Chapter Five
"Mrs. Fraser!”
“Don’t you even start, Mrs. Donovan, you know verra well I’d be dead afore something in my kitchen burned this much.”
Colin would have turned right back around and returned to the main of the house despite the burning smell and now billowing smoke if it weren’t for the fact that he had three people behind him now, all pressing to see what was going on.
He had no desire to get in the middle of a spat between the two most opinionated women in this house aside from the ones standing behind him. While earlier in the day, he might have mischievously tried to stir up some sort of trouble between the two, he’d never actually intended for there to be an all-out war between them. Mrs. Fraser was Scottish, Mrs. Donovan was Yorkshire proud, and the combination made for two very stubborn women who were destined to be at odds with each other most of the time.
But as far as he knew, there hadn’t been any sort of real trouble between them for over a decade.
He’d rather keep it that way.
“Well, there seems to be something burning in the ovens, Mrs. Fraser,” Mrs. Donovan said in a would-be patient voice as she hovered over Mrs. Fraser’s shoulder.
“And yer telling me it’s burning is not going to help me figure this out!” Mrs. Fraser reached into the oven amidst the smoke. “What in God’s green earth…?”
A cast iron pot was pulled from the oven, flames and smoke almost erupting from it.
“Edna, take it outside,” Mrs. Donovan was saying, waving her outside.
“Get the door, Josephine,” Mrs. Fraser answered, nodding her head.
Mrs. Donovan moved to the kitchen door and opened it wide. “Careful, the path is snow covered.”
“Aye, I’ll mind my footing.” Mrs. Fraser moved the burning evidence outside, and Colin and the rest followed, more curious than anything else.
Mrs. Fraser obviously had things in hand, so there was no need to cause a fuss.
And it was highly unlikely for Mrs. Fraser to burn anything, and her kitchen staff were just as skilled and careful.
A Christmas mystery? How delightful. Well, not so much delightful as confusing.
Gerrards were confusing enough; more mystery wasn’t exactly required.
“Who the devil tried to bake a Christmas pudding?” Mrs. Fraser suddenly barked from out in the snow.
Colin instantly looked over at the others with an accusing air.
Kit gave him a look. “Oh, really? I was with you for the last hour at least. And Marianne wouldn’t try to make a pudding if we paid her to.”
There was a loud thumping sound and Kit jerked.
“I beg your pardon,” Marianne grunted with some agitation. “It would entirely depend on the price.”
Colin hooted a laugh. “Now there’s the Marianne I know and love! I’ve missed you, minnow. How are you?”
“Shut up, Colin,” Marianne laughed in return.
Kit ignored them both and rounded on Susannah, who immediately held up her hands in surrender. “I know perfectly well how to make a pudding, and I know just as well that I am not particularly good at it. I would never attempt it without Mrs. Fraser’s permission and watchful eye.”
Mrs. Donovan waved a few servants over. “Start trying to get some of this smoke out of the kitchen. Open windows or fan things out. Make sure everything for dinner is still good and preparing properly. And send some of the others upstairs to air out the rooms if we can bear the cold and snow for a few moments.”
The servants jumped to work, and Mrs. Fraser came back in, wiping out the now empty cast iron pan with a deep frown. “Who the blazes was foolish enough to not only try to bake a pudding, but not even make it properly? They could have burned the whole house down and none of us be any the wiser.”
“I did it.”
Everyone in the kitchen turned at the very small-sounding voice.
Crouched in a small corner of the kitchen, arms wrapped around her knees, sat Bitty.
Colin and Kit looked at each other, then moved quickly to their sister.
“What happened, Bitty?” Kit asked in a calm, soothing voice. He had always had a special relationship with Bitty, which no one quite understood, as they were so very different.
Bitty sniffed back tears and rested her chin on her knees. “I was trying to make a pudding for Christmas. As a gift. Rosie says we have to make Christmas extra special and give really good gifts. That’s what family does, and we really want to be a family.”
Colin almost dropped to the floor flat on his backside.
They wanted… But they already were a family. They had been a family since the first day the girls had been dropped in his parlor. He’d felt that pull as soon as he’d realized who they were. He might not have known what to do with it, or them, but there had never been a question.
Had he somehow missed everything?
Colin just mouthed wordlessly, his heart somehow out of his chest and in the vicinity of Mrs. Fraser’s still smoking oven.
