by Rose Vane
PART 1 : An Unexpected Gift
Chapter One
And soon it would be Christmas. Henry sighed. It was not that he disliked Christmas. He did not particularly like it either. He’d always thought the celebration in itself rather exhausting. More time was spent preparing for it, than actually having true fun with it. No, he did not particularly like Christmas. What he did like was his daughters’ excited faces when they opened their presents in the morning. But he supposed that any fond parent loved that. He’d always enjoyed choosing presents for his girls. As a rule, he did not enjoy shopping, and felt relieved whenever he managed to delegate his secretary or some other person in his employ to take care of such things for him. But when it came to choosing presents for his girls, he overcame his usual dislike for the task. Their presents had always been things that he’d bought himself. He sighed again. This year however he would not have the pleasure of seeing his daughters on Christmas Day.
Without much enthusiasm, but with shivering necessity, he closed the shop’s door behind him, against the bitter cold that had descended over the city. The jeweller’s affable face greeted him, beaming with pleasure. A duke’s patronage was not something to be easily dismissed, Henry supposed. In the eight years since he’d actually been a duke, he had encountered only shopkeepers who greeted his arrival wearing sickeningly beatific smiles upon their faces. He suppressed another sigh and patiently prepared for the man’s effusive presentation of his wares. Well, it was after all one of the best shops in London, where one could buy a trinket or two that were actually not of the vulgar sort.
He smiled when the jeweller almost instantly presented him with what he said were his finest pieces: a set of pearl earrings with a matching pendant.
“I’m sure the lady would appreciate these. Quite tasteful and not too extravagant, if Your Grace would allow me to say so,” the shop keeper uttered.
Henry shook his head. He tersely replied in what he supposed sounded like his clipped ducal voice:
“The gifts are meant for my daughters.”
The man reddened, but had the good sense of not apologising too profusely for his faux pas. It was pointless to apologise. After all, Henry had upon occasion frequented the shop to buy trinkets for his former mistress, so it was natural that the man should assume that His Grace had come on a similar errand.
The jeweller cleared his throat and inquired after the ladies’ ages.
“They will both be fifteen this summer,” Henry replied and almost winced as the man started expressing his amazement over His Grace’s looking so young and having two grown twin daughters.
“You must have been very young when they were born, Your Grace,” the man ventured, although he was deterred from making further comments by Henry’s forbidding expression.
As he looked at the jewellery the man brought for his inspection, Henry felt dissatisfied. The man showed him an array of crosses, silver and gold, with topaz or agates. These were, allegedly, ideal gifts for young ladies. To Henry, they seemed insipid and in no way out of the ordinary. With each piece that the jeweller showed him, he began to feel more and more that he had erred in coming to buy trinkets for his girls. They were still too young for the more intricate necklaces and earrings, which they would after all get to wear only after they married. Henry fervently hoped this would be a long time from now, although he knew it was quite bad and selfish of him to hope that his daughters would remain unmarried, forever by his side.
Pushing away the unpleasant thought that had come to nag him lately, that, in a few years’ time, his daughters would be really thinking of marriage, he examined a pair of fine silver hair combs, meant to model those that would have been worn in ancient Greece. They were austere, but Henry liked their simplicity. They were meant to be had by a woman who wore her hair long. However, both Georgie and Jane wore their hair shorter, after the current fashion. Such a gift would not suit them. And besides, the style felt too severe for their young years. Still, he liked the combs. They reminded him of something. A woman’s luscious hair, worn during the day severely in a simple style which would enhance the purity of her face, only to be later unbound, cascading in all its glory. Half smiling, he chased the image, not knowing where it had come from. It was ridiculous. He did not remember any of his female acquaintances with hair quite the colour of the woman he had pictured in his mind. It must come from one painting or another that he had once seen.
