Lady Crenshaw's Christmas Read online

  The last thing she remember seeing were the candles in the chandeliers, their flames spinning in ever-decreasing circles, faster and faster until she saw nothing at all.

  Chapter Four

  “Ginny. Ginny!” an urgent voice cried. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Someone was bending over her, saying her name over and over. Gradually Ginny’s focus cleared enough to make out the shape of a head as it hovered over her, moving closer and closer until there was no doubt as to its identity. The unmistakable blue eyes, smooth brow and vacuous expression of Lucinda, Lady Avery, loomed above her, looking for all the world like an avenging angel.

  Ginny felt her face crumple into a frown. Where was her husband? She had a pain in her side and, though lying on the ground, she was still very dizzy.

  A second face appeared next to Lady Avery’s. “I hadn’t thought Tony went for such stout girls,” the duchess said.

  “Oh, she’s not stout,” Lady Avery corrected, then cocked her head to the side. “That is to say, she is stout, but she is also increasing. I had always thought girls simply ran to fat after the wedding but then it happened to me.”

  A third face appeared above Ginny’s head. It was the duke, his hair in wild disarray and sporting bits of deviled egg, roast capon, and strands of dog hair. “Do you mean to say this chit is breeding?” the duke demanded. Getting to his feet, he bellowed to the company at large: “Who gave her leave?”

  Ginny wondered why she should need the duke’s permission to bear a child. She wondered what was keeping her husband from coming to her aid and was more than a little bewildered when the next face to appear was that of Grandaunt Regina’s. “I will have you know, James,” she said with humiliating emphasis on his name, “that my Ginerva is one hundred times more fit to be the mother of a Marcross than that hussy of yours!”

  “Hussy?” the duchess cried, incredulous. “Are you not the very woman who attempted to arrange a marriage between myself and your grandson?”

  “I am ashamed to admit it is true,” Grandaunt retorted, “and I pray thanks every night you turned him away!”

  “My Rebecca was clearly holding out for the better man!” the duke raged.

  “The duke is very angry,” Lady Avery informed Ginny as if this was not the least obvious. “His face is as red as a beet!”

  “Lucinda, listen to me,” Ginny pleaded.

  “Lady Avery,” Lucinda corrected her.

  “Lady Avery,” Ginny said through clenched teeth, “where is my husband?”

  Lucinda shook her head. “He is nothing like my Eustace. When I faint, he is always there to catch me. Instead, your husband took one look at you and ran from the room.” She leaned in closer to whisper in Ginny’s ear, prompting the cluster of eavesdropping guests to shuffle into a tighter knot around her prone form. “I do believe it was all on account of the dogs. They have been very naughty. I suppose I should keep them on a leash the next time I take them to a ball,” she said with a heavy sigh.

  Suddenly a slight roaring rose in the air as the crowd rippled away and Anthony’s face finally appeared within Ginny’s line of vision. “My darling! Are you all right? I’ve just sent for the physician.” Dropping to his knees, he gently placed her head in his lap and began to chafe her hands.

  Ginny tried to smile her gratitude but was assailed by another grip of pain.

  “The baby! Is the babe safe?” Without waiting for a reply, he began shouting orders. “Lady Avery, quick, a cup of punch!”

  Lady Avery responded by affecting to swoon, the drama of which was sadly deflated when she threw her hand to her forehead and poked herself in the eye with one of her rings.

  “Avery, a cup of punch!” Anthony commanded.

  Avery sprang to obey, setting the dogs he held against his chest to barking like mad.

  “And do drown those beasts in the bowl while you’re at it,” he called after him. “Grandmama, find a blanket.” Lifting Ginny in his arms, he carried her to the sofa against the wall, the assemblage following along, not one with even a backwards glance for Lady Avery stretched out on the floor in another apparent dead faint.

  Ginny, unsure of how to answer Anthony’s question as to the safety of the baby, remained silent and concentrated on making herself comfortable on the sofa. When Lord Avery brought the cup of punch to his own wife’s lips rather than hers, she felt it all of a piece.

  “I shall fetch it myself!” Anthony gasped in frustration but Ginny caught his hand to stay him.

  “No Anthony, don’t leave me,” Ginny pled.

  Sitting on the sofa next to her outstretched form, he said, “Shhh, I won’t leave you. I won’t. One of the footman has gone for the physician and here is Grandmama with your blanket, now.”

  “Thank you,” Ginny said, feeling enough better to manage a smile. Sensing that her worst fears for the evening had come to pass (there had been too many candles, there certainly hadn’t been enough food for all her guests and two little dogs, the Avery’s had caused any amount of trouble and the duke and duchess had been positively horrid) she began to relax. She thought of the babe who had been born Christmas night under difficult circumstances in a stable full of animals, some of them not unlike certain of her guests, and felt an incredible sense of peace and comfort wash over her. In that moment she knew all would be well.

