A Timeless Romance Anthology: Winter Collection Page 4

  How, then, could she help him see what a mistake he was making?

  ~*~

  Isaac slipped a finger under his collar, stretching his neck to fit better in his very best shirt. Perhaps it wasn’t the sermons that made sitting in church so deucedly uncomfortable. The staid and formal party he stepped into at the Kilchrests’ was worlds different from the cheerful, laughing gathering he’d spied on the weekend before.

  Of course, at this gathering he’d not have to watch Alice smiling at another man. That sight had haunted him all week. Enough, in fact, that he’d gone by her grandparents’ house that afternoon, fully intending to ask her... something. He didn’t even fully know what he would have said to her. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Alice wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be back all day.

  If he hadn’t been expected at the Kilchrests’ Christmas celebration, he’d have simply sat himself down at the gate of Alice’s family’s home and waited. Questions about her and Billy had plagued him all week. He’d struggled to concentrate on his chores. He’d nearly forgotten to put his finest suit and shirt in his bundle, despite bringing it along every weekend for church. He’d walked the entire road from Killeshandra without noticing whether winter had stripped the trees bare, nor the color of the water. He’d thought only of Alice.

  “Isaac.” Miss Kilchrest greeted him when he reached her side. In that moment, the smile she always wore rubbed him wrong. ’Twas nothing like the brilliant smile Alice had given her dear friend. Miss Kilchrest’s smiles had never been like Alice’s.

  “Good evening.” His eagerness to be going rushed the words from him. “Thank ya for the invitation.” Now let me slip out.

  “Of course.”

  Her tone never changed, now that he thought on it. She always sounded as if she only half-listened to what he said, and as if his compliments were her due. Either he’d never noticed that about her before, or he was simply in a sour mood and attributing motives to her that she didn’t deserve. Either way, ’Twould be best for everyone if he simply went about his business for the night.

  “Isaac, have you met Mr. Byrne?” Miss Kilchrest indicated a man obviously very near Isaac’s age. The similarities ended there, though. Mr. Byrne’s clothes were not made of homespun, nor did his shoes show signs of heavy use.

  There were not many, in fact, in attendance who looked quite as humble as Isaac did. And not one of those from his walk of life, he further noted, was introduced as Mister Anything. ’Twas first names for the farmers and the tradesmen and the less affluent. Did they feel as out of place as he did?

  He searched his mind for a quick and tidy means of excusing himself for the evening. As he’d been particularly invited, he wasn’t certain such a thing could be accomplished without giving offense.

  “What business are you in, Isaac?” Mr. Byrne asked, sounding at least a little genuine in his curiosity.

  “I’ve a farm up near Killeshandra.” Isaac pulled himself up. He was proud of all he’d accomplished. “I’ve two-hundred acres of decent soil, good crops, a few animals to my name.”

  Mr. Byrne nodded, seemingly impressed. Isaac would not have guessed that. “And how many tenants do you have on that two-hundred acres?” He looked over at Miss Kilchrest. “A man can make a very good living if he divides his land up amongst enough families.” He held his lapels, chest thrust out. “Rents can make a man wealthy.”

  “I’ve no tenants,” Isaac said firmly, eying the man’s signs of wealth with growing dislike. “I’ll not be the reason dozens of poor souls are forced onto plots of land too small to support them. I’ll be responsible for their deaths if we’ve another potato blight.”

  Mr. Byrne looked him up and down dismissively. “Is that old tired tune still being played?”

  Isaac set his shoulders. “Not by the dead, it’s not. But those of us lucky enough to have lived don’t intend to forget it soon. Nor will we forget those who grew wealthy on the backs of the dying.”

  To her credit, Miss Kilchrest looked a little uncomfortable, though whether she found Mr. Byrne’s insensitivity or Isaac’s proud determination more upsetting, he didn’t know.

  “Now, if ye’ll—”

  His words stopped on the instant. Across the room, Alice stood at the sideboard, setting out plates of teacakes, wearing the frill-edged aprons all the other maids wore.

