A Gerrard Family Christmas Page 7

  None at all.

  Excellent.

  Colin strode quickly and quietly for his study, excitement and energy steadily climbing within him.

  He would find out who was trying to sabotage his Christmas efforts with their excessive gifts. And he would see to it that none of these gifts were given.

  He frowned as his thought reverberated through him.

  That was hardly a proper sentiment for Christmas. Restricting gifts? Being determined to see them never given?

  That wasn’t the way this was supposed to work, and it was also against Colin’s nature.

  Maybe one gift per person could be given.

  The others could be donated or saved for birthdays, depending on what they were.

  Colin retrieved the key to his study from his pocket and slid it into the lock, looking around surreptitiously again. He pushed into the study and closed the door softly behind him, then leaned his back against the door.

  The mountain of gifts sat directly in front of his desk, and in some cases atop it.

  They were all wrapped in the same brown paper, and tied with the same red ribbon. Nothing extraordinary about that. Not that he expected artwork on the wrappings, unless one were truly determined to make things excessive. That would have absolutely been too much, even more so than the gifts themselves were.

  Imagine having drawings on the wrapping of a gift.

  That was too fanciful, even for a Gerrard.

  He chuckled to himself and went over to the packages, leaning over to inspect each one, yet avoiding touching them for some reason.

  Three packages to the girls were a similar shape and size, which satisfied him. At least there wouldn’t be favoritism involved in those gifts. Freddie had a gift slightly smaller, which Rosie would certainly mock him for. The younger children had small and oddly shaped packages, which spoke of various toys that he really didn’t mind all that much.

  Toys had been a rarity in his life, and he had absolutely no concern about toys being given to his children, considering there were years and years of use ahead of them.

  One of his favorite things to do, when he could, was to play with his youngest son and daughters in their nursery, using little but the few toys they had and the imaginations they possessed. He might get more use out of the new toys than the children would, but he would never admit that to anyone.

  Another package for each of the older girls, and those were quite different in sizes. A hatbox for Bitty left little to the imagination. The same went for a gift for Ginny that had the distinct shape and size of a book.

  Someone would be disappointed in that. Ginny rarely read anything, preferring to act out what someone else read.

  A very small box for Rosie gave him pause.

  That was a jewelry box.

  Colin’s pulse skittered and he backed away from the horrifying sight at once.

  Who the devil was sending jewelry to his sister? That was a distinctly male trait, and one Colin had seen done time and time again to gain affections. Rosie was too young for all of that. And she went to an all girls school in Kent, there was no possible way she would have contact with any men of any sort, particularly ones who could afford excesses like this.

  Unless one of her friends had a brother…

  Colin felt his lip curl in a snarl.

  Forget Christmas. This was war.

  He caught sight then of a gift with his name on it, and against all sense and indignation, he moved to it.

  It was a decent sized package, which undoubtedly bode well for him. It was larger than Kit’s, which spoke of the giver’s good taste.

  He wondered…

  No one would know…

  Colin glanced over his shoulder, then reached for his gift and shook it ever so slightly.

  Chapter Six

  "You want us to do what?”

  “Really, Colin? Really?”

  Colin laughed out loud and patted his bouncing sister on the head. “Yes, Ginny, really.”

  Rosie looked unconvinced and wore a disgruntled expression. “A theatrical? About what?”

  “Anything you like, Rose,” Colin told her in what he thought was a very patient voice.

  “Does it need to be Christmas themed?” Freddie asked, not sounding quite so dubious as Rosie, but neither did he match Ginny’s enthusiasm.

  Colin considered that. “I don’t think so. I can’t think of a Christmas themed story other than the Nativity, and I don’t think we need to turn that into a theatrical.”

  Rosie snorted softly. “Why don’t we just do The Winter’s Tale by Shakespeare? That should be appropriate for the time of year, and get us all in the perfect mood.”

  Colin looked at Rosie for a long moment, not entirely certain where her cynicism was coming from. For someone who apparently wanted to make this Christmas special for her sisters and herself, she had an odd way of showing it. She seemed to be completely without cheer or joy, which did not bode well, and it didn’t actually fit Rosie.

  She might have had a sharp wit and a droll sense of humor, but she was never truly harsh or critical.

  “I’ll leave it to you, Rose,” Colin said in a serious tone, “to find a story, or make one up, that will appropriately capture the right sentiment to share with the entire family on Christmas Eve.”

  She did not miss his meaning or his tone, and he saw her cheeks color as she reached down for Cat, who had come toddling towards her. “I can do that,” she murmured without looking up.

  “I thought so.”

  Colin felt his arm being pounded as he sat on the floor with the other little ones. “Yes?” he asked, turning to look at Ginny again.

  “I want to pick it out!” she demanded, looking eerily similar to Rosie at this moment. “I do.”

  He gestured to her sister. “Then take it up with Rosie. I’m sure she will be quite accommodating.”

  Rosie threw him a look that could have burned through buildings.

  Colin only grinned at her.

  “Colin, why is there a tree in here?” Bitty asked as she entered the room, her hair a mess, but her dress somehow untarnished by flour or additional soot.

