Moonlight And Mistletoe

Guy took the chair at the other end of the table and watched her steadily from blue eyes that seemed shadowed, perhaps by sleeplessness. Poor darling. She wanted to go to him, smooth her fingers over his brow and temple, pull his head back until it rested on her breast and kiss away that expression. What was he thinking? That he wanted this over and done so he could leave and forget her?

And what would he want to do about the Moon House once the Nugents were dealt with? His sister had delivered the perfect way to make her sell it to him. Once the word was round in the village about her reputation, she would have no option but to leave.

At last they were all seated. Hester found she was ravenous, tried to remember what she had eaten for dinner and failed. It seemed losing one’s temper had an invigorating effect on one’s appetite. She took a sip of coffee and decided that attack was the best defence.

‘You are assuming there will be a party, my lord.’

‘You no longer wish to hold it? It will be the safest way to deal with the Nugents, you know.’

‘I may wish to hold it, but if my neighbours stay away in droves then it will be pointless.’

He picked up her meaning without her having to spell it out. ‘Georgiana has said nothing to anyone about your previous life.’

Ignoring Maria’s muttered ‘So I should hope’, Hester swallowed hard. The intense relief made her feel quite dizzy, but it would not do to show her emotions. She raised an eyebrow.

‘I assume she will not be attending?’ She half-hoped to goad him, but she was not succeeding.

‘My sister will not be among your guests, that is for sure, and in fact, although she has met Mrs Redland and Mrs Bunting, she is unlikely to go about much in the next few days. She will probably miss church tomorrow, a fact that will lend conviction to my explanation on Monday that she is suffering from a severe head cold.’

‘I see.’ Hester tried to hide her intense relief. It was going to be hateful enough to have to entertain a house full of guests while pretending to be on good terms with Guy without having his sister there, regarding her as a fallen woman. But doubtless she had refused to cross the threshold and Guy simply did not wish to say so.

‘What is your plan, my lord?’ Maria enquired frostily.

‘Some of it I can tell you all now, some I will only tell Susan and Jethro because on your reaction, Hester-and yours, Miss Prudhome-much of the success of this scheme lies. I want you to be as surprised and mystified as any of the guests.

‘Now, I will bring two other gentlemen with me. They will be strangers to you, and, I hope, to all the guests. Please accept them as though they were friends of mine you had kindly invited.’

‘Very well.’ Hester nodded her agreement, deciding that to try to second guess any of this would only reduce the element of surprise. She felt more comfortable with Guy now, and tried to stiffen her resolution. It would do no good to let down her guard, forget what had happened.

‘I imagine you will be using both front rooms and one of the bedrooms for cloaks.’

‘Yes. I was going to lay out a buffet in the dining room with the table against the wall and chairs and little tables scattered around. Then more chairs in the drawing room. All the surplus furniture except the piano will have to go out in the sheds. Will you lend me chairs?’ She had been worrying about how she was to manage, having cut herself off from Guy’s practical help, and had decided she would have to approach Mrs Bunting for the loan of chairs and china.

‘Yes. Ackland, speak to Parrott about whatever you need-chairs, tables, china and glass. You can use the Old Manor kitchens as well if that will help. I need to take up quite a bit of room in yours.’

‘But what for? A squad of Bow Street Runners?’

‘That is a thought.’ The smile Guy sent her was one of affectionate amusement and she found herself smiling back until they both realised what was happening. Guy’s face became impassive, Hester coughed and poured herself some more coffee. ‘Now, I imagine the earlier part of the evening will be simply social mingling with people eating, then carols and festive songs around the piano?’

‘Yes, that was my intention.’

‘After a few songs one of my friends will begin to speak of ghost stories and how telling them is another Christmas tradition. When that happens, simply follow my lead. Someone will suggest we repair to the kitchen-fall in with whatever I, or my friends, suggest.’

‘Very well.’ It seemed he was taking over her home and her party with his typical assumption of authority and she had nothing to say to it. Well, if it cooked the Nugents’ goose and served to hasten his own departure from the village, so much the better.

‘If there is nothing else you would like to eat, my lord?’ Anger also appeared to have sharpened Guy’s appetite-the platter was bare. ‘I am sure we have at least some bread remaining if you would like toast and preserves?’

One eyebrow quirked at the sarcasm in her voice. ‘I would not dream of inconveniencing you, Miss Lattimer, and will take my leave. An excellent meal, Miss Prudhome; you are a notable cook, if I may say so.’

Maria simpered, recalled that she was out of all measure cross with him, and turned the gesture into a sniff. Guy crossed to the door and then turned back as a thought struck him. ‘If you see the Nugents in church tomorrow it will do no harm to repeat your unease with the house. If you can think up some manifestation other than what we know they are responsible for, something to suggest to them that they have… awoken something, that would be useful. But nothing definite, just vague impressions.’

Hester began to gain an inkling of what he was about. ‘I will think of something.’

‘I will warn Parrott to place my household at Ackland’s disposal from first thing on Monday, then.’ He smiled fleetingly and was gone.

‘Mr Parrott putting his household at my disposal!’ Jethro considered this glorious prospect. ‘Me! If that don’t bear the bell, I don’t know what would.’

‘You had better begin to make lists, Jethro,’ Hester suggested drily. ‘It would never do to let Parrott find you unprepared or indecisive.’

Saturday passed strangely, a mixture of list-making, marketing, planning and moments when she felt all alone in the midst of her household, as though cut off by thick glass or swirling snow from reality. Then all she could think about was Guy, his words, his anger, his desire. And knew she was never, ever, going to be free of loving him.

Sunday dawned fair and frosty and the household were rosy with cold and rather breathless from walking fast when they arrived at church. For several minutes Hester was worried that the Nugents would not be attending, but they came in, just reaching their pew as the organist struck up and the choirboys trooped in.

In the Old Manor pew Hester could make out the crown of an impressive green velvet bonnet with plumes beside Guy’s dark head. Lady Broome had come to church after all. Hester felt herself sliding lower on her seat as though to bring her own head below the level of the panelling, then caught herself and sat up straight. I have done nothing to be ashamed of, whatever she thinks. But it was not Lady Broome’s opinion that mattered, only Guy’s.

‘Let us pray.’ Obediently Hester knelt, fixed her mind on what Mr Bunting was saying and tried to forget her sore heart.

She timed her exit from the church with care and was relieved to see Guy helping his sister up into the carriage. Lady Broome was heavily veiled and, as Hester watched, lifted the gauze slightly to press a handkerchief to her nose. Setting the scene for her head cold tomorrow night, no doubt.

The Nugents, having arrived in a rush, now seemed more relaxed and both brother and sister turned to Hester and Miss Prudhome as they approached.

‘We are looking forward to your party very much, Miss Lattimer,’ Sarah said with a smile that seemed charming, but somehow did not reach her eyes. Hester read calculation and an almost cruel watchfulness. She felt like a wounded bird being watched by a stoat, which was trying to decide if she were weak enough yet for it to pounce.

‘I am glad,’ she replied with what she hoped was a nervous smile. ‘I have to confess I look forward to having company in the house with noise and chatter and music. You will say it is foolish of me, but lately I have felt oppressed and nervous there.’

The Nugents made indeterminate soothing noises. ‘There has been a repetition of those strange happenings?’ Lewis prompted. ‘Some sort of roses being left, did you say?’

‘Yes, that, of course.’ She produced a shaky laugh. ‘We had got almost used to that. No, there is something