Phoebe and the Pea: A Regency Holiday Tale Read online

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright Notice

  Other Works

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Author Notes

  Phoebe

  and the

  Pea

  Catherine Bilson

  A Regency Holiday Tale

  Copyright © 2020 by Shenanigans Press

  ebook Edition

  All rights reserved. This ebook or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the authors except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Editing by RoseLarkPublishing.

  Other Works by Catherine Bilson

  Regency Romance

  The Blushing Brides series

  AN EARL FOR ELLEN

  A MARQUIS FOR MARIANNE

  A DUKE FOR DIANA (coming in 2020)

  HIS DARLING DUCHESS (coming in 2020)

  Jane Austen tribute works

  THE BEST OF RELATIONS

  INFAMOUS RELATIONS

  MR. BINGLEY’S BRIDE

  A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE AT LONGBOURN

  A LONGBOURN QUARTET

  Pioneer Romance

  COMING FROM CALIFORNIA

  RETURNING FROM RHODE ISLAND (coming in 2020)

  Chapter One

  “Phoebe, Phoebe, look!”

  Miss Phoebe Faraday turned, obedient to the childish demand of her charge, and smiled indulgently at the mis-shapen snowman. “That’s lovely, Ellie!”

  Miss Eleanor Holt, aged seven, planted mittened hands on tiny hips and tipped her head to one side consideringly. “He needs a hat,” she declared. “Do you think Papa will have an old one we could use?”

  Phoebe winced at the idea of asking the very fashionable Lord Edmund Holt for a hat for the snowman. “I think we should look in the garden shed first,” she suggested as an alternative. “I’m certain I saw an old cap hanging on a peg there which nobody would miss.”

  The little girl agreed and soon the snowman was completed to Eleanor’s satisfaction. With that done, Phoebe convinced the little girl to go indoors to warm up with the promise of hot milk and jam tarts in the kitchen. Just one day into the new year, the weather had turned quite bitterly cold and even the snow which had fallen in the last few days was frozen solid. Phoebe was shivering in her thin coat, even wearing all her petticoats beneath her warmest gown. At least Eleanor is warm enough, she consoled herself. Her charge was bundled up in a thick scarlet wool cloak, hat, mittens, and scarf, which had been among the little girl’s many Christmas gifts from her doting parents.

  Eleanor barely tolerated Phoebe disentangling her from her outerwear and exchanging her snow-covered boots for house slippers before she took off running for the kitchen. “Cookie, Cookie! Are there really jam tarts? Miss Phoebe says there are!”

  “Bless my soul.” Cook, a jolly, round-faced woman who doted on Eleanor and had a soft spot for Phoebe, smiled down at the little girl. “There might be once those hands have had a wash. Go on into the scullery with you, and Molly will help you wash up.”

  Sweet-natured, despite being surrounded by adults who did their best to spoil her rotten, Ellie danced off to the scullery without complaint and was soon back at the table where Cook worked, holding up freshly-scrubbed hands for inspection.

  “Good girl, sit down there.” Cook motioned to a stool under the central work table.

  By the time Phoebe had washed her own hands, Ellie was already halfway through her cup of hot milk and starting on her second jam tart. Cook waved Phoebe to sit down too and poured her some tea, the drinking of which began to warm Phoebe up at last. She sighed with pleasure, accepting a jam tart from the plate Ellie generously pushed her way. “Thank you, I needed that,” Phoebe said, warming her hands on the cup. “It’s bitter out there!”

  “That it is,” Cook agreed. “Good thing all the guests for the master and mistress’ house party are already here, or I think they’d be spending the night in roadside inns. Joseph said the roads are freezing hard.”

  Phoebe sighed soundlessly. Holt Manor was full almost to bursting; she’d even had to give up her own small room and sleep on a trundle beside Ellie’s bed.

  Lord Edmund and Lady Eugenia Holt loved nothing more than to entertain. Their parties were near-legendary among their friends; nobody turned down an invitation to a Holt party. Especially a week-long house party at a time of year when the nights were long and dark.

  The Holts were an exception among their circle of friends in that they had a child. Eleanor had hoped for at least one other child to play with and had drooped when every arriving carriage had only disgorged fashionably dressed ladies and gentlemen who patted her on the head and then dismissed her from their thoughts entirely. Phoebe had even made a game out of staying out of the partygoers’ sight. At least, Eleanor thought it was a game. For Phoebe, it was self-preservation. Phoebe had her work cut out for her keeping the disappointed child amused while her parents entertained their guests while at the same time avoiding some of the guests’ unwanted attentions.

  ***

  “What are you making, Cookie?” Ellie demanded, watching with interest as Cook measured out ingredients into a large bowl.

  “Twelfth Night cake. For the big party tomorrow,” Cook answered. “Had the dried fruit soaking in brandy for two days, and now it’s all ready to mix in.”

  “Oh, oh!” Ellie bounced in her chair. “May I add the pea and the bean? May I? May I, please?”

  Phoebe smiled and nodded encouragingly as Ellie remembered to say please and gathered up the dirty plates and cups to take to the scullery.

