Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift

Chapter Eleven

"What am I to tell Beth?" Hart did not want to explain to her that his idea of sending David to coerce the bowl out of Glastonby had failed.

David shrugged. "Tell her that I am working hard and nearing the goal. But Glastonby has become the consummate family man for Christmas, so I thought I'd return to Scotland and enjoy mine."

Hart poured whiskey into cut-crystal glasses and handed one to David, reflecting that David always looked better when he had his teeth sunk into something. His eyes lost their red-rimmed, bloodshot appearance, his puffy face returned to lean lines, and his voice was steady and whole. Hart kept the amount of whiskey in the glass small, and noticed that David sipped it rather than downed it in a single swallow.

"I'll leave after Boxing Day and return with the bowl before New Year's. Promise. Beth can give it to Ian as a Hogmanay present." David broke into a grin. "Believe it or not, you'll owe some of my success to a vicar."

Hart selected two cigars from his humidor and handed one to David. "How so?"

"Ah, thank you." David lit the cigar with a match and spent a moment sucking in smoke. "You know, I maintain my friendship with you because you always stock the finest. The vicar's an old friend--well, old family friend. He's always kept an eye out for me, sort of a substitute father, because mine was rubbish, as was yours. Anyway, he knows Glastonby, agreed that the man was a hypocrite, and said he'd help me, as long as Glastonby's wife and daughters never find out and aren't hurt by it. Glastonby deserves to be shamed, not his family, and I agree. The man insists on keeping me to the straight and narrow."

Hart took a pull of the cigar and chased it with a sip of whiskey. He savored the combination, as he always did, finding enjoyment in every corner of life he could. He'd learned to do so at an early age. "If it works. I need that bowl."

"Oh, it will work, my friend. But for now." David sank into an armchair and stretched out his long legs. "I'll drown in decadence for the next two days, then return to work."

"By New Year's," Hart said in a firm voice. David was loyal, but too easily distracted.

"By New Year's." David saluted Hart with the glass, then gave up moderation and poured the whiskey down his throat.

*** *** *** Mac had established, the first Christmas Kilmorgan Castle had seen the new brood of Mackenzie children, that the family spent Christmas morning in the nursery giving gifts to the children, before the adults partook of the more formal dinner with guests downstairs. Hogmanay would be only family and very Scottish, with bonfires, Black Bun, more presents, the First Footer, another feast, and much celebration.

Beth loved the traditions. Christmas Day during her childhood had been the same as any other, except in the workhouse, when they'd heard a sermon and had a small second helping of bread. New Year's had come and gone without much acknowledgment.

She'd never experienced childish joy at beholding armfuls of gifts carried in by the men of the family, a Christmas tree heavy with decorations made by the ladies and children and laced with popcorn garlands, or the crackers that banged when pulled open to reveal little toys inside. Soon the children were buried in tissue and ribbons, the adults and Daniel helping them open the gifts. The only two of the family missing were Hart, who hadn't yet arrived, and Eleanor, who was keeping to her bed to rest, planning to join the feast at dinner.

The McBride children were included in the festivities this year. Andrew whooped as he dashed about with a stick hobbyhorse that had a real mane. Catriona sat quietly with the large doll that never left her side, contemplating a doll-sized silk tea gown, exquisitely made in the latest fashion. The dress had been crafted by a dressmaker and had been as perfectly wrought as any gown for a lady. Ainsley explained that Sinclair had one made every year for Catriona's doll.

"How lovely," Beth said, sitting down beside Cat. "Shall we dress Dolly in it?"

"Her name is Daisy," Catriona said, with the scorn only a nine-year-old could muster. "Like my mama.

And she doesn't want to wear the dress right now."

"Well, that's all right." Beth addressed the doll. "It truly is beautiful, Daisy. Such fine workmanship. A lovely gift."

"Maybe later," Cat said. She hugged Daisy close, burying her face in the doll's golden hair.

Sinclair shook his head as Beth rose. "I give her a gown every year," he said in a low voice. "Cat tells me the doll likes it but prefers not to wear it. Her mother gave her the doll, you see, the Christmas before she passed. So I don't insist."

Beth understood. The last thing Cat's mother had given her would be precious, not to be touched.

Beth's mother had given her a hair ribbon a month before she'd passed, for which she'd saved up her wages. Beth had kept it safely wrapped in paper ever after. She still had it.

She didn't miss the flash of pain in Sinclair's eyes. The death of Mrs. McBride had cut this family deeply.

Ian sat a little apart from the children, watching them laugh and squeal as they pulled tissue from their gifts. None of the boxes to Jamie and Belle had come from him, though Beth had assured them that the new scarves, hats, gloves, tin soldiers, and dolls had come from both Mama and Papa.

