Regency Christmas Gifts (17 page)

“
Why not to the vicarage and ask Mr.
Portneuf? He will know the charitable cases,” Miles
asked.

She shook her head. “The vicar is always urging
me to read improving tracts and commentaries.”

“
And you would rather
not?”

She gave him a shy look, as if what she was
about to say might make him laugh or tease her. “What?” he
asked.

“
You’ll laugh. Clotilde
did.”

“
I am not Clotilde.”

She stood up and sat down properly in the chair
closest to his desk, so close that he could touch her, if he wanted
to. He realized with a little start that he did want to, so he
tapped her arm. “Now when have I laughed at you?”

“
Any number of times,” she replied,
“but I am serious. When things are too much to bear, I read the
Bible. That’s it. Just the Bible. No one’s commentary required
except my own.”

The matter-of-fact way she said it touched his
heart. “I should think that would be better than old sermons and
improving works,” he told her. “The vicar doesn’t like
that?”

“
I heard Mr. Portneuf preach from
St. Paul’s writings about women not speaking in church,” she told
him, which impressed him mightily. He couldn’t think of the last
time he had actually listened to a sermon. Mostly they were to be
suffered through. “I don’t believe he likes ladies to
think.”

“
Then he is an idiot.” He wanted to
see her smile, so he leaned closer. “Does your father have any idea
what an idiot his vicar is?”

There, she laughed. “You mustn’t breathe a word
of this to anyone, Miles!”

“
That Mr. Portneuf is an
idiot?”

“
Cousin, you are trying me mightily.
That ladies shouldn’t think!”

“
Ah, that
is
nonsense. Do you
have favorite passages?”

“
Oh yes,” she said.

Her obvious enthusiasm made his heart do a
little flip.
You’re growing up
, he thought, and felt an odd
sort of pleasure at the notion. “Care to share them?” he asked,
intrigued with this side of his cousin he had never seen
before.

She looked away. “After Mama died, I took her
Bible from her nightstand. At first I just put it on my pillow and
rested my head on it, because it smelled a little of rose
cologne.”

“
Cousin Pen did enjoy rose cologne,”
he said, imagining Lucinda finding solace that way, and wishing he
had known.

“
When I could bear it, I started
turning the pages of her Bible.” She looked at him, and he saw the
unshed tears in her eyes. “I read what she underlined, and then I
came to Proverbs 17.” She took a deep breath and tightened her
lips, which made him take her hand. She gave him a grateful
smile.

“
What happened then?” he asked,
having his own struggle when she gave his hand a
squeeze.

“
She had written my name above the
first part of the verse.
My name
,” she repeated softly, as
though even now she could not believe it. “’A merry heart doeth
good like a medicine.’”

He nearly stopped breathing when she rested her
cheek against his hand. “Miles, when she was suffering and in so
much pain, she liked me to sit beside her.” Another deep breath,
followed by an expression so serious he almost didn’t recognize his
cousin. “I think
I
was her medicine.”

“
I don’t doubt it for a moment,
Lucinda,” he said, when he could speak.

She didn’t move for the longest moment, which
soothed his own heart. He had spent so much time lately worrying
about what he would do in life, then wondering about his feelings
for his cousin. The depth of Lucinda Danforth was starting to amaze
him.

She sat up finally, and flashed him a faintly
embarrassed smile. “So sorry! When I feel melancholy, I read Mama’s
underlined verses. And lately, I’ve added some of my
own.”

“
Tell me one,” he said.

“
It’s in Micah.” She must have
noticed his expression. “Miles, Micah is in the Old Testament.
Please tell me you have heard of the Old Testament.”

“
I have,” he said, suddenly not
wanting to disappoint this new Lucinda Danforth.

“
This part: ‘When I fall, I shall
arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto
me.’ ”

She gave him a sweet look, with no mischief in
it. “It really does work.”

Then she was all business. “Mr. Cooper is our
retired vicar and he teaches the village school. He never minded if
I read the Bible and he is the one we should visit.”

“
You’re including me?” he asked,
flattered.

“
I believe third sons are like
second daughters,” she told him. “As long as we stay out of the
way, we can probably suit ourselves. I intend to have a bang-up
Christmas, in spite of everything.”

“
Such cant!” he exclaimed. “Don’t
let your aunt hear you.”

“
Never.” She stood up. “Even if
there is a wedding and confusion, and no one else remembers it is
Christmas, I intend to honor Christmas through Mama. Are you in or
out?”

“
Lucinda, I am in. We will keep
Christmas.”

S
he would have to ask him
sometime why she was suddenly Lucinda instead of Lucy, but it was
enough to know that she had an ally in this business of Christmas.
“When can you get away?” she asked.

“
Right now,” he assured her. “I have
cleared up a pile of correspondence and set aside receipts awaiting
your father’s signature. If I do not stand up soon, this chair will
grow to my backside, which will mean never finding a suitable
career or even a wife someday. Lead on. It’s your village, not
mine.”

She hated to skulk about in her own house, but
something told Lucy that Aunt Aurelia wouldn’t take too kindly to
her disappearance, especially when there was probably a wedding
crisis looming, in action, or just finished. Still, it wouldn’t
hurt to tread lightly down the hall from the bookroom to the front
door. Just a few more feet now ….

“
Stop right there, young
lady!”

Lucy winced. She turned around to see Aunt
Aurelia coming at her like a frigate sailing into
battle.

“
If I weren’t suddenly so terrified,
I would swear,” Miles whispered in her ear, which for a small
moment proved even more distracting than Aunt Aurelia. Funny how
that whisper could make her stomach tingle.

