Page 76 of Wedding the Widow

“How terribly efficient you are.” He grinned approvingly at her.

“She’s like that all the time, Lord Brack. You just see if she isn’t.” Dotty finished her tea and rose. “I shall leave you to your shopping. Good morning.” She drifted out of the room, leaving them quite alone.

“Before we leave I must send ’round to Fellowes’s old rooms to see if he has come up from Surrey or is still there waiting for me.” Jemmy continued to chisel industriously at the mound of food on his plate.

True to her word, Elizabeth finished the ham, taking small bites and drinking plenty of tea to soothe her stomach. “I hope you find him, soon, my love. I know you will get tired of this same suit day in and day out.”

“Porter did a splendid job of refreshing it overnight, but I sent to Lyttlefield Park by the morning post to have my things brought here, though I expect they cannot arrive before the day after Christmas. Everything stops for Christmas Day. Which reminds me.” He set his knife and fork down. “I must go to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office this morning to procure a special license. We can’t be married until the twenty-sixth, most likely, but we shall have everything in place to go as soon as we can.”

“Apparently not before the twenty-seventh to procure a license or be married either, Brack.” Papa strode in briskly, heading straight for the sideboard.

“Good morning, Papa.”

“Good morning, my lord.” Jemmy looked up at her father. “Have you tried the Archbishop’s office already?”

“First thing this morning. Thought I’d steal a march on you, surprise you with it. Dashed awkward too, as I’d just gotten one three days ago for Elizabeth and Lord Robert. But the offices are closed, not to reopen until the twenty-seventh. Depending on the whim of the Archbishop, you may not be able to wed until then—or the twenty-eighth, if he decides to make very merry for the holiday.” He raised his eyebrows at them. “Why such glum faces? You shall have the license in three days and wed shortly thereafter. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, Lord Wentworth, although I’d like to have Elizabeth secure as my wife as quickly as possible.” He patted her hand, sending a warm glow up her arm.

Of course, there were other reasons to wish they were married. Her lonely bed last night had made her yearn for a secret passageway more fervently. But they would be together eventually; that was all that mattered.

“Well, there’s nothing for it. Can’t use the license I already have, so we will all have to find a way to pass the time.” Her father sat down opposite them and began eating with the same fervor Jemmy had shown.

“We thought we would go shopping this morning, Papa. May we have the carriage? I must buy some presents for Christmas.” Hopefully, their excursion would keep their minds off their troubles.

“Good plan.” Her father popped a boiled quail egg into his mouth. “Best for you to be seen about together. Then the ton won’t be shocked when they find you have married without an announcement. The more groundwork now, the less footwork later.”

“That seems settled.” Jemmy swallowed the remainder of his coffee and set the cup down. “Shall I meet you in half an hour?”

“I will be ready.” The prospect of a wonderful day with Jemmy all to herself brightened Elizabeth’s spirits immeasurably. This Christmas holiday might prove to be her best one in years.

* * *

When Elizabeth entered the Pantheon Bazaar, she stopped dead and simply stared, drinking in the sights and sounds of London at Christmastime. The Bazaar bustled with last-minute shoppers wandering in and around its lavish stalls decorated with sparkly tinsel and bright red and white ribbons wound around fresh greenery. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come here. Last year, she’d been in deep mourning and hadn’t had the heart to go shopping at all. Now the festive air of the place, coupled with Jemmy’s solid presence beside her, made her all bubbly inside. The brightly lit stalls carried everything from expensive jewelry to books, to sweetmeats, to tea, to children’s toys and more. Ropings of cedar, bayberry, and pine gave the airy venues a crisp, outdoor scent, in keeping with the holiday. The throngs of people, chattering, laughing, and calling words of holiday cheer to one another gave Elizabeth the feeling she’d rejoined the human race at last.

“Where does your list say you need to start, my love?” Jemmy surveyed the mass of people and grinned, looking too charming for his own good. “I await with baited breath to see your plan in action.”

“You may laugh now, Jemmy, but you will bless me and my efficient list, for it portends an equally efficiently managed home.” Her exuberance faltered. “When we have one.”

“Now, now.” He took her arm and started them into the crowd. “No melancholy today. As an ambassador from Father Christmas”—he deepened his voice, and she laughed in spite of herself—“I forbid it at this merriest time of year. Here,” he continued in his own voice, pulling her toward a stall that sold candied fruit and nuts. “Let me buy sweets for my sweetheart.”

“Jemmy.” She couldn’t help but smile at his high spirits. So like a puppy, bouncing with excitement at every turn.

He handed her a cone of candied cherries, figs, and chestnuts, then grabbed one and popped it into her mouth before she could protest.

As she bit down, the candy exploded in a burst of sugary goodness, mingling with the tart meat of the cherry itself. She savored it but handed the cone back to him. “You may keep charge of this, please. I told you, no more food until this afternoon.”

“Whatever you wish, my dear.” Grabbing the paper cone, he fished out a sweet and tossed it up in the air, catching it in his mouth, grinning at her all the while.

“We must get down to serious shopping, Jemmy, or I shall have nothing to give to anyone. Here, we must stop here for Bella and Dotty.” Halting before a stall that sold silk shawls, gloves, and other ladies’ accessories, Elizabeth happily searched for presents for her sisters. She’d already decided what she wanted; she simply had to find the perfect items. With several judicious comments from Jemmy, she found them with more ease than usual. The happy stall keeper obligingly wrapped up her purchases: a silk paisley shawl of pale green and gold and a pair of white gloves, embroidered with flowers and vines in white.

“Dotty will love the colors of this shawl, and it will go with her best ball gown and several of her dresses for her Season. The gloves are for Bella, who can wear them as her ‘something new’ at her wedding.”

“What will you have for your ‘something new’ in three days’ time?” Jemmy handed the parcels to the footman, George, who followed them for that express purpose.

“I hadn’t even though of that.” Elizabeth laughed. What indeed would she wear for her “something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue”? She’d not bothered with the fun superstition when she believed herself marrying Lord Robert, though she’d have needed all the luck she could have gotten then. “I suppose I shall wear my blue silk gown I had made for Charlotte’s wedding. That will take care of ‘blue.’ Mama’s lace handkerchief, made from Great-Grandmama’s wedding gown, will be something ‘old.’”

They walked through the jostling multitude of shoppers toward a bookseller’s stall Elizabeth remembered. Papa would enjoy a new volume of Sir Walter Scott to read.