Ian only sat, arms on knees, and watched. As Beth started for him, one of the footmen flung open the door to admit Hart, who strode in like a king, his arms loaded with boxes. The six Mackenzie children and Andrew McBride swarmed him, and even Catriona looked up in interest.

"One at a time," Hart roared. The children paid no attention. They grabbed on to his coat or hem of his kilt, and half followed, half dragged him into the room.

Hart deposited the boxes onto a large table, sank into an empty chair much too small for him, and lifted the three smallest Mackenzies--Gavina, Robert, and Belle--to his lap. The others gathered around, talking at once, reaching for the boxes. Hart's visit to the nursery was always An Event.

Ainsley, Beth, and Isabella distributed the gifts, while the other gentlemen retired with Daniel to the side of the room and made what they supposed were sotto voce remarks.

"He looks like a papa bear with all his cubs, doesn't he?" Mac asked.

"A dancing bear," Cameron said.

"They like him," Ian said. "He's kind. He pretends not to be."

"He pretends very well," Daniel said, grinning.

"Yes," Ian answered.

Hart completely ignored them. He helped small fingers undo the parcels, listened to oohs and aahs at the extravagant toys, many made by the best toy makers in Germany, Switzerland, and France.

"Where's Aunt Eleanor?" Jamie asked.

"Resting," Hart said. "If you are good--and quiet--you can go see her later. She has to stay in bed right now."

"We're always quiet, Uncle Hart," Andrew shouted. "Cat's quieter than me."

"We know, Andrew." Hart gave him a severe look, which he softened as he handed the boy a package.

"Something for you."

Aimee held out a paper hat to him. "You have to wear the crown, Uncle Hart," she said. "You're the king of the castle. Next year, your little baby will be the prince or princess."

Hart took the hat with solemn thanks, unfolded it, and put it on his head. His brothers guffawed in the corner.

"Suits you, Uncle Hart," Daniel called. "Truly."

Hart again ignored them, giving his full attention to the children. Beth however, had seen his flash of fear when Aimee had mentioned the baby.

The man was terrified. He feared losing Eleanor and the new child in the same way he'd lost his first wife and infant son. From the dark smudges under his eyes, Hart hadn't been sleeping. Beth would go to Eleanor after the children were finished opening gifts and look after her, to try to give Hart some relief.

Ian stood up abruptly. "Jamie," he said. "Come with me."

Jamie immediately set down the windup soldier Hart had given him, jumping over the empty boxes and crush of tissue and ribbon. Belle slid from Hart's lap, toddling determinedly after her brother.

"Now?" Daniel asked.

"Now," Ian said.

Daniel gave a whoop to rival Andrew's and raced out of the room ahead of Ian. Ian scooped up Belle and handed her to Beth before he leaned down and lifted his two-year-old son.

Saying nothing, Ian followed Daniel out the door, Beth behind him. Hart, eclipsed, growled for the children to not leave the room like a stampede of elephants.

Daniel led them down the stairs and around to Ian's wing, then back up to the sitting room in which Daniel and Ian had spent so much time.

"Wait," Ian said sternly.

Daniel stopped at the door, turning so his back was against it, his hand on the door handle. "Don't worry. I know how this is done."

"Jamie gets to start it."

"Yes, I know. We've talked about it a hundred times."

Ian kept his frown in place. He might plan something over and over, but when the time came for the execution, he'd meticulously make certain that every step was carried out in exact order. He drove everyone mad in the process, but his plans usually worked.

"Do hurry, Ian," Beth said. "I'm on tenterhooks."

"You do have us all a bit curious," Ainsley said, her daughter in her arms.

Ian gave Daniel a nod. "Open the door."

Daniel pulled a key from his pocket, turned it in the lock, and very slowly swung open the door. Beth took a step forward, but both Ian and Daniel moved to block her path.

"Careful, Aunt Beth. One puff of air can set it off."

"Set what off? What have you two been doing?"

"Move," Ian said to Daniel.

Daniel stepped aside, and Ian carried Jamie inside. Jamie looked around in awe, then started to laugh.

Beth pushed to the doorway, feeling the others press behind her.

She finally saw what was inside the room and stopped in astonishment. "Ian, what on earth?"

Ian set Jamie carefully on his feet. "The other children can come in, but they must stay near the door."

They'd already bustled forward. Andrew was stopped from darting inside and ruining everything by the strong hands of his father and Cameron.

"Jamie," Ian said. "Touch the first one just there."

