Authors: Christmas At Hartford Hall
Fenella J. Miller
Christmas at Hartford Hall
Fenella J. Miller
...
Aurora Regency
An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Christmas at Hartford Hall, Copyright © Fenella J. Miller, 2011
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
...
This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
...
Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
...
First Published by D C Thomson, My Weekly Pocket Novels, December 2009
Published by Musa Publishing, December, 2011
...
This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
...
ISBN: 978-1-61937-183-5
...
Editor: Celina Summers
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
For Wendy Soliman and Fay Cunningham
fellow writers and great friends
E
LIZABETH
S
TEPPED
O
UT
O
F
T
HE
haberdashers and was almost blown from her feet by a flurry of snow.
Botheration!
The distance was no more than three miles along narrow muddy lanes to Hartford Hall but she was already tardy and tramping back through a blizzard would delay her even further.
Mrs. Reynolds, the vicar’s wife, appeared behind her. “My dear, surely you are not intending to walk home in this? Come back with me and when the weather improves, I shall ask Mr. Reynolds to send you back in the gig. Unfortunately he is visiting a sick parishioner at the moment or you could take it now.”
“Thank you, madam, but I must return. Lady Hartford was most insistent that I fetch these items for her this morning. I dare not tarry; the first of the house guests is arriving this afternoon and I still have other duties to perform before then.”
“It’s a scandal, my dear, how they treat you up there. Your mother was a Hartford, yet Lady Hartford and her family think of you as little better than a servant. Your dear grandfather would be turning in his grave if he knew.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled at the mention of her beloved grandfather. Until his death two years ago, she had been happy, but everything had changed when a distant relative inherited the title. She was dependent on the new Lord Hartford for everything.
“I must go, ma’am. The longer I stand here the more difficult it will be to negotiate the lanes.” She smiled and tilted her face, allowing the snowflakes to fall in her mouth. “It is going to be a white Christmas; I do so love it when it snows at this time of the year.”
“You’re a good girl, Elizabeth. Without your intervention none of the tenants would be living in comfort this winter.” Mrs. Reynolds tightened her bonnet strings and nodded. “Take care, and do hurry, I fear the weather is worsening as we speak.”
Elizabeth put down her heavy basket and pulled her cloak hood more snugly around her head. She tied her muffler so the material covered her mouth and checked her boots were tightly laced. The last thing she wanted was for snow to seep in and soak her stockings before she’d even started her journey.
Several townspeople greeted her as she hurried along the pathway. She always enjoyed her visits to Hartford; at least here she was sure of a friendly smile and a kind word. Several times, she was forced to stop and wipe her nose, and her throat was becoming more sore by the minute. Perhaps it would have been wiser to refuse to come out this morning when she had a nasty head cold.
She sighed. If she hadn’t come then Betty would have been sent instead and she was even more poorly than herself. How fortunate the lanes had high hedges on either side, preventing the worst of the blizzard from reaching her. Normally she would walk close to the edge just in case a vehicle wished to pass, but today this was all but impossible as the snow was already above ankle height next to the hedgerow.
James was regretting his decision to drive himself to Hartford Hall in his new high-perch phaeton. The weather, which had been clement when he set out, was rapidly deteriorating. His valet, Duncan, sat shivering on the box beside him; the trunk was strapped to the back.
“I fear I have made a disastrous error, Duncan, but it’s too late to repine. We must press on. I believe Hartford Hall to be no more than a few miles from here.”
“I think the lanes will be all but impassable soon, sir. I don’t reckon on our chances if we were to be marooned in this blizzard.”
“I should never have accepted the invitation. But before I offer for Lady Eleanor I wish to get to know her better. This seemed an ideal opportunity.”
He flicked his whip in the air to encourage his team. They were not built for such appalling conditions, so if he didn’t get them into a warm stable soon they might never recover from the experience. His carriage lurched as he turned expertly into the lane that led to his destination.
“Not much further, Duncan. We can increase our speed as there’s far less snow on the ground here.”
His companion shouted a warning. “Look out, sir, there’s a girl walking ahead of us.”
James hauled back on the reins, praying he would be in time. The girl wouldn’t be able to hear him for the snow deadened the sound of the wheels and the clatter of hooves. To his horror, his lead horse was unable to avoid her and she vanished beneath the animal.
Throwing the ribbons to his valet, he leaped from the box and ran to the front of his team.
Although the animals were thoroughbred they were not highly strung and seemed to sense there was someone beneath their feet and were now standing quietly.
Elizabeth was lost in thought, recalling two Christmases ago when Grandfather had been well. From nowhere a horse reared up behind her. She had no chance to hurl herself to safety. Her last thought as she fell beneath the plunging feet was that she would be with her beloved relative at Christmas after all.
