Christine Merrill - The Mistletoe Wager

Rosalind replied, ‘If it is about the eggs I must argue that they are not at all my fault. I hardly think if one makes a simple suggestion to Cook that a touch more seasoning would be appreciated, that it should result in so much pepper as to make the whole tray inedible. Lord Gilroy took a large portion and grew so red in the face that I feared apoplexy. I-’

Elise grabbed her sister-in-law by the wrist and pulled her into the drawing room. ‘It is not about the eggs.’

‘What else has gone wrong, then? It is so early in the day that there cannot be more.’

‘It is your brother. He is angry with me.’

Rosalind smiled with satisfaction. ‘And you have no trouble recognising the fact? That is wonderful news. For it means you are beginning to solve your difficulties.’

‘It is not wonderful. It is really quite horrible. He thinks I am faithless.’

Rosalind stared at her and made a face. ‘Did you think that taking a lover would assure him of your fidelity? I know things are different in Bavaria, Elise. But they can’t be as different as all that.’

‘Nicholas is only a friend, nothing more.’ She squeezed Rosalind’s arm. ‘You must believe me. I would never be untrue to Harry.’

Rosalind disengaged her arm and said, ‘While I have no trouble believing you, it is what Harry thinks that matters.’

‘If Harry were really bothered he should have said something before now.’ She realised too late how defensive she sounded-and how guilty.

Rosalind was looking at her in annoyance. ‘You have said yourself that Harry does not speak about anything that bothers him. Did you think that this would be different?’

‘Perhaps I was trying to make him jealous.’ It was difficult to say the words, for they proved that she had known what she was doing was wrong.

Rosalind nodded. ‘You were lonely. And by his silence Harry made it easy for you to stray. He is lucky the situation is not worse than it is.’

Elise let out a small sigh of relief. At least Rosalind did not hold her weakness too much against her. ‘I wanted Harry to notice me. But now that he has, what am I to do? I would send Nicholas away, but with the weather he cannot get to the end of the drive, much less back to London.’ And then she remembered the offer she had made to get him to bring her home. ‘And I will have to apologise to Nicholas as well, for I fear I have given him the wrong idea of my feelings.’

Rosalind stared at her, offering no help.

Elise continued. ‘We are all stuck here together, the house is full of strangers, and if we argue everyone in London will hear of it. What am I to do?’

Rosalind replied with a helpless shrug. ‘I assumed you would not have come here if you did not have some idea how to proceed once you had talked to Harry. Did you not have a plan? Everyone seems to be full of them nowadays. It is quite the thing.’

‘I was so angry with him I did not think.’

‘And he was not angry enough. And now you are less angry, and he is more so.’ Rosalind nodded. ‘In no time at all balance shall be achieved and you shall both be equally annoyed.’ She said it as though this were supposed to be good news, and wiped her hands on her skirts.

Elise shook her head. ‘But I do not wish to be annoyed with Harry. I wish us to be happy together. If I return to find that we are both still cross, leaving will have been an exercise in futility.’

Rosalind stepped past her towards the hall, gaining speed as she went. ‘There is nothing more I can do for you at the moment. I must run to the entry hall and decorate the Yule Log, so that tonight we can throw the whole thing into the fire and burn those same decorations to ashes. I am sure I will be in a much better mood to discuss futile behaviour, after that is done.’

Rosalind hurried down the hallway, taking sips from the cup of tea in her hand. It was tepid. But since she had not managed lunch, it was all she was likely to have until supper, and it would have to do. Since the moment she had arisen there had been something that needed doing, or fixing, or seeing to. Harry’s friends seemed to think that the food was either overcooked or raw, they found their rooms too hot or too cold, and the servants could not manage to please any of them without constant supervision.

After watching her decorate the Christmas tree, she had nurtured hopes that Elise would see the chaos, take control of the house, and set things to right again. But after one conversation with Harry the woman could not manage to do anything more useful than wring her hands.

It was most distressing.

As Rosalind passed the open door of the library she noticed that the mistletoe was no longer in its place. Was there something wrong with the thing that it could not seem to stay fixed to the door? Was the nail loose? Tremaine had placed it quite securely yesterday. What had happened now?

She searched the floor and found it had not fallen, as she’d expected, onto the doorstep, but had pitched up against the wall, several feet away. Someone must have kicked it by mistake, for it did appear somewhat the worse for wear. She glared at it, as though blaming it as a troublemaker, then shook it roughly and gave it a half-hearted toss in the direction of the hook above her.

It hung for a moment, and then dropped back into her teacup, splashing the contents onto her bodice. Unlike yesterday, there was no sound of muffled laughter. But she took a chance before acting further.

‘Tremaine, I need you. Get up from that couch and be of use.’

There was a sigh from the other side of the room. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘I have been everywhere else in the house, for one reason or another, and I have not seen you all day. So, by process of elimination, you must be hiding in the library-just as you promised you would not.’

‘And what in God’s name do you mean to involve me in now? I have had quite enough of the festivities, and the fun, as you call it, has barely begun. Do you know what your brother attempted this morning?’

‘Whatever it was, he has managed to annoy Elise no end.’

‘Annoy her?’ Tremaine’s angry face peered from behind the couch. ‘When I left them they were as happy as lovebirds. It seems she was not bothered by the sight of her husband threatening me with an axe, or attempting to freeze me to death. And I have ruined my best pair of shoes by walking through the snow. My valet is beyond consolation.’

