The Christmas Card: The perfect heartwarming novel for Christmas from the Sunday Times bestseller. Dilly CourtЧитать онлайн книгу.
the soup, Snippet,’ Jane called from the dining room. ‘We’ll dine now.’
Alice nodded to Clara. ‘I’ll hang my things up. Better do as my aunt says.’
Clara skipped off, no doubt to relate the goings-on above stairs to an interested Mrs Jugg.
Having divested herself of her outdoor garments, Alice entered the dining room to find her mother already seated at table.
Beth looked up and smiled. ‘How was it today, dear? Was the child better behaved?’
‘Never mind that now.’ Jane glared at Alice from her place at the head of the table. ‘I think you owe me an explanation as to your behaviour, young lady. Why did you refuse Horace’s offer to walk you home? Are you going out of your way to be difficult?’ Alice took her seat at table. ‘No, Aunt, but I’ve considered the matter carefully and I want nothing to do with Horace. I cannot stand the man and I’d rather live under a railway arch than tie myself to a creature like him.’
Beth gasped, staring at her sister-in-law wide-eyed. ‘She doesn’t mean it, Jane. Alice must be tired after a long day at the Dearborns’ establishment.’
‘That is no excuse for out-and-out rudeness. You will apologise, Alice.’
Alice could see that her outburst had upset her mother and she regretted her hasty words. ‘I am sorry if I offended you, Aunt Jane. But I dislike Horace intensely and I cannot see myself married to him.’
‘Whether you like or dislike your future husband is immaterial. You know my terms. You either accept them or you leave my house. Do you understand?’
After dinner, which as usual was badly cooked and meagre, Alice and her mother huddled by the fire in the dining room. Jane had gone to her room, warning them not to waste expensive candles by staying up late.
‘I am sorry, Mama,’ Alice said softly. ‘I was angry but I shouldn’t have spoken out against Horace like that.’
‘He isn’t the ideal husband,’ Beth agreed, sighing. ‘I’m sure he has many excellent qualities, but for a start he is much too old for you. I wouldn’t want to see you married to someone like him, even if it meant that we were to live in luxury.’
‘I can’t do anything until after Christmas, but I’ll start looking for a better-paid position so that we can find a room to rent, although I’ll hate to leave Flora. She’s a lonely little girl who pines for the mother she’s never known.’
‘That is sad, but if her mother gave her up willingly perhaps she is better off where she is.’
‘It’s hard being a servant, Mama. I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be invisible and keep silent, especially when I see things going horribly wrong.’
‘I’d like to meet Flora, and I’d like to give Mrs Dearborn a piece of my mind.’
Alice chuckled at the thought of her meek and mild mother taking on a termagant like Lydia Dearborn. ‘I don’t know about that, Mama, but you’ll see Flora tomorrow. We’ll spend Christmas Day trying to make her happy, but I wish I had a present to give her.’
Beth frowned thoughtfully. ‘What would she like the most?’
‘That’s easy. She’d like to find her real mother.’
Next morning when Alice went to wake her mother she was alarmed to find her unwell and feverish.
‘I must have caught a chill,’ Beth said faintly. ‘It’s so cold in this house, and Jane insisted that I polish the brass door knocker yesterday, even though it was snowing.’
Alice laid her hand on her mother’s forehead. ‘You are rather hot. You ought to stay in bed, but I don’t want to leave you on your own.’
‘I’ll sleep most of the day, my darling. I would have loved to meet young Flora and see inside the Dearborns’ mansion, but I’m better off where I am.’
‘But it’s Christmas Day and I have nothing to give you, Mama. I am so sorry it’s come to this.’
Beth lifted a thin hand to touch her daughter’s cheek. ‘You are the greatest gift of all. What more could a mother want than a daughter who is kind as well as beautiful, and very talented?’
‘Mama, you’ll have me blushing if you say things like that.’ Alice leaned over to drop a kiss on her mother’s forehead. ‘I’ll ask Clara to keep an eye on you, and I’ll come home as soon as I’ve finished work.’ She was about to leave the room when her mother called her back.
‘I want to give you something.’ Beth’s voice was hoarse and little more than a whisper. ‘Look in my reticule. The only piece of jewellery that I have left is the silver butterfly brooch your father gave me when you were born. I want you to have it, my love.’
Alice hesitated; she knew how much her mother valued the delicate filigree brooch. ‘Are you sure, Mama? You don’t have to give me anything.’
‘I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you wear it, and it’s the only thing of value I managed to save from the bailiffs. Please take it, Alice.’
Not wanting to distress her mother, she reached for the reticule and took out the brooch, pinning it at the neck of her blouse. ‘Thank you, Mama. I’ll treasure it always.’
Beth’s eyelids drooped. ‘You mustn’t be late or Mrs Dearborn might dismiss you, and I’m sleepy.’
Alice tucked her in and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. Downstairs in the dining room she found a plate of cold porridge waiting for her but there was no sign of her aunt. Clara brought her a pot of tea, and as usual there was neither milk nor sugar to make it more palatable.
Alice stirred the thick glutinous oatmeal, wrinkling her nose. ‘I can’t eat this. Has my aunt left for church, Clara?’
‘Yes, miss. She went out early and won’t be back for hours. I’m sorry about the porridge, but she made me put it out even though you weren’t here. She said something about being punctual for meals.’ She eyed the plate, licking her lips. ‘Mrs Jugg will tell her if you don’t eat it, miss.’
‘You can have it, Clara. If you don’t mind eating a cold sticky mess—’ She broke off as Clara seized the plate and proceeded to spoon the unappetising food into her mouth. ‘Are you always this hungry?’
Clara swallowed a mouthful. ‘I get my porridge watered down, miss. Cook says it goes further that way.’
‘I suppose it does.’ Alice finished her tea, ignoring the pangs of hunger that cramped her stomach. ‘Will you look in on my mother later, Clara? She’s unwell and I’d be grateful if you would take care of her for me. I’ll get home as soon as I can.’
Clara gulped down the last morsel. ‘I dare say there won’t be much merriment below stairs today, miss. I don’t think we’ll be feasting on roast goose and plum pudding, but I’ll keep an eye on the missis. She’s been kind to me.’
‘My mother is kind to everyone,’ Alice said, smiling. ‘I know I can rely on you, Clara. Merry Christmas, such as it is in this house.’
Alice arrived at the house in Russell Square to find the servants bustling about making ready for the guests to arrive. The kitchen was steamy and fragrant with delicious smells that made her mouth water when she collected Alice’s breakfast tray. Nettie had been set to work churning ice cream for the elaborate bombe that Cook was endeavouring to recreate from one of Mrs Beeton’s recipes. Mrs Upton was overseeing arrangements, marching around the kitchen like a sergeant major, and Hoskins had retired to his pantry to put the finishing touches to polishing the silver and the best crystal glasses. The Dearborns’ Christmas feast was obviously going to be a very grand affair. Alice took the back stairs, carrying the heavy tray to the nursery with a growing feeling of admiration for Nettie, who in the normal course of things had to do this several times each day.
Flora