Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mercy’s mother was very clearly overwhelmed. She’d not sent an outright request for help, but Mercy could easily read between the lines on her written plea. She wanted Mercy to make shortbread and help her deliver it to various parish neighbors in the name of the Caldwells.

But Mercy was no longer only a Caldwell—she was a Birchall now, too. There were things at Winterbourne that needed her attention as well. She lowered the letter and looked through the window to the snow-dusted trees lining Colin’s property. The fire roared in the hearth, making the library exceptionally warm. Despite the dust and broken plasterwork Mercy had come across in most of the rooms, the house was in good order—or it would be soon—and she could see it becoming magical with proper Christmas dressing.

Since the moment Colin had revealed that his mother never decorated for Christmas, Mercy had felt the urge to show him precisely why it was an important part of the season. Now that she had developed the plan, she was eager to begin.

“Lady Edith has gone to rest,” Colin said, rising from the sofa when she left the window. He met her in the center of the large Aubusson carpet, his hazel eyes tracking her face. “I think we can expect to see her at dinner, but not before.”

“That works well for me. I have other things I need to do.”

He raised a singular eyebrow. “If dusting the rest of these books is one of those things, you may strike it from your list.”

She feigned innocence. “Of course not.”

Colin’s mouth drew into a grim line. “I can see the duster waiting on the shelf, Mercy.”

She rested her hands on her hips. “And why shouldn’t I dust? It is not as though I am hammering boards into the floor or taking a shovel to the garden.”

His eyes narrowed. “Strike both of those from your list, as well. In fact, where is this list? I would like to see it.”

“You cannot.” She straightened.

“Why not?” he asked, taking a step closer and peering down at her.

She could smell his cologne again. “It is in my head.”

“Why have you not put it to paper?” He leaned forward, the lapels of his coat brushing her, his hazel eyes alive. “You are bound to forget something that way.”

Mercy’s pulse thrummed. “Never mind that. You are eating up my valuable time.”

“So long as you are not cleaning, I will remove myself from your vicinity.”

“Someone ought to clean another room in this house, or we will be forced into a repeat of last night.” Her cheeks grew warm at the reminder of how it had felt to share the narrow bed with him, but she pretended to be unaffected. “You do own additional sheets and bedding, do you not?”

Colin’s eyes dipped to her lips. Was he thinking about their proximity in the dark, too? His thumb brushing over the delicate skin on her palm?

A throat cleared in the doorway, and the tension snapped. They turned as one to find Flint waiting there.

“Another visitor?” Colin asked hoarsely, seemingly put out by the interruption.

“A set of sisters are here to see you sir. Said they were sent by the vicar for a pair of maid positions.”

Colin looked at Mercy. “I had better question them. Would you care to join me, or does that put a damper in your cleaning schedule?”

She glared playfully. “I would love to join you, Colin.”

He held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary before nodding.

The sisters were from the outskirts of Millcombe and not well known to Mercy, but she had heard her parents mention the family before. Polly and Lydia Phillips, nearly identical but for the longer slope to Polly’s nose and Lydia’s rounder head. They were both dark-haired and slender, with cloudy blue eyes.

“Lydia has a fancy to help in the kitchen,” Polly said, clearly the older of the two. “I am a hard worker and can do nearly anything. I hoped to take the maid’s position Mr. Caldwell told us about.”

Colin sent Mercy a slight dip of his head, as though he was passing the responsibility on to her. She smiled at the sisters. “We would be happy to take you on. When can you start?”

“Oh, straight away, ma’am,” Polly said, trying to control her grin.

“Why don’t you return home to pack your things? We will expect you in the morning.”

The sisters nodded, rising. “Very good, ma’am. Thank you.” They dipped curtsies to both Colin and Mercy before taking their leave.

“That was rather simple,” Colin said, staring at the kitchen door they’d retreated through.

“An endorsement from my father certainly helps move things along faster.” Mercy glanced up, considering the best way to train the new maids. “Dorothy and Molly can show them what to do tomorrow. Until we have a housekeeper, they can all answer to Mrs. Johns.”

Colin watched her, not saying anything. His hazel eyes tripped over her face like he was searching for something.

She grew restless beneath his attention. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said softly. “I was only considering how much you accomplish without lists. If you began to use them, you would be unstoppable.”

Mercy barked an unladylike laugh. “You are obsessed with organization, Colin. I would think you should have been a secretary.”

“I would certainly make a good one. Or a solicitor, I think.”

