Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology (40 page)

“It’s just—this time of year is so difficult you see” her voice trailed off as she looked to the orchard, focusing on a very large and scraggly apple tree. “I was supposed to meet him under the great tree.”

“Who were you supposed to meet?” Elizabeth urged her on, tenderness in her voice.

“Tom, Tom Clayton.” A large tear slid down one cheek, “We were to be betrothed you see. His father was the butcher in town and he was so very kind and handsome. He asked me to meet him under the tree on the Twelfth Night, before the Wassailing.”

She placed her hands on the girls. Her fingers were icy. She must have been out here for quite some time. “But you did not meet?”

Mary’s voice shook as she replied, “There was a fire at his father’s shop. It was so—so, awful.”

Elizabeth felt a pang of grief for the girl and for herself. “You must miss him terribly. I too lost my love to a fever just more than a year ago.”

“He gave me this rose.” She spun the dry flower around and around by its firm stem.

“It is very beautiful,” Elizabeth soothed, sure the delicate bloom would fall to pieces.

She looked up and met Elizabeth’s eyes with her own, “I just wish I could have said goodbye. I know he is out here. Still waiting to meet me. If only they didn’t have that horrid tradition.”

“The Wassailing?” Elizabeth wanted to help this girl. There must be some way to give her the goodbye that she desired.

“It’s meant to scare away evil spirits, but I know it scares them all away.” Her voice became a little more determined “If I could just keep my date with him this year— just once under the great tree—I know he would come to me and I would be free.”

“If what you want is to leave Scarsbury Manor, I could arrange transportation for you and a job in London... we can leave your Tom a letter in the great tree.”

Mary shook her head. “I can’t go anywhere until he is before me once again. Anything else is impossible.” 

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. Evidently Mary was set on desiring the impossible, but she understood. There were many nights still when she would do anything to see John one last time, to hear his voice. Her heart ached at the thought of him. She held up her chin with resolve. “I will make sure you have your Twelfth Night under the great tree.”

Mary turned to Elizabeth, her eyes wide. She looked as if she’d just been presented the best gift in the world. “You would do that for me? You could do that for me?”

“Just leave the details to me. I’ll find some way to deter the party and you shall just have the tree all to yourself.” Elizabeth felt charged with energy at the thought of helping this girl. It was exactly what she needed to get through the next few weeks. “Now you must return to the house. You are chilled quite through.”

With a final look of gratitude, the girl rose and walked to the back path that edged the orchard. Elizabeth studied her retreating form. She was very beautiful, her golden hair glimmering in the sunshine. It was so sad that her beauty should be wasted as she hung on to the past, but perhaps people thought the same of her. 

“Lady Elizabeth!” Anne’s loud voice rang out across the garden, “Laaaady Eliiizabeth!?”

“I’m here, I’m over here.” She jumped up from the bench and smoothed out her skirts.

“There you are!” Anne hurried over with Mariah at her heels. “What have you been doing?”

Elizabeth looked down at her empty basket. The last thing she wanted to do was share poor Mary’s story with these girls. They would find it a thrilling piece of gossip without any idea of what it is to be truly heartbroken. “I just sat down to take in the view and my mind wandered. It is lovely, is it not?”

“Yes, yes, lovely.” Anne waved her hand dismissively, “I cannot wait to see it full of people for the Wassailing.”

“Yes, yes.” Elizabeth replied diplomatically, although she wasn’t sure if the garden would benefit from a foxed mob of people tramping through the orchards at night carting guns and cider. 

Mariah rubbed her hands quickly on her arms in an attempt to warm up, “I’m freezing; let’s go in and have some tea. We have plenty of holly.”

“Yes, tea!” Anne’s enthusiasm returned, “Perhaps the men are back from their tour of the countryside.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and they traced their path back out of the garden in silence. Her mind was already miles away. The Twelfth Night would be here soon enough. She needed a plan and she needed one soon.