  “Anthony, don’t fret so,” she said. “I am merely over-tired. The pains in my side have stopped and other than being a bit dizzy, I feel quite recovered.”

  He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Pressing her hands tightly in his own, he dropped his forehead against their entwined fingers, his shoulders shaking.

  Ginny had never known her husband to be so little in command of his feelings. Hoping to reassure him, she asked for the book that sat on her dressing table. Face wet with tears, he turned to his grandmother who turned to fetch the book, stepping over Lady Avery on her way out, whereupon she jumped to her feet and squealed, “I will go!”

  With a roll of her eyes, Grandaunt followed Lady Avery as she fled from the room, one hand still pressed to her brow. To Ginny’s natural surprise, Lady Avery returned with the correct book in a very short period of time but the fact that her hand was still pressed to her head was more puzzling.

  “Here it is,” Lady Avery said, sinking to the floor beside the sofa and putting it in Ginny’s hands.

  “Thank you,” Ginny said, unable to resist asking, “Are you quite well? You look so uncomfortable with your hand over your eye.”

  “Yes,” Lady Avery replied, nodding. “It’s only that my eyelashes have caught in the prongs of my ring and everyone has been paying far too much attention to you to notice that I need assistance.”

  Ginny bit back a smile. “It was very kind of you to find this for me,” she said and was taken aback to see Lady Avery’s eyes fill with tears. “Are you in very much pain? When the physician comes he shall look at it straightaway!”

  “No,” Lady Avery said, shaking her head, “it’s just that you are my only friend,” she confided in a loud whisper.

  Ginny, tears starting in her own eyes, reached out to take Lady Avery’s hand. “Happy Christmas to you, Lucinda.”

  “Lady Avery,” she said insistently, tears rolling down her face. “Happy Christmas to you, as well, Ginny.”

  Lord Avery, sans dogs, had the sense to lift his wife and take her away, prompting the other guests to pick up the pieces of their Christmas ball and begin the process of ordering their wraps and carriages for the return trip home, Grandaunt Regina heading up the effort.

  Ginny pushed herself to a sitting position and gave her husband a fond look. “I would say we are alone, wouldn’t you?”

  Anthony nodded, still seemingly unable to trust his voice not to betray his emotions.

  “I wish to give you my gift, now,” she said, putting the book in his hands.

  Anthony looked at it, uncomprehendingly. “But this is a copy of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, the one from the library here in the house.�
�

  “Open it,” Ginny suggested.

  He did so and as he read the inscription, Ginny followed along in her thoughts the words she had written.

  Dearest Anthony,

  Together we have begun a new life, one that is part your world and part mine. Let us select a name for our child that speaks to this new life rather than one that harkens back to the old. With this book I gift you freedom from what you feel you owe your forebears as well as the joy of looking forward to the future—our future. You once spoke of your feelings for me through the words of Shakespeare’s Caliban. It was then I knew my happiness depended entirely on you. I am so honored to bear your name and our child, as well. Between these pages are a wealth of names, ones that will be ours alone. You have but to choose. G

  Anthony looked up from the page, the tears that had gathered in his eyes spilling down his cheeks. “How did you know?” he asked, huskily.

  “How did I know what?” Ginny asked.

  “This,” he said lifting the book in his hand. “How did you know how much it weighs on me, my heritage, both good and bad? So many expectations to meet; I can’t hope to win the approval of every single one. In choosing the name for the baby, I was attempting to please as many people as possible, Grandmama, my uncle, my mother . . . I thought naming our son after your father would please you, as well.”

  Ginny took his hand. “It occurred to me after thinking about why you shouldn’t want to name our son Anthony after you. I wondered if perhaps you felt you were expected to name the baby after someone but if your name wasn’t good enough, how could theirs be? I realized you didn’t truly wish to name the baby any of those you suggested.”

  Nodding, he drew a deep breath and put a shaking hand to his brow, Ginny supposed to shield his still-wet eyes from curious by-standers. “I thought we had lost the baby,” he confessed, “thought I might be losing you—and all for something so meaningless as a ball for the purpose of pleasing my grandmother and appeasing my mother who didn’t even have the decency to come. And, if I’m honest, to prove myself to my uncle, a man so lacking in virtues as to render his opinion worse than worthless!”

  It was now her turn to soothe. “Shhh, it’s all over. From now until the babe is born, no balls, no more horseback rides and you may carry me up and down the stairs each and every day. Come spring we will be the parents to a very healthy baby.”

  “Oh, my darling,” he begged, kissing each of her hands in turn. “Are you sure? Are you quite, quite sure?”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing and feeling happier than she had since the night she had told him a baby was coming.

  Springing to his feet he asked, “Do you feel well enough to stand? Can you walk or shall I carry you?”

  Ginny laughed again. “I can walk. But where are we going? What of the physician; should we not wait for him?”

