Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Louisa knew perfectly well it was inappropriate for her to shout at her mother. It did not prevent her from doing so.
“You are impossible!”
Lady Jarrold glared at her daughter. “I – I am the impossible one?”
Louisa sighed and closed her eyes. It was the same argument they had been having all autumn, and now they had reached the first of December, it would only increase.
The heat from the fire was overwhelming her. Their London townhouse had far larger fireplaces, and Louisa opened her eyes to reach for her fan. Her corset was too tight. It seemed to increase in tightness with the heat, and with her irritation with her ridiculous mother.
She had to stay calm. All she had to do was not lose her temper, not permit herself to –
“I just cannot believe you did not think to ask for my opinion before you made such an arrangement as this!” The words had spilled from Louisa’s mouth before she could stop them.
Blast. There went all of her finer attempts not to descend into frustration.
Her mother, attired in the most ridiculously high fashioned gown, seemed a little discomforted by the way it tucked in at her waist and then flared out. She was seated in the armchair nearest the fire, which Louisa assumed accounted for her mother’s high colour.
“This is my house, Louisa,” her mother said in a haughty voice. “Who I decide to invite to spend Christmas with us is none of your concern.”
Louisa swallowed down the retort that she was one of the two inhabitants of Jarrold House, and that she should be consulted. She was two and twenty years old! She was no longer a child anymore, and the idea of a stranger spending Christmas with them…
“Besides, it is Advent,” her mother sniffed. “A time of celebration. Of gift giving. You should be grateful that we may actually be able to afford gifts this year.”
Louisa bit her lip and continued to fan herself, rather than reply. It was safer that way.
There was not much to be said. She could not fault her mother’s logic there.
The loss of her father had meant the title descended to a cousin, whatever his name was – Northmere, wasn’t it?
– and that meant she and her mother had been forced to leave the house in the country and make their own way here.
The last remaining property to them, and only because it had been her grandmother’s, her mother’s mother. One day, Louisa knew, she would inherit it – but in the meantime, her mother was right.
It was Lady Jarrold’s right to do what she wished in her own home, even if her daughter did not appreciate the decisions she made.
They were here because they had nowhere else to be, and little to live on.
And London was expensive.
“The Archduke will be here any minute, and – ”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “An Archduke! You really think some fool with a title from the Continent will be impressed, mother? You think parading him up and down London’s parks will entice him to part with more coin?”
She should not be so forward, she knew that – yet it was so distressing. The first Christmas without Father!
She had dreaded this time of year enough as it was, and now she would not be able to remember her old life in the way she had wished.
The little games they would play, the three of them.
The way her father would roast chestnuts over the fire, always burning his fingers slightly, but never permitting a servant to take over from him.
The way her mother would play the pianoforte, the three of them singing together.
There was no pianoforte at Jarrold House.
Louisa had, in truth, been looking forward to a quieter time with her one remaining parent. Perhaps the two of them could find a way to remember the old days and make new traditions.
Besides, Christmas in the country had always been such a palaver. So many servants to wrap presents for, so many guests to welcome, no time to oneself.
She had supposed, like a fool, that she and her mother could have a quiet London Christmas, just the two of them.
And yet…
Lady Jarrold’s cheeks had heightened in colour. “You know very well I had little choice, Louisa! If we are remain in society, we must remain solvent! And besides, the Archduke was willing to pay his bed and board. It will see us through.”
And without him, we would not.
The unspoken words echoed around the room. Louisa’s stomach lurched, but she pretended she was unaffected by her mother’s words, working hard to keep her face serene. It was rather unpleasant, when the daughter of a marquis, to find he had made little provision for his widow and only child.
“You could have invited anyone,” she said bitterly. “Anyone!”
“Not anyone,” her mother snapped. “You think our friends – those who still own us, that is – would be willing to pay their way? No, they would have turned up with servants to feed and laundry needing doing…they would have cost us, rather than enrich us!”
Louisa blanched. It was so sordid, to speak of money this way. When she had been the darling daughter of the manor, money was something that happened to other people. Why, she could not recall handling money in her life. She had no need to.