  She doesn’t work here.

  Then again, he felt certain there were a great many more servants there that night than on his previous visit. The Kilchrests had taken on temporary help.

  Had Alice taken the position out of necessity? What could have happened to put her in such financial hardship?

  Without a parting word to his hostess or her infuriating friend, Isaac took a step in Alice’s direction. He got no further than that. A footman, tall and broad, stepped directly in front of him, holding a salver of champagne glasses. Isaac had never been one for anything but a strong mug of ale from the local pub, or perhaps a pint of home brew. Yet he found his eyes drifting back to the bubbling drink. The glasses were shaking enough to be worrisome.

  He looked up at the footman and recognized him right off. ’Twas Alice’s Billy. Was he trying to keep Isaac away from her? He’d have a fight on his hands if that was the case.

  Isaac stood as tall as he could stretch, still not coming close to the man’s height, and set his shoulders. But a closer look stopped any challenging words he might have tossed at Billy.

  The man stood, watching his tray of glasses, biting at his lip, brow deeply creased. His gaze flicked briefly at Isaac. “I can’t make ’em stop shaking ’round,” he whispered.

  Something was odd in the way he spoke, even the way he stood and held himself. Isaac couldn’t put his finger on just what was unusual, but the combination deflated his temper on the instant.

  The glasses trembled all the more. Billy looked more than nervous as he eyed his tray of drinks; he seemed actually fearful.

  “Do ya need to set those down?” Isaac asked quietly but urgently.

  Even Billy’s head shake was a touch clumsy, almost like a child who still hadn’t mastered the moving of his own body. “The housekeeper said I was to carry it ’til all the drinks was gone. They’re not gone.”

  They’ll be gone quick enough if ya drop them. Isaac looked to Miss Kilchrest. Surely she’d see the difficulty and give Billy permission to set down his load. She watched Billy and his tray with misgivings but made no move to intervene.

  Alice seemed to have noticed the difficulty. She abandoned her teacakes and crossed toward them.

  Isaac whispered quickly to Billy. “Set the glasses down. Better that then letting them slip.”

  Billy’s hands only grew shakier. His face turned equal parts pale and red. “She’s wearing her mean eyes.”

  Isaac, himself, took a step back at the hardness in Miss Kilchrest’s expression.

  “You bumbling fool,” she hissed at Billy. “Anything you break will come out of your wages.”

  ’Twas the first time Isaac had ever heard Miss Kilchrest speak sharply to anyone. Though he’d had more than a few uncharitable thoughts where Billy Kettle was concerned, he found he didn’t at all like Miss Kilchrest’s reprimand.

  Billy’s face crumbled. “I don’t have money. I can’t pay for it.”

  “Ya won’t have to.” Alice had arrived in time to carefully take the tray from Billy’s hands. She set it on an obliging table without the tray shaking in the slightest.

  Miss Kilchrest set her hands on her hips and waited not a single moment after Alice turned back before correcting her. “He’ll not be paid for work someone else is doing for him.”

  Alice didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “He was not hired to serve yer guests drinks. Yer housekeeper was told in detail of his limitations. If ya have objections to how he performed this duty that was not his own, ye’d best take it up with that bothersome woman.”

  Miss Kilchrest’s face pulled tight.

  “How dare you speak to me th
at way?” She spoke through clenched jaw. “I do not pay servants to be insolent.”

  Alice managed to look down her nose at Miss Kilchrest, despite being shorter. “And the pitiful sum I’m being paid to be here tonight is not worth yer shrew’s tongue. Good night to ya, Miss Kilchrest. Happy Christmas and all that.”

  Isaac knew a moment of pride hearing her speak with such strength of purpose. Alice was no wilting flower to shrivel at the slightest difficulty. A country lass, she was.

  “Come, then, Billy. We’ll take up the matter of yer wages with the magistrate if we must.”

  Billy’s tall frame bent under what looked like embarrassment and disappointment. Alice took off her frilly apron and pressed it into Miss Kilchrest’s hands before walking away with Billy, her hand resting on his back.

