The Christmas Card: The perfect heartwarming novel for Christmas from the Sunday Times bestseller. Dilly Court
Alice said sternly.
‘Oh, all right.’ Flora walked slowly towards the tree and went down on her knees to place her present under its spiky branches. She jumped up again, spinning round to face her uncle. ‘Have you got a present for Alice, too?’
‘No, of course not, Flora,’ Alice said quickly. ‘Servants don’t get presents from their employers.’
‘Perhaps they should.’ Rory reached out to take Flora by the hand. ‘I’ve just had a splendid idea; something that will take your mind off presents.’
‘What is it? Tell me, please.’
‘The sun is still shining and the snow is crisp and clean in the gardens. Would you like to go for a walk?’
‘Yes, please. And we could make a snowman and snowballs.’
‘Remember what your mama said, Flora.’ Alice shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dearborn, but your sister-in-law specifically forbade us to go out and play in the snow.’
Rory angled his head, a mischievous smile curving his generous lips. ‘Lydia is out and I’m reliably informed by Hoskins that she is not expected to return until four o’clock or even later.’
‘Please, Alice,’ Flora entreated. ‘Just this once. It might never snow again and I’ll die without having made a snowball.’
Alice looked from one eager face to the other and knew she was beaten. ‘That would be a tragedy indeed,’ she said softly.
Flora released her uncle’s hand to throw her arms around Alice. ‘I love you, Miss Radcliffe. May I call you Alice in front of Uncle Rory? He won’t mind. He’s a good sport. I heard my pa say so.’
‘Come along, Flora.’ Rory moved towards the door. ‘And you too, Alice. If Flora can call you that in private I claim that privilege too, and you must call me Rory.’
Alice hesitated. ‘I don’t think I ought to, sir.’
‘What did I just say?’ He paused in the doorway. ‘If I’m allowed to use your Christian name then you must return the compliment, and I insist that you accompany us. If I’m to be bombarded with lumps of ice I refuse to undergo the humiliation alone.’
It was an invitation she knew she should forgo, but it was her duty to look after Flora, or so she told herself as she hurried upstairs to fetch their outdoor garments.
The paths were well-trodden by nannies pushing babies in their perambulators, and their older charges had shuffled through the icy carpet, churning it up so that it turned to slush, but the pristine whiteness of the snow-covered grass was smooth as icing on a cake. Flora uttered a cry of delight, running round in circles and leaving a trail of footprints. Alice hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching from the house, but common sense told her that the servants were far too busy to worry about the troublesome child who occupied the nursery. It seemed that Rory Dearborn was alone in regarding Flora as a person in her own right. He was watching her with an indulgent smile, which broadened as he turned to Alice.
‘You’ve worked wonders. Flora is a different child.’
Alice shook her head. ‘She’s always been like this but she wasn’t allowed to express herself. That’s why she was so badly behaved.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly brought out the best in her—’ he broke off as a snowball hit him in the chest. ‘Why, you little devil.’ Laughing he bent down and made another, lobbing it at Flora, who dodged and counterattacked with yet another good shot.
Alice stood back, smiling at their antics until a snowball caught her a glancing blow on the cheek. Forgetting that she was supposed to be above such things, she joined in until they were all breathless with laughter. Flora’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling as she danced over to Alice. ‘Let’s make a snowman.’
Rory brushed flakes of ice off his overcoat. ‘You won that contest, I think, Flora.’
She grinned. ‘Yes, I did. I won, Alice.’
Alice was about to congratulate her when she heard the rumble of carriage wheels and she looked round. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said, pointing at the vehicle. ‘That looks like Mrs Dearborn. Your mama had returned, Flora.’
‘What will we do, Uncle Rory?’ Flora clutched his hand. ‘Mama will send Alice away. Please do something.’
‘Wait here,’ Rory said firmly. ‘I’ll keep Lydia talking. Take Flora in by the servants’ entrance, Alice, and go up the back stairs to the nursery.’ He brushed Flora’s cheek with the tip of his fingers. ‘Don’t look so scared, poppet. I’ll take care of everything.’ He nodded to Alice and set off, strolling out of the gardens and across the road to arrive just as Lydia stepped out of the carriage.
Under cover of the tall plane trees, Alice waited until they entered the house and as soon as the front door closed she took Flora by the hand and hurried her across the street. The wrought-iron gate opened noiselessly and they descended the steps to the basement area. Alice tapped on the door and after a minute or two it was opened by Nettie. She gaped at them open-mouthed.
‘Lawks! What’s going on, miss?’
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Alice said, propelling Flora into the narrow passageway. ‘We thought we’d come in this way so that Miss Flora could thank Cook and the kitchen maids for all their trouble.’
‘Well, I never did. I never heard of such a thing.’ Nettie backed away, turned and ran into the kitchen.
Flora glanced up at Alice, a frown creasing her brow, but Alice placed her finger to her lips. ‘Just follow my lead.’
The kitchen was hot and steamy, filled with the savoury aroma of fried onions, herbs and roasting meat. Every surface was covered with baskets of fruit and vegetables and the ingredients for the festive meal. One of the daily cleaning women was at the sink in the scullery, plucking a large goose, and feathers floated to the ground like snowflakes. Cook was at the table whisking something light and frothy, while a small girl, even younger than Nettie, was attempting to peel the skin off blanched almonds.
Alice led her young charge across the slippery flagstones to the table. ‘Miss Flora has something she would like to say to you and the kitchen staff, Cook.’ She nudged Flora, who had been staring at the preparations, wide-eyed.
‘Thank you for making such nice meals,’ she said in a small voice.
Cook stared at her, gulped and swallowed. ‘There’s no need for thanks, Miss Flora. We’re just doing what’s expected of us.’
‘Nevertheless, Miss Flora wanted you all to know that she appreciates what you do. Merry Christmas to you all.’
‘Yes,’ Flora said, nodding. ‘Merry Christmas.’ She was about to take a mince pie from the table, but Alice hurried her towards the back stairs.
When they reached the nursery she saw to Flora first and then took off her sodden boots and hung her stockings from the mantelshelf to dry.
‘Well, that was a near thing,’ she said, pulling up a chair and resting her bare feet on the fender.
Flora sat on the floor, warming her hands in front of the fire. ‘I don’t care if I get into trouble, but I don’t want Mama to send you away, Alice.’
‘That won’t happen, I promise you.’ Rory’s voice from the doorway made them both turn with a start.
Alice hastily covered her bare limbs with her damp skirts and rose to her feet. ‘We were just getting warm.’ She knew she was blushing and she was embarrassed to be caught barefoot and barelegged, but if Rory had noticed he gave no sign of it.
‘That’s