As the jeweller showed him other pieces that would be suitable for young ladies, Henry tried to forget about the combs. He finally found something he fancied and was for a moment lost in thought, savouring the image of his twin girls receiving these gifts. The necklaces were by no means boring, as the dainty ones that were fashionable these days, but rich and vibrant, without being ostentatious. Although he knew it would be long years until they could wear them in public, Henry already realised he had found the perfect gifts for his girls. One of them was rather extravagant, made of lapis lazuli, the perfect stone for Georgie’s rather wild disposition, while the other was a more sedate single-string coral necklace, which perfectly mirrored Jane’s quiet nature.
Satisfied that his trip to the jeweller’s had not been wasted after all, Henry bought the necklaces, but, oddly, found himself also telling the man that he wanted to purchase the combs. It was too late to take back what he’d said. As he exited the shop, he could not help wondering what had possessed him to buy a pair of silver combs for which he had no use.
***
Since Georgie and Jane would be already gone tomorrow, Henry presented them with their Christmas gifts as soon as he arrived at his country residence: the cashmere shawls, the matching parasols and reticules that he’d bought for them, the books and sundry other things because, naturally, he liked to spoil his girls. There were, of course, also the necklaces, which, he warned them, they wouldn’t be able to wear in public yet.
“Well, I can’t see why we could not wear them now,” said Georgie, ducally parading her lapis lazuli stones in front of her father and sister.
The room had become a clutter of unwrapped presents and, looking at them, Henry began to realise that he had become quite adept at buying all sorts of frippery.
“Alas,” Jane said. “When we come out, all the Season matrons will say that they are far too extravagant for us, won’t they, Papa?”
Henry nodded, smiling ruefully.
“I might not have been wise in giving them to you now. Georgie might do the scandalous thing and start wearing hers in public…”
“And why not? I am, after all, a duke’s daughter. So I should be wearing sumptuous clothes and jewellery, which would make me stand out in a crowd…” Georgie didn’t fail to point out.
“Unfortunately, you were born too late. Sumptuous is no longer comme il faut,” Jane drily told her.
Georgie harrumphed, but continued to parade as ducally as before in her new necklace and finery.
Henry had never ceased to wonder how twin girls could be so dissimilar. While Georgie was vibrant and intense, Jane was quiet and observant. They did not even enjoy similar pursuits, Georgie loving riding and archery, and everything that had to do with the outdoors, and Jane being naturally bookish and more inclined to spend entire days in the library. They did not even look very much alike, one dark and one fair. He supposed that one could say that the only thing they really shared was the colour of their eyes. Grey. Landsford eyes – the eyes that one could discern in most of his ancestors’ portraits. His eyes.
Jane must have seen him deep in thought, because she came to place her head on his shoulder.
“Poor old Papa,” she said. “I wish we weren’t going away for Christmas.”
Georgie stopped walking about the room and narrowed her eyes at both of them.
“Stop pitying him! I’m sure he’s going to have a grand time by himself. He’s always hated crowds. And, besides, he’s not that old. He is five and thirty. Not in his first youth, granted, but hardly ancient.”
“I am still in the room, young lady. So that you know,” Henry mildly rebuked.
He was however unfortunately already too used to being referred to in the third person by both his daughters, even if he was part of the conversation.
“Yes, Georgie,” Jane said in a seemingly innocent tone of voice. “You should not probably use “he” when you refer to Papa. He is His Grace after all….”
Henry sighed.
“Georgie is right,” he told his daughters. “I’m going to have a grand time by myself. The best part is that, for a while, I’ll be rid of both of you.”
“Told you so!” Georgie turned to her sister triumphantly. “He’s not going to miss us one bit. He’ll be glad of the peace and quiet.”
