Chapter Two
“Higher . Higher. No, lower. And a little to your left… There!”
The footmen were perspiring, but they affixed the boughs where indicated, and a very fashionable, deep red bow was handed up to them.
Colin turned to the woman beside him with a proud smile. “It is a lovely bow, Mrs. Donovan.”
The housekeeper smirked and folded her arms. “It is, isn’t it? Just wait until you see the beads.”
“Beads?”
She nodded, her smirk growing. “I have taken the upstairs maids from their chores for a moment to string beads to be hung with everything else. I think it will add a certain air of elegance, don’t you?”
Colin looked at his housekeeper with an entirely new appreciation. “It certainly will, Mrs. Donovan, and I applaud your creative eye.”
“Thank you, sir.” She turned to him, clasping her hands. “May I leave you to oversee the rest, sir? The children will be up soon, and I must ensure that breakfast is prepared for them.”
“Of course, Mrs. Donovan, of course. Feed the army, by all means.”
She smiled fondly and nodded once more. “Yes, sir. And I shall give you a full five minute warning before I inform Mr. Gerrard, as usual.”
Colin gave her the most adoring look he could manage. “You are the most wonderful housekeeper in the entire world, Mrs. Donovan, and you know I never exaggerate.”
She chuckled good-naturedly. “Yes, I know, sir.” She bobbed and moved down the corridor to attend to her duties.
Colin turned back to the greenery and the footmen that were currently hanging more. “Yes, just there, Tom. Excellent. Now if you would steady that ladder a bit more, Harry, I think Tom could go even higher.”
“What in the world is this?”
Colin bit back a curse as his brother appeared in the hall, obviously having just come from outside, his cheeks rosy in color and his hair in disarray. “Good morning, Kit.”
Kit barely spared him a glance. “I say again, what is this?”
“This? It’s a footman,” Colin explained very patiently. “We have several.”
Tom and Harry struggled to remain composed, but Kit turned to Colin with a resigned annoyance that always seemed to be present. “Actually, I was confused about you, but now I see you are the court jester, escaped from his position, and under the delusion that somehow anyone else finds you in any way amusing.”
Colin scowled, though he really was impressed with his brother’s retort. Kit may not look it, but he was in possession of a rather sharp wit, and it had the tendency to take one by surprise. Even Colin, experienced as he was with his twin’s ways and nature, forgot on occasion.
“It should be obvious what we are doing, Kit,” Colin grumbled. “We are decorating for Christmas.”
Kit’s furrowed brow cleared and he looked speculatively at the hanging boughs. “Excellent thought, and most excellent workmanship.” He glanced at Colin. “Do we have enough for the entire hall and all of the lower level rooms?”
There were no words to describe the warm feelings Colin currently felt for his twin. “We do, yes. And for the stair railings, unless you would rather leave them open for the boys to slide.”
“Leave the back one free, wrap this one.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Occasionally, and much rarer of late than it had been in the past, the Gerrard twins actually behaved as twins.
It was a fair reminder of their relationship.
“What have you been up to?” Colin asked as Kit removed his jacket and scarf. “Daphne up early again?”
Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Naturally. She’s determined to torment her mama and me in every possible way. One month old, and no better behaved than when she first arrived. Poor Marianne.”
“I say that every day,” Colin agreed mournfully. “Every day since she married you, that is my exact thought of her. Poor Marianne.”
“But no,” Kit went on, ignoring Colin, as he usually did, “Daphne is not the reason I was up early. I had some business to see to.”
That did not come close to making sense, as Kit had done very little by way of business since their arrival. It was the holiday season, and they had each made an effort to see to it that their servants and tenants were able to enjoy the time as much as they were. As far as Colin knew, the manager of the estate wasn’t even in the county, let alone in the vicinity.
“What sort of business needs to be done before breakfast on Christmas Eve?” Colin prodded suspiciously, folding his arms over his chest.
“Oh, all right,” Kit groaned, tossing his hands into the air, “but not a word to Marianne, understood?”
Colin crossed his heart. “I swear. Secrets from your wife are my very favorite kind.”
Kit nodded, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into the nearest room.
“What, did you have something fancy delivered to Mr. Trippett’s shop in the village?” Colin teased as they entered. “I know how your wife feels about trinkets.”
“No!” Kit hissed, shutting the door. Then he paused. “Well, I mean yes, but I picked that up two days ago. I have all of the presents I need.”
“I thought you might,” Colin muttered. “I still don’t know what to give Marianne.”
Kit frowned. “Why would you need to give Marianne a present?”
Colin gave him a look. “You didn’t get one for Susannah?”