“
You are no help, cousin,” she
whispered back in
his
ear, which made him look a little
funny, too. Ah, revenge.

“
Yes, Aunt Aurelia?” she said,
wishing herself deep in the interior of Canada.

“
What is this I hear about you
refusing to go to the village to try on a bonnet for your come
out?”

“
I have better things to do right
now,” Lucy said, standing her ground, mainly because Miles stood
behind her and pressed his hand into her back, where Aurelia
couldn’t see. “A bonnet can wait.”

She said it firmly, enunciating each word. Papa
had once warned her about not looking directly into the eyes of
growling dogs. Perhaps bullies needed to be stared down and not
avoided like dogs.

But what would Mama have done? She put her hand
around Miles’s hand against her back and pushed him gently away. It
took all her courage to move forward, trying to glide as Mama would
have done. She held out her arms to her bristling aunt, pulled her
close and kissed her cheek.

“
Thank you for what you are doing to
help us,” she murmured. “Weddings are such a trial, are they not? I
am going into the village with my cousin to see the vicar about
some greenery for the church.”

Heavens, lying about church
. Lucy
hunched her shoulders for a split-second, waiting for lightning to
strike. When it did not, she added prevarication to her list of
sins to be repented at leisure, preferably after Christmas.
Besides, a little fib must be small potatoes to the Almighty,
especially since He was probably still trying to recover from all
those lies at the Congress of Vienna.

“
We won’t be long, my dear,” she
said, and turned on her heel.

Don’t look back, don’t look back
, she
thought, as she continued her serene way down the hall that now
stretched roughly the distance from Plymouth to
Edinburgh.

Nothing happened, except that Miles was by her
side, holding her hand. “I think
you
should consider a
career in diplomacy, cuz,” he whispered, but not in her ear this
time, which greatly relieved her. This was no time for impish
thoughts, especially about her second cousin.

Milsap asked no questions when she requested
her cloak and bonnet. In fact, the butler took advantage of his
many years’ acquaintance and whispered, “Would that I could run
away, too, Miss Lucy.”

“
You would be welcome,” she assured
him. “We won’t be long. We are going to visit the village
school.”

“
Take good care of her, Mr.
Bledsoe,” he told her cousin.

“
I’ll treat her as if she were my
cousin,” he promised.

Lucy already knew Miles was a good cousin; he
became an even better one when he matched his longer stride to her
shorter one. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been walking with
Miles Bledsoe in years. Lately, they met at tedious parties or in
stuffy ballrooms.
I like this
, she thought.

“
I like this, Lucinda,” he said.
“Usually we just meet in stuffy ballrooms.” He nudged her shoulder.
“Are you any better at dancing now than you were at
fourteen?”

She stopped in the road and held up her arms.
“Try me.”

With a grin stretching nearly ear to ear, he
held her in the waltz position, and muttered a monotone
one two
three
until she started humming an actual waltz and he had
leave to stop. Around the road they waltzed, to the amusement of a
passing carter and two children, who imitated them with predictable
results.

She struck a final note. He bowed and she
curtsied and pretended to fan herself, even though her breath came
out in cold puffs.

“
La, Mr. Bledsoe, you are my hero,”
she simpered and batted her eyes.

He gave her such a look then, more tender than
her silly romp warranted. “I’m calling you Lucinda because I
believe you are maturing, but obviously not too fast,” he said, a
little out of breath. “I am not certain if I approve or not, but I
think you are going to grow up, whether I wish it or
not.”

He crooked out his arm and they continued more
sedately down the road. “Country dancing? Polkas?” he
teased.

“
All the above.” She stopped in the
road. “Miles, I don’t want to go to London for a come
out.”

He set her in motion again. “It might be a
necessary evil. Let me assure you that you will have suitors
aplenty.”

“
How do you know that?” she asked,
curious.

“
Trust me. I know it,” was all he
would say.

She gave him her sunniest smile, looked into
his eyes and saw surprising depth there.

Children continued passing them as they walked
toward the school, which was located next to St. Andrew’s. Formerly
run by the church, the little school allowed any and all to attend,
or nearly all. The people of means sniffed at it as the charity
school, but Lucy knew the children were well-served by Mr. Cooper,
retired these five years from St. Andrew’s pulpit. Some of their
own social sphere had thought it strange that her father sent her
there, but he knew she would get a sound education.

She tapped on the door and opened it. Mr.
Cooper looked up, saw who it was and got to his feet. He
straightened out slowly and put both hands on Lucy’s arms as she
came close.

He smiled when she kissed his cheek, and asked,
“Is this your special young man, Miss Lucinda?”

She laughed and shook her head. “He’s just my
cousin Miles. From the time I was four and able to follow him
around, I have been his cross to bear.”

“
Hardly,” Miles said in his own
defense. “Was she a good pupil, Mr. Cooper?”

“
Aye, generally speaking, except
that she had a morbid desire to ask ‘why’ every time I explained a
new approach or theorem.”

“
Natural curiosity is not to be
sneezed at,” Lucy said in her own defense.

“
Some things just
are
,” her
former vicar said, “like truth, or law, or even love.” He peered
closer at her, his good humor evident. “Even you will understand
that some day.”

He clasped his hands in front of his ample
girth. “What brings the two of you here?”

Miles bowed to Lucy. “Your proposition,
cuz.”

She sat down on the bench Mr. Cooper indicated
and smoothed out her skirt. She thought she did a good job of
consolidating the whole matter, the tyranny of a wedding versus the
annual loveliness of Christmas.

“
So you see, Mama always brought a
basket of food and clothing for the less fortunate. She did it
every year, except last year …” her voice trailed
off.