A Partridge in a Pear Tree Read online

  “All Sir Reginald has up his sleeve are his skinny arms. We are more clever than he is, and besides...” His voice faded, and he looked away from her.

  “Besides what?” Allison asked, longing to know his thoughts.

  He slid his fingers over the brocade of the armchair, looking at their merry company. “Besides, would it be the end of the world if we did not win this game?”

  She looked straight at him in surprise. “Do you not want to win?”

  “Of course I do. It would mean a great deal to have Lady Kirkwood like us, to have her help. Especially for my sister.”

  Allison thought of her own shabby cottage, of the dresses and shoes the twins seemed to outgrow within a week, and her mother's medicines. “And for Kitty and Jane, and for Mama,” she murmured.

  “But there are so many more important things, I am finding,” he said roughly. “Things such as...”

  “Such as what?” she asked, a strange, deep hope growing reluctantly in her heart. Could he possibly feel the same way she did? Feeling that, if one had love, it would never matter how small the cottage was.

  But then he laughed lightly, and sat back with the intense light in his beautiful eyes gone. Allison felt silly for even imagining such things. She reached for her embroidery, and began energetically plying the needle through the snowy cloth. She didn't even notice that she was sewing it to her own sleeve.

  “There are some things I must talk to you about, Allison,” William said. “But this hardly seems the right time or place.”

  A tiny hope rose up again, but it didn't have time to take root. Mr Johnstone came up to them, Mademoiselle Sophie on his arm and the other colly birds trailing behind them.

  “My dear new friends!” he cried. “We have all had such a grand time here, we wanted to find a way to repay you for your most kind hospitality.”

  “But you provided us with our four colly birds,” Allison protested. “We could have no hope of winning without you.”

  Mr. Johnstone shook his head. “No, it does not seem enough. So, my friends and my dear Mademoiselle Sophie and her sisters have all decided to help you find your next day of Christmas.”

  “Five golden rings?” said William.

  “Exactement!” Sophie said, laughing. “It is the wedding rings, no? So romantic.”

  “And Mr. Smith here is conducting a wedding tomorrow morning,” Mr. Johnstone said. “I am sure the wedding couple could represent your golden rings.”

  **

  “And I pronounce you husband and wife. Amen.”

  William watched as the happy couple bowed their heads for the blessing, the veil attached to the bride's bonnet fluttering. He was very aware of Allison , standing close to him in the shadows at the back of the church. Her black velvet hat brushed against his shoulder as she bowed her own head, and the scent of her rose soap seemed to reach out and caress him in the half gloom.

  Before he came to Kirkwood Manor and saw her again, he had thought of marriage as some kind of necessary evil, something one had to do to beget children and satisfy society. His own parents had a miserable marriage; the most he hoped for was friendship. Now he was beginning to see it all in a very different light indeed.

  He only wished he could be worthy of her. Could offer her a grand mansion, fine gowns, jewels, and carriages. She deserved all that, and much more.

  Instead, all he had was his unworthy self, a ramshackle house, and his father's debts. She would probably laugh him out of the room if he tried to propose.

  He felt a tugging at his sleeve, and looked down to see Allison frowning up at him in puzzlement.

  “The ceremony is over now,” she said. “Shall we go?”

  William looked to the altar in surprise. The church was quite deserted. The happy couple had processed past them in a shower of dried rose petals, and he hadn't even noticed. “I'm sorry. I was woolgathering.”

  “I could see that,” Allison said with a laugh. She took his offered arm, and they made their way out into the winter sunshine in the wake of the bridal party. The bride and groom stood in the churchyard, embracing their families. “What were you thinking about so deeply?”

  “Gold rings, of course,” he answered. He looked down at her gloved hand on his sleeve. It would take a very small gold ring indeed to fit on her slender finger.

  “I was thinking of that, as well. I only hope Lady Kirkwood will accept the couple, and their one gold ring.”

