Once Upon A Christmastime: Four Festive Heart-Warming Novellas Read online

  Once Upon a Christmastime: Lady Caroline’s Unexpected Christmas Gift – The Darling Dowager’s Christmas Treat – Fairy Dust Wishes – Elle’s Christmas Surprise: Text copyright © Cassie O’Brien and Raven McAllan 2020

  Cover Art by Emmy Ellis @ studioenp.com © 2020

  All Rights Reserved

  Once Upon a Christmastime is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  The authors respectfully recognise the use of any and all trademarks.

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  Once Upon a Christmastime

  Cassie O’Brien & Raven McAllan

  Contents

  Lady Caroline’s Unexpected Christmas Guest

  The Darling Dowager’s Christmas Treat

  Fairy Dust Wishes

  Elle’s Christmas Surprise

  Lady Caroline’s Unexpected Christmas Guest

  Cassie O’Brien

  Bertram, Marquis of Osborne, looked into the depths of his fast-emptying brandy glass and swirled the last dregs around the bowl with a frown. “Still, there’s no escaping it, Piggy. Marry I must, even tho I don’t wish it…and soon.”

  His companion, Percival Irving Gilliard, a vision of sartorial elegance, bore not the least resemblance to the nickname bestowed on him at school when the ten-year-old inmates boarding with him at Harrow had discovered the unfortunate arrangement of his initials.

  Used now only by those who had become close friends from that time, Lord Percy, otherwise known as the Earl of Avondale, didn’t flinch as he considered the matter. “Well, of this year’s debutantes, I’d say Miss Emily Woodward and Miss Bella DeBurke are the best of the bunch, Bertie. Pretty girls, good figures. Neither of them look like they’d turn down the offer of a title. Or there’s Miss Deveraux. In her second season but stunningly beautiful. She’s obviously holding out for a good match.”

  The marquis’ frown deepened. “There you have it. If I’m to marry against my inclination, I don’t want it to be to someone who would turn my life upside down. These girls come with expectations. I’d have to do the pretty and dance attendance on them. They’d object if I spent too much time at my club or out with my rod and line. I’m damn comfortable with my life, and that’s the way I want it to stay.”

  Sitting in a rather more than comfortable high-backed leather armchair in said gentleman’s club, Percy crossed one immaculately clad leg over the other. “I suppose there’s always Lady Mary. In her third season, she doesn’t bother about anything much at all.”

  Bertie’s chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his belly as befitted a man of bear-like proportions whose wild and somewhat shaggy looks his valet never quite managed to tame. “Including the bathtub. No, thanks. That’s not what I meant when I said comfortable.”

  Percy gazed into space and swallowed his last mouthful of brandy. “You’d better take our Caro then. She does at least know where the bathing chamber is.”

  Bertie spluttered. “Caro? Your sister? I thought she was destined for the local bishop?”

  Percy shrugged. “No. You’d have thought she’d be grateful for the offer after four failed Seasons, but she wouldn’t take him. He didn’t like the pups of the hounds well enough apparently, which is where she spends all her time when she ain’t hogging the bathtub to wash the stink of the kennels off herself.”

  Bertie thought back and pictured Lady Caroline as he’d last seen her. Percy’s trim figure was the epitome of masculine grace and always had been. His sister had been awkward to the point of clumsy, her cheeks blushing rosy with discomfort every time she stumbled, unable to control the cage of hoops and welter of material that comprised the Court dress of her crinoline. Then Queen Victoria had died, the following Season had been cancelled, and Caroline disappeared from Town never to be seen since. He’d felt sorry for her, although that didn’t to give him the slightest urge to be saddled with her presence for the rest of his life. “Ah… Um…”

  The hopeful look in Percy’s eyes stopped him from saying more.

  Percy sat straighter. “Come home with me tomorrow, Bertie? We have a big shoot on Christmas Eve to provide fowl for the feast. You’ll enjoy that.”

  There was nothing better looming on the horizon for the twelve days of Christmas, and he acknowledged to himself Percy knew that fact as well. Bertie was an orphan with no siblings, and it was only the entail on the Estate that obliged him to marry before he reached the arbitrary age of thirty-five. He glanced heavenward, searching for a suitable excuse, but none came to him to permit his turning down an invitation from such a long-standing friend. Damn! But what can it hurt? I’ll give her no encouragement and if I know anything about the matter, she’ll be more than happy with that arrangement, too.

  “I’d be delighted, of course.”

  Percy beckoned the waiter to bring the decanter and refill their glasses. “Excellent. I’ll call for you in my motor carriage around midday? My man doubles as chauffeur, and yours can take the boot seat.”

  Bertie forced a smile to his lips. “I’ll look forward to it.” Or the fowl shoot at least.

  ***

  Lady Caroline sank down and rested her neck on the back of the bathtub with a sigh as hot water caressed her skin. After a day of physical exertion, the luxury provided by the house’s recent installation of a heated plumbing system was utter bliss. The soap smelt of violets. She passed it over her body, creamy with foaming bubbles. This was the life, now her mother had given up on her matchmaking endeavours. Why Mama had thought she would be happy to be at the beck and call of a man just for the privilege of wearing a gold wedding band was beyond stupid, and the crocodile tears her mother had shed at her rejection of the only marriage proposal she’d ever received moved Caroline not one jot.