  Cook chuckled. “Of course you may, Miss Eleanor. Just one of each, mind, while I grate this sugar to add in!”

  Ellie scrambled down from her chair and around the other side of the table, watching as Cook turned away to fetch the sugar grater. Quick as a flash, a small hand dipped into the jar of dried peas set open on the table and snatched out a single pea, dropping it into the pocket of her dress. Just as fast, Ellie scooped three dried beans from the other jar, dropping them into the cake batter and taking up the big wooden spoon to mix them in.

  “All done!” she sang out.

  Cook beamed at her. “Good girl, Miss Eleanor. You’d better run along, now, let me get on, or this cake won’t get baked and there won’t be roast lamb for dinner, neither!”

  Ellie’s face fell.

  “Come on, Ellie.” Phoebe returned from the scullery and held out her hand. “Let’s go up to the nursery.”

  “Lessons?” Ellie said in a piteous tone, making Phoebe smile.

  “Not proper lessons while all the guests are here, I promised. But you did get those lovely new drawing pencils from your aunt for Christmas; I thought perhaps you’d like to do a drawing of our friend the snowman? You should be able to see him from the nursery window.”

  Happy enough with that proposal, Eleanor allowed herself to be lured away from the bright, busy kitchen. They used the servants’ stairs, making a game out of stayin
g hidden from the house guests.

  The nursery, and Eleanor’s bedroom beside it, was a sanctuary from the madness of the house party. So when the two opened the door to find a man sitting in the rocking chair beside the fire, Phoebe froze in shock.

  Eleanor, however, strode confidently into the breach, entirely unafraid of the stranger. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “I do beg your pardon.” The man stood, revealing himself to be quite tall with dark hair falling into his eyes in a tumble of untidy curls. “You must be Miss Eleanor Holt. I’m Major John Randwyck, a cousin of your father’s.” Going to one knee, he offered a hand gravely, and when Eleanor accepted it, placed a gallant kiss on the backs of her tiny fingers.

  Eleanor giggled, charmed. “Why are you in my nursery, Major?”

  “Well, when I was a little boy, I lived here with your grandparents for a while. My parents were away in India, you see. I hadn’t been back here since, and I was just reminiscing a little. I do beg your pardon for intruding.”

  “I forgive you,” Eleanor said magnanimously, and the major smiled, showing he had laugh lines around his eyes. Ellie revised her original age estimate at seeing them. Why, he had to be older than her father, who was five and thirty!

  “And this must be your governess. Would you do me the honor of an introduction?” He rose up to his feet and waited politely, his eyes on Phoebe.

  ***

  Phoebe blinked. This dashing man wanted to be introduced to her?

  “This is Phoebe,” Eleanor said.

  “Miss Phoebe…?” he left it on a question as he offered his hand and bowed over Phoebe’s.

  “Faraday,” Phoebe said.

  “Ah, you’re related to Eugenia, then? Faraday was her maiden name, was it not?”

  “Distant cousins,” Phoebe admitted. Something in the major’s penetrating gaze made her add, “I’m a poor relation, I’m afraid. We shared a great-grandfather, but I’m the only one left of my branch of the family. I lived with Eugenia’s grandmother, my great-aunt, until she died, and then my cousin the Earl, Eugenia’s father, thought I could be of use to Eugenia while Eleanor was young.”

  And once she’d outlived her usefulness here, she’d be shuffled off to whatever family member wanted a companion or governess next for the price of her room, meals, and a few cast-off dresses. Her great-aunt and then the Earl had made it clear that she was merely a hanger-on of their illustrious family tree, and should be grateful for whatever meagre scraps they deigned to toss in her direction.

  Randwyck, she suspected, worked all of this out without her having to say so because he nodded, and the slightest tinge of pity entered his expression. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Faraday, and I do apologize for intruding on your domain,” he said with a respectful bow. “I shan’t bother you again, though I do hope to make your further acquaintance… and yours, Miss Eleanor.”

  “You can call me Ellie,” that young lady pronounced. “Shall I call you Major?”

  “You can if you want, but Uncle John sounds better, does it not?” He had a pronounced twinkle in his eyes, which were an interesting shade somewhere between blue and gray.

  “Uncle John!” Ellie practically danced on the spot. “I never had an uncle before—except Uncle Viscount Pabley, but he’s boring!”

  Randwyck was obviously biting back a laugh as he said, “Well, technically I’m not exactly an uncle, but it’s close enough. I don’t have any nieces either.”

  “Would you like to come and draw with me?” Ellie invited.

  Much to Phoebe’s surprise, Randwyck said he’d be delighted, though he did add the proviso that he was expected downstairs for dinner shortly so would not be able to stay above half an hour.

  Half an hour was at least ten times as long as any guest at the house party had devoted to Eleanor thus far, so the little girl was visibly overjoyed when Randwyck crammed his long legs under a schoolroom desk to sit beside her and admire her drawings. He even took up a pencil at her command and colored in some green trees and blue sky in the background of her drawing. Relaxed, Phoebe let herself enjoy the Major’s and Ellie’s conversation. Ellie chattered away happily, though Phoebe had to wonder what made Ellie glance over at her so often. And why the little girl’s hand kept stealing to her dress pocket.