Jamie, wide-eyed, put his finger on the very first domino, and gently pushed.

The room was covered with the things. Rows upon rows of black and white dominos stood upright on end, spaced evenly apart. They were on the floor, the furniture, window ledges, chair rail, every space a domino could be set. They were interspersed with other things Beth couldn't identify, but dominos were prevalent.

She saw this all in a split second, and then wonder took over.

The first domino knocked against the next, sending it into the next and so on. The momentum of falling dominos became a stream, and then a pattern that swirled around and around the floor.

The line climbed up a little ramp to run across the desk and down a set of books piled like stair steps on the other side. Back to the floor to divide into two patterns, each exactly mirroring the other, resembling the carefully trimmed hedges in the garden below.

Next, the dominos ran up to the window ledge and a colorful box there. A domino hit a lever before the next ones ran around the sill, and out popped a jack-in-the-box. Belle laughed and clapped her hands.

The domino stream ran across a ledge and up onto the next windowsill. Again one hit a lever, and out of this box popped a clockwork elephant that lifted its trunk and trumpeted before it sank back into the box.

The adults watched, as entranced as the children, as the line of dominos sped back to the floor. It ran in more patterns, then split again. One domino in the second pattern tripped a switch, shooting a toy train out from the shadows on its track. The train whistled and blew real smoke as it raced around to the end of its run, incidentally knocking down the next domino in the chain.

This stream broke into three, each heading a different direction. One stream zoomed across the floor straight at Jamie before veering aside at the last second. Another whirled into curlicues, like flower petals opening on the floor. The third went up a series of ramps, to clatter across the picture rail under the cornice.

The last domino on the rail fell to land against another on the window seat. This stream ran to another box that sprang open in an explosion of sulfur-smelling smoke.

"That's Danny," Cameron said, sounding as delighted as the children. "He's always loved blowing things up."

Another crack and puff answered the remark as the dominos swarmed down the window seat. The next device they triggered released a string of puppets dancing on a wire, a music box below them playing a merry tune. The dominos ran on, tripping a lever on a clock they ran past. The clock chimed, and from its top issued a line of figures that bowed, danced, or tapped drums in front of them, before they disappeared back into the clock.

"Glockenspiel," Daniel said to Jamie's wide-eyed stare. "Friend and I made it."

The stream now met up with the two others that had been flashing around the room. The dominos ran side by side, three abreast, then knocked into others that grew the stream into four and five, then six and seven across. The dominos parted and flowed into a diamond-patterned design, meeting precisely at the end, the streams dissolving back into three before picking up again for the next diamond.

The diamonds finished, reduced the dominos to two streams again, then one, which zigzagged up ramps to the ceiling fixture, its facets removed. The dominos raced around the rim then fell like a waterfall into a pile below. One knocked into the next row, which tripped another box.

Out popped a clockwork bird, which took wing and flapped around the room. Dominos gathered into a wild swirl, tripping more and more, until they all fell down in the middle of the circle.

A final lever tripped, and a box burst open with a puff of smoke and a ball of glittering paper, which exploded over the room.

Confetti rained down in a gentle shower, the last domino fell, and all was silence.

Mac let out a wild whoop, startling Beth out of her stunned stillness. She had to open and close her mouth a few times, her voice not working, as the others bathed Ian in wild applause.

"Ian, you did all this?" Mac asked.

"Daniel put in the clockworks," Ian said quietly, lifting the first domino to stand it upright again.

"It was all Uncle Ian's idea," Daniel said. "Born in that mathematical brain of his. He came up with the designs and how to make them work. I just put together the clockworks. Uncle Ian's a bloody genius."

Ian said nothing. He showed Jamie how to set up the dominos again. Jamie let him get to five before he knocked them down and shouted happily.

The rest of the family swarmed in, adults and children alike, examining the fallen dominos and Danny's devices, exclaiming in excitement. Hart had pulled off his paper crown, but he bent over the patterns as eagerly.

"You'll have to set them all up again," Hart said. "I want Eleanor to see this."

"Uncle," Daniel said in dismay. "It took us weeks to do this lot."

"Take more weeks," Hart said, without sympathy. "Not Eleanor's fault she's abed. She'll want to see it when she's better."

"True." Daniel brightened, with his usual lightning-swift change of mood. "Auntie El shouldn't miss it.

Here, Jamie, help me with these."

He led Jamie to another stream, and Ian rose and came to Beth.

"Daniel's right," Beth said to him. "You are a bloody genius. And here I was afraid . . ."

Ian gave her a puzzled look. "Afraid of what? It was for Jamie. For Christmas."