He mentioned the occupation so quickly, she wondered if it had once been an ambition of his. “Have you ever desired to have an occupation?”

“No. Not above the management of this estate, of course.”

“You have always wanted Winterbourne to be your life? ”

He seemed to consider the question before answering, something she appreciated about him. It made Mercy feel as though he cared enough about her queries to give them proper, considerate answers. “I have always expected it to be. It was known from a young age that I would inherit.”

“When the house fell into disrepair, did you not consider a separate avenue?”

“Perhaps I would have if I had not sunk all my time, energy, and resources into saving the estate.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was the only thing I had left of my father, and he raised me to be a man who didn’t easily give up.”

Which was why Lady Edith’s windfall had been the blessing Colin had needed. Mercy could see how hard he had worked. He had lost his father, was abandoned by his mother and sister, yet still he remained at Winterbourne, ever vigilant, doing what he could to ensure the legacy did not end with him. He was resilient, a hard worker, and deserved to have someone care for him.

Mercy intended to do just that. “Are the stairs fully repaired?”

“They are. Hubble and his men have moved on to the roof. I’m afraid we cannot touch the ceilings until the roof has been fully repaired.”

“Understandable.” She could see he wasn’t going to leave any time soon, and she needed privacy if she was going to achieve a surprise. “In that case, I will see you at dinner, Colin.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He stood there, blustering a bit. “No gardening, mind.”

“No gardening,” she agreed. What she had in mind was not gardening—not exactly .

Once Colin left, Mercy went in search of her cloak, gloves, and boots. She would need to hurry if she was going to gather enough greenery to dress the entire railing on the split staircase, frame the doorways, and create kissing boughs and wreaths all before Christmas Eve. There were days ahead of her to work on her project, but if she intended to keep it from Colin, she would need to be artful about how she slipped away to accomplish those tasks. She was in a hurry to find her way outside and nearly collided with Dorothy, her lady’s maid, in the corridor.

“Forgive me,” Mercy said. “I was walking much too fast.”

“Never mind that, madam.” Dorothy smiled.

Mercy had an idea. “I know this is outside the purview of your responsibilities, but what do you think about helping me gather greenery?”

“I would be happy to.”

“And create kissing boughs with it?” Mercy continued, hoping Dorothy wasn’t thinking of the two new footmen, Lewis and Duncan.

Dorothy’s eyes lit up, proving that the handsome young men were precisely who had come to her mind when presented with the idea of kissing boughs. “Let me fetch my cloak.”

As it turned out, gathering greenery was the least difficult component of assembling the decorations. The tricky thing had been keeping it from Colin. He appeared everywhere, watching Mercy with suspicion and asking far too many questions about her objectives.

It made surprising him rather difficult, but she had done what she could for today. With Dorothy and the new gardener’s help, they were able to collect enough boughs, evergreen, holly, and ivy to assemble multiple kissing boughs and wreaths.

She’d brought them into the drawing room. Parts of the ceiling were missing, clearly having warped and fallen, but they sat in the corner of the room away from the debris at a round card table. Mercy had yet to see so much as a particle of dust fall from the ceiling, so she deemed it safe enough for her purposes.

“Shall we put them up tonight?” Dorothy asked, using twine to tie more holly to her wreath.

“Not until Christmas Eve,” Mercy said, working a knot on her kissing bough. “It is bad luck to do so beforehand, you know.”

Dorothy wrinkled her nose, clearly without any fear of luck—good or bad.

“We only have a few days left to finish these,” Mercy said, fiddling with the twine. “Can you sneak away tomorrow as well?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Dorothy gave her an impish grin. “Won’t want to be ruining the surprise.”

Mercy was glad she’d chosen to take her maid into her confidence. Now if they could finish cleaning the house with the help of the two new maids, the footmen could assist her in putting up the decorations, and Colin could see his home transformed.

She really ought to bake shortbread and put a pot of wassail on too, if she truly wanted Christmas Eve to feel magical. Better add those to her list.

“Goodness. You brought the entire forest inside,” a shrill voice said from the doorway .

Mercy found Lady Edith standing there, leaning on her cane. Some of the color had been restored to her cheeks, likely due to her rest. The travel seemed to take much out of her, and with her illness being what it was, she really ought to remain in bed. Mercy rose. “What can I do for you, Aunt?”

“Help me sit.”

Mercy only hesitated briefly before she went to Lady Edith’s side and guided her toward a soft ladder-back chair at the table. Colin wouldn’t be happy to find his aunt in this room, so Mercy needed to be certain he didn’t. She caught Dorothy’s wide eyes, watching the maid sink lower in her chair, her attention on her wreath.