If she had gone into the village and wished for a ribbon from the haberdashers, or a sweetmeats pie from the bakers, the proprietors had only to look at her to know that their bills, sent to the steward, would be paid.
But it was different now. Louisa had come to understand the value of a shilling, and more importantly, how far it would go.
She had been forced to learn how. Forced by their poverty, her dowry set aside, protected, but it would not be long before they would have to use it to survive.
If only…
Louisa swallowed. She had promised herself she would not think of him. No good would come of it. Her heart was already weary with him, her eyes had done their crying. She would not waste a tear on him again.
She had promised herself, when he had been torn from her arms, that she would not think of David Nelson.
It was not fair. If he’d had a title, her parents would surely have considered the match. Louisa smiled, her mind drifting away from the tense conversation in the drawing room to happier days. Sunnier days. Days spent in the gardens, where her neighbour’s son was often found.
David. Though she had not seen him for months, she could still see every freckle, every wrinkle around his eyes when he smiled.
And he did smile, often when he looked at her.
It had taken Louisa a little time to realise that his happiest smiles were when they were together, just the two of them.
Riding across the Jarrold estates, or reading together in the library, or lying on blankets on the lawn as the sun went down and the stars came out…
Louisa swallowed. Happy memories that had been tinged with sadness when David had asked her…asked her the most important question a man could ask…
If only she had not waited. If only she had said yes immediately, and not waited for her parents’ permission.
But as it was…
David’s proposal had gone unheeded, and he had been sent away. Now she would endure not only a Christmas with her petulant mother and a foolish Archduke, but without the only man left in the world she loved.
“It will not always be like this,” her mother’s words broke through Louisa’s thoughts. “One day you will marry.”
Louisa sat up, her fan slipping to the carpet. Her heart beat painfully, hoping her mother had not been able to discern her thoughts by the pain on her face. “If you think I will wed merely to secure your comfort, you – ”
“And your own comfort, did you think about that?” snapped back Lady Jarrold. “If you do not wish to spend the twilight years of your life like I am, accepting invitations from meandering nobility merely to pay your Cook, then I suggest you consider it!”
Louisa opened her mouth to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, closed it again.
Blast. There was little she could say to refute that. Her mother was right, though she would not admit it aloud.
Being penniless was not very fashionable. It had never been something she had considered, growing up a marquis’ daughter. Money was not something one thought about. She never saw it – never needed to. She wanted things. Bills were paid by others.
But those days were now over. Money was a scarce resource when a woman, Louisa had come to discover, and it was nigh on impossible to earn it honestly when one had a title.
Though she was loathe to admit it, her mother was right – on both counts. They could take in respectable lodgers, or she could marry. Those were the choices ahead of them, and they would need to decide soon.
“Still, it is most infuriating,” Louisa said instead, sighing heavily. “I…well. I thought we would be alone, you and I this Advent. Some time together.”
Louisa caught her mother’s gaze. She had never forgiven her parents for sending David away. It was a regret she would live with for the rest of her life, knowing her father had died with the knowledge of his daughter’s disappointment.
But this Christmas…
This Christmas, Louisa had hoped to reconcile, truly, with the one parent she had remaining to her. It would not be easy. There may be difficult conversations to have, conversations they should have had long ago.
But it was necessary. They needed to find each other again, find something in the spirit of Christmas.
Now they would be lumbered by the polite inane chatter of an Archduke.
Louisa sighed. “I just do not understand why it had to be Advent. Advent is special.”
It always had been, ever since she had been a child. Gifts every morning, toast and apples to roast over the fire, carols sung in three part harmony around the pianoforte…
She blinked back tears. She was not going to cry. Christmas as a three was perfect. Had been perfect. Now they were a two, and she had just reconciled herself to that.
Now a third, an interloper, would be in their midst.
“I do not know why you are so upset, really, Louisa.”
