Chapter Two

CHAPTER 2

W ebb Rixton sighed with contentment as he entered his home after a brisk ride in the winter air. There was nothing like such a ride to invigorate the spirits and make one feel remarkably alive when the world around him was going dormant for a season. Not many gentlemen would willingly ride in the cold, but he would. So long as one invested in a well-made woolen coat and bundled up accordingly, there was nothing terrible about the endeavor.

And he was desperate to get in as many such rides as he could before the snows came. After the frigid temperatures and mountainous snows of last year, he could not take any chances.

He always felt a little hemmed in when the weather began to hamper his activities. It was a rather elevated annoyance, considering what his tenants had to contend with, but he had always done his best to ensure that all of them had as many comforts as possible. Repairs were timely, wood was in ample supply, and foodstuffs were given to those without means to support themselves accordingly. Any complaints were quickly addressed, and always would be.

Because of such efficiency, however, he had several stretches of time where there was absolutely nothing to do, and when riding was also denied him…

It was a most inconvenient state of existence.

Webb nodded warmly as his capable and nearly of an age butler approached him. “Crosby.”

Crosby bowed. “My lord, your sister is here.”

In one fluid motion, Webb turned on his heel and started for the door through which he had just entered.

“Not so fast, Webb! I’ve seen you!” that same sister’s voice cried out from the drawing room to his left.

Sighing and not bothering to hide his grimace, Webb stopped and let his shoulders droop in defeat. Then he trudged over to the drawing room, wishing his boots were covered in mud so he might have an excuse to not enter.

No such luck.

Forcing the polite sort of smile one saved for one’s inconveniently arrived family members, Webb gave his younger sister a half bow of acknowledgement. “Emily.”

Emily, dark haired and dark eyed like himself, smiled over her cup of tea. “Come. Sit.”

Webb didn’t move. “Not in this condition, thank you. I need to change.”

“You need to listen to what I have to say,” his sister corrected, motioning for him to sit again.

“You are becoming more and more like Mother every day,” he informed her, still remaining in place.

Her expression turned scolding. “How dare you. What will Bertram say when I tell him?”

“Your husband will agree with me, as he sees you as clearly as I do. The problem with Bertram is that he likes what he sees.” Webb batted his lashes teasingly.

Emily huffed and set her teacup and saucer down on the nearby table. “Webb, I’ve come to discuss Christmas. ”

“Excellent,” he countered. “I think we should celebrate it.”

She ignored him. “Kitty and Pierce are getting older, and so are you.”

Any playfulness or desire for banter fled from Webb at once, his chest beginning to turn as cold as the air of his ride. His children were three and four, respectively, and the only reason his sister would be bringing up their ages, and his own, was to remind him of the family position.

Everyone agreed that Webb should not be alone.

Even Webb agreed on this. However, Webb, being the one who would need to act, did not see the need to hasten the change. It had only been eighteen months since Mary had died, and while the loss was no longer sharp enough to steal his breath, it still ached in several corners of his soul.

No number of brisk rides would chase those shadows away.

“What does this have to do with Christmas?” Webb asked in a softer voice. “Have they said anything?”

His children occasionally asked their governess to help them send letters to their cousins, and secrets had come out a time or two in those letters, particularly if they did not want to broach a subject with Webb.

They didn’t fear him, or anything so horrific. They had simply learned the beauty of someone else making suggestions to their father rather than doing the task themselves.

Webb prided himself on being a very active sort of father, especially since Mary’s death, and took great pride in being as playful as possible so they might have some semblance of a childhood, even without their mother.

Last Christmas, Mary’s loss had been particularly acute, but there had been a great deal of snow, which allowed Webb to distract them with wintery adventures as well as the presents he felt Mary would wish for them. He might have given too much, but he had been willing to risk that in compensation .

“No, they haven’t,” Emily assured him with a warm smile. “At least, not that my three have confessed. Webb, please sit.”

He actually considered joining her in this confined space, now that he knew his children were not writing their cousins about concerns over Christmas. If that was the case, there might be something worth listening to here.

And he could always get up and leave if he reached his tolerance for intervention soon. It was only his sister, after all. If she hadn’t gotten mortally offended by him yet, she wouldn’t do so now.

With a hesitant look, he took the nearest chair, not reaching for any tea or biscuits, as doing so might encourage her to draw this out, whatever it was.

Emily kept her eyes on him, her mouth pinching at the corners. “Webb, I want you to accept Lady Standhope’s invitation to her holiday house party.”

Webb blinked at his sister in surprise. “How can I possibly do that?” he asked her. “The entire family comes here for Christmas, including our brothers. Do you think Fred is going to accept my being absent while you lot run about Downing House being festive? Or Bash, for that matter? And what kind of state will I find the place in with those two idiots roaming about without proper adult supervision?”

“Erm, I would be here,” Emily reminded him as she fetched her tea once more.

“You and Bertram would clearly be the only ones responsible for the children, as you are the only others who have any,” Webb retorted, sitting back and crossing one boot over his knee.

Emily sniffed, which told him she had no other defense for herself. “Mother would be here. She’d never spend Christmas alone at the dower house.”

Webb snorted without reserve. “Since when has Mother ever properly managed Fred and Bash? How do you think they got that way?”

“Fine!” Emily rolled her eyes, sipping her tea rather loudly for a lady. “Fine. Then go to the house party and only stay some of the evenings. You live four miles away, not twenty. It is a simple enough thing.”

“Why stay at all if I live so close?” Webb inquired mildly, now more interested in provoking his sister with questions than in the idea she proposed. “Surely I will be more comfortable in my own bed.”

Emily glared over the rim of her teacup. “Because it is a poor guest who leaves a ball early just for the sake of preferring his own pillows.”