“Bitty,” Kit said softly, his voice sounding rougher than normal, “you are family. You always have been, you don’t have to prove anything.”
Bitty was shaking her head before Kit finished. “Yes, we do. We’ve never had Christmas before, even with Mama, and Rosie says we have to get it right. We have to.”
Kit looked at Colin now, and the same helplessness was reflected in his eyes as Colin was feeling.
“So you thought you would make us all a pudding,” Susannah said as she approached the small group huddled together.
Bitty sniffed again and wiped at her eyes. “I know how much Colin likes pudding, and so I thought if I could just make one, it might be a nice surprise for him. I had Mrs. Tabb at home in London write me instructions, but I couldn’t read her writing in places. And then I couldn’t find all of the ingredients, so I had to use different things. And I thought you b-baked it.” Her chin quivered and she buried her face in her knees as her small frame shook with cries. “I didn’t mean to almost burn the house down. I’m so sorry.”
Colin reached out to put a hand on her head, smoothing her hair, and Kit sank down beside her and pulled her into his side.
“Och, darling girl,” Mrs. Fraser practically crooned from her position. “Come over here.”
Bitty’s head shot up, tear tracks highlighted on her cheeks, and she looked up at Kit in a bewildered terror.
“It’s all right,” Kit murmured, nudging her. “She doesn’t bite.”
“Are you sure about that?” Bitty muttered in a voice that sounded too much like Rosie.
Colin hid a smile behind a hand.
“Come on, my dear,” Mrs. Fraser said again, holding out a hand and crooking her fingers.
Bitty exhaled slowly, then got to her feet. She brushed off her slightly smudged skirts, wiped her cheeks, and walked over to the cook, keeping her head high. “I am so sorry for making a mess in your kitchen, Mrs. Fraser,” she dutifully apologized, her tone filled with sincerity. “And for almost causing a fire.”
Mrs. Fraser put her hands on Bitty’s shoulders. “Och, my wee one, dinna fash yourself anymore. No harm has been truly done. And if you’d still like to make your brother a proper pudding for Christmas, I’ll be pleased to show you the way.”
Bitty’s countenance changed so quickly Colin had to blink hard. She was suddenly so filled with hope and jubilance that one would never have guessed moments before she had been in the depths of despair. “Truly, Mrs. Fraser? Truly?”
Mrs. Fraser chuckled a deep laugh and smoothed Bitty’s cheek as if she were her grandmother. “Truly, my dear. Come here.” She pulled her close for a warm hug. “We’ll give that kind heart o’ yours a proper gift to give, aye?”
Bitty nodded against her, smiling.
Colin heard sniffling near him and looked to see Susannah and Marianne wiping at their eyes. He sighed to himself.
Women.
He got to his feet and put a dutiful arm around his wife, who leaned into him.
“Now,” Mrs. Fraser said with her usual brisk manner, stepping back from Bitty but retaining a hold on her hand, “away wi’ the rest of you. Miss Bitty and I have some work to be done. Surprises are no’ surprises if you’re here to see them. Off with you. I’ll send her back up when we’re done.”
There was no arguing with her, and Colin was certainly not foolish enough to try. He turned for the stairs, Susannah beside him, and the entire group returned to the main of the house, which still smelled faintly of smoke.
“That was…” Susannah began, still sounding emotional as they reentered the parlor.
“Unexpected,” Colin offered firmly.
“Surprising,” Marianne broke in.
“Bewildering,” came Kit from the back.
Susannah gave them all a hard look. “I was going to say sweet.”
“Well, that too,” Marianne replied, chewing on her lip in thought. “But…”
Kit came to her side and slid an arm around her waist. “What are you thinking, love?”
Marianne looked up at him, frowning. “Why would Bitty or any of the girls think they needed to do something particularly special this Christmas?”
“I wondered that myself,” he responded. “I never had any indication that they felt out of place in the family.”
“Nor should they,” Colin pointed out. “We treat them the same way we do the children, and in some cases much better. They have homes, clothing, shelter, food, friends…”
“It puts Rosie’s lashing out into a bit of perspective, doesn’t it?” Susannah looked around at the adults, shaking her head. “I wonder if someone at school might have said something to her, something to make her question their place with us.”