‘As I have told you before, Tremaine, Harry means you no real harm. He is only teasing you because seeing you in a foul temper amuses him. My brother thinks that you have a lack of Christmas spirit, and I’m afraid I must agree with him.’

Nicholas punched the couch cushions in disgust. ‘I do not deny the fact. And, since Harry has sufficient spirit for two men, he pretends that he wishes to share it with me.’

She looked down at the dripping mistletoe in her hand, gave it another shake to remove the tea, and reached for the doorframe again. ‘If you would be so kind as to take it, then you could save some of us a world of effort. I can be every bit as persistent as my brother, if you give me reason. And if you try to avoid my scheduled activities, I will find a way to force your participation in them. It would be easier for both of us if you could at least pretend to enjoy them.’

He stood and walked slowly towards her. ‘I will participate, Miss Morley. But you far overstep the bounds of our limited acquaintance if you think you can make me enjoy the fact. I am a proper gentleman of the ton. And as such I live by certain rules. Conversation should flow freely, but truth should be kept to an absolute minimum. In the Christmas season truth runs as freely as wine.’ He made a sour face. ‘But the wine is endlessly seasoned with cloves. And therefore undrinkable.’

‘So you have an aversion to truth? And cloves? I can do little about the cloves, for they are all-pervasive, but I suppose spontaneous honesty is reason enough to avoid the holiday. Harry and Elise are proving that even if the truth is spoken it is oft misinterpreted. And then there is the very devil to pay. He has finally admitted that he is angry with her.’ Rosalind looked heavenward for understanding. ‘And yet, she is surprised.’

Tremaine shook his head in pity. ‘He’d have been better to hold his tongue. When it comes to women, if you admit to nothing you will have less to apologise for later.’

‘I find the fault is with her. One should never ask a man to reveal the contents of his mind if one does not already know what they are.’ Rosalind smiled. ‘But until they have fought they cannot make up. Some progress has been made. And the game I have chosen for tonight will be perfect to rejoin the two of them. They will be back in each other’s arms and laughing together in a matter of minutes. I suspect, once that has happened, the temptation will be great to stay where they are. But you must help fill out the room so that it doesn’t look too suspicious.’ She looked him up and down. ‘You need do nothing more strenuous than take up space. In less than an hour you will be back on that couch, and none the worse for it.’ She tapped the mistletoe against her teacup, awaiting his response.

He yawned, as though to prove that taking up space was near the limit of his endurance. And then he said, ‘How can I resist you when you put it so appealingly? Here, now. Will you stop fooling with that accursed thing.’ Her tapping had turned into a nervous rattling of china, and with surprising alacrity he snatched the kissing ball out of her hand and put it in place on the hook, above her head. And then he stood perfectly still, totally alert, looking down at her. His mouth turned into a curious smile.

She felt the bump as her back met the doorframe, for she’d scrambled out of reach of his arm without even realising it.

And then he laughed. ‘You are much more cautious than you once were.’

‘And you are no less prone to flirt. But, since I know you wish to return to London alone, I see no point in indulging you.’ She took another step, which brought her back into the hall and well out of harm’s way. ‘I will expect to see you in the drawing room this evening, Tremaine. And we will see if you are still so interested in fun and games when my brother is present to chaperone me.’

After a hearty Christmas Eve dinner, Harry gathered the guests in the drawing room for the lighting of the Yule Log. Elise was pleased to see that the trunk of the ash they had chosen the previous year was large enough to fill the fireplace from end to end.

Rosalind had spent a good portion of the afternoon draping it with garlands of holly and ivy, tied on with red bows, until it was almost too pretty to burn. And she had sighed dramatically as she directed the servants to put it on the grate.

Harry produced a charred piece of last year’s log and doused it liberally with brandy before thrusting it into the embers and watching it flare to life.

The crowd gave an appreciative ‘Ahh’ and several people stepped closer to offer toasts.

When Harry felt ceremony had been properly served, he touched the old log to the new and held it until the decorations upon the new log caught. Then he threw his torch into the fireplace.

‘There you are, my friends. The Yule Log. May it burn long and joyfully. If you have any regrets of the previous year, now is your chance to throw them upon the fire and start anew.’ He looked significantly at Elise as he reached into a basket of kindling and tossed a handful of pine needles upon the fire, watching them flare.

Elise stared at the basket of needles, and at the crowd around them. Did he mean her to do penance, in front of all these people? But what good would it do to stand in front of the guests and wordlessly declare herself a failure as a wife? Even if she could prove herself sorry for her indiscretion with Nicholas, there was so much she could not change. Without a miracle, next year was likely to be as barren as this had been.

When she did nothing, he gave a moment’s thought and added a second handful of needles to the fire. Then he smiled, changing easily back into the jovial host. ‘Come, everybody-wassail and mince pies.’ He made a few steps in the direction of the refreshment table, until he was sure that the guests were well on their way, then turned back to face Elise on the opposite side of the fire.

‘Elise. A word, please, in the study.’ Harry beckoned to her to follow him and left the drawing room, walking down the corridor and away from the crowd. His smile was as pleasant as it had always been, with none of the rancour it had held that morning. But his tone was that of a husband who took it for granted that a command would be obeyed.