Jane cast her sister a reproachful look, then turned her eyes to him, in real concern. She was, Henry realised, rather worried that he was going to spend his Christmas alone. And it would be unfair to let her worry over him instead of enjoying the house party his aunt was giving this year. It was his own fault that he had decided not to join his daughters. He could have been with them, had he chosen to. But he had always hated house parties. It was bad enough that, as a duke, he had to attend several of the boring events of the Season. He avoided house parties on principle and had decided to avoid this one too, even if his aunt had declared that she would be cross with him for years to come for this refusal. His own unsociability was however not going to spoil his children’s fun. They both wanted to go – Georgie more than Jane – but it was natural for both of them to want to spend their Christmas in a house full of laughter and games, with cousins their own age and other young people that had been invited. They should not suffer just because he hated such parties. And besides, they would be properly chaperoned by one of his cousins, and quite safe under the watchful eyes of his aunt.
He hugged his daughter.
“Dear Jane,” he said, “stop worrying about your crotchety old Papa. I could have joined you, had I but wished to do so. And Georgie is right. I will really enjoy the peace and quiet.”
They were to leave tomorrow. His cousin Isabella had already arrived in order to accompany them to his aunt’s house, since the girl’s governess, Miss Archer, would go away, as she did every year, in order to be with her own family for Christmas.
Echoing his thoughts, Jane reminded him that Miss Archer would leave the day after tomorrow.
“We’ve already given Archie our gift,” Georgie said. “Don’t forget to give her your gift before she leaves.”
“Of course,” he replied, rather annoyed that his daughter would think he would forget.
He gave Miss Archer a gift every year for Christmas. It was always a book – an ancient text in Latin or Greek. This was because, although few women could boast this accomplishment, Miss Archer could read both Latin and Greek, and she appreciated such gifts. This year he’d had his secretary buy Ovid’s Metamorphoses for her. It was a diverting read, and she’d certainly enjoy having her own copy of the Latin text.
Chapter Two
What a dreary time Christmas was! Anne thought, looking at the white snowflakes that were dancing in front of her windows. Tomorrow it would be time to go home. And ever since Papa had passed away, there was no longer any point in going home. Why her brother and his wife insisted on having her in their home for Christmas, it was incomprehensible to her… They disliked her. And they did not bother to hide their dislike of her even at Christmas. Oh, but she was such a coward! Such a coward never to refuse the invitation they begrudgingly sent every year!
She pursed her lips, critically studying her reflection in the mirror. Not a coward maybe. Not really. Because if she had not spent her Christmas every year with her brother and his wife, she would have been really forced to spend it here, with Georgie and Jane, and His Grace. Maybe she was a coward after all, she decided. Because there was nothing she would have liked more than spend her Christmas here with the girls. But she’d always been too afraid to ask. She’d always known that the duke cherished this time together with his daughters and she’d been afraid he would regard her as an intruder.
It was, she decided, silly of her. Of course His Grace did not regard her as an intruder. To him she was almost invisible, just a fixture really, since she was the governess. Next year, she told herself. Next year she would maybe spend her Christmas with the girls! They would be glad of it. After all, they’d asked her several times before and she’d been too silly to say yes. And it might be one of their last years together. Soon their father would decide they were too old for a governess. And she would have to look for another position. She took a deep breath. Not this year. She must not think of it this year.
Lifting her chin, she headed downstairs where she was expected for dinner with the duke. It sounded awfully formal. Dinner with the duke. It was usually not just the duke. The girls were always there. Ever since they had been old enough, the duke had insisted they should all dine together, although, she knew, other employers were not as liberal as to allow governesses to dine with them. She supposed she was lucky. The duke was a good employer. Always faultlessly polite. Generous. Fair.
Tonight the girls were not there and she realised that, for the first time, the duke and she were dining only in each other’s company. As she took her seat at the dining table, she couldn’t refrain from studying him, although she prayed he would not notice. She’d always thought him quite handsome, although she knew one should not entertain such thoughts about one’s employer.
They exchanged conversation. He was, as usual, gracious to her, in that slightly aloof, detached manner that was his.
“And I understand you shall be leaving on the morrow. Let us hope that the weather shall be clement enough.”
It was indeed, Anne remembered, heavily snowing outside. She expressed her hope that Georgie and Jane had already safely arrived at their destination, as she would not have them caught in some terrible blizzard.