  A thick fluffy towel awaited when she pulled the plug and stepped out of the tub. Water gurgled, and she watched it disappear with a sense of wonder for the minds behind the modern innovation which provided such convenience. No more lugging buckets of water up and down the back stairs for the servants, and no more carrying open chamber pots through the house—Avondale Manor now possessed several lavatories with a running water flush, and even the staff quarters had been supplied with one.

  The tub emptied, Caroline draped the towel over its edge, donned a belted dressing gown, and walked to her bedroom.

  Her maid, Jenny, opened the wardrobe door when she stepped over the threshold. “Have you company at dinner tonight, my lady? Shall I lay out your velvet skirt?”

  Caroline shrugged. “Not as such. Reverend Taylor and his curate will be in attendance, along with the Misses Hayward from the Parish Council. My navy-blue surge will suffice.”

  Jenny smiled. “To make arrangements for the wassail to call? You’ll like that.”

  Her mistress returned her smile two-fold. “Yes, I will. I’ve consulted Cook, and each child is to receive a sweet, sticky gingerbread man with a silver thruppenny bit for his middle button from the tree. Their parents may take home any of the fowl not required for the house after the shoot.”

  “You are ever generous to the vil
lage children at Christmas, my lady.”

  Caroline dispensed with her dressing gown and stepped into her drawers. “I would wish they could keep a farthing or two back to buy a stick of toffee from the shop, but I fear it will not be so.”

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but none will be worse off for that,” Jenny replied stoutly as she fastened the silky Directoire knickers around her mistress’ waist. “Each child will have their Christmas treat, and the family will find comfort in having a little extra coinage to help feed them during the barren months until spring. Will you wear an evening blouse or…?”

  Caroline shook her head. “No. It’s not necessary. A camisole under one of fine lawn, with perhaps a collar and cuffs of lace.”

  Her requirements met and her dark-blonde hair dressed in a simple plaited coronet, she surveyed her reflection, turning back and forth in front of a full-length mirror. Neat, with no requirement to have a padded bustle strapped to her backside when in the country, the fashionable slim-line silhouette of the Edwardian era flattered her figure as the balloon-shaped Victoriana gowns of her youth had not. The wretched things had swamped her form and made her appear nearly as wide as she was tall.

  The mantel clock struck the dinner hour of five. Early hours were kept in the country, especially during the winter months. The sound startled Caroline. “Goodness! I must go down. Mama will have been entertaining our guests for at least fifteen minutes on her own, and you know she dislikes having to do so.”

  Jenny handed her a lace-edged handkerchief. “If I know anything about the matter, the clergy along with the Misses Hayward will be sat in the drawing room entertaining themselves at present. It has come to my ears the dowager has taken to instructing her maid to listen for your door to open and close before she herself descends.”

  “Oh dear. Well, at least the reverend is a good man who will not take offence at being left unwelcomed by an absence of his hosts.”

  Jenny nodded. “And from that circumstance the other guests will take their lead, I’m sure.”

  Caroline agreed and left the room, making sure she closed the door behind her with a suitably audible snap. The previously damp and chilly hallway was agreeably warm with the addition of the new cast-iron hot water-filled radiators set along its length. Gas lamps set on the wood-panelled walls provided more illumination than candle sconces ever had. All in all, what had been a hurried scuttle towards the roaring log fires that heated the public rooms downstairs was now a pleasant saunter without the need for a shawl—but as she neared the head of the stairs, the racket of a commotion assailed her ears.

  Too noisy for the arrival of the reverend’s party. Caroline hurried forward, only to halt in her tracks when she saw her brother, and more particularly, who also stood in the vestibule. Please… Not him… The heat of a crimson blush rose on her cheeks. Not without notice to prepare…

  Pride and several years of maturity since she had last caught sight of Lord Osborne came to her rescue. She took a deep breath in and thought of happier things, which calmed her agitation and enabled her to walk down the stairs without her cheeks looking like a couple of ripe tomatoes. “You’re home early, Percy. We weren’t expecting you for another two days yet.”

  Percy was lord of the manor in his rightful place as head of the family, and the slight note of censure in his sister’s voice for his inconsideration was not noticed. He handed his cane and hat to the butler with a shrug. “Change of plans, Caro. Bertie was at a loose end, so here we are, ready to join the festivities.”

  She bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling at the knowledge of the ‘festive fun’ that was coming his way that evening. “How lovely. I’m sure Reverend Taylor will be delighted to see you, as will the Misses Hayward.”

  Percy’s jaw dropped. “What? The reverend and the local tabbies? Caro, you could have warned me.”

  Caroline gave him her sweetest smile. “Deary me. If only you’d sent a telegram to say you were arriving home earlier than planned, I could have rearranged the occasion to become luncheon tomorrow from which you could have excused yourself to attend to Estate business. Still, our guests are already with us, so chop-chop, Percy. I’ll put dinner back until six to give yourself and Lord Osborne half an hour to freshen up.”

