Chapter Eight
"It is not ruined.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Ruined!”
“Atrocious, Marianne, really, you should see it.”
Marianne sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “I have seen it, Colin, and it is not that bad.”
“It’s not that good either,” he pointed out.
Kit paced the room, shaking his head. “What were we thinking? They’ve never decorated a tree before, how could they possibly know what all goes into it?”
“Oh, surely it’s not so complicated,” Marianne scoffed as she picked up Daphne and put her against her shoulder, patting her back softly.
Kit paused his step to look at his brother in shock, then looked down at his wife. “There is a very exact and precise way of doing it, Marianne. Believe me, it is both an art and a science, and it takes a great deal of effort to craft both into a perfect form.”
Colin echoed his sentiment by nodding frantically.
Marianne looked between the pair of them as though they had sprouted horns, and just shook her head. “All right then, perhaps you should decorate the tree yourselves instead of leaving it to a group of children who have never heard of any such thing, let alone seen it.”
Despite his aversion to being told off, he had to admit that his wife did have a point. He continued to pace the room anxiously.
“Do you think we would hurt their feelings if we take it all down?” Colin asked from his position by the mantle.
“Yes,” Marianne said quite frankly. “You got them all riled up about a fir tree becoming something great and magnificent for Christmas and the honor of decorating it, and to now tell them they got it wrong?” She gave him a scolding look.
“But they did get it wrong,” Colin tried to explain, looking to Kit for help.
Kit had no help to give.
“In what way, Colin?” Marianne snapped. “How did the children destroy or ruin that fir tree? It’s still standing, is it not?”
“Yes…”
“And nothing has caught fire?”
“No…”
“Then nothing is destroyed or ruined. If you don’t like what they did, find a way to change it. But so help me,” she warned, holding up a finger, “if you make any of the children cry over your unfeeling comments about their eager attempts to live up to your expectations…”
Kit winced and pointedly looked away from her. Images of crying children floating around in his mind was not going to help him find a way to save his favorite tradition of Christmas.
It really just needed some reorganization, that was all.
Some adjustment was all.
Oh, all right, it required a complete overhaul short of bringing in a fresh fir tree completely devoid of decorations of any kind. The children had taken every single item that Mrs. Donovan had brought in and tossed it all on the tree with the sort of haphazard energy they might have done with wildflowers on the breeze. The result had been an eyesore destined to give any viewer the sort of headache that would lay one up for weeks.
It boggled his mind how the servants overseeing the project could have failed so spectacularly by not intervening before anything got so out of hand.
Perhaps he ought to overhaul the staff of the estate while he was overhauling the tree.
After Christmas, naturally. He would never cast out anyone on Christmas Eve.
Colin, perhaps, but at the moment he was useful and an ally, so he could remain.
A low laughter he was quite familiar with drew his attention back to his wife, who was watching him with marked amusement.
“What is so funny?” he asked her pointedly.
Marianne’s brilliant blue eyes sparkled as she rose rather gracefully considering their daughter was weighing her down. “You are so agitated, and it’s only Christmas. It’s not so bad, is it?”
“Only Christmas?” he repeated in disbelief. “Marianne, this is the first real Christmas our family will have had since Colin and I were boys. We’re only trying to make it special in our own way!”
“Far be it from me to prevent a Gerrard having his own way,” she retorted drily, her mouth curving into a smile, “but it seems a great deal of fuss and bother over one silly tree.” She quirked a brow and swept from the room, cooing softly to Daphne.
Kit watched her go, then turned to Colin with a disgruntled look. “Did she just say…?”
Colin held up a hand, obviously disgusted. “Don’t repeat it. I’m doing my best to forget that your beloved wife just made such an egregious error in judgment in saying something so offensive to my ears. I shall remain here until I am calm so I do not engage in any action I may have cause to regret.”
Kit stared at Colin, no longer disgusted as much as bewildered by the lofty nonsense he had just spouted. Sometimes his twin really was a mystery beyond all comprehension. “Very wise,” he drawled slowly.
“You didn’t think it was horrific?” Colin asked with all the accusation his ten-year-old self had ever employed.
“I thought it was ignorant and uninformed,” Kit hissed, glancing around to make sure his wife hadn’t heard, “and yes, it was rather upsetting, but you can hardly blame her when she doesn’t know anything of the Christmas tree either.”
Colin ground his teeth together and folded his arms tightly. “She’s half Scottish. You would think she would have some respect for tradition, even if she does not understand it.”