  Isaac glanced back at Miss Kilchrest. Her gaze settled uncomfortably on Mr. Byrne. “I told mother not to hire that man. He’s simple, you know. That kind always bumbles everything.”

  Isaac made a quick bow, excusing himself without a great deal of grace. He couldn’t abide Miss Kilchrest’s company a moment longer.

  He’s simple. That kind always bumbles everything. That kind. The words repeated in his thoughts as he walked away from the Kilchrests’ party. Many of his neighbors were simple people, though not in the same way. They were the very best Ireland had to offer, the salt of the earth. Would Miss Kilchrest hiss at and insult them for their simplicity? Would she turn his home into a place where none of his neighbors or family would feel welcome?

  Miss Kilchrest had added to Billy’s pain. Alice had come immediately to his rescue.

  Miss Kilchrest hadn’t cared in the least about the flowers he’d given her a few weeks back. Alice had smiled sweetly at the simple wild bloom he’d picked for her at the lake.

  He’d spent four months trying to be the person Miss Kilchrest would notice and care for. In those same four months, he’d never needed to be anything but himself with Alice.

  His walk through Cavan Town drove home two indisputable truths.

  Pursuing Miss Kilchrest had been a mistake from the beginning.

  And he’d been in love with Alice Wheatley for months, but had been too much of a fool to realize it.

  Chapter Six

  Alice hoped Miss Kilchrest’s behavior had been enough to warn off Isaac. She’d been too upset, herself, to stay and talk sense into the man. That he’d come immediately to Billy’s defense despite not understanding his circumstances only further endeared Isaac to her. He was a good man, no matter how misguided his matrimonial ambitions.

  She packed her small satchel and pulled on her heavy woolen coat. ’Twas a cold Christmas morning, perfect for staying tucked in bed, curled up under the blankets. But ’Twas also a Sunday, and Alice had no choice but to step out into the weather and make her trek back to the farm where she worked.

  The hour was early, an approach she’d adopted weeks earlier after her falling-out with Isaac. Avoiding him was easier, kinder, on her too-tender heart. That morning there’d be no Billy to see her off. He’d been nearly in tears by the time she’d delivered him home. His da had thought it best to not wake him that morning, and not to find him work at the Kilchrests’ again.

  Alice slipped her satchel over her shoulder. She wound a thick scarf about her neck and tied her battered bonnet tight on her head. She couldn’t hide in the warmth of her grandparents’ house forever.

  The air hung heavy and cold as she stepped out on to the streets of Cavan. A cold and lonely Christmas Day, indeed. If only men weren’t so infernally blind and stubborn, she might have been spending her Christmas morning with Isaac at her side rather than missing him as she was.

  Perhaps men weren’t the only ones who clung to foolish notions.

  ’Twas something of a shame to mar the fresh, untouched layer of snow with her trudging footsteps. So few things in life worked out neat and tidy.

  She passed the church where Isaac would be attending services.

  And if I must be passed over for something, I suppose church on a Christmas morning isn’t so bad a thing.

  Alice turned her face into the light wind and continued on her way. The miles back toward Killeshandra would not be pleasant; that was quite sure and certain. Some other poor traveler was but a few streets ahead of her, braving the same elements.

  She held her coat closer to her with her gloved hands. Perhaps if she thought hard on the blankets and the warm fire in the kitchen hearth in the farmhouse that waited at the end of that long road, she’d not feel the chill quite so deep and acute. If nothing else, the anticipation quickened her steps.

  She quickly came even with her fellow traveler. He, apparently, hadn’t sufficient imagination to push him onward.

  Alice set her mind to offering him an encouraging smile and a Christmas greeting as she passed. A person ought to receive at least that when alone on a morning such as that one. No sooner had she reached the stranger’s side than he spoke.

  “Have ya a friend to walk around Lough Oughter with ya?”

  Her gaze immediately jumped to his face. “Isaac?”

  He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes trained ahead. “Might I make the journey back with ya?”

