Chapter Eleven

Everyone at Brier Hill was being very strange. Adam usually spent his afternoons with someone, but Nurse Robbie had insisted he stay in his guest bedchamber and read a book. He didn’t mind reading; he’d always liked it. He found he liked it even more knowing that Lady Jonquil was also fond of reading.

But he didn’t want to be reading just now. He wanted to be with the others, which was a new thing for him. Adam was like his father in that way: he enjoyed quiet. Father had often said as much, and he was never ashamed that the two of them liked to keep to themselves.

“I require people,” Mother had once said to his father.

But dukes didn’t need people. Father had taught him that.

Why, then, did he want so badly to be with the rest of the Brier Hill household?

He climbed off his chair and walked over to the window. This window didn’t look out on the mountain he’d walked on with Lord Jonquil, but it did offer a view of the front of the estate. It was pretty. A little breeze was making the branches on the trees sway, and there were lots of flowers. Adam liked Brier Hill. He hoped Nurse Robbie was right, that Lord and Lady Jonquil would invite them to come back again. He and Nurse Robbie would be very happy to visit over and over.

The door to the room opened. He turned and looked, unsure who it would be.

Nurse Robbie stood in the doorway. She smiled at him. She’d been happier since they’d come to Brier Hill. Nurse Robbie should always come with him when he visited here. Then they would be happy together. It was the perfect arrangement.

“Come with me, wee Adam. We’ve something wonderful waiting for you.”

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, smiling all the broader. “I’ll nae tell you. You have to come and discover for yourself.”

He stood firm. “I don’t like to be surprised.”

Nurse Robbie held her hand out to him. “I know you don’t, but sometimes life is surprising. This will be good practice.”

He supposed she was right about that. Life did surprise him sometimes, usually unpleasantly.

With the firmly set shoulders and very serious mouth he’d seen his father use, Adam walked through the door. Nurse Robbie dropped her hand away. He felt bad about that. She was always trying to hold his hand. But he wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was a duke. Dukes didn’t hold people’s hands.

They walked together to the stairs and down to the ground floor. Nurse Robbie motioned for him to go into the sitting room where they always gathered after supper each night. He stepped inside.

The room was decorated... for Christmas. Pine boughs rested on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. An evergreen wreath hung on a wall. Arrangements of other branches and flowers in the colors and jolliness of the holy season filled the room. There were even presents.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You missed Christmas,” Lady Jonquil said. “You ought not to miss Christmas.”

Adam looked up at Nurse Robbie, hoping she would explain further.

“When Lord and Lady Jonquil heard you’d not been at home for the Christmas festivities, they determined we’d have a Christmas celebration here, now.”

He looked back at his host and hostess. They looked eager and enthusiastic. Nurse Robbie seemed excited at the idea of Christmas in April. Mr. Simpkin was there as well, which would not have been Adam’s preference. But his heart was starting to swell up with the idea of Christmas, and he was too pleased to even mind Mr. Simpkin being there.

“Is it to be a true Christmastime celebration, with stories and wassail and such?” He held his breath for the answer.

“Of course,” Lord Jonquil said quickly and eagerly. “We can play any and all games we wish. We can sing songs and tell stories. Cook has made wassail since Nurse Robbie told us that is a favorite at Falstone Castle. We also have ginger biscuits because those are a favorite of Lady Jonquil’s.”

Adam turned to her. “I didn’t know that.”

She smiled and nodded. “I have enjoyed them since I was a little girl.”

“What is your decision, my wee Adam?” Nurse Robbie asked. “Are we to have a special Christmas celebration?”

He wanted to simply jump into the festivities, to eagerly embrace the possibility of something so joyful. But what if he were disappointed? What if they got partway through and everyone else decided they didn’t want to keep going? He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed to pieces.

“It is probably ridiculous to have Christmas in April,” he said.

Lady Jonquil gave him one of her soft smiles. “There is nothing ridiculous about Christmas. And celebrating it is a wonderful thing, no matter when that celebration occurs.”

“We should begin with the presents,” Lord Jonquil suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t you think so, Adam?”

Presents. Oh dear. “I didn’t get presents for anyone.”

Lady Jonquil motioned him to the fireplace and the table near it with wrapped parcels atop. “The presents were never meant to be from you, but for you.”