  “Exactly! When he arrives he may examine you in your own room, not on the sofa of the ballroom for half of the county to witness.” Turning to face the room, he scanned what remained of the loitering guests for Grandaunt Regina. “Grandmama, please make our excuses to our guests. I am taking my wife to her room where she can enjoy a bit of quiet.”

  “Of course, Anthony. I shall have the physician sent up when he arrives.” Turning to Ginny, she embraced her and said, “Thank you for the best Christmas gift an old lady could wish.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ginny asked, wondering which of the disasters of the evening, big or small, could possibly have filled any of her grandaunt’s desires.

  “It’s not often a woman witnesses her son receiving the dressing-down he deserves. It was quite delicious, I assure you.”

  Anthony, clearly impatient with the delay, said nothing but Ginny could not resist asking for further elucidation. “Do you mean to say his wife scolded him in front of one and all?”

  “No!” Grandaunt retorted. “That Lady Avery. She hounded him all about the room as they awaited their carriage, tucking into him like a fishwife. She even followed them out to their carriage and climbed inside without letting up, not once. It seems she was incensed about how he treated her dogs, as if dogs belong in the ballroom,” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “And then there was the matter of the size of Her Grace’s necklace because, as everyone knows, a woman who is increasing should have the best jewels and how your rubies were the best one could wish for. The duchess was quite put out by that, I must say. My son will receive a tongue-lashing from her on that score, mark my words. Oh! And there was something about leaves and why shouldn’t someone give you leaves if they had a mind to and how was it your fault if someone should. I own I did not rightly comprehend what she was saying.”

  Exhausted of information, Grandaunt turned to assist the guests in departing. Ginny, also exhausted, was glad when Anthony led her upstairs, helped her out of her finery and into a night rail, then tucked her into bed in complete silence. Once she was comfortable, he pulled a chair up to her side and sat, lost in his own thoughts.

  “Anthony, I am so sorry the ball turned out to be such a catastrophe,” she said, hoping to learn his feelings on the subject. “I will do better next time, I promise!”

  “No, no, it’s not that. You did splendidly and the next can only prove more successful, is that not so?” he asked with a tiny smile. “No, it’s your Christmas gift. I wish to give it to you.”

  Ginny, having forgotten entirely about his gift to her, was delighted. “And why should that make you frown, so?” she asked. “I am persuaded I shall love it above all things, whatever it is.”

  “I’m not so sure. I think I might have made a dreadful mistake.”

  “A mistake? Well, no matter. If it is the wrong size or color or, well . . . shape, it can be exchanged for something that suits better, is that not so?”

  “It won’t be quite so simple as all that,” he said with a rueful smile. “You see, I have bought you a house. Here. In the country—a grand estate all your own.”

  “Anthony!” Ginny cried, “Oh! I don’t know what to say! A home, one of our very own, with no grandaunt to put a spoke in our wheels every time we turn around. Our house, ours, one in which our children can play and grow,” she exclaimed, pulling away the bedclothes and bouncing to her knees. “We can decorate it as we wish, we can grow what we like best in the garden—I do so love roses but it would be lovely to have other flowers, as well—we could raise our children as we see fit without someone forever looking over our shoulders. Oh, Anthony, how could there possibly be anything amiss in that?”

  Laughing, he settled her back against the pillows, pulled up the blankets and took a seat on the bed beside her. “Well, it’s like this; the property marches along that of Lord Avery.”

  Ginny’s eyes grew wide. “No! Never say so!”

  “I’m afraid it’s true. I didn’t think to enquire as to whose estate was neighboring it. I knew the abbey was close by, of course, but the distance is great enough I thought surely there must have been an estate or two tucked safely in between. I’m so sorry to say it isn’t so and now the deed is done and the house is ours. We could stay on here and let the new house to tenants if you would prefer,” he offered, searching her face for clues to her feelings.

  “No, we shan’t stay,” she said with a smile, one that prompted a huge answering smile from her husband in return. Feeling her heart swell with joy, she said, “Lucinda is trying, to be sure, and her husband is not much easier to bear. However, after tonight, I feel we can endure most anything.” Taking her husband’s hand, she placed it to rest on the evidence of their growing child. “We are the mighty Crenshaws, the Anthony Crenshaws to be exact, and we are nothing if not brave!” she cried, whereupon her husband got up and locked the door.

  “What are you doing?” Ginny asked.

  “Making quite sure we are not disturbed.”

  “But, Anthony, what of the physician?” she asked even as he peeled off his coat and cravat and tossed them to the floor.

  “Oh, Gin
ny,” he breathed. Kicking off his shoes and moving to her side, he bent to kiss her softly on the mouth. “What need have we of him? Your love heals me. Might not my love heal you, as well?”

  Putting her arms around her husband’s neck, she pulled him close and kissing him, said, “Happy Christmas, my Lord Crenshaw.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Read more about Ginny and Anthony in the full length novels, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind and Miss Delacourt Has Her Day, both available as ebooks, paperbacks and hardcovers.

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four