  “A most excellent question, Bitty,” Colin announced as he grabbed his son before he could pull Livvy’s hair. He turned Matthew in the other direction, not knowing what was over there, but it was certainly safer than a little girl’s hair.

  Colin got to his feet, waited for Livvy to crash into him, as she usually did when he got up from the floor, and walked over to the tree with her clutching his leg. “This, children, is a Christmas tree.”

  “It looks like a fir tree to me,” Rosie said as she was led around the room by the finger Cat held.

  He glared at her briefly. “It is a fir by definition and when it is out of doors with all the other fir trees, which are sad and pathetic by comparison to this glorious creature.”

  Bitty giggled and pushed a mussed bit of hair back from her forehead.

  “But,” Colin continued, turning very formal and pompous in his tone, “once the fir tree is cut down and brought indoors for the express purpose of celebrating Christmas, it becomes a Christmas tree and therefore should be treated with the respect such a position deserves.”

  Rosie was smiling now, which seemed a significant victory.

  “And once a tree is honored with the noble title of Christmas tree,” Colin went on, shaking the leg Livvy was clinging to for effect and making her giggle, “it has earned the right to become decorated for the occasion.”

  “Decorated?” Bitty squealed, her hands shooting to her mouth.

  “With what?” Rosie asked, more curious than dubious now.

  Rafe and Matthew charged forward to fasten onto Colin’s free leg, effectively ruining any hopes he had of a distinguished air during this performance of his. He grunted with the force of their impact, but managed to keep himself fully upright.

  “Our esteemed housekeeper, Mrs. Donovan,” Colin told them all with a clearing of his throat,
“has been collecting ribbons, candles, and small trinkets that might be used to embellish this very fine tree of ours, provided by Master Frederick, Kit, and myself.”

  The girls politely applauded them, and Colin accepted their accolades graciously, while Freddie looked at him with bewildered amusement.

  “Mr. Johnson and his men brought us the tree, Papa,” Freddie pointed out.

  Rosie snickered, but smothered it by burying her face in Cat’s stomach playfully, making the little girl squeal in delight.

  “Yes, yes, all right,” Colin blustered, “and with some significant assistance from the excellent farm hands and estate workers of Benbridge Park.”

  The girls applauded again, and Rafe and Matthew attempted to do the same from their position on his left leg.

  “And so,” Colin proclaimed as if his lower extremities weren’t crowded by clinging children, “it falls to us to ensure that this fine fir tree, now officially designated as the Gerrard Family Christmas tree, is appropriately decorated and clothed in the décor of the season. Who will see to it that this tree lives up to its full potential?”

  Apparently caught up in his moving speech, Bitty and Ginny shouted “Aye!” while Freddie and Rosie simply lifted their hands in the air, clearly more of the opinion that Colin was mad.

  Which he probably was.

  The little ones on his legs chanted “Me!” repeatedly, and he took that to be their acceptance of duty.

  Colin clapped his hands together once. “Very good. I hereby designate you all as official Gerrard Family Christmas tree decorators.”

  Rosie lifted a brow. “Shouldn’t official family dictates come from Kit? He is head of the house, and all.”

  Colin frowned at his sister, then sighed and turned his head towards the still open door. “Kit! Do I have your permission to officially designate the children as official tree decorators? Officially?”

  “Whatever you say!” he called back from somewhere near the second floor landing.

  Colin turned back to Rosie with a superior look.

  “Well, that certainly sounded official,” she scoffed.

  Colin would ignore her for the time being, or she would become the designated family washerwoman.

  Not that she would be particularly good at it, but the sentiment would stand.

  Mrs. Donovan suddenly entered the room, her arms filled with ribbons and strings of beads. “Here we are, my dears!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Donovan!” Colin said as he made his way over to her as best as he could, what with the giggling little ones weighing him down.

  Mrs. Donovan gave him an amused look. “I was talking to the children, sir.”

  Colin pretended to frown at her. “Of course you were. You’re just like all the rest of them, you know.”

  She coughed a surprised laugh. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me. People are all well and good, but you set out a miniature one with chubby cheeks like this…” He reached down and pried Matthew from his leg and held him up high. “Rather remarkably like this, actually.” He moved his hands to grip and tickle his son’s sides, sending him into peals of laughter. “And everyone goes soft and silly.”

  Matthew laughed harder than ever, and now everyone else was too.

  Mrs. Donovan set down everything in her arms on a table, then turned and gestured at the door.

  Two maids entered with additional trimmings, along with footmen bearing more evergreen boughs.

  “The tree hardly needs more green in it,” Rosie said, releasing Cat, who seemed more interested in the ribbons than in her aunt. “It’s a very full tree.”

  “Yes, Miss Gerrard,” Mrs. Donovan responded, turning with clasped hands and a smile. “It is not for the tree, but for the mantle. Don’t you think that the room could use some additional decoration?”

  “I do!” Bitty squealed. “I do!”

  “Well, there’s a surprise,” Freddie muttered, making Rosie laugh.

  “Surprise!” Rafe and Matthew cried as one.