“They’re all for me?” He’d never have imagined such a thing.

Lord Jonquil sat on the floor, much as he had when they’d played with tops after Adam first arrived. He tapped the floor near him. “Have a seat.”

“On the floor?” He’d never sat on the floor during Christmas at the castle.

“Where else would a highwayman sit?” Lord Jonquil didn’t hide his grin.

Adam felt a smile pull at his own lips. “Are we being highwaymen tonight?”

Lord Jonquil shrugged. “Maybe a little. We’d best retain some dignity, on account of the both of us being very fine and titled gentlemen.”

“We can be highwaymen when we’re walking on the mountain,” Adam suggested.

“Excellent idea.”

Adam sat on the floor, watching the people around him, both confused and excited.

Lady Jonquil handed him a present shaped precisely like a book. He removed the paper around it to discover it was, in fact, a book. But not just any book. It was The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes , the book he’d been reading with her.

“We’ll continue reading it while you’re here, of course,” she said. “But you are enjoying it so much that I want you to have it forever and ever.”

He wanted to ask if he could bring it back with him when he visited. He wanted to ask so he would know if they meant to allow him to return. But he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to be sad on a night when they were going to celebrate Christmas.

Lord Jonquil gave him another wrapped present. It was soft. The outside wasn’t paper but black fabric. Presents weren’t usually wrapped in black.

Adam untied the ribbon around it, and the wrapping unrolled into a long, narrow strip of fabric.

“You needed a highwayman sash to tie about your waist,” Lord Jonquil said in that tone he used when he was being funny but pretending to be very serious.

“And it has to be black so people know I’m still sad about my father.” Adam would have to keep wearing black for months and months. It was the rules. His heart was very sad, so he didn’t mind wearing sad colors. It would have been ridiculous not to.

“After you are no longer required to wear black,” Lord Jonquil said, “you can still use it as your pirate sash because it will be very intimidating.”

Adam liked that. “I would be a very frightening highwayman.”

“And every highwayman would be afraid of crossing you.” Lord Jonquil looked like he thought that a fine thing.

“I could drive about with my ducal arms on the carriage and flags flying, and all the highwaymen would hide instead of robbing me.” That was the way a duke ought to ride about the kingdom. “And then, because they were afraid of me, I could sneak people away from them so those people wouldn’t get hurt. And the highwaymen would have to stop hurting people.”

Lady Jonquil sat on the floor beside him, the sides of her blue silk dress bubbling up beside her. She pulled him into a hug. “Oh, my brave Adam. You have the best and bravest heart of any boy I’ve ever known.”

He didn’t always like to be hugged, but he liked it then. He leaned up against her and smiled.

“This here’s from me.” Mr. Simpkin handed him a present.

Adam untied the twine bow. He peeled back the bit of paper wrapped around the oddly shaped item. Inside was a horse carved from a very dark wood. Its legs were in a running position. He’d never had a wooden horse that didn’t look like it was standing about being bored. This horse looked exciting and strong.

“Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure, Your Grace.” Mr. Simpkin had to call him that, but he made it sound more like a name than a title, like it was something he said because he was a friend.

“And, my wee Adam, this is from me.” Nurse Robbie gave him a handkerchief, one that was very white, so it must have been very new.

Adam unfolded it. One corner was embroidered with a letter K , with loops and extra bits to make it fancy.

“The K is for Kielder,” she explained.

That made a lot of sense. The opposite corner of the handkerchief had an embroidered thistle.

“The thistle because of your song?” he asked. “The one you sing to me?”

Nurse Robbie nodded. “I sewed it for you these last few nights after you’d gone to sleep.”

“My father always had a handkerchief.”

Lord Jonquil nodded with approval. “Gentlemen always carry them.”

“That’s one of the rules?” Adam asked.

“It is. And Nurse Robbie has made certain you have one that suits you.”

Adam looked to his beloved nurse once more. “Thank you, Nurse Robbie.”

“Of course, my wee boy.”

Lord Jonquil stood, something he always did with a bounce. He never did seem able to sit still for very long. “We should play a game.”

“I like games,” Adam said, still leaning against Lady Jonquil with her arms holding him soft and gentle.