“I…” His brother looked panicked for a moment, then he shook his head. “I’m sure our wives took care of presents for each other.”
“And man and wife are one,” Colin added, nodding in thought. “So they would obviously be from us as well.”
“Precisely.”
Colin frowned. “Does that mean we have to give each other gifts?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Kit mused. “We’ve never done so before, why break tradition?”
“I quite agree.”
They were silent for a moment, unified in their decisions, and then Colin looked at his brother expectantly.
“What?” Kit asked when he noticed.
“You pulled me in here. I’m keeping secrets from Marianne. I need to know the secrets to keep them,” Colin reminded him.
Kit shook himself quickly. “Right. Right. I went to the village.”
“We’ve established that.”
“Shut up. I found carolers to come to the estate this evening.”
Colin brightened at the prospect. “Did you really? How did you manage that?”
“Easily enough. They were caroling in the village.”
Colin stared at his twin without blinking for a long moment. “That was so anticlimactic, I may give you a second chance at telling me on the off chance you might improve the story.”
Kit was not amused. “I also got a Yule log, and a Yule candle.”
“That’s a lot of Yule.”
“It’s traditional, Colin. The Christmas Eve feast is eaten by the light of a Yule candle, and it’s never completely extinguished.” He pulled the candle out of his coat and showed Colin.
Colin took it, examined it carefully, then looked up at him. “It’s a rather large feast, Kit. We may need more of these.”
Kit rolled his eyes and took it back. “There are more candles on the table, Colin, but this is the Yule candle. We’ll talk about it with everyone later.”
Colin held up his hands in surrender. “Yes, oh Master of Tradition.” Then he paused, a memory pricking the back of his mind. “Wait, isn’t a Yule log lit with the splinters of the previous year’s Yule log?”
Kit winced. “Yes, technically.”
“Well, technically, I didn’t have a Yule log last year. And neither did you, if I recall.”
“No, I had a raging headache because Cat was days old and thought night was day,” Kit grumbled.
Colin shuddered, then laughed once. “Wasn’t that when Rafe decided the inkwell needed to be emptied on your new shirts?”
Kit groaned and rubbed at his brow. “I think that boy is yours.”
“Oh, I know he isn’t. But back to the log.”
“Thank you.” Kit straightened up. “I spoke with some of the farmhands on my way in. They had some spare pieces from their Yule log and are willing to share.”
Colin made a face, considering the idea. “Do you think we’ll tempt fate by using someone else’s Yule log remnants? I mean, the house won’t burn down because we’re not strictly adhering to tradition, right?”
“It shouldn’t…” Kit shrugged. “I’m not that superstitious, and we are trying to start new traditions, right?”
“Right.”
“So that counts for something.”
Colin smirked at his brother. “I think we used that excuse a time or two in our younger years, and I am fairly certain whatever we did never went well.”
“Nothing we did ever went well in our younger years,” Kit reminded him.
“That’s true.”
Kit’s eyes widened. “That’s not a foreshadowing, is it?”
Colin returned his look blankly. “For what?”
“This Christmas.”
Colin thought hard on that. “Well, we never had much of a Christmas growing up…”
“You didn’t really have one with Susannah after you were first married, you were freshly off your honeymoon,” Kit told him. “The girls and Freddie were so young.”
“And the year after that, she was pregnant with Livvy and miserable.” Colin shook his head. “And then the next year she was sick in the early stages of carrying Matthew.”
“And Marianne was carrying Rafe and ill herself.” Kit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then that Christmas with Loughton on his false deathbed…”
“That one was the worst in the history of Christmases,” Colin muttered darkly. “Next time he’s dying, we need to be sure he’s actually dying.”
“Agreed.” Kit gave a brief shudder, then went on. “And last year, Cat was brand new, so we couldn’t do anything.”
Colin looked at his brother morosely. “We’re terrible at Christmas.”
“Except for this year,” Kit said stubbornly. “It can’t be foreshadowing because we’ve never really tried to have a Christmas before.”
“This is true.” Colin brightened and rubbed his hands together. “Care to take over the greenery project? I have another task to see to.”
Kit nodded at once. “I can do that. What are you plotting?”
Colin looked around as if about to convey a great secret. “I want to cut down a tree.”
He wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he’d expected from his brother, but he certainly didn’t expect to be grabbed by the shoulders and squeezed tightly as Kit’s eyes suddenly turned almost crazed.
“Yes, Colin!” Kit hissed excitedly. “I had the same thought this morning!”
That was frightening. Kit wasn’t supposed to be particularly excited about anything Colin suggested. Ever. Wary, apprehensive, doubtful, reluctant, any of those or similar reactions were more along the lines of a usual behavior.
