13. Decorating on Christmas Eve

CHAPTER 13

DECORATING ON CHRISTMAS EVE

A few minutes later

Satisfied her husband couldn’t hurt himself too badly with his assignment, Ivy made her way to the kitchen and stopped short on the threshold.

Lengths of red fabric had been cut and were in the process of being formed into massive bows by some of the maids while others were tying them onto wreaths and sprays with yarn. When the largest was complete, Perkins climbed a ladder and saw to mounting it above the fireplace in the great hall. Another was already nailed to the front door.

At noon, Barbara, the scullery maid, appeared with trays of small pasties and scones, and she was followed by Clara, who carried a large tea service. Behind them, Graves wheeled over a cart with plates and cups. Anne appeared carrying a platter on which a colorful collection of fruits was arranged. On closer inspection, Ivy realized they weren’t fruits, but rather decorations made of marchpane.

Before long, the men from the workroom joined the women and quieted as they ate and drank. A half-hour later, they were back at it, making decorations and long garlands for the bannisters.

Ivy inhaled deeply upon entering the parlor, the scent of pine wafting about from above the fireplace. “Oh, Salisbury, I do think it’s perfect,” she said, admiring the spray the housemaid had placed on the fireplace mantel. The maid was tying a red ribbon bow in the middle and arranging the evergreens so they weren’t in danger of catching fire.

Anne dipped a curtsy and beamed in delight. “This is my favorite time of year, and not only because Mr. Walker has asked me for my hand,” she replied.

Sighing softly, Ivy said, “I’m so happy for you. Have you told the others?”

“Not yet. I thought Mr. Walker might say something at breakfast this morning, but he didn’t have a chance, what with all the chatter about what we were going to be doing today,” Anne said. “I’ve never worked in a household that did this much decorating for the holiday.”

Ivy grinned. “It’s my favorite time of the year as well, more so when my children were younger.” She moved to one of the windows and peered out through the frosted glass pane. A world of white lay beyond, the snow pristine and glistening as if silver glitter had been scattered over it. “Would it be all right if his lordship announced your betrothal, do you suppose?”

Anne inhaled softly. “I suppose, although I think it’s really Mr. Walker’s decision.”

“Well, then let’s go find him and ask.”

On the way down the stairs, they stepped around Perkins, who was wrapping garlands around the bannister. In the kitchens, the cook was preparing that night’s meal featuring the ham she had brought from London.

“I did not expect his lordship to help with all this,” Salisbury said, waving to the string of evergreens. “He seemed so eager to assist, and I do believe he’s better at the wiring than Perkins.” She directed a teasing grin at the footman, and rather than deny it, he merely shrugged.

Ivy tittered. “Ritchfield is full of surprises,” she murmured, arching a brow when she felt a frisson skitter through her abdomen. The way he had gazed at her during breakfast, she was sure he was imagining doing something entirely different on this day. Something involving a bed and very little in the way of clothing.

“I admit I was rather frightened of him at first, my lady,” Salisbury said, turning to face Ivy. “I had never met his lordship before last night. It’s why I left your bedchamber before you… before you had a chance to dismiss me,” she said sheepishly.

“He noticed. Said he thought you were a bit skittish,” she remarked as they made their way to the workroom. “Which reminds me. I’ve been invited to join his lordship in York after the holiday. Since we’ve decided it’s past time I pension my lady’s maid in London, I wondered if you might like the position? Permanently?”

The housemaid’s eyes rounded. “Me?” she asked in surprise. “Why, yes. Yes, I would like it very much, my lady,” she added. “Especially since I’ve agreed to marry Mr. Walker.”

Ivy sobered. “You would be leaving this household, at least until the next time I come back. Probably…” She thought for a moment. “In the summer, perhaps.”

“I don’t mind,” Anne insisted.

“You have no family here who would miss you?” the countess asked. “In Castleford or Wakefield?”

“I don’t have any family, my lady,” the maid replied, shaking her head to emphasize her words. “Well, except for Mr. Walker once we’re wed. And I do so enjoy styling your hair. ”

Ivy grinned. “Good, because Ritchfield rather likes what you’ve done with it, and I do believe it’s the first time in thirty years he’s even noticed my coiffure.” She angled her head. “There are other duties regarding my clothes and such, but we can talk more about that later.”

Anne blushed. “Thank you, my lady. For the opportunity,” she said, dipping a curtsy.