Kit laughed hard. “You look at my wife again and tell me how much of her Scottish blood actually makes it to the surface.”
Truth be told, Marianne had a very Scottish way of looking at things and a very Scottish temper, and last summer when they had visited her cousins, she had even managed a near-perfect brogue that still sent a warm shiver up and down his spine when he recollected it. Which he did from time to time.
And she looked the part of a rare Scottish beauty, that was for certain.
He smiled to himself as he considered the possibility of procuring Scottish property, preferably near her relations, purely to bring her more Scottish side out from time to time.
“This is no smiling matter, Kit!”
He shook himself and returned his attention to Colin, who was frowning darkly.
“Right.” Kit shook his head again. “So how do we manage this?”
“Well, I’d rather not make my children cry,” Colin pointed out, “though I doubt they are old enough to be driven to that unless the older ones do so.”
Kit nodded in thought, sensing his brother was probably right in this. “Livvy might,” he pointed out.
Colin cursed softly and swept his hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels. “She might. She’s a bit sensitive. But if we keep her distracted long enough, she might not notice.”
“Distract her with what?” Kit inquired. “She’s three.”
“Three-year-olds can be surprisingly helpful,” Colin pointed out. “Wait until you have one.”
“I await your suggestion, oh wise one,” Kit offered with a mocking bow.
Colin nodded in acknowledgement of the honor, sarcastic though it had been. “She can’t very well help with the Yule log, or whatever else you have associated with that, and the baskets have already been delivered to the tenants, so she can’t help there. Mrs. Fraser would have our necks if we sent her to the kitchens when we’re only hours away from the feast…”
“I’ve got it!” Kit announced with a snap of his fingers.
Colin looked at him with a hint of a frown. “Were you even listening to me?”
“No,” Kit said, shaking his head. “Rarely do.”
“I knew it.”
Kit took two steps towards him. “I was going to collect all of the children this afternoon and have them help to prepare boxes for the servants for St. Stephen’s Day. Livvy would be able to help there, yes?”
Colin grinned slowly, nodding his head. “She would indeed. She will fetch anything you ask her, with more energy and precision than any hunting dog. She will tire herself out so much she may even need a nap before the end of it.”
“Perfect.”
That was one child, which only left all the rest.
Kit groaned and rubbed at the furrows in his brow that were destined to be permanently etched there. “And what about everyone else?”
“Boxes for them all,” Colin said with a wave of his hand. “Rafe and Matthew are too little to be useful there, so we’ll send them off to the nursery with the Nurses A, and the babies, too.”
“Fair point. Alice and Agnes can handle that lot.” Kit pursed his lips slightly. “Someone will need to oversee the boxes. It’s important enough that structure and order would be required.”
Colin scoffed. “Put your wife in charge of them. Better yet, put mine. She’s still in my study looking over the gifts, and I think she may be opening and rewrapping them.”
That surprised Kit and he looked in the direction of the other study for a moment. “You think so?”
Colin shrugged a shoulder, smirking in a way that did not hide his amusement. “Hers, at least. Maybe not anyone else’s, but she is surprisingly mercenary when it comes to her own gifts.”
Kit scowled and moved to go to the study. “She’s not going to help anybody if she wants the gifts to stay, Colin. We have to stop her.”
His arm was suddenly seized in a harsh grip and he was pulled to a stop.
“Oh, please, Colin, I’m not going to hurt her,” Kit groaned, looking over his shoulder at his twin.
Colin looked surprisingly wary, shaking his head. “It’s not that, Kit. There’s something you should know.”
Kit turned fully and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You’ll like it even less when I tell you what I must,” Colin assured him, rubbing the back of his neck.
Kit folded his arms again and tried not to panic. “All right, I definitely don’t like this, whatever it is.”
Colin hummed an almost laugh that held absolutely no humor in it, and nodded once. “I was investigating the gifts, trying to decipher the giver from what was there, see if there were any clues, and one of the presents for Rosie…” He closed his eyes as if bracing himself. “It’s small.”
Small? That was it? That was the big dramatic thing he had been reluctant to tell him?
That was the most pathetic… Rosie was sensitive, and competitive with her sisters, but surely he didn’t think she would be so petty.
Colin cracked open an eye, and then looked upset that Kit hadn’t reacted at all. “Kit! It is a small gift.”