CHAPTER 3

Much to Anne’s disappointment, the men were not back at the house yet and the ladies only had each other for company. Elizabeth was sure she heard an audible ‘huff’ at the news. Anne’s displays of emotion were so evident that they had a way of making everyone around her feel uncomfortable, though she didn’t seem to take the slightest notice. Tea was carried in and Mariah soon begged a headache and retreated to her room giving Elizabeth the easy opening to do the same. She wanted nothing more than to spend a few hours in solitude with her novel. 

She looked down at her worn copy of
The Castle of Otranto
. She wasn’t sure it was the best reading choice given the spooky nature of Scarsbury, but she opened it anyway and became so engrossed in the gothic tale she nearly missed the call to supper. If her maid hadn’t come charging in to dress her she didn’t know what she would have done. It was only her second evening here and arriving late for dinner would be quite a slight to her hosts.

Lucy helped her into her claret colored silk gown and pinned up her hair as carefully as she could with so little time. The result was a little disorderly, but actually looked somewhat softer for its imperfections.  She secured her ruby drops to her ears and checked her appearance in the small mirror. The earrings had been a gift from her husband on their wedding day and she always felt his presence when she had them on. It was just what she needed.

As she walked through the door to the parlor, she realized she was the last to arrive again. The men stood near the card table, refreshments in hand. Lady Allen was seated at the sofa, working on a bit of embroidery and the Easterly sisters sat at the pianoforte, tapping away at the keys. Elizabeth’s youngest sister was quite a proficient on the piano and Elizabeth was used to a certain level of talent. She hoped they would not insist on entertaining them all night.

Lady Allen kept her thick silver hair piled under a white lace cap and wore a dove grey silk gown trimmed in matching lace. The effect was charming. There was a certain warmth about her that you could feel, rather than see. She was a little older than Elizabeth’s own mother, but she reminded her of her very much.

“What a beautiful pattern” Elizabeth commented as she walked over to her hostess and softly touched the corner of her project.

She looked up from her work, “My dear, you look very well tonight. I am so happy you decided to join us for the holidays. With our own Jane away this year, it has warmed my heart to have you here. If only John were with us it would be complete.”

Elizabeth sat down on the sofa. Lady Allen’s daughter Jane was married the year before and was spending Christmas with her husband’s family in Bath. Elizabeth had met Jane only once at her wedding, but had bonded with her almost immediately. She had a sharp wit and fiery red hair you could not easily forget. “And how is Jane? Is she enjoying the diversions of Bath?”

Lady Allen smiled, “Oh yes, she loves it, though I shall try my best to force them to attend to us this time next year.”

“It is hardly Christmas without our dear Jane! She is just like a sister to us.” Anne descended out of nowhere, clearly bent on commandeering another conversation. At least the painful concert had ended.  “I was just writing to her this afternoon.”

“I am sure she will be delighted to receive your letter.” Lady Allen patted her hand reassuringly.  Elizabeth had the feeling that, while her hostess enjoyed her young nieces, she did not take them particularly seriously. “Did you have any trouble finding the holly bushes this afternoon?”

“We collected two baskets,” Anne replied, emphasizing the ‘two’. Undoubtedly, she did not want Elizabeth to take credit for their bounty.

Perhaps full disclosure was the best policy. She had no interest in trying to compete. “Yes, Miss Easterly and Miss Mariah did all the work. I was much too wrapped up in the view to be useful.”

“I am sure you will have your chance to help Lady Elizabeth.” She bent back over her project. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and there is much to decorate.”

“I shall look forward to it.”  Elizabeth stood up to stretch her legs and see if she could evade the Easterly sisters. To be fair, she found Mariah to be quite pleasant, but with Anne she could not seem to have an easy conversation. She wandered over to the sideboard and picked up a glass of Madeira.

She didn’t see Sebastian walk up behind her, but when she turned around, she nearly walked right into his solidly built chest. “Good evening Lady Elizabeth. Are you sure you should have that?”

Her heart raced and her body tingled in reaction to his closeness. She stepped back, as gracefully as she could manage. Why did he affect her so? Here he was, appearing out of nowhere, trying to make a fool of her yet again. “I am quite able to make decisions for myself, Captain Wolfe.”