Colin nodded slowly, processing any and all possibilities in his mind. “We need to ensure that this Christmas they feel especially loved and valued.”
“Yes,” Kit agreed, brightening. “Yes, we can give them the sort of Christmas that real families have.”
Marianne and Susannah did not look at all convinced. “And what exactly does that entail?” Marianne asked. “How do real families celebrate Christmas, since apparently we have no idea?”
Kit grinned down at her and tapped her nose. “Don’t you worry about it, Marianne. Colin and I have a plan.”
Marianne scoffed and looked at Susannah. “That is probably the least assuring thing he has ever said to me.”
Susannah nodded in return. “I’m actually quite terrified right now.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Colin said, putting a hand to his heart as if wounded. “You will see when your eyes are opened.”
His wife gave him a look. “I have wide open eyes where you are concerned, mister. And I am still very, very afraid.”
Colin growled and gave her a hard kiss. “Then you had better leave so we don’t terrify you with our efforts.”
She shrugged as if it made no difference to her. “Might as well. Marianne and I have baskets to finish.”
“You do?” Kit asked, looking between the two of them. “I thought you had finished those the other day.”
Marianne shook her head. “No, we still have a few more. We can finish the rest in just a few moments and complete the deliveries.”
“Anything we need to help with?” he offered.
“No, please,” Marianne laughed.
“Isn’t that usually ‘no, thank you’?” Colin teased.
Marianne threw him a look rife with derision. “Not where the two of you are concerned. You have no idea what the families need, let alone what we have done for the others, and we have to be fairly consistent with the contents unless we want to cause a stir amongst the tenants. You two stay up here and play at Christmas to your hearts’ content.”
She moved to Susannah’s side and took her arm, pulling her away from Colin, and the two of them glided out of the room rather elegantly.
Colin scoffed loudly. “Play at Christmas?” He looked over at Kit, who was frowning. “That seems rather harsh, doesn’t it?”
Kit nodded and made a face. “A bit unfair, I think. We are really very serious about all of this.”
“It is a very important time for all of us.”
“As it should be.”
Colin waited a full count of ten, then looked over at Kit. “Should we call the children to decorate the tree?”
Kit seemed to heave a massive sigh of relief. “Yes, thank you. The anticipation was killing me.”
“Me too,” Colin quipped, heading for the corridor. “What in the world are we waiting for?”
“Wait!”
Kit suddenly grabbed Colin’s arm and held him fast.
Colin looked down at it, then up at his brother. “Yes?”
Kit laughed and released him. “Sorry. But… do we even have ribbons and candles and such to decorate?”
Oh. Well, that would put them in a right spot, wouldn’t it?
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he responded reluctantly.
Kit was apparently not in a lording mood for once. “Tell you what. I will continue to oversee the decorating of the house itself, you seek out Mrs. Donovan and see what can be found.”
“Very good,” Colin replied, rubbing his hands together. “The guests should be arriving in a few hours, and their children would love to decorate the tree as well.”
“I would think so.”
Colin gave his twin a sharp look. “No Whitlocks, though. None of their children.”
Kit blanched and shook his head quickly. “Heavens, no. Those terrors? They would rid the tree of its needles before a single candle went up.”
“Maybe not Emma,” Colin allowed, wincing.
“No, Lady Emma would be just fine,” Kit agreed. “She takes after her mother’s best features, that is certain.”
Colin raised a brow in surprise. “Kate has best features?”
Kit snorted a laugh and shook his head. “How are you actually friends with anyone, Colin?”
“I’ve never really known that myself,” he quipped. “I suppose I am just that charming.”
“Or something.”
That earned his twin a punch in his arm, which he took with his usual plaintive whining.
“When will your Yule items arrive?” Colin asked. “And your other surprises?”
Kit shook his head. “Not until this afternoon. I wasn’t sure what the morning would bring, so I thought it best to wait until the day had settled before bringing in that much excitement.”
Colin laughed and shook his head. “Excitement? Because Freddie pulling Rosie’s hair out and cutting down a fir tree and Bitty trying to burn the house down wasn’t exciting enough?”
“It’s not my fault our family is capable of such unexpected things!” Kit protested as he leaned against a chair. “How was I supposed to know any of that would take place?”
“We’re Gerrards, Kit,” Colin reminded him. “We always have to prepare for the most random and unexpected things.”