Her mother’s words cut through her thoughts. Louisa reached down to retrieve her fan rather than look at her mother. She had no wish to say something she would immediately regret. She had already been far too outspoken as it was.
“After all,” said Lady Jarrold with what she clearly thought was a wink, “an Archduke! You never know, my child. He may be in the market for a match.”
“Let us pray not,” muttered Louisa.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Mother.”
Louisa looked at the window. Grey skies had made way to dark skies but an hour ago, a storm brewing on the horizon. Night came early at the beginning of December. Now she could see her own reflection rather the street outside.
It showed a rather plain woman. She knew that.
She had no illusions about her beauty. It was her character which would make her a marriage, she had known that for years.
David had not minded. He had liked her mouse brown hair, had not minded that its curls fell out after a few hours. He had liked her nose. Her lips.
But he was gone. Instead, she would be suffering the presence of an Archduke this Advent.
In the market for a match. That was the last thing she needed! An elderly, gruff Archduke with more money than sense, fawning over her and trying to flirt with her – her! She was probably young enough to be his granddaughter!
It was disgusting. She would have to do all she could, while the old man was here, to avoid him at all costs. Not an easy feat in a house this small.
Her old home had been acres larger, with enough rooms in it to hide from an Archduke for days at a time. Why, when Louisa had been a child and not wished to practice her pianoforte, or taking lessons, it had been easy to disappear into the depths of the old house, not to be found for hours.
Not so here. The London townhouse was a modest one, still elegant, but small. Louisa would have no chance of avoiding either her mother or this Archduke, whoever he was.
Now she knew her mother was attempting a match, she would have to be careful. No romantic toasting around the fire. No carols. Mistletoe would need to be banned. Burned.
Louisa sighed heavily and leaned back into the welcoming softness of the sofa. No Advent at all, really.
“I do not know why you are so disappointed, dear.”
Louisa plastered a smile on her face. “Because, Mother, Christmas is a time for family. Advent used to be about you, and me, and Father. Now we will have an interloper.”
Her mother waved away her concerns. “No interloper, dear. An Archduke. That is almost royalty!”
“Except it is not,” Louisa said with a sigh. “Even you cannot pretend he is, Mother, and I hope to goodness he does not arrive her throwing about airs. If he were royalty, he would be a prince, or a king.”
David wasn’t anything. He had just been Mr. Nelson. Not suitable for Lady Louisa Jarrold, so had said her father.
But he had been perfect. All that she had wanted. Everything she had wanted.
“He wished to spend Christmas with an English family,” her mother continued doggedly. “An English family, an English Advent. He was quite particular about it. And the money he was prepared to pay!”
Louisa sighed. That was what it came down to, of course. The money. How much easier their lives would be if they just had a regular income. If only ladies could earn an honest living. What would the world be like if such a thing was true?
“Darling, I could not say no!”
“I know,” said Louisa, though there was softness in her tone. She had heard the panic in her mother’s voice.
They were alone in the world, true, but they had each other. The difficulties of one belonged to the other. They would have to stay loyal to each other if they were going to maintain their place in society.
“I am trying to understand, Mother,” she said quietly. “I just…of all people to spend Christmas with – ”
The front doorbell jangled. Louisa swallowed.
“That will be the Archduke,” said her mother, rather unnecessarily.
Louisa nodded. She smoothed down her gown and rose as the clatter of the front door sounded. She knew what was expected of her – both as a Lady, and as the daughter of the host.
It would be best foot forward and only the very best manners from hereon in. How incredibly tiresome.
“Now remember,” hissed Lady Jarrold, as though Louisa was entering into society for the first time, “none of your nonsense. Just smile, and be pleasant to the Archduke.”
Louisa nodded wordlessly. If the beginning of this year had gone how she had wished, she would not be here. At least, not with her mother alone. David would be here, beside her. Her husband.
But that was not to be. Instead, it would be Advent with an Archduke. Dull boredom until Twelfth Night.
The door to the hallway opened and Mrs. Lane the housekeeper stepped in. “The Archduke Nelson, my lady.”
And David stepped into the room.