They found both Walker and the earl in the workroom, each wiring a series of pine boughs into long sections. “Ah,” Ivy said, turning to shut the door. “We’ve found you.”

Robert looked up from his project and immediately stood, followed by Tom, who bowed.

“Should I be worried?” Robert asked. He had removed his top coat, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hands, encased in leather gloves, held a pair of shears to cut thin wire into sections about a foot long.

“Nothing of the sort. We only wished to ask Mr. Walker if it would be all right with him if you announced his betrothal to Miss Salisbury?”

Robert turned his attention on the driver. “Did you propose marriage to Miss Salisbury?”

Tom straightened, obviously not expecting such a query. “I did, my lord. Last night, and she accepted,” he replied.

“Have you told the staff yet?”

“No, my lord,” Tom admitted. “I thought to during breakfast, but everyone was so excited about decorating the house.”

“Well, if you’d like, I can do it. I’m quite sure her ladyship has something planned for me later this afternoon?” Robert guessed, aiming an inquisitive expression in Ivy’s direction.

“I’d like that, my lord,” Tom acknowledged. “If we have your blessing.”

Robert gave a start, as if he hadn’t considered the repercussions of their marriage. He once again directed his gaze to Ivy. “Ritchfield Park is going to lose a housemaid,” he murmured.

“It was going to lose her anyway,” Ivy said. “Miss Salisbury has accepted my offer to become my new lady’s maid,” she explained. “If he goes to Castleford on Boxing Day, I’m quite sure Graves can post the position. It will no doubt be filled before you leave for York.”

A wince showed on Robert’s face, but only for an instant before it cleared. He turned to Tom. “You have my blessing.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Tom exhibited a look of relief and then directed a grin in Anne’s direction.

“Do what you must to keep her happy,” Robert stated.

“I will, my lord.”

“Never strike her in anger or raise your voice to her,” Robert went on. “Or I’ll see to it you never see her again.”

Tom’s eyes rounded. “No, my lord,” he replied, a look of alarm appearing. “I would never hit a woman, my lord.”

Robert inhaled and held the breath for a moment before letting it out. “Very good.” He stripped his gloves from his hands. “I’ll be in my study,” he said before he suddenly took his leave.

Ivy watched him go, a brow furrowed with worry. The earl’s last directives had been entirely unexpected, as had his departure. Turning to Tom, she asked, “Will you be able to finish what his lordship started?”

Tom regarded the pile of wires the earl had already cut. “It appears his lordship has cut enough wire to make a dozen more wreaths, my lady, so I shall continue making garlands for the stairs.”

Allowing a wan grin, Ivy nodded. She turned to Anne. “Come. Let’s go see what trouble the men have gotten themselves into with the Yule log.” She really wanted to go to the study to speak with her husband, but thought to give him a few minutes alone.

“Yes, my lady.”

They paused as they passed the bottom of the stairs, Ivy giving Perkins a reassuring nod when she saw that he was nearly done with wrapping pine boughs around one of the railings. “It appears we’re going to need more bows for the stairs.”

“I can do it, my lady,” Anne offered. She dipped a curtsy and hurried off toward the kitchen where two other maids were busy with tying bows to greenery.

Surveying the great hall, Ivy couldn’t help but allow a sigh of satisfaction at finding a bright fire crackling in the fireplace. A length of greenery had been draped over the entire width of the mantel, and in front of the fireplace, a massive log lay resting on the hearth. She immediately moved to sit on it, grinning as she did so.

“Whatever are you doing?”

She looked up to see Robert leaning against the door jamb of the study, a look of amusement on his face. “Sitting on the Yule log. For good luck,” she replied. “I take it you don’t do this at Gladstone Hall any longer?”

He looked suitably chagrined. “The servants do, I’m sure,” he said before joining her to sit on the log. “Are we to light it now?”

Ivy noted how the work table that had been set up in the hall was now abandoned, the cuttings from the pine boughs and resulting needles now cleaned away. “We should probably wait until we can gather everyone together,” she said. “So they have a chance to sit on the log, too.”

“So... this isn’t a private affair?” he asked in a whisper.

A frisson skittered beneath Ivy’s skin, and she glanced about as if she was sure someone had paid witness to it. “ Unfortunately, no. The entire household should be here to witness it since it’s a sign of good luck and good health.” When she saw he was about to bark an order, she placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you for giving Walker your blessing,” she whispered.