“I blame you.”
“And I you.”
Kit glanced out of the door, then back at Colin. “What do you think about the presents?”
Colin heaved a sigh and folded his arms. “I don’t know, Kit. I would have put my money on Marianne, but with what she was saying…”
“I know, I thought the same thing.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “And she’s been so tired what with Daphne, I’d be surprised if she managed to get any presents for anyone.”
“You think it’s Susannah?” Colin asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He straightened up. “But it wasn’t me.”
Colin threw his hands into the air. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Christopher, I wasn’t accusing you again.”
Kit shrugged one shoulder. “You were thinking it. But I know it was you.”
Colin rolled his eyes and left the room. “We’ll see, brother. We will see.”
It had to be Kit. It just had to be. There was absolutely no other explanation for a mountain of gifts arriving for them at Benbridge Park, of all places. It wasn’t even one of their nicer estates, and certainly wasn’t one of the largest. Susannah and Marianne might have had generous hearts, but they were also fairly sensible.
Kit was not nearly as sensible as he thought he was, and it would absolutely have been within his nature to want to give several presents to them all in order to make Christmas special.
But there would be no way for Colin to prove it unless there was some indication within the gifts that they were from Kit.
Hmm. He hadn’t examined them carefully enough to know if there might be an identity tied to the gifts.
He looked around quickly, checking if any children or wives might be in the vicinity.
None at all.
Excellent.
Colin strode quickly and quietly for his study, excitement and energy steadily climbing within him.
He would find out who was trying to sabotage his Christmas efforts with their excessive gifts. And he would see to it that none of these gifts were given.
He frowned as his thought reverberated through him.
That was hardly a proper sentiment for Christmas. Restricting gifts? Being determined to see them never given?
That wasn’t the way this was supposed to work, and it was also against Colin’s nature.
Maybe one gift per person could be given.
The others could be donated or saved for birthdays, depending on what they were.
Colin retrieved the key to his study from his pocket and slid it into the lock, looking around surreptitiously again. He pushed into the study and closed the door softly behind him, then leaned his back against the door.
The mountain of gifts sat directly in front of his desk, and in some cases atop it.
They were all wrapped in the same brown paper, and tied with the same red ribbon. Nothing extraordinary about that. Not that he expected artwork on the wrappings, unless one were truly determined to make things excessive. That would have absolutely been too much, even more so than the gifts themselves were.
Imagine having drawings on the wrapping of a gift.
That was too fanciful, even for a Gerrard.
He chuckled to himself and went over to the packages, leaning over to inspect each one, yet avoiding touching them for some reason.
Three packages to the girls were a similar shape and size, which satisfied him. At least there wouldn’t be favoritism involved in those gifts. Freddie had a gift slightly smaller, which Rosie would certainly mock him for. The younger children had small and oddly shaped packages, which spoke of various toys that he really didn’t mind all that much.
Toys had been a rarity in his life, and he had absolutely no concern about toys being given to his children, considering there were years and years of use ahead of them.
One of his favorite things to do, when he could, was to play with his youngest son and daughters in their nursery, using little but the few toys they had and the imaginations they possessed. He might get more use out of the new toys than the children would, but he would never admit that to anyone.
Another package for each of the older girls, and those were quite different in sizes. A hatbox for Bitty left little to the imagination. The same went for a gift for Ginny that had the distinct shape and size of a book.
Someone would be disappointed in that. Ginny rarely read anything, preferring to act out what someone else read.
A very small box for Rosie gave him pause.
That was a jewelry box.
Colin’s pulse skittered and he backed away from the horrifying sight at once.
Who the devil was sending jewelry to his sister? That was a distinctly male trait, and one Colin had seen done time and time again to gain affections. Rosie was too young for all of that. And she went to an all girls school in Kent, there was no possible way she would have contact with any men of any sort, particularly ones who could afford excesses like this.
Unless one of her friends had a brother…
Colin felt his lip curl in a snarl.
Forget Christmas. This was war.
He caught sight then of a gift with his name on it, and against all sense and indignation, he moved to it.
It was a decent sized package, which undoubtedly bode well for him. It was larger than Kit’s, which spoke of the giver’s good taste.
He wondered…
No one would know…
Colin glanced over his shoulder, then reached for his gift and shook it ever so slightly.