  “What about you, Allison? Would you accept one gold ring?” William blurted before he could stop himself. He needed her too much now.

  Allison went very still. She looked up at him, her gaze hidden by the brim of her hat. “Whatever do you mean?”

  He looked around to see they were alone in the churchyard, the bridal couple waiting for them beside their greenery-bedecked carriage. “I—well,” he said, not sure what to say now. He longed to pour out all his heart to her, to tell her everything he was feeling.

  But this hardly seemed the best time or place. And what if she didn't feel the same way? She was so hard to read, his sweet Allison.

  “What is it, William?” she said.

  “I don't mean anything at all,” he said with a laugh. “All the candle smoke in the church must have addled my senses. Shall we go?”

  “Yes, of course. We are supposed to take the others to Kirkwood Manor, so the bridal couple can meet Lady Kirkwood before their wedding breakfast. We can't keep them waiting.” She spoke easily enough, but the smile she gave him was most puzzled.

  **

  “Well, I certainly enjoyed that,” Lady Kirkwood said, sitting back with a happy sigh to survey the remains of tea and cake on the table before her. The bridal couple had departed, full of the delicate refreshments and flushed with pleasure at their cordial reception by Lady Kirkwood.

  Not even Sir Reginald's sour glances and muttered comments had spoiled the lovely morning.

  “I'm very glad you approve of our offering, Lady Kirkwood,” Allison said, keeping a close eye on the twins and Gertrude, who were plonking away on the pianoforte. Only Gertrude knew how to actually play the instrument.

  “We could try to find four other couples to provide the other rings,” William added. “We feared we would be disqualified.” Especially after Sir Reginald once again took the challenge most literally and gave a box with five false gold rings.

  “Not at all,” Lady Kirkwood said. “It has been a long time since this house saw a happy young couple, just starting a life together. It was most delightful. And four couples would have made the drawing room much too crowded for me to enjoy it properly. As for Reggie—that poor boy has no imagination, I fear. None at all.”

  **

  “A wedding couple they brought here!” Sir Reginald fumed, pacing the length of his chamber and back again. “How could anyone do better than that? The old lady was delighted, even though it was a cheat there was only one ring. She even invited the happy newlyweds to tea, though they were not of her station.”

  Letitia slowly lowered the hand mirror she was peering into. “It is not your fault, Reggie,” she said, in a rare show of marital support. “Those rings you had the goldsmith make are lovely.” She admired the one now residing on her finger. Lovely—even though they were secretly false.

  “They also set me back a pretty tuppence. And she barely even looked at them.”

  Letitia smoothed her hair back into its elaborately curled upsweep. “Don't worry, my dear. You are the heir to this house, no matter what those silly upstarts do. And Edward after you.”

  “But what good is this house with no money to maintain it? And she holds all the purse strings to that, thanks to my foolish old uncle.”

  “Exactly so.” Letitia laid down the mirror. “So kindly do not make more of a mess of things than you already have!”

  Chapter Seven

  Six Geese A-Laying

  Allison held the music box in her hands, watching the tiny, perfect geese swim around and the emerald egg come d
own. “Who left it, though?” she asked the twins, puzzled by the offering.

  It was so exactly right for the sixth day of Christmas. But where had it come from? Jane had said she found the package outside the door, Allison's name on a label on the box.

  “Maybe it's a love token from Mr. Bradford,” Jane said, and the twins dissolved into giggles.

  “Don't be silly,” Allison, mock-stern even though she wanted to giggle herself. “Mr. Bradford would not be sending me tokens of any sort.” Would he? Could he?

  The only logical choice was Lady Kirkwood herself, but why would she be sending Allison a music box? It was all most odd.

  She carefully wrapped up the delicate contraption, intending to show it to William before supper , see what he might make of it. “Go and change your frocks, girls. We haven't much time before supper.”

  The twins tripped off to their own room, still giggling, and Allison turned to her mirror to make sure her own attire was in order.

