Page 28 of A Wish for Father Christmas

Chapter 9

Isaac hurried down the stairs.Parsons had gone to call on Miss Turner this morning, again. Robins hadn’t joined them for breakfast, but he’d been up late last night trying to win some money off Lord Gulliver, who, they’d learned since coming to Carlaby, was forever losing more than he was winning. Isaac could only hope his friend hadn’t also lost more than he could afford. Robins wasn’t usually one to try his luck at a serious wager, but he’d been growing restless these past several days. It seemed though he continued to call on Lady Nightingale often enough, she’d seen through his attempts to woo her and wasn’t showing any signs of interest in return.

Isaac entered the drawing room. The soft morning light filtered through the windows, showcasing the thick blanket of snow outside. It seemed they had finally gotten the snow they’d all been expecting for almost a week now.

“Good morning, Isaac.”

He turned and found Aunt Margarette sitting beside the fire, a bit of needlepoint in her hands and thin-rimmed glasses perched atop the end of her nose.

“Good morning, Aunt.” He crossed to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” he said, taking a seat across from her. “Quite well. How about yourself?”

“As well as I ever do these days,” she said with a telling smile. “Now, what are your plans for today?”

Isaac shrugged. “Perhaps Greenbulls.”

“Again?” No one could have missed the dismay in her tone. “You’ve been there nearly every day for over a week now.”

Had he? Now that he thought about it, his aunt had the right of it. Ever since he and Mr. Allen had settled the differences between them, he’d found he quite enjoyed sitting with the chap, talking away the afternoon. He was a good man, one with a sound head and intelligent ideas. But not all stuffy and self-important.

“Would you rather I stay here this afternoon?” he asked. They were only visiting his aunt until Parsons could offer for Miss Turner. This wasn’t a true house party; more just a couple of bachelors spending a bit of time together in the country. Still, he’d hate for his aunt to feel neglected.

“No,” Aunt Margarette said, picking up her needlepoint once more. “But I had thought it might be a good day for you to go calling.”

“Calling?”

“Yes. Perhaps on Miss Dowding.”

So she hadn’t given up on such ideas. Isaac leaned back, his eyes roving toward the ceiling. It wasn’t a bad idea. Miss Dowding was rumored to be in possession of a large dowry, though he hadn’t ever heard the exact amount. She was pretty, soft-spoken. Had never done or said anything that irked him. He glanced toward the windows; the snow had started falling again, large soft flakes gently winding their way toward the ground. The beauty of it called to him. Today was not a day to stay indoors.

Perhaps he should go call on Miss Dowding. He hadn’t anything better to do.

Suppose he rode by Evergreen Cottage first to see if Mr. Allen wished to join him? Isaac placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward, suddenly very excited by the idea. He and Mr. Allen had been discussing new advances in the use of cotton yesterday, and then Isaac had found an article on the very topic in the paper that morning. He’d been hoping to share it with Mr. Allen anyways. What better time than when riding together to call on Miss Dowding?

Isaac stood. “I think I shall. I believe going calling would be just the thing on a morning such as this.”

Aunt Margarette smiled down at her work. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m quite content by this fire. You go and have a long, lovely visit with Miss Dowding.”

Isaac gave her another quick kiss on the cheek, not bothering to explain that he’d be stopping by Evergreen Cottage first, and then hurried from the room.

* * *

The snow fell softly around him. It was indeed a fine winter day to be out of doors. Though it was cold enough to snow, it wasn’t so cold as to be frigid. It was more brisk than anything.

Isaac’s horse plodded along comfortably, and they turned off the road and headed down toward Evergreen Cottage. His twice-capped great coat kept him plenty warm, as did his thick gloves and breeches. The cottage came into view. It was large for being called a cottage, yet he didn’t doubt it was one of the smaller holdings of Lady Nightingale. Still, no matter it’s size, itfeltlike a cottage. There was a warmth to the brick exterior, to the way vines climbed up the front, and the windows all exuded light as though to welcome weary travelers from near and far.

Was it any wonder Mr. Allen had chosen to stay here, despite having to share a home with his cousin? Isaac hadn’t been able to fully distinguish how Mr. Allen felt about Lady Nightingale, but they never attended events together. More still, Mr. Allen often avoided talking about her altogether, often changing the subject whenever Isaac brought her up. Best he could tell, they tolerated one another, but there was no great connection between the two.

The cry of an overly excited dog brought Isaac’s gaze toward the far side of the house. A small dog came bounding over the snow toward him. He had squares of fabric wrapped and tied about his feet and what looked almost like a small coat covering most of his back. He reached Isaac’s horse, who only snorted at the dog’s constant yipping. Seeing the dog up close, it was clear he was small because he was young, probably not even a year old yet.

“You look too young to be out here by yourself.” Even with the dog’s coat, Isaac could tell by the brown and white coloring on his face that he was a spaniel.

The dog barked again, then took off once more, heading back the direction he’d come.

Isaac angled his horse around, following the dog around the far side of the house. As he rounded the corner, the sound of laughter met him.

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