Beth flung her arms around her husband and pulled his tall body down to her. "Ian, I love you so very much."

Ian's strong arms came around her, his warmth filling his embrace. "I love you, my Beth," he whispered against her hair. "Are you happy?"

"Of course I am. It was a fine thing to do. Something only you would think of."

Ian raised his head to give her a long kiss, then he buried his face in her neck, his arms tightening on her back. "Everything's all right then," he said.

*** *** *** "My love, you will not believe what Ian did."

Hart stretched out on the bed next to Eleanor, his eyes sparkling, though his face was too pale. He needed sleep.

Eleanor listened while Hart described the dominos Ian and Daniel had set up. She laughed, even though laughter brought a twinge of pain. "They needn't bother with it again. It must have been much labor."

"Yes, they do need to bother. It will be a nice treat for you after all this. You deserve it."

Eleanor didn't argue. When Hart wanted to bully someone, especially about something concerning her, little could stop him.

"Well, I'm glad Ian did something so good for the children. And all of you, if I read the excitement in your voice right. It makes me feel light, which will be good for when I go down to supper."

"El." The smile left Hart's face, and he became the worried husband again. The over-worried husband.

"No one will think less of you if you stay and rest. They know the baby is coming soon."

Eleanor sighed. "Sometimes I think he's not coming at all. I wake in the morning, so sure it will be today, and go to sleep as heavy as ever. Stubborn little chap. So like a Mackenzie."

"It's Christmas. Perhaps it will be today."

Hart could be optimistic, but then he wasn't lying here like a bloated balloon.

Hart drew a small packet from his pocket and laid it on the covers over her bosom. "Merry Christmas, love."

Eleanor touched the package in surprise. "What's this? I thought you were too Scottish to give presents any time but New Year's."

"I didn't want to wait."

He spoke calmly, almost offhand, but Eleanor heard the need in him, and the fear. He wanted to make certain she received the gift, in case something happened.

Poor Hart. Eleanor tried to reassure him that she was not fragile and frail like his first wife, but he was too aware of the danger. Eleanor was aware of it too, but they could only wait and see what happened.

She unwrapped the tissue around the gift, revealing another wrapping of silk. She opened this as well then gazed in rapture at the earrings that lay on the blue fabric. Soft gold geometric shapes studded with blue stones hung from wire so fine a breath might displace them.

"Oh, Hart." Eleanor lifted one earring, her eyes wide. "This is astonishing." The gold was so thin it could have been paper, but heavy enough to have substance.

"They're from Egypt." Hart slid closer and rested his head on her shoulder. He touched the dangling gold. "An Egyptian queen wore these."

"Truly?" Her fascination increased. "How old are they?"

"Ancient. Made several thousand years before Christ was born."

"They're beautiful. But where did you get them? Did you slip off to Egypt sometime when I wasn't looking?"

"I intercepted them on their way to the British Museum."

Eleanor very carefully lowered the earring. "Then perhaps we should let them be displayed in the museum."

"Rot that. They were destined for a box in a basement, probably to be buried for eternity. I persuaded them to let me have charge of them."

Hart's persuasion could be aggressive. "I see. Then please tell the gentlemen at the museum I will take very good care of them."

"They know."

Eleanor slipped one into her earlobe, then smiled at Hart. "There. Shall I wear them to supper?"

Hart slid his arm behind her, turning her to face him. His lips met hers in a slow, savoring kiss, his finger stealing to the earring and then drawing down her neck, tracing fire.

It would be a while, Eleanor reflected, sinking into his embrace, before they thought of going down to supper.

*** *** *** Lloyd Fellows still hadn't become comfortable with his welcome into the Mackenzie family. Years of animosity, on both sides, took time to fade.

The women of the household--those ladies mad enough to marry Mackenzies--always greeted Fellows warmly. He had to admit that visits to the duke's grand mansion were made easier by the soft embraces and friendly kisses of the four ladies. The gentlemen still eyed him askance, although Ian, of all people, accepted Fellows without rancor.

Even so, sitting at the long table in the grand dining room, amidst Hart Mackenzie's highborn guests, was unnerving. Those not of the family stared at him in open curiosity. They were amazed by the fact that the lofty Mackenzies had not only acknowledged Fellows's birth, but accepted him as equal to the Mackenzie brothers. Fellows was a lowly policeman, raised in the slums of London. He ought to be taking his dinner below stairs. And yet he sat at the high table, next to the duchess herself, who'd risen from her bed to preside over the meal.

More unnerving to Fellows than the guests' glances and whispers, however, was the presence of Lady Louisa Scranton, sister to Lady Isabella, seated right next to him.

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