“I know which one,” she said. “Masked tag.”

“I’m devilishly fond of masked tag.” Lord Jonquil spoke excitedly. Whatever game this new one was, it must be quite enjoyable. “What do you say, Adam? Would you like to play masked tag?”

“I don’t know what that is,” he admitted without embarrassment. He was too excited to be embarrassed.

“You might know it by another name,” Lady Jonquil said. “I’ve heard it called many different things. One of the people playing has a piece of cloth tied over his or her eyes so he or she cannot see. The others stand nearby, calling out to the one who is searching for them but all the while attempting to avoid being caught. If someone is caught and the one doing the catching can identify that person, they switch places.”

Adam thought he understood, but he was a little confused. “Is this a fun game?”

Lord and Lady Jonquil looked confused.

“Have you never played it?” she asked.

Adam shook his head. “My father didn’t play very many games with me. I’m not sure he understood about games. There weren’t any other children at the castle. My mother wasn’t—”

His voice broke off the way it sometimes did when he talked about her. He didn’t know if she would have played with him if she’d ever been at home. He wasn’t certain she liked spending time with him.

Of all people, Mr. Simpkin saved Adam from his sudden dip into embarrassment.

“I’ll be the first to do the seeking,” he stood. “I was quite good at this game when I was a young boy.”

Arrangements were made quickly for Mr. Simpkin’s eyes to be covered with the black sash Adam had been given. While that was being accomplished, Adam had a chance to regain his footing. He didn’t always grow emotional when talking about his mother, but he had just done so. Perhaps it was because he was finally having the Christmas he’d missed. He remembered the loneliness of being in that cold boardinghouse with no other boys around, eating alone—even the matron who ran it hadn’t joined him—listening to the silence all around him and wishing he’d been having Christmas with his mother.

Here, though, he wasn’t alone. Decorations filled the room. He’d had presents. They were going to play a game. Lady Jonquil had said Christmas wasn’t ridiculous. Adam had his suspicions Christmas was actually rather magical.

Masked tag was not a difficult game, he discovered. One simply had to move quickly. He was good at that part. Mr. Simpkin caught and identified Lady Jonquil, who then caught and identified her husband. All the while, Adam kept enough away not to be caught himself. He even grew a bit bolder in calling out to the one doing the seeking.

Lord Jonquil spun about very suddenly and snatched hold of him.

“This can’t be Mr. Simpkin,” he said. “Mr. Simpkin is much smaller.”

Adam then did something he could remember doing only a few times in all his life: he laughed. He laughed from deep in his belly. The laughter rushed out of him before he could stop it. Then, without warning, the laughing turned to crying.

As embarrassed as he had been while talking about his mother, these tears were humiliating. Without a word, Lord Jonquil tugged the black cloth away from his eyes, snatched Adam into his arms, and pulled him into a fierce and protective hug.

Adam wrapped his arms around his neck and held on as if his life depended upon not letting go. He hadn’t the courage to look at the others. If they were eyeing him with pity or, worse yet, mocking his sorrow, he’d be devastated. So he buried his face against Lord Jonquil and pretended no one else was nearby.

“Perhaps it is time for telling stories,” Lady Jonquil suggested.

Lord Jonquil sat on a nearby chair, still holding Adam. Father had sometimes held him like this. It was a different hug from Lady Jonquil’s. Hers felt like a soft, warm blanket. Lord Jonquil’s felt like being safe.

“You can use your handkerchief to wipe at your eyes,” Lord Jonquil said. “That’s one reason we carry them.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered.

“For what, sweeting?”

“For crying on you.”

Lord Jonquil held him ever tighter. “The most important thing a person can do when he feels the need to cry is to cry.”

“Even dukes?” he asked, his voice tinier than he liked it to be.

“Maybe especially dukes.” Lord Jonquil also spoke soft and small.

Adam curled into him, clutching the handkerchief. He wasn’t to be scolded or sent away. And Lord Jonquil wasn’t talking about this so loudly that others would overhear. Adam had spent so much of the months since his father’s death fighting for himself. Feeling protected was a welcome change.

“I’ll tell the first story,” Lady Jonquil said. “I know a wonderfully funny one about Lord Jonquil.”