“Yes, so you said,” Kit answered, wondering if he could punch his brother without leaving any visible evidence that would raise questions. “I am still waiting for the distressing part of that revelation.”
His brother’s mouth twisted. “It is small and distinctly in the shape of a jewelry box, Kit. Rather remarkably like the one I have hidden away in my bureau to give to my wife tomorrow morning, in fact.”
Kit stilled, letting the information wash over him, processing it as quickly as humanly possible, considering it kept repeating itself in his mind at increasing volumes.
“So in case you have forgotten where things stand,” Colin went on, his tone condescending, “there is a mountain of gifts that have been delivered to us on Christmas Eve from a person as yet unidentified, unless you wish to confess something right about now…”
Kit did not, and gave his brother the sort of look that stated the fact.
“And our sister,” Colin went on, hardly pausing at all, “who is only fourteen years of age, is apparently getting some small and probably expensive jewelry item from this as yet unidentified person, who just might be of the male persuasion.”
Kit was already headed for the door again, and Colin did not stop him this time.
“Don’t bellow,” Colin hissed. “No one can know.”
“I do not bellow,” Kit gritted through his teeth. “And no one will know. I am going to see these presents for myself.”
Colin clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.”
Kit barely felt it as he stormed on down the corridor.
Rosie was still a child, not even close to being considered the appropriate age or maturity to be out. How could some blackguard have designs on her already? And to try and sway her with expensive gifts? Worse than that, but to include the entire family in his schemes to sway her all the more?
It was downright despicable, and Kit would burn the entire pile of packages to the ground and dance around the flames like a Morris man from the village before he would see a single one of them opened.
Just as he was about to barge into Colin’s study, the door to it opened, making Kit stutter a step.
Susannah came out, looking rather amused about something. “Oh, there you are, I was just coming to find the two of you.”
“Not now, Susannah,” Kit grunted, shifting to move past her.
“Urgent business,” Colin announced from behind him.
“This will only take a moment,” she told them. She held up a small, distinctly jewelry box shaped package in one hand. “Look what I found addressed to Rosie.”
Kit looked at the small gift, his eyes narrowing in on it. He felt his lip curl into a snarl and his neck began to heat.
Susannah reared back. “Colin, what is he doing?”
“He will probably pounce on that atrocious object in your hold and tear it to shreds with his bare teeth to protect the one it is intended for,” Colin recited as if the plan had already been discussed.
It seemed like a good idea to Kit, provided Susannah moved out of the way quickly enough to avoid injury.
“Why?” Susannah asked, looking between the two of them.
Colin huffed impatiently. “Because that is obviously a trinket designed to give Rosie a favorable impression of a young man who wishes to pursue her, despite the fact that she is practically an infant.”
Kit nodded with a harsh grunt, unable to vocalize his agreement to his brother’s statement.
Susannah stared at them both for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
The sound was jarring to Kit’s ears and he glared at his brother, wondering at this moment what had possessed him to marry a woman who would laugh at a time like this, despite the fact that they had known her for years and she was perfect for him.
Those were minor details at this moment.
“What is so funny, Susannah?” Colin demanded, sounding properly insulted himself.
Susannah was still laughing too hard to respond and she waved her hand somewhat apologetically.
“Colin,” Kit ground out, his hands forming fists at his side.
“Susannah,” Colin chimed in quickly, now sounding as though he were pleading, “please, for your own sake, tell us why you’re laughing at that.”
Susannah exhaled slowly, still fighting more laughter. She sniffed once, then exhaled again. “I’m sorry,” she said, laughing. She met Kit’s eyes and tried to sober. “I’m sorry, Kit.” She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. “Truly.”
He nodded once, but said nothing.
Apologies were not answers.
“But there is no possible way this came from a potential suitor for Rosie,” she explained, laughing again. “She goes to an all girls school in Kent.”
“Girls have brothers,” Kit grunted.
“Exactly,” Colin added.
Susannah shook her head slowly. “Still not the case. Rosie would have limited opportunity even there to meet any of them. You’ve never spent time in a finishing school for young ladies, but I can promise you that there is no way a fourteen-year-old girl would be exposed to any young man long enough for him to form any serious designs on her. And Kit, you looked into the school yourself and it came incredibly highly recommended, if I recall.”
“It did,” he admitted reluctantly, “and from some very trustworthy sources.”