“I hate balls. I always leave them early.”

“You haven’t been to a ball since you’ve come out of mourning, so it’s been at least a year and a half that you’ve even attended one.”

Webb stared at her for a long moment, less angry than stung. “You know why.”

Emily set her teacup on her knee gently, lowering her eyes for a moment. “Yes, I do. I am not blaming you for it, only stating the facts. And I am certainly not saying that you need to marry, Webb. Kitty and Pierce need a mother figure, but that is not an incentive I want you to keep in your head. I would be furious and disappointed if that were your reason for taking a wife.”

“Good,” he grunted as he looked out of the window, pretending he was pensive.

He knew she was right, which was as galling as it was uncomfortable. His children did need a mother figure in their lives, and he wanted one for them. He also missed the companionship that his wife had provided, and knew that, if he chose wisely, another wife could fill that void. But Mary had been his childhood sweetheart, and the idea that someone else could take her place was impossible. That any other woman would suit him as well felt like a betrayal. That love in any shade could find his heart once more felt like foolishness. That he could feel as alive as he once had seemed wistful.

But he wanted it. He wanted it to be possible, to be true, to be tangible…

Good heavens, did he actually have hope? He hadn’t spent any time really considering the idea, but now that his sister had put a voice to it, something seemed to be fluttering against the weight in his chest. Not quite flying, but certainly straining to do so.

“I just think you need to start being social once more,” Emily was saying, bringing his attention out of himself and back to her. “And do not tell me that you have been associating with your tenants and some men of business, because you know that is not what I mean.”

Webb fought a smile. His sister knew him well. “I’ve also been to the village quite a lot,” he pointed out.

The look she gave him—one their mother had clearly passed on—was severe.

He held up his hands quickly in surrender before folding them in his lap and heaving a sigh. “Oh, perhaps you are right.”

“I am?” She blinked her wide eyes as though she could not believe what she was hearing.

Webb grinned freely now. “Are you more shocked that I have stopped arguing or that I admitted you are right?”

“Honestly, both.” She took a long sip of her tea before speaking again. “I had an entire speech prepared to give for when you would begin to consider the idea, but you’ve skipped that step entirely. I didn’t expect you to admit that I was right until the very end, if at all today.”

“It is nice to know I am not yet so predictable.” He leaned his head back against his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “So how would it work? Would you and Bertram entertain the children while I am away? What would you have planned that I would miss out on?”

Emily shook her head as she set her tea down. “The boys would come in on St. Thomas’s Day or so, certainly before Christmas Eve. We’ll decorate Downing House with the children on Christmas Eve, and meet you at church on Christmas Day, perhaps. Then we could all come back here for a large Christmas luncheon so the children don’t feel as though they have missed out on a feast, and you can return to Fairview for Christmas dinner, as I am certain Lady Standhope will have a great feast and a ball planned for the night. Then you might return here on St. Stephen’s Day and we can all give out gifts to the tenants and servants. The boys will go on a fox hunt with Bertram and some neighbors, perhaps. And then we might have an evening of games just for the children, and you can come home for that, depending on Lady Standhope’s scheduling. And Twelfth Night, I am positive, will be a night for you to remain at Fairview.”

Webb was watching her now, brow furrowed. “Two weeks,” he calculated, needing to make absolutely certain that he understood his sister perfectly. “You want me to be in and out of my own home during the holiday season for two weeks just to be social with my neighbor, who is hosting some grand and festive house party. Miss out on making memories with my children, who are now at an age where memories remain.”

Emily exhaled irritably. “You see, this is one of the arguments I anticipated you making earlier.”

“Well, it is a legitimate concern!” he protested, flinging his hands out. “I want to be a present father, not an absent one!”

“Then allow me to get a proposed schedule from Lady Standhope, and we will create our own based on hers!” Emily yelled back, spilling a bit of tea on her skirts. She brushed the liquid off in a huff and set the tea down on the table again before folding her hands together in front of her, her eyes fixed on Webb. “You need your spark back, Webb. Your children adore you, and that will not change. And it is not as though we are going to be occupied every minute of every day. You know how leisurely we all are at times.”

He had to smile at that. His siblings were famed for never eating breakfast before eleven, and his sister almost never did so out of bed, and they were firmly rooted in these behaviors when they were all together. A poor tendency to stay up late and laugh together, if not generally misbehave, was likely to blame, but his brothers might have developed a bit of wickedness all their own that also contributed.

Emily clicked her tongue softly. “I want you to be active in your life again. You are not the sort of man best suited to being a recluse, and you are certainly not the sort to live the rest of your life alone. If you want a wife again someday, and I think you do, you will need to get out again. And I promise you, the longer you spend alone, the harder it will be to change.”

He would be lying if he claimed he was not moved by her words, nor by the impassioned way she said them. His sister had always been bold and frank, but she was also remarkably caring and observant. It was very like her to see something that he knew was there but had chosen to ignore, and for her to say something that was exactly right. He rarely told her so, but there it was.

A Christmas house party was undoubtedly a better excuse to be social than any one set in the summer, when he had more work to do on his land. And everyone was bound to be in high spirits during such a festive time, so it would be easier for him to be around them. He was generally a sociable person, but it had been quite a while…

He was running out of excuses, and if his sister’s triumphant smile was anything to go by, she knew it, too.

“If you can get the schedule from Lady Standhope,” he said slowly, “and arrange activities so I have quality time with the children and convince Mother to remain here the entire time I am gone, then I will accept.”

“Done,” Emily agreed with haste and a firmness he instantly hated. She pushed to her feet and pulled her gloves on. “I will be in touch.” And with a flounce of her skirts, she strode out of the room.

Webb stared at her now empty chair, and wondered if he might have just sold his soul for the holidays.