Adam could feel the gentleman in question laugh, though he did so silently. He’d never experienced that before. It made him smile even with tears still wetting his cheeks.

“When Lord Jonquil was about fourteen years old,” Lady Jonquil said, “he and my brother, Stanley, decided that they were going to set up a house of their own in the boathouse at Lampton Park, where Lord Jonquil then lived.”

Adam turned the tiniest bit, just enough to hear her better. Lord Jonquil kept his arms around him, but not forcefully.

“They gathered blankets and changes of clothing. Determined to feed themselves as well, they made certain the boathouse contained fishing poles and nets. They slipped a backgammon board from Farland Meadows into the boathouse for entertainment. They were even thorough enough to make certain they had a lantern for light.”

Adam looked at Lord Jonquil. “You were like highwaymen with a hideaway.”

He nodded. “Stanley knew how to have the best adventures.”

“What the two of them didn’t think of, though,” Lady Jonquil continued, “was what would happen if their plans were discovered by... Lord Jonquil’s younger brother.”

Adam turned his eyes on the gentleman again. “You had a younger brother?”

“Two, in fact. And a little sister.”

It was probably a good thing Adam didn’t have any brothers or sisters. They would be alone now too. And they would be sad. And Nurse Robbie would be overwhelmed looking after all of them.

“His brother James discovered their plans and hatched one of his own.” Lady Jonquil’s voice had grown mysterious.

Adam turned and faced her.

“He decided he was going to scare them. So, late on the night they settled in at the boathouse, he hid beneath the only window in the building and waited for their lantern to be extinguished.”

Again, Adam could feel Lord Jonquil silently laughing. And again it made him smile.

“James had brought a lantern.” Lady Jonquil looked at Adam as she told her story. “Holding it near enough to oddly light his face, he slowly stood, framing his face in the window, the only thing visible there to the two boys inside.”

Adam looked up at Lord Jonquil. “What did you do?”

“We screamed.” He laughed out loud at that. “He played quite the trick on us. Scared us near out of our wits. Once we realized he was the specter in the window, we dashed from the boathouse and chased him all over the grounds. It was quite a lark.”

In the very next instant, the housekeeper arrived with a tray, one side of it holding a plate of ginger biscuits and the other two rows of glasses. Following right behind her was the butler, carrying a bowl of wassail.

“Do you feel ready to have some biscuits and wassail?” Lord Jonquil asked him quietly.

“Yes, please.”

The arms that had kept him warm and reassured dropped away. He climbed down and crossed to the table to claim his Christmas goodies.

Everyone was talking and smiling. Lady Jonquil expressed her delight at having her favorite ginger biscuits. Adam took small sips of the hot apple drink, the taste reminding him of his Christmases with Father at Falstone Castle. It made him a little sad, but it also felt nice to enjoy part of it again in a place that was so happy.

He set his glass down and walked over to Lady Jonquil. He tugged lightly on her dress when she didn’t realize he was there. She turned toward him, and her eyes brightened when she saw him. She always looked excited when she saw him. He liked that.

“Thank you for Christmas,” he said.

Lord Jonquil stepped over to them and set his arm around his wife. “This has been a beautiful Christmas celebration.” To Adam, specifically, he said, “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Adam wasn’t one who smiled often, but he couldn’t help himself just then. Every bit of him felt happy. Everything about that moment felt perfect.

“I suspect,” Lord Jonquil said with a little laugh, “Mr. Simpkin and Nurse Robbie wish we’d managed to find some mistletoe.”

“Why is that?” Adam wasn’t certain what Lord Jonquil was trying to say.

“It is a tradition at Christmastime,” Lord Jonquil said, “for a couple who are caught under a sprig of mistletoe to exchange a kiss.”

Adam looked over at Nurse Robbie and Mr. Simpkin, who were standing beside one another, talking with the butler and housekeeper. “Why would they want to kiss each other?”

“I believe,” Lady Jonquil said, “they are falling in love.”

Falling in love? Adam hadn’t thought that. He hoped it wasn’t true. When people fell in love, they often married. And when people got married, they went away.

But Nurse Robbie wouldn’t leave him; he knew she wouldn’t. She loved him. He was her wee Adam. And she was the only person who had never left him behind.