Her mouth was full of snow, her basket no longer in her possession, but she was not dead. She daren’t move. She was beneath a team of spirited horses. She could be trampled to death at any moment. Then two hands grasped her shoulders and she was hauled backwards through the snow in a most undignified manner and set firmly on her feet.
She spat the last of the white stuff from her mouth and glared up into the face of the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life. He would have been even more handsome if he were not scowling back at her.
“What the devil were you thinking of? I could have killed you. Walking down the middle of a lane is the height of folly.”
This was the outside of enough. The wretched man had all but run her over and was now blaming
her
for his foolhardy actions. “That I am not dead is no thanks to you. Perhaps it has escaped your attention, sir, but the only place it is possible to walk at the moment is down the middle of the lane.”
He frowned down at her, his startlingly blue eyes unfriendly. “I do not intend to stand here bandying words with a servant girl, my cattle will freeze.” He raked her with an icy stare. “As you are obviously unhurt, I shall continue my journey.”
Good grief, what a ridiculous vehicle he was travelling in. She couldn’t help herself, her lips twitched and she hastily raised a hand to cover her smile. “I would think, sir, that driving in the depths of winter in that carriage might be considered even more foolish than my walking in the middle of the road.”
She thought he would suffer an apoplexy. His lips thinned and he seemed to grow several inches. Now he was even more formidable. His many-caped driving coat was snow-covered, his beaver equally whitened. If she thought of him as a rather cross snowman perhaps he would not seem so alarming.
Then his expression changed, his anger gone and he smiled. My word! He was far more dangerous to her composure when he did this than when he glared at her.
“I beg your pardon, miss. The relief that you were not killed has made me behave appallingly. Although my carriage is not ideal, allow me to give you a ride to your destination. It’s the least I could do.”
Flustered by his mercurial change and not quite sure she wished to be squashed between him and his manservant so high from the ground, she shook her head vehemently. “No, it would be most improper. You continue your journey. I have not far to go; pray do not worry about me.” She looked around for her basket and spied it at the side of the lane. “I must recover my purchases and I cannot do so until you have moved away. I believe most of them are in the snow where I fell.” He didn’t offer to assist which was most churlish of him.
“In which case, I shall bid you good day.” He reached into his coat and produced a golden guinea. “I hope this will be some recompense for the accident.”
He had mistaken her for a servant. Probably far better he didn’t actually know who she was. Hiding her embarrassment, she held out her hand and he dropped the coin into it. On impulse — after all she was supposed to be a member of the lower classes — she curtsied. He nodded and jumped back on to the box. She pressed herself against the hedge and watched his carriage vanish into the whiteness.
She recovered the errant items, brushed off the worst of the snow from her person and was ready to resume her walk. When she turned into the drive a few moments later, she was unsurprised to see the imprint of carriage wheels. The handsome gentleman could have been going nowhere else but Hartford Hall. Would he demand his money back when he discovered the truth?
James could sense the disapproval flowing from his manservant, but the man had more sense than to speak his feelings. Hardly surprising Duncan was upset; to have treated the poor girl so cavalierly beggared belief. What could have possessed him to berate her in that way? And to give her money as if she were a menial, that was equally inexcusable. Everything about the young woman spoke of good breeding. Her clothes were somewhat outmoded but expensive, and her voice that of a gentlewoman.
Why hadn’t she identified herself? The only explanation was that she was a poor relation, or a governess, neither servant nor family, but somewhere in between. No, the Hartford girls had come out at the start of this season, there would no longer be the need to employ a governess for them. The girl must be a companion of some sort.
Her hair had been hidden beneath a hideous bonnet, her face besmirched, but he could recall the colour of her eyes exactly. They were dark, not brown, more a violet colour, a most unusual shade. She was above average height, but it had been impossible to see her shape beneath the voluminous folds of her thick cloak. His mouth curved. The tip of her nose had been bright red; whether from the weather or a head cold he’d no idea. He blinked snow from his eyes. One thing he did know was she was far too light for a woman of her height.
She was probably heading for Hartford Hall. He should have insisted she rode with him and not allowed her to trudge through the snow carrying a heavy basket. He pulled the reins bringing his team to a slithering halt.
“This will not do, Duncan. If the young lady will not scramble up on the box, the least I can do is transport her basket for her.”
“Allow me, Sir James. You get the horses in the warm, I’ll walk back with the young lady.”
Before he could argue, his man scrambled over the side and disappeared. He must wait until he’d seen to his horses before offering his humble apologies for his churlish behaviour.