“I have already received the happy news that my daughters are safely arrived. It’s fortunate that my aunt’s estate is such a short distance away,” His Grace informed her.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief. All was well then. As for her own departure, privately, she could not say that a blizzard would greatly inconvenience her. She’d rather spend her Christmas at some inn, rather than in the company of her sour relatives.
As she prepared to retire when dinner was finally at an end, His Grace asked her to accompany him to his study. They both knew that he was going to give her his Christmas present, as he always had, ever since she’d become his daughters’ governess. He was a generous employer and always gracious. Along with the gift of money that he gave her every Christmas, he always presented her with a book. This year, she saw, after they had reached his study, that it was Ovid’s Metamorphoses in Latin. She thanked him politely, privately thinking she would always cherish this book, as she had all books he’d gifted her with. Books were indeed her most prized possession.
**
After Miss Archer had left his study, Henry poured himself a glass of brandy. He was blissfully alone. She would be gone tomorrow and he would be officially alone, except for the servants, of course. But the servants were already too much in awe of him and could not be counted as true company. So much the better – he usually cherished his hours of solitude.
He sipped his brandy. Truth be told, he didn’t really mind Miss Archer’s company. She was quiet and unobtrusive. And, besides, whenever she spoke, she made intelligent conversation. She was an intelligent female – that was why he had really chosen her as a governess to his daughters. Intelligent and well-read. No, he did not mind her company.
He almost choked on his brandy, then chuckled at his own stupidity. Miss Archer’s hair was a particularly alluring shade of light brown. It was quite long and thick. Not that he’d had much occasion to see it unbound. She, of course, always wore it up, in a simply severe style. But, yes, her hair was brown. It could seem dull, severely bound as it was, but Henry remembered that it was not really so. He’d seen it unbound once. Luscious and gleaming in the sun, with red-gold reflexes. It was some years ago. He could not recall how many. She’d been laughing and playing with the girls on a summer day on the meadow, not aware that he was there and watching. He’d been away on a trip to London, and had wanted to surprise the girls by his arrival. He’d come upon them playing with their governess.
He smiled. Of course Miss Archer had not known he’d come upon them. That was why he had left as quietly as he had arrived, not wanting to intrude on that moment. If she’d known he was there, she would have instantly become the proper unobtrusive governess that she’d always been. It was funny that the image of her unbound hair had lingered in his mind. It was, he suddenly realised, for Miss Archer that he’d bought the silver hair combs. And while he appreciated her as a governess, it was just to say that there was nothing more to his appreciation of her. That had been a strange fancy indeed.
How supremely silly of him! Of course this was not a proper gift an employer could give a governess. Still, what a shame that no one should enjoy the combs…Suddenly, a thought came upon him on an impulse. He was not given to impulses, but he supposed there was no harm in giving in to this one. It was Christmas after all, and the first such Season in many years that he was going to spend alone.
**
It had been snowing heavily the previous night. Morning came with a vicious blizzard, which seemed to muffle everything around them. There was nothing outside but sharp cold and deep snow, white.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Archer, but it seems that you’re doomed to spend your Christmas here. It appears that we are snowed in,” His Grace announced her with finality.
One never questioned His Grace’s decisions. He had decided that, under the circumstances, it was wiser that she should remain in his home for Christmas.
Anne’s heart skipped a beat. It was as if her prayers had been answered. She almost instantly blessed the blizzard! This year she would not have to bear her brother’s sermons and her sister-in-law’s pinched face. What a shame that Jane and Georgie were not here! This would have been their first Christmas together. Still, she was thankful for the chance of spending a nice Christmas all by herself. No, not all by herself, she amended. His Grace was going to be here. She hoped he was not too disappointed to have to spend Christmas in her company.
