Page 120 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
It was only now, after Lady Mary's betrothal, that the dowager marchioness came to spend any time in the country. There was curiosity in London as to why the Lady Tarkington deemed it necessary for Lady Mary's betrothal party to be at Bayneville Castle. Still, society did not complain, for when invited, they were not opposed to journeying to the country to visit legendary Bayneville Castle.
According to the letter Jocelyn received from her friend, the house would be full by Christmas. Looking at the bucolic peace of Bayneville in its pastoral setting, Jocelyn felt a surge of joyous relief in the knowledge that she and her mother were arriving before the press of London guests bringing London society with them. Her eyes sparkled in anticipation, and her pulse quickened.
As the carriage drew up before the entrance to Bayneville, Jocelyn was delighted to see her friend coming out to greet them, a hastily donned shawl thrown about her slight shoulders. Lady Mary skipped down the broad stone steps, eager for the waiting footman to open the carriage door and set the steps. Jocelyn's anticipation matched Lady Mary's.
Behind Lady Mary, descending the broad manor steps in a sedate manner, came an elegant gentleman dressed in a soft pigeon-gray suit. His dark hair waved back off a high brow, though one recalcitrant lock curled forward. Studying his confident, settled demeanor, Jocelyn was surprised that his hair dared to fall out of place. She recognized the man at once. Here was the eighth Marquess of Tarkington, Simon Charles Froborough Bayne.
It struck Jocelyn that his mien—while in high contrast to his lively sister's and his amiable cousin's—was not the somber, morose aspect she'd expected. Nor was there the arrogance one often found in a man of his portion. His was a hard face, full of angles and planes with a stubborn, square-cut jaw. Nonetheless, there was a welcoming smile on his lips, and he radiated a calm contentedness. Here was not a man with ghosts to dispel, a mask to wear, or hidden goals to achieve. He was as he was.
Fascinated at this divergence from idle supposition, Jocelyn stared at him until her attention was recalled by the feel of Lady Mary's arms about her shoulders in enthusiastic greeting. She blushed at her preoccupation with the Marquess—and not a little for the realization of the rudeness in her stare. Flustered, she fixed her eyes firmly upon Lady Mary and vowed not to let them stray again in the Marquess's direction until they were introduced. She grasped her friend's hand, kissed her cheek in gentle salute, and exclaimed on how good it felt to see her again.
"And I, you! I swear I have been driving poor Tarkington to distraction with my pacing and wondering when you'd arrive! I'm so glad you and Lady Maybrey could come early," Lady Mary said, turning to greet Jocelyn's mother. "Mama's in the parlor anxious for all the London news."
"After your guests have had a chance to rest and freshen up," interceded Tarkington in a calm, surprisingly low voice that rumbled along Jocelyn's spine. She gave a tiny, involuntary shiver.
"Well, yes," Lady Mary agreed with her brother. "Oh, dear, and I have been most shatter-brained again, haven't I? I haven't yet made you known to Tarkington!"
"Ah, I was wondering when you would recall that trifle," Tarkington faintly drawled.
"I do apologize, but excitement and happiness overwhelm all thoughts!"
"Odd, I thought that an everyday occurrence," murmured her brother.
"Beast!" Lady Mary exclaimed, laughing. "Now, please hush; I'm trying to do this right." She drew her shawl closer about her shoulders, cleared her throat, and drew herself up. "Tarkington, may I present Lady Maybrey and Miss Maybrey?" she said solemnly—and promptly sneezed.
Everyone laughed, Lady Mary pouted, and Jocelyn clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed blushes for her laughter running high.
When the laughter quieted and the smiles settled, Lord Tarkington greeted Lady Maybrey easily, for they were known to each other from London's political circles. Then he turned and, quite to Jocelyn's surprise, winked at her. Her blushes soared again, and she could only hope that as she ducked her head and curtsied he would not notice.
To her relief, he merely acknowledged her greeting before turning back to her mother and offering his arm to escort her into the house.
"We have so much to talk about and to do before the ball!" Lady Mary said as she and Jocelyn linked arms and followed behind. "When will your father and Charles arrive?"
"Not until Christmas Eve, I'm afraid. They would have come with us, but there was some meeting or other on the twenty-third they needed to attend."
Lady Mary pulled a handkerchief out of the cuff of her dress and dabbed at her nose, which was turning bright pink in the cold outside air. "Aunt Bayne has not been happy that Charles delayed his arrival. She lives in the Dower House, you know."
"Yes, Mr. Bayne told me."
"Mr. Bayne?" Lady Mary teased archly.
"There has been nothing formalized between us," Jocelyn said carefully.
"Yet. . . . But I should not tease you. I know how uncertain I was before Edward approached Tarkington for my hand in marriage. Even when I knew he meant to! I miss him. I wish he were here now. Unfortunately, he arrives with the rest of the Killinghams in the very midst of the Christmas Eve rush!" She sneezed again, jamming her handkerchief against her nose. "Oh, Jocelyn, I am so happy! I would you were, too! As I would everyone share in my joy."
She paused as she watched her brother bow over Lady Maybrey's hand before he consigned her to the care of Mrs. Penneybacker, the housekeeper. "But I believe I should forfeit it all just to see my brother the way he was before Diana died," she whispered, "so involved with society and politics. Active, running hither and yon on a moment's notice. Giving speeches, writing papers. It's as if that part of his light that burned so brightly was snuffed out with her death. I don't understand it." She shook her head, then sighed. "But this is not the time for regrets, is it?"
"No, not at all. This is the time for your future! Though I should say, I think the more of you for your concern."
Lady Mary smiled mistily, then she sniffed and brusquely gathered her composure. "Well, I've delayed you long enough, and you must be anxious to shed that heavy cloak and wash up after your long journey. I swear I have become a goose of late with my run-on nonsense. Emmie here shall show you to your room. It is quite one of the nicest, even if it is seemingly in the back beyond. I hope you like it. We can talk more—"
"And more and more!" Jocelyn interjected.
Lady Mary laughed, her ebullience returning. "Yes, and more and more, after you rest. We shall have an early country dinner tonight. Four o'clock. Shall I see you an hour before downstairs?"
Jocelyn agreed and turned to follow the maid. Emmie led her up the wide marble staircase to a broad landing. From the landing, there were slightly narrower marble staircases at either end that continued upward. Emmie took the right-hand staircase to the first floor, where tall triple windows looked out across the front lawn and the long drive that approached the house. She led Jocelyn down a wide, oak-paneled hall past innumerable rooms and two side halls. Finally, Emmie stopped where the hall ended and another branched off to the left. She opened a heavy oak door with shiny brass fittings that were more reminiscent of a castle door than a modern bedroom door. But once Jocelyn went inside, she understood and cooed with delight. It was one of the circular tower rooms her mother had told her about after reading the country house guidebook.
Three large and separate windows dominated the opposite wall, each covered with heavy dark green velvet drapes swagged back and held with gold cord. Between each window hung jewel-toned tapestries. On the floor lay an intricately patterned Oriental carpet. The canopied bed, hung with the same velvet as the windows, stood on a dais in the middle of the room. The fireplace was on the same wall as the entrance door. In the hearth a fire burned brightly, warming the room.