  Chapter Two

  Eleanor had begged her mother to be included in the Twelfth Night celebrations. Eugenia had conceded dotingly that she might come down to the special breakfast, at least, and see who would be crowned king and queen for the day when the Three Kings cake was cut.

  “Even a servant could be king or queen, and everyone would have to do what they said all day!” Ellie told Phoebe excitedly as they entered the large dining-room.

  Eugenia saw them enter and waved them over, patting the empty seat beside her and gesturing Ellie to sit there. Phoebe was a little surprised to see there was a seat available for her too, on Ellie’s other side, as one of the footmen held her chair, giving her the ghost of a wink as he did so.

  Major Randwyck was seated just across the table and smiled at Phoebe after bidding Ellie a good morning. Phoebe had the distinct feeling he was the only one who actually welcomed her presence.

  Cook came in beaming, bearing the now magnificently iced cake to great applause. She placed it before Eugenia with great ceremony. A large knife lay ready at Eugenia’s right hand and two maids waited to assist with plates.

  “Now gentlemen,” Eugenia said as she cut the first slice, “if any of you finds the pea, you must pass it secretly to the lady seated on your left. And ladies, if any of you finds the bean, you must pass it to the gentleman on your left! Whichever lady has the pea shall be queen for the day, and whichever gentleman has the bean will be her king!”

  There was some rather raucous applause around the table as the maids began to carry plates around, serving all the seated guests first, of course. Phoebe had been startled last year to discover that the servants were included in this tradition at all. But seeing how thin the slices the servants received were compared to those the guests got, she cynically guessed that it was far less likely one of them should find either the pea or the bean.

  “Thank you,” she said automatically as a plate was set down in front of her, and Eugenia shot her a glance, brows drawing down in faint reproach. Phoebe looked away. She hoped she would never fall out of the habit of thanking servants, no matter what Eugenia might think of such middle-class manners.

  “See if you have the pea, see if you have it, Phoebe!” Ellie nudged her excitedly, and Phoebe sighed and took up her fork. Undoubtedly one of the eager young ladies digging into her cake and mashing up the crumbs would find the prize. At least the cake should taste good; Cook made the most delicious fruit cakes.

  Her teeth clicked on something hard. Discreetly, she spat the pea out into her napkin and stared at it in dismay. Oh dear! Eugenia is not going to be pleased.

  “I have the bean,” a deep voice said, and Phoebe looked up to see Major Randwyck holding up a bean just as two other voices proclaimed exactly the same thing.

  “Phoebe’s got the pea!” Ellie shrieked before Phoebe could say anything.

  And then all devolved into confusion.

  ***

  “How can there be three beans?” Lady Eugenia demanded, obviously bemused.

  John eyed the small smirk on Miss Eleanor’s face and thought he had a very good notion just how there happened to be three beans in the Three Kings cake. The cook is eyeing the little miss with a suspicious frown too, he noted.

  Well, he did not mind giving up his bean to ameliorate the confusion and was about to say so when a squabble broke out behind him.

  Frank Cobley and Joseph Davies were typical of his cousin’s friends: young, boisterous, and well-off sons of the aristocracy. Cobley was second in line to a minor baronetcy, Davies an earl’s grandson. Right now, they were waving beans clasped between finger and thumb in each other’s faces, both loudly arguing that they were to
be king for the day.

  Looking around, John saw Miss Faraday’s face, noted the near-panic in her expression as she watched the two young idiots, and immediately discarded his plan of giving up his bean. “I think it’s a capital notion,” he said loudly, rising to his feet. “Three kings for Three Kings Day, what could be more apropos? How clever of you, Lady Eugenia, to think of such a unique scheme!”

  Eugenia’s disgruntled expression faded away like snow melting in the sun, and she at once declared how clever John was to have discerned her plan. He bowed in her direction, thinking cynically that she was certainly quick-witted, before turning to Cobley and Davies and placing a heavy hand on one shoulder of each.

  “Come, my fellow monarchs. Let us rule together in peace and harmony while ensuring our lovely queen has everything she might desire for the day!”

  “Ah, yes,” Cobley nodded jovially. “Miss, ah...” He looked at Phoebe with a frown.

  “Miss Faraday,” John supplied.

  “Yes, indeed.” Cobley gave him a helpless look. “Who is she?” he hissed under his breath.

  “A distant cousin of Lady Eugenia, I believe,” John said blandly.

  The servants filed out of the room, one of the maids catching Eleanor by the hand and leading her away after exchanging a few whispers with Miss Faraday. No doubt making arrangements for Ellie to be kept amused in the absence of her governess. The child looked pleased as Punch, not at all distraught to be deprived of her boon companion, which only settled John’s conviction Ellie had engineered the whole thing. Or at least, that Miss Faraday should get the pea and there should be three beans in the cake; he couldn’t quite see how Ellie might have managed him getting a bean since she hadn’t come near him or touched the plate before his cake was handed to him. That occurrence had to be nothing more than a coincidence.

  Moving toward the end of the table, John overheard Lady Eugenia conversing with another lady, a close friend of hers, Mrs. Myles.