Settling a pleasant expression on her face, Mercy picked up a sprig of mistletoe. “We are putting together kissing boughs and wreaths. Surely it isn’t of any interest?—”

“You’re mistaken, young lady. I am very much interested in this.” Lady Edith adjusted her position on the creaky chair and observed the mess on the table. Shooing Mercy away, she rested both hands on the top of her cane. “Keep at it. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Very well.” Mercy regained her seat and continued working on her kissing bough. Dorothy had gone red, her head bowed and focused on her task.

“What is all this for?” the matron asked.

“They are Christmas decorations.”

Lady Edith gave her a shrewd look. “I know that. I mean, why are you hiding away with them?”

Should Mercy be honest? She had been perturbed with Colin’s mother, who also happened to be Lady Edith’s niece. She wasn’t likely to appreciate Mercy’s frustrations.

“Spit it out, girl,” Lady Edith said, reading through her hesitation .

Oh, very well . “Colin has never seen Winterbourne decorated for Christmas. He informed me that the most his mother permitted was a Yule log and a goose dinner. I want—well, I want to give him the Christmas he never had.”

Lady Edith’s shrewd look turned curious. She tilted her head to the side, still resting both hands atop her cane. “What else have you planned?”

“I’d like for Colin to keep his traditions, so I intend to help him find a Yule log on Christmas Eve. I want to go to our butcher in Millcombe and see about a goose for Christmas dinner. But I’d also like…” She hesitated slightly before continuing. “I bake very delicious shortbread, and I want to make him some.”

Lady Edith straightened. “ You bake it, dear?”

Mercy’s heart hammered. Was this going to make her seem unacceptable? She should have remained quiet about this, but it was very much part of her family’s traditions. “Yes. I do. It is really a good recipe. It goes back in my family for generations.”

“Shortbread is my very favorite thing. We had it often, my Mr. Walker and I. His family recipe is renowned in his part of the country, you know.”

“I did not.” Mercy could feel herself softening, her concerns slipping away. Lady Edith was no ogre. Despite her snappish way of talking and general plain speaking, she had a soft heart toward her great-nephew, that was for certain.

“Do not wait for Christmas, dear. I would like to enjoy it with you, and I must leave soon if I am to make it to Derbyshire in time to see Richard by Christmas.”

“Do you intend to visit all of Colin’s cousins?”

“No, of course not. Only the ones I like.” She gave a smile that proved she didn’t entirely mean it. “Colin is not the only one included in my will, you know.”

Mercy’s hands stilled on the twine. She hastily continued to arrange the holly, hoping Lady Edith hadn’t caught her slip. “It seems an interesting time to force marriage upon your progeny. Christmastide is a busy time for most.”

“One cannot control when one dies,” Lady Edith said. “Which is why I expect you to start some tea and provide more brandy for me than Colin did. Then you will take me down to the kitchen to make shortbread.”

“It will be time for dinner soon,” Mercy said, finding she liked this woman excessively, despite her brash attitude.

“Colin runs a tight ship, does he not? Never knew a boy to be more punctual than him. I believe he took it as a personal affront when I caused us to be late to church, the last time I visited.”

Mercy chuckled, moving her greenery aside. “He has given me cause to believe that very much.”

Lady Edith’s eyes narrowed. “Do not allow him to run roughshod over you, girl. You seem the sort to show him exactly when punctuality is important and when he can loosen his cravat a tad. I do believe it is so tightly wrapped it might be cutting off the blood supply to his head on occasion.”

Mercy did not grant this a reply, doing her level best to keep from laughing. “He is very well put together,” she finally said, when she could trust her voice to remain steady.

“Precisely.” Lady Edith hit her cane on the floor once, a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, shall we go prepare for dinner? The shortbread can wait until tomorrow. We do not want Colin to turn into a wretch of nerves if his dinner cannot be served on time. ”

It appeared Lady Edith knew her great-nephew exceedingly well. Had she the same regard for his mother? She hadn’t seemed offended by Mercy’s desire to give Colin a better Christmastide than he’d had in the past. If anything, the entire concept seemed to intrigue her.

“Yes, tomorrow.” Mercy rose and helped Lady Edith to stand. “I will make some shortbread for you, and you can tell me how it compares to your husband’s family recipe.”

“ You will make it?” Lady Edith stopped walking, drawing back to peer at Mercy with raised eyebrows. “No, my dear. We will be making it together.”