She nodded, indignant at the memory.
Charles drew a deep breath. “Then I begin to discover a common feeling with the fellow at last. Louisa, you cannot imagine how much such a thing would cost!'
“Oh, yes, I can, Charles. It would cost a great deal. That is why I think we should raise funds for it.'
“But-Louisa, would you plan to go on feeding these useless animals forever? What would that serve?'
“I would hope to find homes for them. Do not forget how easily you were persuaded to take Eliza.” She gazed at him hopefully.
Charles took a breath that swelled his chest. He shook his head once, and then again more forcefully. At times like these, he found Louisa's logic astounding.
“No,” he said aloud. “Louisa, I'm afraid I must side with Geoffrey. That is an impossible notion.'
Disappointment clouded her eyes. She began to finger the branch in her hands.
“I was so certain you would understand…'
Charles began stammering, “I do-of course I do understand your impulse. You are kind and generous! But it simply cannot be done!'
Louisa had perked up at his compliment. But at his final words, her face turned wistful. “If you are very certain, Charles…'
She turned her back on him and tried rather listlessly to fix the branch above a window. Charles found himself staring at her shoulders, at the gown stretched tightly across her back, at the high waist which shifted with each of her movements to cup her breasts. She stood on tiptoe and her arms rose above her head to loop a piece of rope across the curtain, the skin as smooth and white as satin.
He felt a deep desire to make her turn around and smile at him.
“Of course…” he ventured, searching his mind frantically for something to cheer her, “the other thing you mentioned about a piece of legislation to restrict cruelty to animals-I rather see the sense in that.'
He spoke the truth. Now that he had taken the time to think about her proposal, he could see nothing wrong with it precisely. Good stewardship was a basic principle of good government. No reason it should not extend to animals, after all.
Louisa whirled to face him. “Charles! Do you really think so?'
The smile he had longed to see beamed down at him.
“Now, I only said that I see the sense in it,” he responded cautiously. “I cannot speak for my colleagues. Chances are, they will require time to get used to the idea, but I see no harm in mentioning it.'
“Charles!” In her delight, Louisa gave him both her hands, and he held them to his lips for a moment. Her eyes shone down at him like a sunlit sky.
Then, recovering his senses, he released her hands and waved off the praise she seemed so eager to shower on him.
As she turned to her task again, Louisa concluded, “And Charles, you must never again liken yourself to Geoffrey, even in jest! I will not allow it!'
Charles felt a cloud moving to block the glow of her approval. Truth to tell, he almost felt guilty for raising her hopes. His colleagues would laugh at the idea. But Charles was a man of his word, and no matter what it cost him, he resolved to raise the issue as soon as Boney was caught.
From time to time, Louisa held her hand out for another sprig of holly, and Charles found himself in the role of first assistant. By the time Jim returned with his pint, he had decided he might as well keep it up. It would be impossible to read undisturbed with two people climbing about the room in any case, and he did not mean to be driven from the parlour. Besides, he was certain Jim had other chores to do and should not linger.
Charles dismissed him.
Louisa seemed pleased that Charles had given up his own plans in order to help her. Together they strung garlands and looped them over the doors and windows. The amount of greenery seemed excessive; it was more the custom to use it outdoors for the conduits and street standards. But when they had finished, Charles had to admit that the effect of their work was beautiful. The hanging holly and bay turned the common parlour into a wooded bower. The scent of fir perfumed the air, mingling with the smoke of the fire.
When the windows and doors were all finished, Louisa sat by the fire and got to work fashioning a “kissing bough” for the ceiling. Charles stood beside her, silently staring at the crown of green in her hands.
She had fashioned a circle, and now she was adding to it the things Mrs. Spadger had donated: rosettes and ribbons in long streamers from which to suspend gifts; red apples for more colour; and candles, which would be lighted on Christmas Day. A sprig of mistletoe lay off to one side, the last to be attached.
“I haven't done anything like this since I was a boy and got in the servants’ way at Wroxton Hall,” Charles said, almost to himself.
Louisa turned her full attention on him. “Is that where you spend Christmas?'
“No. It's been years since I went home for Christmas.” The intense look from her blue eyes made him shift. “My mother does not care for such flummery.'
“It is not flummery!” Louisa asserted. Then she said with a twinkle, “But even if it is, I enjoy it. Confess now, you have been amused, have you not?'
Charles grinned in acknowledgement. The truth was he had even caught himself humming a time or two, tunes he thought he had long ago forgotten.
He hesitated, but something prompted him to admit, “But I seldom enjoy Christmas.'
“And why is that?'
He wished he had not begun, but since he had, he had to answer. “London seems deserted. Whitehall empties, as if there were no war on. Just a few of us stay on until the season's over, with nothing to do. No work can be accomplished.'
“Then you ought to go home.'
Charles grimaced. “I doubt that would change my feelings for the holiday.'
Louisa had the sensitivity not to probe any further. She said instead, “I must confess there are times, when the general is crabby and my aunt seems listless, that I find my own spirits flagging. But I refuse to let them. I double my efforts and can usually think of enough… flummery, if you will, that I can coax at least one chuckle from the general.'
Charles laughed. “I imagine you do. You have certainly coaxed more than one from me.'
Louisa coloured and looked away. He was surprised to see how strongly his words had affected her. A pulse began to race in his throat.
Louisa recovered and said pertly, “But you are not half so crabby as the general!” She rose quickly to her feet and picked up the bough. “Will you hand me upon the stool, please?'
Her arms were both taken with the “kissing bough.'
Charles took her elbow and put one hand upon her waist to help her up. He kept it there to steady her while she reached for the ceiling and fumbled with the heavy bough. With every passing moment he became more and more conscious of her waist beneath his hands…
All at once, Louisa seemed to wobble. Her fingers struggled with the rope she had fixed to attach the bough. A warm blush suffused her face and breast. She cast a look at Charles from beneath her lashes.
“I believe this ceiling is too high for me,” she said breathlessly. “Perhaps you would be willing to affix it?'
Charles swallowed hard and took a step backwards, releasing her carefully. “Certainly,” he said.
He put out a hand to help her, and Louisa climbed down. Without meeting her gaze, Charles took the bough from her and stepped up to reach the beam.
In a minute, he had fastened it securely. He jumped down again, careful not to land beneath the mistletoe.
Hanging a “kissing bough” was certainly a common enough custom, though under the circumstances he found himself questioning Louisa's wisdom in hanging one. While they ate dinner tonight, it would be just there, hovering between them. A less honourable man might take its presence for an invitation.
But, Charles thought with a grimace, if it were not for Ned and his scheme to plant wayward thoughts in his mind, they might have hung the damned thing without embarrassment.
Striving to keep Ned and his conspiracy in mind, Charles took a step backwards to admire his work.
“There,” he said, avoiding Louisa's gaze. “You must think this is enough at last. Besides, we shall be leaving tomorrow. It is a pity all our work will go for someone else.'