  She would have liked a few moments to collect her thoughts again before facing their unexpected visitor, but polite etiquette dictated she greet him without undue hesitation, as it also ensured that having returned home to find guests in his house, Percy had no choice but to take his place at the dinner table.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs as she did so. “Lord Osborne, welcome. We would be happy to see you at dinner, but if the exertions of your travel have fatigued you, say the word and a tray will be sent to your room.”

  His smile was as infectious as she’d always found it. A gleam lit his eye as if he fully appreciated the by-play between herself and Percy. Her knees trembled just for being near him. Tarnation! Her girlish crush was as intoxicating to her senses as he ever had been in London.

  ***

  Good grief, she’s changed somewhat…

  The words ran through Bertie’s mind as he met Lady Caroline’s green-eyed gaze, although fortunately they were not what came out of his mouth. “I’m delighted to see you again. It’s been quite some while since we last met.” He paused, waiting expectantly for her to hold out her hand with fingers extended or curled to indicate her preference to receive a shake or a brief kiss on the back of it.

  She did neither but kept her arms at her sides. “Indeed, it has.”

  Which was odd, until he noticed her gaze was fixed at a point over his shoulder. She gave an imperceptible nod to the unseen rustle of a female dress behind him, and he realised her attention was being required in two places at once. Good. That must mean the lamps had been lit, the curtains drawn, and sheets applied to the bed in whichever guest room he had been assigned.

  Lady Caroline returned her attention to his face. “Johnstone will show you up. The tray?”

  He appreciated her gesture in offering him an excuse not to attend a dinner Percy was so patently not looking forward to, but with the perfect manners of a man who knew his duty as a house guest, he turned it down with self-depreciating smile. “I thank you, but a journey of only a few hours is not enough to tire a man of my proportions. I would like to join the dinner table if my unexpected appearance will not discomfort the guests already invited?”

  “They will be honoured, I’m…”

  Her sentence was not to be finished as the dowager appeared on the staircase, her face wreathed in smiles. “Percy, my darling, darling boy, you’re home.” She clasped his hands in hers when she reached him. “Did you sense how much I wished for it to be so? You must have, for here you are.”

  “I am, Mama. And I’ve brought a companion with me to attend the shoot.”

  Lady Caroline beckoned the butler forward then excused herself to attend to her other guests. Neither her brother nor her mother noticed her departure.

  Percy led the dowager closer. “You remember Lord Osborne, don’t you, Mama?”

  She held out her hand. “I do. Your journey passed tolerably, I hope? Percy’s Daimler motor carriage possesses a high degree of comfort, I believe.”

  Bertie took his cue and brushed his lips across the back of it. “Perfect luxury. The miles raced by in a flash.”

  She looked pleased at his complimenting it. “You may take me in.”

  Percy objected. “We can’t sit to table in our dirt, Mama. You must excuse us for a few minutes.”

  She looked them up and down. “It’s only the reverend. He won’t mind.”

  Percy leaned forward and whispered a word in her ear. Bertie couldn’t make out what it was, but it seemed to do the trick.

  “Yes… Well… Of course… Come down to the drawing room when you’re ready.” She turned away.

  Johnstone stepped forward, and Bertie asked as they followed the butler up the stairs, “And the magic word
was?”

  Percy winked, mouthed the word lavatory, and both of them grinned.

  The sanctuary of his guest room was soon gained, and inside it, Bertie found his valet, Ridgley, unpacking his luggage. A small log burned in the grate, cheerful but giving out little heat—that seemed to be the job of a rectangular arrangement of cast-iron tubes attached to the wall under the window.

  It gurgled, and his valet tutted. “It’s been doing that at intervals, my lord. I hope it doesn’t keep it up all night or you’ll hardly get a wink of sleep.”

  Bertie examined it. “There appears to be a tap thing on the end of it. I think it can be turned off.”

  “I shall make sure to do so when I bring up your nightcap. Will you require your evening wear? Tie and tails.”

  “No. Dinner is informal this evening. A clean shirt and a wash will suffice.”

  Ridgley did his best to tidy him up, and Bertie contemplated the alteration in Percy’s sister while his valet did so. Lady Caroline had been gauche, clumsy, and awkward when she arrived in the capital for her first Season at seventeen, and several more after it had done nothing to improve her self-assurance, but now…

  Ridgley smoothed Bertie’s jacket over his shoulders to remove any hint of wrinkle. He thanked him, descended the stairs, and quirked an eyebrow at the footman sitting on the chair beside the front door. The servant jumped to attention as people tended to do when Bertie sent an enquiring glance in their direction.

  “The drawing room is this way, your lordship.”

  Bertie followed him and made sure to acknowledge the man’s service, knowing his large frame could be intimidating to those of smaller stature. The footman opened the door. He stepped into the room and paused at the sight of Lady Caroline, her eyes sparkling and her face animated as she spoke.