This was unequivocally foreign.
“It’s not a particularly English thing,” Colin went on, wishing his brother would stop trying to squeeze the life out of his shoulders. “Our wives won’t understand, but…”
“They will when we explain that Mother always had us have one!” Kit interrupted. “Marianne is always wanting to know more about her and wanting to honor her, so she will love this!”
“Well, as long as Marianne is happy,” Colin quipped, removing one of Kit’s hands.
The jab was completely lost on Kit. “I don’t even know if we have the right sort of trees nearby,” he muttered to himself.
“I sent one of the farmhands out to scour the land,” Colin informed him with a proud smile. “If he finds something, I was thinking you and Freddie and I could go out with them to bring it in.”
Kit was nodding before Colin finished. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
“Good.” Colin moved for the door of the room, then turned back as he gripped the knob. “Why couldn’t I tell Marianne any of that?”
“Oh,” Kit said with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t want her knowing I’d hired Morris men with longswords to come dance in celebration with the carolers.”
Colin gaped at his brother, then let a slow, mischievous grin cross his face. “Kit Gerrard, I’ve never been more proud to be your brother.”
Kit smirked and folded his arms. “I do have my moments, don’t I?”
“Not many.”
“Well, someone has to make sure you stay the troublesome one.”
That was hardly fair, considering Kit’s stuffy nature and reserve had caused them more problems than Colin’s antics ever had. Kit’s choice in wife was proof enough of that, though admittedly she was now the best version of herself that she had ever been, and Kit had actually lost some of his reserve. Colin, however, had lost none of his mischievous nature, even with his marriage and fatherhood, so he supposed…
No, that was enough. There was no point identifying just one of them as troublesome; they shared that task.
There was a sudden crashing sound and a screech, though the emotion behind said screech was not immediately identifiable.
Ah, there were the other troublesome Gerrards now.
Colin made a face and looked at his brother. “Was that one of yours or one of mine?”
Kit was still listening, and held up a finger.
Giggles erupted and subsequent smaller crashing sounds followed.
“Ours,” they said together with the same sound of resignation mixed with determination. Colin opened the door and moved back out to the hall, Kit following with a heavy sigh.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, the stairs were crowded with children, a few of whom were not technically children anymore, but that had never stopped them. All of them had the same brown hair, and all had some shade of blue eyes, depending on who their mother was, and they laughed in an almost unnerving chorus, as they were doing now.
If someone did not know any better, they would think all of them were from the same parents.
It was enough to drive anyone completely mad.
But in the world of Gerrards, everyone was mad.
It was a family requirement.
“Colin!” Bitty shrieked, pointing up at the holly boughs being strung up. “Colin, look!”
“My goodness!” he exclaimed, pretending he had never seen them before. “What has happened to our house, Bitty?”
“Christmas!” Ginny said, jumping up and down excitedly. “Colin, is it Christmas?”
Rosie made a loud scoffing sound that had both of her brothers looking up at her with a warning look. She immediately began coughing instead, which prompted Freddie to pound her back in a would-be-helpful manner.
It sounded painful enough that she wouldn’t need any other consequence or punishment.
“Could be, Ginny,” Colin mused, coming to the stairs. “What do you think, Kit?”
Kit made a thoughtful noise. “It certainly looks like Christmas cheer. But maybe if there was a bit more…”
“More!” Livvy suddenly chirped, dancing. “More! More!”
All of the children laughed and Colin scooped up his oldest daughter. “You think so, Miss Livvy?”
“Yes, Papa!” she cried, patting his cheeks. “Yes, more!”
Colin grinned and kissed her cheek quickly. Then he turned to the footmen, who watched in amusement. “You heard the lady, men. More!”
“Yes, sir!” they replied.
“Kit?” Colin asked, turning back to him.
Kit was outright grinning, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “If I can find any helpers willing to assist me…”
Six hands shot into the air, two of which were too young to know what they were volunteering for, but that didn’t stop them from joining the others.
Colin looked at Kit with a grin. “I think they might be Gerrards, Kit.”
“Well, there’s a surprise,” Rosie commented with a laugh. She picked up Matthew and looked at him very seriously. “I think your papa might be a little slow, darling. I pray you get your sense from your mother.”
“Surprise!” Matthew called out in delight.
“Surprise!” Rafe echoed, unsure why he was doing so.
Rosie sighed and looked at them both. “Never mind, you two are Gerrards through and through.”
Freddie hooted a laugh that Bitty echoed. Ginny, Rafe, and Livvy looked confused, but smiled anyway.