He raised his eyebrows at her curt response. His expression was serene, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Are you always on the defensive?”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Was he laughing at her? “Are you always impertinent?”

“You are very pretty when you are angry.” He paused to take a sip of his drink, “Do you enjoy riding?”

“I ride.” What was this man’s problem? He taunted her and praised her, practically in the same breath.  She wanted to be angry, but the only thought she could hear repeating in her head was his compliment. He thought she was pretty.

He brushed his hand through his wavy hair, unfazed by her curt answer. “Would you like to go for a ride tomorrow?”

“Well... Yes, certainly” she stammered. Why didn’t her mind keep up with her mouth? The last thing she needed was to be stuck out in the country with the insolent Captain Wolfe and no method of escape.

“Don’t be fearful of the outdoors Lady Elizabeth” he gave her that taunting look again, “I know you must hate to soil your pretty gloves, but another pair can be bought. One can usually survive a day of riding or even holly picking I hear.”

He’d overheard their conversation. Elizabeth was seething. Cutting roses and flowers from the garden was one of her favorite things to do back home. She had never been afraid to get her hands dirty. Her basket would have been at least as full as the others if she hadn’t spent her time trying to help someone less fortunate than herself. Who was this man to judge her?

She leveled her gaze at him, “I am not afraid, Captain Wolfe.”

He just smiled and nodded, before turning to return to his friends. Elizabeth watched him walk away with a mixture of emotion. She found him so irritating and yet she thrived on his energy. Half of her wanted to slap him and the other half wanted to pull him into her arms and kiss him, but neither were allowable choices in polite society, at least in a room full of people.

The rest of the evening passed without too much excitement. Anne was thrilled to walk into dinner with the Captain, while she was paired with her brother Edward. The conversation was light for the most part and they all agreed to call the evening to a close early. Elizabeth collected a candle and headed down the dark hall to her room. 

Her mind was still replaying the odd events of the day as she walked. The blond haired maid with the broken heart, the iciness she felt from Anne Easterly... and the handsome Captain with the sharp tongue. What had she gotten herself into? A cool draft brought her back to the present as her candle flickered, threatening to go out. She held up her hand to shield the flame and walked more quickly. The wind had picked up again and she could hear all sort of rattling and whooshing through the old house. Tonight she would be sure to secure her shutters before she climbed into bed.

CHAPTER 4

A large crash followed by a high pitched shriek startled Elizabeth from her sleep. She sat up quickly and rubbed her eyes to see darkness still surrounding her. A faint glow from the embers in the fireplace was all that illuminated her room. A door slammed and she could hear footsteps and muffled voices in the hall. Perhaps someone had fallen ill? There was no way she was staying put. She slipped out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and grabbed her thick shawl from the armoire, wrapping it tightly around her. At least Lucy had plaited her hair so she was not a complete fright. 

Elizabeth lit her candle and pulled open the door, stepping out into the hallway. The Easterly girls’ room was directly across from hers and they were already out in the hall clutching each other with horror stricken faces. They had not taken the time to pull on a robe or a shawl or much of anything, but stood shivering in thin cotton nightdresses. It was wholly inappropriate, regardless the circumstances. 

The men and Lady Allen were all housed in the other wing of the house and footsteps quickly approached from the far end of the hall. Edward appeared first with Captain Wolfe at his side carrying a large candelabra and Mr. Oxley at their heels.  Elizabeth could not help but stare at Sebastian.  His open shirt revealed his muscular chest, rising and falling quickly with his breath. She caught herself and looked away. 

Edward skidded to a stop in front of them, “Is everyone alright? We heard a scream.”

Elizabeth looked at Anne and Mariah. Aside from their theatrical expressions and lack of dress they seemed to be well. She turned back to Edward and replied calmly, “Yes, I believe we are perfectly fine, but what has happened?” 

“There was a ghost, I am sure of it!” Anne cried, waving her hand dramatically. “There was that terrible crash and then we rushed into the hall and I’m sure we saw a presence. I did not mean to scream so, but I could not help myself.” She wobbled on her feet as if she might faint. Sebastian reached to steady her with his arm and Anne clutched it possessively, burying her face in his shoulder.