  Her red hair was unruly, as usual, curls escaping every which way from her coronet of braids. There was little she could do about that, aside from cutting the whole mass off, but she did wish she had a new gown. She's already worn her pale green muslin once, for their first supper at Kirkwood Manor, and even though her mother had added some white bows and ribbons to it, it was obviously years out of fashion. And her other best dress, a cherry-pink and white stripe, was even worse.

  If only she had a proper gown, maybe one of deep blue silk or dark green velvet. One that swirled and shimmered. How would William look at her then? With admiration? With....

  With love?

  Allison laughed at her own folly. Even if she had a hundred such gowns, William probably wouldn't look at her any differently than he already did. As a friend. She would still have wild red hair and freckles, and he would still be a golden Apollo. He seemed to enjoy flirting with a bit, but she was the only young lady nearby. Surely that was all there was to it.

  If only she could feel the same frivolous way about him. But she feared her feelings were becoming far too serious.

  **

  “You are looking very pretty tonight, sparrow,” William said, watching his sister as she practically skipped ahead of him down the corridor. In only a few days at Kirkwood Manor, Gertrude had gone from a pale little ghost who hid in the shadows to an almost-normal young girl. Her blond curls bounced and shimmered, her cheeks were pink with excitement.

  She even seemed to have gained a little weight, and she smiled and laughed often. She still didn't talk much, and she liked to stay close to his side, but she was more like the old sister he remembered. A girl who would bravely speak French to strangers in a tea shop.

  He suspected the change was due to the company of the Gordon twins. They were a magical family, one that had changed his life and Gertrude's.

  “I like it here,” she said, twirling to a stop. “It's much more jolly than at home. I wish we never had to go back.”

  He nodded sympathetically, thinking of the empty, haunted halls of their home. She came back to his side, and stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “This is the best Christmas ever,” she whispered.

  “It definitely is,” he whispered back, smiling at her.

  A door opened, and Allison and her sisters appeared in the corridor. Gertrude ran over to greet the twins, and Allison gave William a shy smile. He offered his arm to escort her down the stairs, happy to have her near even for those few minutes.

  “I received the most extraordinary gift today,” she said.

  “Really? What was it? A box of candy from dear Sir Reggie, perhaps? A turban from his wife?” William teased.

  Allison laughed. “Of course not. It's this.” She unloosed the strings of her overstuffed reticule and drew out a small, elaborately wrought music box.

  “Six geese a-laying,” William said, watching as the geese twirled around.

  “Exactly. The next step in our game, the one we were having such trouble with.”

  “But where did you get it?”

  Allison shrugged. “Jane found it outside our door. The note says it's a gift from—Nobody.”

  “Nobody, eh?” William mused. “Could nobody be our hostess herself?”

  “That's what I thought, but why would she give me such valuable gifts?”

  William leaned closer and whispered in her ear. She smelled sweetly of roses and pine boughs. “Perhaps she favors you to win her game. And wouldn't you favor us, too, if your alternative was Reggie and his family?”

  Allison giggled, and just started to reply when the drawing room doors opened and a great rush of noise flowed out. There was chorus of shrieks, squeals, and screams, much reminiscent of the nights of the parakeet.

  Kitty, Jane, and Gertrude, who had slipped into the drawing room ahead of them, came running back out holding their noses.

  “Oh, Allie!” Kitty cried. “You must come at once and see this. It's worse than the chickens. Sir Reginald has brought six geese into the house—and the geese are not happy.”

  Allison shook her head. “Six real geese?”

  “Very real,” Jane said. “One is eating Letitia's headdress, and the other is chewing on Lady Kirkwood's carpet. I think it will make the poor thing sick.”

  Gertrude peeked back through the door. “Indeed, it has just been ill all over Miss Bates.”

  “I must see this,” Allison said, drawing William with her as they hurried into the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Seven Swans A-Swimming

  “Well, our gift of the music box was a great success,” Allison said. “Especially Sir Reginald's geese destroyed the drawing room so utterly. You would think he would have learned with the chickens. But wherever will we find seven swans?”