“So you should not jump to that conclusion simply because eager young men may send jewelry to a young lady,” Susannah said, trying not to smile, and explaining everything as though Kit and Colin were seven years old. “Besides, as you said, Rosie is far too young, and I am fairly certain she still thinks anyone of the male species to be singularly lacking in anything of interest to her.”
He hated to admit it, but she had several valid points there.
Besides, how would any potential suitor of Rosie’s know where they were going to spend Christmas? Yorkshire wasn’t one of their more frequented estates, and it wasn’t something that they had spread around for the public’s information.
And Rosie might not have had any interest in any young men as yet, but it wouldn’t be far off. She was destined to be a very handsome young lady, so there was every possibility that this could become their reality before long, however…
“Are you certain?” Kit asked before he could finish the thought.
Susannah nodded firmly, finally not seeming amused by the idea. “I had a long conversation with Rosie just the other night, and she confided many things. Trust me, these presents are no seduction technique.”
“Susannah!” Kit cried, clamping his hands over his ears.
“Why would you say something like that?” Colin practically yelled, looking as though he might fall over.
She rolled her eyes and handed the gift to her husband. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you two. Grow up. This gift probably came from Kate, if you want my opinion. She has far too many trinkets and would love to see them go to deserving young girls who don’t have such suspicious brothers!” She stormed off, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.
For a long moment, there wasn’t a sound.
It probably came from… Kate?
Of course! Why hadn’t he considered that possibility before? Colin’s friends!
He whirled to face Colin, new energy surging through him, and his twin had a calculating expression on his face.
“Is it possible?” he asked, taking in the new idea with interest.
Colin nodded at once, starting to smile. “Not only possible, but probable. Not necessarily Kate, but any of them. All of them. It would make sense not to bring all of the gifts with them when they would have limited carriage space. They would send them on ahead.”
It was a prudent thought, and it certainly made the most sense out of anything they had considered yet.
Except for the idea that one of them had done it.
He hadn’t ruled that out yet, and he doubted he would.
But he was open to other possibilities.
“So,” he began with a sigh, the fight in him gone now, “do we let the children open these presents when the giver is apparently not here to witness it?”
Colin shook his head quickly. “No, no, it doesn’t matter who the giver is, the sentiment still stands. This is too much, and what if we were not as generous?”
Kit chuckled a dry laugh. “So it is a bit of a competition for you, then.”
“Well, I couldn’t bear to be considered a miser by my own siblings and children,” Colin said without shame. “How would that reflect on me?”
That was the most quintessentially Colin thing that Colin had ever said, and it amused Kit immensely.
Not that he would tell Colin that, for fear it might encourage him into further idiocy. Besides, Kit had other matters that required his attention.
Several, in fact.
He turned from his brother and started down the corridor to his own study.
“Where are you going?” Colin demanded, trotting after him like one of the children might have done.
“The study, Colin. The one that actually gets used in this house.”
“Mine is being used at this moment!” his brother protested.
“Yes, rather the way a warehouse on a dock is.”
“I didn’t say it was a good use.”
Kit huffed in irritation. There really was too much to do and Colin’s interference was going to ruin that more than the children had ruined the tree. “If I am going to set the children to work on the boxes for St. Stephen’s Day,” he informed him, “I really must see to the ledgers and make some sort of determination as to what must be given and to whom. One does not wish to appear overly generous or display any kind of favoritism, but we also must not appear stingy.”
“Oh, yes,” Colin drawled easily, “we must maintain our name and respectability with the servants, you are quite right, sir.”
He could have done without that, but one was used to a certain level of immaturity when Colin was around. He had no idea the sort of stresses Kit was under at any given time, being the heir to the estates and title their father bore.
And that did not take into account the stresses he felt about Christmas.
“What about the tree, Kit?” Colin hissed as they neared the study. “What are we going to do?”
Kit paused with a curse. He’d forgotten all about that.
“Tell them…” he began, thinking quickly. “Tell them it was practice. We haven’t done the real decoration yet, but they got some excellent practice in. You and I will fix it later.”
Colin nodded, grinning. “Brilliant,” he said, pointing at Kit proudly. “Genius.” He skittered away with a hint of a skip in his step.
“I know,” Kit muttered with a roll of his eyes. “I said it.” He shook his head and pushed into the study, hoping this wouldn’t take long.
Time was of the essence.
The oddest sound met his ears as he entered the room. Paper was tearing, and was that… chewing?
He looked in a corner of the room, blinked twice, then turned to call over his shoulder, “COLIN! Why is there a goat in my study?”