“Frederick,” Colin said stiffly, clearing his throat, “if I were you, I would proceed very, very carefully.”
His son clamped down on his lips, but it was clear he would continue to laugh given the slightest opportunity.
“I agree,” Kit said with a shrug as he picked up Rafe and tossed him into the air, making the boy squeal. “Susannah is definitely the more sensible of the two of you.”
“Not helping,” Colin muttered with a glare.
Kit smirked and moved past him, leaning in to kiss Livvy’s cheek. “This one is absolutely your daughter,” he informed Colin. “Watch out.” He quirked his brows and nudged his head towards the kitchens, and all of the children followed.
“Well, your girls are their mother’s daughters,” Colin called after him. “Good luck sleeping easily for the next fifteen years!”
Kit didn’t respond, but the footmen seemed to find it amusing enough.
He glared up at them. “That’s much worse, right?”
They nodded obediently, still too amused for his liking.
“You two behave, or I’ll make you help Mrs. Fraser get the supper ready,” he grumbled.
Tom looked at Harry with absolute horror. No one was laughing now.
Colin grunted. “That’s right.”
“Papa!” Livvy protested, tugging at his cravat.
He looked into the blue eyes of his daughter, who was going to be a near replica of Susannah, and sighed. “Are you starving, sweetheart?”
She nodded, playing with the knot. “Breakfast, Papa. Then more!”
He groaned dramatically. “Blast it, your uncle Kit is right. You are mine.”
Livvy grinned at him, and he, ever helpless to resist, grinned right back.
“I am in so much trouble with you, aren’t I?” Colin sighed. “I’m blaming your mother, despite your uncle’s ridiculous assertion.”
“I heard that!” Susannah’s voice came from one of the nearby rooms.
“And that’s a good thing!” he called down to her. “She is the most fortunate girl!”
He didn’t hear a response, and he winced at his daughter.
“That was close,” he whispered.
“Papa in trouble?” Livvy asked, not looking particularly concerned about the notion.
“Probably,” he admitted bluntly, “but that’s a given.” He glanced up the stairs, then back at his daughter. “Where are your little cousins?”
Livvy shrugged, her dark curls bouncing. “Upstairs. Cat poked Amelia in the eye. She cried a lot.”
Colin fought a smile. “That sounds like something Cat would do. No wonder Mama had Amelia down here.” He chuckled, then heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. Should we go see if breakfast is ready for you?”
“Yes!” Livvy cried jubilantly, always eager for food, which should have marked her parentage quite clearly.
“I quite agree, love. And Mrs. Fraser says…”
There was a pounding knock on the main door, and Colin looked at it in surprise. It couldn’t be his friends already, they weren’t due in until closer to luncheon. If Kit had told those carolers to come straightaway, he was going to have a serious conversation with his crazed brother about proper timing.
At least let them eat first, for pity’s sake.
Harward, their eccentric Yorkshire-bred butler, strode for the door proudly, his dark hair glinting in the morning light. He swung the door open and a burly man in patched clothing stood there, looking suspicious.
“‘Ere, is this the Gerrards?” he asked, looking as though he would spit at any moment.
Harward seemed to ripple with discomfort. “It is, and who may I ask are you?”
The man sniffled noisily. “Carter. I ‘as a delivery for the family.” He turned and whistled loudly.
Colin moved forward, more curious than wary, and saw two sturdy lads jump down from a wagon, toss back the covering, and proceed into the house with several packages wrapped in brown paper. He stepped back in confusion, and Livvy watched them, mesmerized as they went back to the wagon again and again.
Finally, the lads hopped into the back of the now empty wagon, leaving a massive pile of packages in the hall. Colin stared at Harward, gaping openly, and Harward would have gaped back, if butlers showed any emotion other than disapproval.
“That’ll be all, gentlemen,” Carter barked, tipping his cap. “We’ve already been paid enough. Happy Christmas.”
He turned on his heel and strode back to the wagon, whistling badly, and then they were making their way down the snow covered road, even as more snow continued to fall.
Harward closed the door, then looked at Colin with a hint of bewilderment, which was undoubtedly breaking some sort of butler code. “Were you expecting parcels, sir?”
“No,” Colin said slowly, turning to look at the pile. “No, I was not.”
He came closer to the packages, Livvy silent in his arms, and studied them for a moment.
They each had tags, and names were written there in a fancy script Colin did not recognize. There were at least two presents for every member of the family, and he could tell there was more than that beneath the rest.
His eyes narrowed.
This was excessive, even for Gerrards.
And he had nothing to do with it.
Which left only one course.
“KIT!” he bellowed, his voice ringing off of the halls, and the freshly hung boughs of green.