  “And I seem to recall every single one of you wanting to help Kit decorate the house,” Colin mused. “It would be a shame if we had to tell him you’ve all gone back on your word. He doesn’t take that sort of betrayal well, and you might all be relegated to cleaning up after Christmas instead of helping us prepare for it.”

  They all sprang from their spots and reached for some sort of decoration. Freddie helped Ginny climb onto Rosie’s back so she could reach her ribbon higher. Bitty grabbed spare ribbon bits and began tying bows with them. The little ones released Colin’s legs and hurried over to attempt to help the others.

  Being now freed from his duty as whatever he had been, Colin backed slowly out of the room. “Mrs. Donovan, I trust I can leave this most festive activity to your care?”

  She smiled at him and nodded, gesturing for him to leave the room.

  “Where are you going, Colin?” Bitty asked, turning with her hands on her hips, giving him a very stern look.

  He wasn’t sure if she had learned that look from Susannah or Marianne, as both had used it to great effect with some frequency. It was entirely possible she had also learned it from Rosie, who seemed to think it was her task to attempt to be the older sister to her two brothers. Or it could have been learned from Bitty’s mother, though it did not sound as though she had been much by way of a disciplinarian, choosing love and patience over strict enforcement.

  Or it was entirely possible that Bitty, being the mothering type, had developed the skill on all her own.

  Whatever the case was, it was a powerful look, even for a man of Colin’s age and position.

  “I’m just going to see if I can assist Kit in decorating the rest of the house, Bitty,” Colin assured her.

  “Save some for us!” she demanded.

  “Of course, dear,” Colin placated. “We’re only to get the spots you can’t reach.”

  That seemed to satisfy her and she nodded, going back to her ribbon twisting.

  Colin breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way from the room.

  That had been too close.

  He’d put himself to the task of finding something to keep the children busy for some time in the hopes that he could finish the work he had set out for himself. The wives were still at work with their baskets, now out and about with the delivery, despite the ever increasing snow, and Kit had finally seen to the décor, as he had said he was going to.

  Colin’s investigation of the gifts had, unfortunately, left him with no insight whatsoever into who the giver might have been. He was suspicious of everyone, including his own wife, and it was beginning to gnaw at the inside of his brain. Despite his reluctance to the idea, he was not convinced that it wasn’t an act of courtship from some idiot who fancied Rosie.

  Not that fancying Rosie would make someone an idiot, although he would have some serious question as to their sanity on occasion.

  But really, she was a temperamental girl of fourteen, and her manners had not changed overly much from the headstrong nine-year-old she had been when she came to them.

  He was tempted to send for the man who had delivered the presents to ask after the order, but he was willing to bet that there hadn’t been any documentation as to the sender.

  He would have to tell Kit of his suspicions.

  Kit had a temper.

  It would not go well for whoever had fallen in love with Rosie if Kit became aware of it. And as Colin had no desire to take over the responsibility of the family once Kit had to be committed to prison for murder or other illegal activities regarding the person in question, it was in Colin’s best interest to prevent such drastic actions.

  But how he was to do that was something he could not figure.

  So he would just go on with continuing his Christmas ventures until a solution came to him.

  And at this moment, he needed to be down in the kitchens.

  Again.

  He moved swiftly down the corridor, trying not to whistle with
the jauntiness he suddenly felt.

  He couldn’t help it. It was Christmas!

  He had always loved this time of year, despite the fact that he had never had much of a celebration of the holiday before. Their childhood had been idyllic enough, but after the death of their mother, there wasn’t much to be said for anything related to their family.

  It hadn’t lessened his enthusiasm for everything surrounding the holiday. He’d loved hearing about the antics of his friends and their families during that time. He’d loved winter with a fervor that nobody understood, even himself. He just truly enjoyed Christmastime, in all its forms, and even without the trimmings.

  So now that he had the trimmings, he was determined that not only he, but his entire family would enjoy every aspect of the season that could be had.

  Even if they were excessive.

  Down in the kitchens, everything was bustling. There was no hint of the smokiness from before, and nothing to indicate that there had ever been a problem. The kitchen staff were moving in quick motions and with an efficiency that anyone with a military background would be impressed by, and left Colin in awe for a moment or two.

  At the center of it all, as he suspected, was Mrs. Fraser, hard at work over a steaming pot, barking orders and instructions and not even watching to see if her orders were being obeyed.

  She simply knew they would be.

  “Mrs. Fraser,” Colin intoned as he approached her.

  The woman shook her head quickly. “Don’t you pester me with your endless requests at this moment, Mr. Colin. I have a head full of items to prepare, and no space for anything else.”

  “And you know I would never interrupt you unless it were of the utmost importance,” Colin soothed, coming to lean against the table next to her. “I value all that you do, and every ounce of effort and skill that you put into your work.”

  Mrs. Fraser stopped her stirring, and gave Colin a very frank look. “What is it you want, Mr. Colin?”

  He smiled at her and folded his arms, settling against the table more. “First of all, thank you for what you did for Bitty this morning.”

  As he suspected, the stirring continued and Mrs. Fraser looked into the pot with renewed focus. “It was nothing. The girl needed some teaching and guidance so as not to make the same mistake again.”