.

Colin studied the chess board rather doubtfully. “No offense, Camford, but I don’t even want to do anything
pleasant
all night. And, if I’m on the verge of winning, I don’t see it.”

“I may have exaggerated a bit,” Nicholas admitted. “You’re not a very good chess player, I’m afraid.”

“I am not a chess player at all,” Colin answered with a sniff. “I am more intuitive than strategic, you understand. Wist is more along my line.”

“Perhaps we’d better leave it, then,” said Nicholas. “Go and play cards.”

“No, they’re playing at loo,” Colin said, grimacing. “To be honest, I’d rather go to bed.”

“Then go to bed,” said Nicholas, already putting the chess pieces away.

“I shall, if Carstairs ever returns,” Colin answered. “It’s as though he’s staying away on purpose! I need my beauty sleep. I’m not eighteen anymore.”

“What do you need Carstairs for?” Nicholas asked him.

“I need him to deliver a little note to the major,” Colin answered.

Major von Schroeder had taken Julia’s place at the card table.

“He is right over there,” Nicholas pointed out.

“Discretion, Camford,” Colin chided him. “It’s a billet-doux from a…a certain lady.”

Nicholas sat very still. “Billet-doux,” he repeated dully.

“A love letter,” Colin translated. “I can’t just walk over there and give the man a love letter. It’s got to be done discreetly, by a trusted servant.”

“Leave it with me,” Nicholas suggested. “I will give it to Carstairs when he returns.”

“I say! That’s a very good thought,” Colin said gratefully. Taking a small envelope from his pocket, he tossed it to Nicholas. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” said Nicholas, pocketing the note.

Pleading a headache, Colin bade everyone good night. Nicholas did not remain in the room for very long after his departure. Princess Elke sighed as he left the room. “Lord Camfurt, he is manly for an Englishman,
nicht wahr?
But Princess Elke has heard he has the pox.”

“Camford has the pox?” shrieked Lady Susan. “No wonder Julia won’t sleep with him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lady Harriet scoffed. “Camford don’t have the pox. That was just a story Lord Colin made up last year. It’s completely untrue.”

Princess Elke frowned, puzzled. “Princess Elke’s husband tells this lie? For what purpose?”

“General mischief and mayhem, I should think,” Lady Harriet said dryly. “But who told your highness that Camford had the pox?”

“The duchess,” the princess answered. “She lies to Princess Elke?”

“She wants him for herself, I should imagine,” Lady Harriet replied. “She knows perfectly well he don’t have the pox.”

“The shameless strumpet!” cried Lady Susan. “Emma has told Julia that Camford has the pox! That is why Julia wants a divorce.” A footman jumped forward to help her as she struggled to get out of her chair. “I must go to my niece at once and tell her the truth! The marriage must be saved!”

She ambled out of the room.

Princess Elke stood up. “Princess Elke will go to bed now.
Guten nacht.
”

The major gave her his arm, and they left the room together. “And me, your highness?” he asked her quietly when they were in the hall. “What would you have of me?”

Princess Elke paused to look him over. “Nothing,” she decided. “You may go to bed. Your services will not be required, after all. Princess Elke has no more time to waste with you.”

“But, your highness! Give me another chance, I beg of you.”

“Princess Elke has spoken,” she said coldly.

When the Duke of Warwick and his mother returned to the main drawing room a few minutes later, the room was empty but for a few servants who were putting the card table away.

“Where is everyone?” Harry wanted to know.

“They have all gone to bed, your grace,” the servant told him.

“Bugger!” said Harry, throwing himself down on one of the sofas. “I wanted to stay up all night. I only pretended to go to bed so that Grey would go to sleep.”

“I know, darling,” Emma murmured.

“You know, Mama, he’s going to find out sooner or later that there is no
Kristkindl.
If he starts going on about it next year, in front of his school friends, he’ll be a laughingstock.”

“Oh, let me have one last year,” Emma pleaded. “You can tell him after Christmas. Come and help me wrap his presents,” she added. “It will go faster.”

Harry did not budge from the sofa. “Next year will be very different,” he announced. “Next year, I shall have lots of friends with me. We will each drink a bottle of wine a day, and we will play cards all night.”

“It sounds perfectly dreadful,” said his mother.

He sat there, sulking and making plans, while Emma wrapped the presents. Within minutes, Harry was asleep.

Armed with a branch of candles, Lady Susan strode directly to Julia’s room. “My dear niece,” she cried, throwing open the door, and sailing over to the big four-poster bed, “why didn’t you tell your Aunt Susan? Why didn’t you tell your mother? Your husband does not have the pox! The duchess lied!”