  They were once again walking the familiar lane into the village. Gertrude and the twins gathered fresh greenery to add to the decorations at the house, and William offered his hand to help Allison over a puddle. He kept holding it as they continued on their path.

  Allison found she did not mind one bit having his strong fingers curled around hers.

  “Maybe we could find some on that pond where we saw the skaters?” Kitty suggested.

  “Swans wouldn't swim on a frozen pond, silly,” Jane scoffed.

  “You are the silly one!” Kitty cried, giving her sister a light shove.

  “Girls, do not quarrel,” Allison admonished, distracted by her own thoughts and William's hand on hers. “We haven't time for that.”

  “Perhaps there are no swans there now,” said William, “but maybe we could go skating this afternoon. I think we need a little distraction from Lady Kirkwood's game.”

  “Oh, yes!” Jane and Kitty chorused, their argument quite forgotten. “Can we, please, Allie? We haven't skated in ever so long.”

  Allison longed to go skating as much as they did, but, as usual, she had to be the sensible one. Drat it all. “We don't even know whose pond it is. They might not want us there.”

  “It's a simple thing to find out. We can ask permission.” William smiled broadly, boyishly excited. “Surely, in the holiday spirit, they wouldn't refuse us.”

  “We saw a gate the other day,” said Kitty eagerly. “I'm sure it must lead to the owner's house.”

  “Very well,” Allison answered. “If the owner says we may, and if we can find some skates to borrow, we will go skating.”

  **

  It was quite obvious that no one had lived in the house next to the pond for some time. It was a very pretty place, of old red brick with rounded corner towers in gray stone, but many of the windows were shuttered, and ivy crawled along the walls.

  “It looks like the Sleeping Beauty's castle,” Jane said quietly. “Like in that story Mama read us when we were little.”

  “Maybe we'll find a whole family asleep in there,” said Kitty.

  “Don't be silly, girls,” Allison murmured, nudging a chunk of fallen brick with the toe of her half boot. “It's just a house.”


  But it was rather nice, quiet and echoing and sweet in the cold morning light. Almost like it really was out of a fairy story, she thought as she looked up at the gray stone portico.

  Then she saw it. Above the double front doors was a stone frieze, depicting six beautifully carved swans and one tiny cygnet, trailing after them. All shining white marble.

  “Oh!” she breathed, in awe at the lifelike beauty of them. “Oh,” she said louder, recognizing the perfect significance of them. Right when they most needed it.

  She tugged at William's sleeve. “Look,” she said, pointing her gloved finger at the frieze. “Swans a-swimming.”

  The twins and Gertrude, who had wandered off to peek in some of the windows, came running back to join them in staring up at the swans.

  “Perfect,” William said with a smile.

  “They are beautiful,” said Jane.

  “Our seven swans!” Kitty cried happily. “They are just right.”

  “Unless you think we should find some real birds, like Sir Reginald seems to have a penchant for doing,” William teased.

  “Ugh!” Gertrude wrinkled her pretty nose.

  Allison climbed the front steps to get a closer look at the carving. “I think it's just what we need. The only problem will be getting it down from there. It seems quite solidly attached to the wall. Perhaps we could do a rubbing of some sort, like people do on medieval monuments...”

  The rest of her words were drowned out by the explosion of a shotgun blast echoing across the overgrown courtyard.

  The twins and Gertrude shrieked, and ducked behind a tangled hedge. William dove across the front steps and caught Allison around the waist, pulling her down onto the cold marble and throwing himself over her.

  Ordinarily, Allison would scarcely have complained. His hands were warm through the layers of his gloves and her pelisse, and he smelled utterly delicious. But the steps were quite cold indeed, and some sharp edge was jabbing her in the back.

  It also somewhat lessened the romance of the moment that they had just been shot at.