Robert stilled and turned to regard her with furrowed brows. “I wasn’t about to deny him,” he replied. “He has a second chance at life with a woman for whom he obviously cares a great deal.”

Awestruck at hearing the comment, Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “And yet the recommendations you made to him were rather... odd. Is everything all right?”

Stiffening, Robert regarded her with an expression of regret. “I think those ghosts we talked about last night might have had some influence on what I said,” he admitted.

“Robert,” she whispered softly. “What’s happened. What haven’t you told me?”

He surveyed the area around him, as if he, too, was concerned they might be overheard. “I never told you about my father. What he did to my mother. How foolishly possessive he was of her,” he murmured, his gaze turning to his mind’s eye. “And yet, I know exactly how he felt, because I have been experiencing it with you of late.”

Ivy swallowed. Although she had never met his parents—both long dead before she married Robert—she had frequently wondered why he rarely spoke of them. “You’re feeling... possessive?” she asked in a quiet voice.

He nodded.

“Well, I suppose I am your property since I am your wife,” she reminded him.

Giving her a quelling glance, he dipped his head. “I never thought of you like that, Ivy. But something happened at Gladstone Hall, and...” He stopped and raised his face to the ceiling .

“ What happened, Robert?” she asked in alarm.

“I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “I nearly pummeled the butler to death,” he stammered, his voice strangled.

Ivy inhaled sharply, her brows furrowing in shock. “Hartfield? But why?” was all she could think to ask.

“The housekeeper?—”

“Mrs. Hartfield?”

He nodded. “Yes. She, uh, brought tea to my study... the day before I came here... and, uh, her face was all bruised. Said she fell,” he added, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, dear.”

“It all came back at once, Ivy. All those times I saw my mother like that.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it of the memory.

“Oh, Robert,” she breathed in a whisper. “I... I had no idea. You never spoke of it.”

“Of course not. I had thought it was all dead and buried with them,” he murmured. “When I confronted Hartfield—I found him in his office—he acted as if he had done nothing wrong. ‘The late earl did it to his wife all the time,’ he told me.”

Ivy swallowed, her eyes wide with fright. “He was the ghost,” she whispered in awe.

Robert turned to look at her directly. “All that rage I felt... it all went into my fists,” he said, holding out his hands. The scuff marks on the back of his knuckles had faded, but one was still swollen.

Even though she had noticed them the night before, Ivy’s gaze dropped to study them. She lifted the one with the injured knuckle and leaned down to gently kiss it. “I’m so sorry, Robert.”

“I probably would have killed him if his wife hadn’t screamed for me to stop. ”

Tears pricked the corners of Ivy’s eyes. “And then?” she prompted.

“I fired him. Told him to pack up and get out, and that if I ever so much as saw him again, I would have him flogged.”

Ivy inhaled softly. “And Mrs. Hartfield?”

He gave a start. “Well, I didn’t let her go,” he said. “I told her she was under my protection, and I told her that she wasn’t to go with him.” He paused a moment. “Truth be told, I do think she was relieved to be rid of him.”

“No doubt,” she said on a sigh. “So... did Hartfield leave?”

Robert nodded. “He did. I, uh, immediately promoted the under butler, and I went and hid in my study.”

“Sanderson?” she guessed.

He nodded.

“He’ll do fine,” she assured him.

“And that’s when I reread your letters.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to be sure I had never done anything like that to you.”

“Never,” she whispered.

“That you hadn’t stayed away because you felt threatened by me.”

“No, Robert,” she assured him.

“Because there have been times in the past few years when I have felt such frustration, I used to punch the damned pillows on my bed,” he admitted. “So I joined a boxing saloon, where I can punch large bags of sand instead.”

“Oh,” she breathed, reaching for one of his hands to grip it in hers. “Because of something I said? Or something I did?”

“Because I missed you, damn it, and I didn’t know what to do to get you...” He couldn’t go on, not when her other hand had moved to pull his face to hers, not when her lips captured his in a kiss that had him pulling her onto his lap and continuing it as if his very life depended on it.

This time, she was sure it did .

When she finally let go to take a breath, Robert stared at her for a full second before blinking several times. “Well, I do believe this Yule log is working,” he murmured.

Ivy let out a nervous titter. “Indeed,” she agreed. They sat in companionable silence for a moment before she added, “Perhaps it’s time we share it, though.”

Robert’s sigh sounded his reluctance before he finally called out, “Graves!”