As she returned to her room, preparing for the happy task of unpacking her trunk, she found a neat parcel placed on her pillow. It was bound in red silk ribbon. At first she didn’t dare open it, but then she realized that it might be a surprise gift from the girls. She really had not expected any more presents from them. The ones she’d already received were beyond lovely. But it was so like Georgie to spring surprises upon people!
Suddenly excited, she unbound the ribbon and unwrapped the gift. It was, she thought, swallowing sudden tears that had come to her eyes, probably the most beautiful gift she’d ever received. They must have been very dear, these magnificent silver combs! How thoughtful and how generous of the girls!
She spent almost her entire day watching her own reflection in the mirror and putting on the combs. It was a silly thing to do, and she’d never been a vain woman, but today she really felt as giddy as a girl. This was going to be a fine Christmas! She would just sit by the window and watch the snowflakes dance and swirl outside, happy that she was snug and warm inside. She’d always known Jane and Georgie had grown to love her. And this gift reminded her of their love. It was a thing that nobody could take away from her. Not even when she’d have to say goodbye to them.
Tomorrow it would be Christmas Eve, she thought later as she sat at the grand dinner table. She had no idea whether the duke would expect her to dine with him. After all, she supposed that she was rather spoiling his initial plan of being alone for Christmas.
His Grace’s deep voice interrupted the train of her thoughts.
“So, Miss Archer, how did you like the present my daughters have left for you? I must tell you, they swore everyone to absolute secrecy, as they wanted you to find the gift before you were gone. ”
“I loved it,” Anne answered on an impulse and immediately regretted her rashness to speak so warmly to him.
She found herself absurdly blushing. She did not know why, but she felt somewhat shy and embarrassed that he would know of the gift. She did not particularly think herself a shy person, but she’d always managed to be so in His Grace’s presence. He was, everyone thought, somewhat intimidating. She almost shook her head. No, she did not truly find him intimidating. He was not the cold, aloof person that everyone thought him to be. She’d seen him often with his girls and she knew that he was a warm man, with a rather wicked sense of humour. Somehow, however, she’d always felt shy and tongue-tied whenever he was around, though, God knew, she should have gotten used to his presence by now.
She saw him smile. He did not do that often when other people were present. He reserved his smile for his girls. It was a sunny smile – one that seemed to encapsulate all the rays of the sun. One that reminded her how much he loved being outdoors.
“I’m glad you liked your present,” she heard him say. “I must confess I helped my daughters choose it for you.”
Henry cursed himself for his stupidity. Clearly, he had started acting like a simpleton. Whatever had possessed him to say such a thing? And how could poor Miss Archer respond to this? What he’d just uttered sounded as if he were making improper advances to her, a thing that had not ever crossed his mind. And how on earth was he to explain to Georgie and Jane that he’d lied about a present he’d wanted to give their governess? He’d lied and used his daughters as an excuse. That was a thing he’d never thought himself capable of doing.
He saw Miss Archer colour.
“I…I think Your Grace has excellent taste,” he heard her stammer.
He should put her at ease. It was unfair to take advantage of her in this manner. He meant to do that but did not know how. Instead, he found himself inviting her to a game of chess.
He frowned in some disbelief when, a while later, he realised she’d beaten him. He’d always prided himself on being a good player, but, he thought ruefully, it was clear that in Miss Archer he’d met more than his match. It was the first time they’d ever played together.
“So, Miss Archer,” he told her with a half-smile. “You’re not afraid of beating your employer?”
He chuckled when he heard her retort.
“Should I have conceded the match, Your Grace?”
He shook his head. He was not a sore loser, and he instantly decided that he would ask her to play again. It was a shame to have had such a fine player in the house all these years and not to have taken advantage of her.
In the firelight, Miss Archer’s brown hair suddenly glowed red-gold. How funny that he had never before noticed that Miss Archer was a handsome woman. He had not, although she’d spent eight years in his household. But maybe you have, a treacherous voice inside of him started whispering.
He cleared his throat.
“I see that the hour has grown late. I think it might be time to retire,” he said, adopting his usual ducal tone which left no room for argument.