No sound emerged from the bed. The curtains had been drawn tightly.

“Did you hear me, Julia?” Lady Susan demanded. “Are you awake?”

“She’d have to be dead not to hear you,” said a sulky voice from the doorway. Octavia stood there in her nightgown, her auburn hair in curl papers. “Do be quiet, Aunt. You will wake Mrs. Allen.”

Frowning, Lady Susan threw open the bed curtains. For a moment she could only stare.

“What is it, Aunt?” Octavia demanded, holding up the bedroom taper she had carried with her down the hall. “Is Julia ill?”

“Go and get your mother,” Lady Susan commanded. “And find me Carstairs!”

Octavia did not obey. Instead, she ran to the bed to see what Lady Susan had already seen. Julia was not there.
“Charles,”
Octavia breathed.

Turning, she ran out of the room.

In another part of the house, Colin crept along a passageway, shielding his candle with one hand. “Quiet, you old fool!” he growled to Lady Harriet, who was following him so closely that from time to time she bumped into him. “The idea is to catch them in the act. If they hear you coming like a herd of cattle, the advantage of surprise will be lost.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” the old lady snapped back. “I’m doing you a favor, remember? I’d much rather be in bed. Anyway, there’s no doubt we’ll catch them in the act. They’re so brazen, they left the drawing room at the same time. Your silly little note was completely superfluous.”

“Silence, hag.”

As they drew near the major’s door, Colin pressed his ear against the wall, listening. “It’s awfully quiet in there,” he complained.

Lady Harriet pulled her shawl tightly around her thin body. “What did you expect?” she asked sourly. “Howls of ecstasy? They’re German.”

Colin cursed under his breath. “Perhaps we’re too late to catch them in the act.”

“It’s not been twenty minutes since I saw them leave the drawing room.”

“Some men are quicker than that,” Colin said dryly.

“I’ll take your word for it, dear boy,” the spinster replied virtuously.

Colin gave her a little push. “You’ll just have to go in, old girl, and hope for the best.”

“I?” she protested. “I ain’t going in first!”

“You’ll have to, Witch of Endor. I’m ever so squeamish.”

“For heaven’s sake,” she said impatiently, brushing past him to try the door. To her surprise, the latch was not engaged. She went into the room, swallowed up by the darkness.

Colin remained in the hall. He tapped his foot impatiently. “Well?” he called. “Am I betrayed or not?”

“Wer ist das?”
the major demanded from within. A candle blossomed in the darkness.

“He is here,” Lady Harriet called to Colin, “but he is alone, I’m afraid. Sorry to trouble you, Major,” she added briskly.

“What?” Colin cried furiously, striding into the room. “After all my hard work? Have you checked the bed?”

“Of course I checked the bed,” she snarled. “The man is alone.”

“I know she’s here,” he declared, beginning a search of the room. “I can hear her breathing!”

“That is I,” Lady Harriet said coldly. “I have a slight cold in the head. She’s not here, little lamb.”

“This is all your fault,” he raged at her. “I’ll bet you didn’t even give her the major’s letter,” he accused her.

“I did,” she said indignantly.

“What letter?” the major demanded, getting out of bed. His snow-white nightshirt hung just past his knees. “I do not write letters, except for blackmail, of course. I am very careful.”

Colin ignored him.

“Then why isn’t she here, Aunt Harriet?” Colin demanded.

She sighed. “Perhaps your wife suspected your letter was a forgery. I didn’t want to say anything at the time, but do you think it was a good idea to write these letters in English? Surely these two would communicate in their native language.”

“Yes, but
my
German isn’t all that good,” Colin explained.

“What is going on?” the major demanded.

Colin turned on him. “You double-crossing snake! We were supposed to find you with my wife in a compromising position. Instead, here you are alone. And you have the temerity to ask me what is going on? I might well ask you what is going on! In fact, I will. What is going on? My spy here saw you leave the drawing room with my wife.”

“I resent being called your spy,” Lady Harriet said frostily.

“We’ll compare resentments later,” he snapped back. “Well, Major?” he asked, tapping his foot. “Why aren’t you in bed with my wife?”

The major threw up his hands. “Because your wife, she is in the bed of the English milord. She finds out he doesn’t have the pox.”

“Oh,” said Lady Harriet.
“Oh.”

“As long as she’s in bed with someone,” Colin muttered. “What room is he in?”

“I don’t know,” said Lady Harriet said. “Carstairs took care of him.”

“Don’t just stand there!” said Colin, frantically. “We must find Carstairs at once.”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Colin,” said Carstairs from the doorway. “Does your lordship require my assistance?”

Colin stared at him in awe. “You must be clairvoyant. How did you know I was here?”