Page 14 of The Recluse and the Runaway

Had Sir Rupert told Mrs. Overton of his plan to marry Nell? She felt an overpowering urge to run, to flee before she disappointed them all. Her greatest longing was to please others—Sir Rupert, Mrs. O, the maids and menservants, Mr. Hicks, the villagers…

And Stepmother, which was impossible and always would be.

“As for the kitchen,” Mrs. O went on, “you may wear an apron until the guests arrive, and later only when necessary. The maids will dress in their best, too, for everyone in the household and in the village is invited to partake of the feast—great and small alike.”

“How lovely,” Nell said. “How perfectly lovely.”

“And here are some evening slippers,” Mrs. O said. “I believe they will fit you well enough.”

“They’re embroidered with gold thread!” Nell protested. “And sparkling glass beads!”

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Mrs. O said with an amused smile. “More of Lady Wonderly’s. Once Christmas is over, you may go through her trunks and take whatever you like.”

If only, Nell thought. Perhaps all would be well…

What nonsense. If she married Sir Rupert, word would get out, and Stepmother would accuse her, and he would be mortified—not to mention the fact that Nell would be imprisoned, or worse.

Perhaps…perhaps she should tell him the truth. Tell him what she feared. Tell him why she couldn’t marry him.

Very well, she would do so—but not yet. She refused to spoil the Christmas festivities. First thing tomorrow, she would tell him—and if he turned from her in revulsion, she would leave.

That wouldn’t be worse than last time she’d left home…would it?

~ ~ ~

The celebration couldn’t have been more perfect. The guests really did represent high and low—everyone from the Squire, the vicar and his wife, to shopkeepers, the blacksmith, laborers, and the ancient inhabitants of an almshouse.

The Christmas pies were utterly delicious, if Nell said so herself (which she didn’t, or only very softly, somehow managing not to extol her skill aloud). The roast goose was sublime. Cook’s Christmas puddings were fabulously, mouthwateringly full of fruit—Nell had never tasted better—and fortunately, her hard sauce complemented the puddings well.

As for the lamb’s wool…well! Everyone loved it. Nell only took half a glassful, as she couldn’t risk losing control of her unruly tongue, even slightly. But it was a wonderful half glassful; no better Christmas libation existed than lamb’s wool.

The Yule log burned with such heat that the heavy wooden doors were propped open to let in the cold night air.

“Sing for us, girls,” Sir Rupert said. “The same lovely carol you treated us to in the kitchen yesterday.”

Millie and Peg went into fits of giggles—they’d had a little too much lamb’s wool—but Nell managed to sort them out and start the song, and the whole village joined in the chorus, verse after verse.

A carriage pulled up before the open front doors. “Latecomers!” Sir Rupert cried. “I hope we haven’t eaten quite all the food, and perhaps there’s a drop or two of lamb’s wool left. Carry on, everyone—welcome them with one last chorus.”

“O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer!”

He started out the door to welcome the guests, and greeted the man who stepped down from the coach. “Nate Smith, here at last!”

Sir Nathaniel Smith, the Justice of the Peace! Nell froze, but the villagers sang on.

“The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing of the choir!”

Everyone clapped and cheered. Sir Rupert shook Sir Nathaniel’s hand. “Come in, come in. I have something of importance to tell you.”

He’d been expecting Sir Nathaniel. To tell him…what? Who was that lady getting out of his coach?

“Sorry we’re so late,” Sir Nathaniel was saying. “One of the horses went lame, and—”

Nell had to leave, she had to go quickly, before they saw—

Her stepsister Pauletta got down from the coach, looked straight at Nell, and yelped. “There she is! The thief!”

Nell ran.