The butler hurried into the hall. “My lord?” He gave a start when he saw the two of them perched on the Yule log, the countess sitting across the earl’s lap.

“Have all the servants join us,” Robert ordered. “I understand some consider it good luck to sit on the Yule log before it’s rolled into the fireplace,” he said. “Then we’re going to light this log and hope it doesn’t set the entire house on fire,” he added with a grin.

“Yes, my lord.” Graves disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Robert helped Ivy to stand before he rolled down his sleeves and stood. “I feel entirely underdressed,” he murmured, even though he was only missing his top coat.

“You look fine, darling,” she said, brushing the back of her gown with a hand before shaking out her skirts. “Do I look as if I’ve been tumbled?”

He let out a guffaw. “Just you wait, my lady,” he said in a warning.

Ivy allowed a wobbly grin and then stood on tiptoes to kiss him again.

Robert gave a start. He would have continued to kiss her, but four maids, Perkins, the laundress, the cook and the scullery maid, a driver, and the groom had joined them in the hall. When they were finished lining up in a semi-circle, they collectively curtsied and bowed .

“If you believe in such a thing as good luck, which I do, by the way, now is your chance,” Robert said, waving to the log.

He and Ivy stepped aside and watched as the servants took turns sitting on the Yule log, Tom and Anne doing so at the same time, as did Bobby and Christina. After everyone had a chance, the male servants joined forces to roll it into the fireplace, nearly extinguishing the existing fire in the process.

“Time to light it,” someone said.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Robert asked, turning to Ivy. “You’re far more familiar with this tradition than I am.”

“Oh, I think you should do it, Ritchfield,” she said, “But first you’ll need the leftover piece from last year’s log.” She rushed to the fireplace and, reaching behind the spray that had been draped across the mantel, she extracted a charred piece of wood.

“I wondered why that was there,” Robert murmured when he joined her. “I nearly tossed it into the fireplace.” He aimed a look of feigned shock at the servants, who grinned at seeing his antics.

“Good thing you didn’t, or we wouldn’t have good luck this year.” She gave him the wood.

“Luck?” he repeated, holding up the charred wood. “This little piece of charcoal is supposed to bring luck?”

Ivy gave a shrug. “It’s for continuity,” she explained. “We use a piece of last year’s log to light this year’s log.”

“Very well.” Robert turned to address the servants, who were once again lined up in a semi-circle. “I had quite forgotten how many people worked here at Ritchfield Park,” he said after clearing his throat. “I won’t keep you. I know you’re quite busy with preparing food and cleaning and whatnot,” he added. He turned to Ivy. “Her ladyship has asked that I do the honors of lighting this log from last year’s remnant.” He touched the candle’s flame to the charred wood until it lit. Carefully lowering it into the fireplace, he tucked it against some kindling at one end of the Yule log, and within seconds, flames erupted from the base of the large log.

The servants cheered and applauded.

“I understand some dancing is to happen?” he said, his attention on Ivy.

She stepped forward and said, “It’s not mandatory, of course, but like we have done for other Christmas Eves, we’d like it if you’d join us here in the hall for some music and dancing after your dinner.”

“Which is nearly ready, my lady,” the cook said.

“Thank you, Clara. Once the food has been delivered to the dining room for his lordship’s meal, there’s no need to continue to wait on us,” Ivy said. “Help yourselves to an early dinner, and we’ll assemble here in the hall afterwards. By then it should be comfortably warm in here,” she added, rubbing her hands over her arms.

The servants sounded their agreements at hearing the plans for the evening, hurrying off to the kitchen when the countess made shoo’ing motions with her hands.

Robert chuckled as he watched them go, pulling Ivy into his arms once they were alone. “They adore you,” he murmured.

“They are happy to be working for you ,” she countered.

“I don’t know why. Besides Graves, I don’t think I’ve met any of them before.”

Ivy gave him a quelling glance. “A few of them are new since you were last here,” she agreed. “But most have been here for a decade or more, and they have come to call Ritchfield Park their home.”

He stared down at her a moment, as if he was contemplating kissing her again. Noise from the direction of the kitchen had him releasing his hold on her, and his brows furrowed. “Are we changing for dinner?” he asked, his gaze following the line of servants bringing platters of food and bottles of wine into the dining room.

“We are not,” she said.

“Good, because I’m starving. All this work on the greenery… I seem to have developed an appetite.”

The look he aimed in her direction suggested he was referring to a different sort of appetite, but Ivy pretended not to notice.