  She didn’t answer right off, but continued walking in confused silence. She’d not at all expected to see him on the road.

  “Why is it ye’re not in church this morning? I’ve never known ya to miss services. And on Christmas Day of all days.” ’Twas more shocking the longer she thought on it.

  He finally looked at her, but his expression was one of apprehension. “I didn’t know when ye’d be passing by, and I didn’t dare risk missing ya. I’ve been out here some time already.”

  “Out here? In this weather?” Heavens, the man must have been near frozen.

  Alice opened her satchel as they continued walking, digging through her meager belongings until she found the woolen scarf her cousin had knitted her. She’d kept it tucked away should she need more bundling during the walk home. But one look at Isaac’s red nose and bare neck made up her mind on that score.

  He was still clearly unsure of himself. Did he think she disliked him? That she didn’t want him about? He’d been thick-headed and stubborn, but love doesn’t fly away for such reasons as that.

  “Come, then,” she instructed, stopping and motioning him closer.

  She began wrapping the scarf about his neck.

  “I can’t take yer scarf, Alice. Suppose ya need it yer own self?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve a warm one on already. Now ya just take this, and don’t make a great fuss over it.”

  He held quite still as she finished wrapping and tying. Alice’s heart pounded clear into her fingertips. Except for the occasional moment when he helped her over a muddy bit of road or bumped against her on accident, they’d never really touched. Yet wrapping her scarf about his neck, her hands brushed against him. She felt the tiny moment of contact clear to her very soul. She gazed up to find his eyes locked with her own.

  They stood there at the very edge of Cavan Town directly on the road leading away, simply looking at one another. Each breath they took fogged the air between them.

  “I’ve been a fool, Alice,” Isaac whispered.

  “Have ya now?” Her voice emerged even quieter than his.

  His hand lightly touched her cheek, just inside the brim of her bonnet. Such a look of sad regret weighed down his handsome face. “I’m too stubborn by half, ya know. And when my mind’s set to something I don’t always heed the world about me. I miss a great many important things that way.”

  For the first time in some weeks, Alice’s heart smiled along with her lips. “Ya are terrible stubborn, Isaac Dancy.”

  His eyes traced her smiling face, and some of the heaviness left his expression. His hand slid from her face to her shoulder, down to her arm and took hold of her hand. “I hope, Alice, ye’re every bit as forgiving as I am dimwitted.”

  “I’m a woman.” She shr
ugged. “We’ve had to be forgiving since time began.”

  “Speaking of which...” He set something in her free hand.

  What in heaven’s name? She examined the little cloth-wrapped bundle. “What is it?”

  “Tis a present, it is. A Christmas gift.”

  “For me?” She’d not been expecting that.

  “It’s certainly not for Miss Kilchrest.”

  Alice shot him a look of warning at that. If the man truly wanted to get back in her good graces, he’d do well to leave a certain woman’s name out of things.

  Isaac looked immediately contrite, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Here was the banter she’d missed between them. Here was his silent, lighthearted laughter. She’d needed it these past weeks.

  She untied the fabric and unwound the gift. After unlooping the fabric for a moment, she reached the center. ’Twas the most beautiful bit of jewelry she’d ever seen. Clearly it was a pin, but with a peg on the side. Alice pushed the peg in, and the round, blue and gold case opened.

  “A watch.” She’d always wanted a timepiece of her own, but never had she imagined one so beautiful.

  “Ya need one, ya know,” Isaac said. “Always pestering me to know the hour.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “A man can only take so much aggravation.”

  “I don’t know how to read it,” she warned him.

  His smile was kind and tender. “We’ve a long walk ahead of us. I’d be happy to show ya how.”

  Alice ran her finger over the delicate flowers on the deep blue watch case, inlaid with gold.

  Beautiful.

  “This must have come very dear.” She knew he was not a wealthy man. He was not destitute, but he hardly had endless coffers at his disposal.

  “It matches yer eyes, Alice. Matches quite perfectly. I couldn’t pass it by.”