A Christmas Dream (Hudson House Holiday #1)

Chapter Nine

“W hat is happening around here?” Holland asked as she and Savannah left their coats in their room and hurried to change into pressed uniforms. After consulting with Dulcie, Remington had selected ready-made dresses for the female staff members in a rich, dark shade of blue. They all wore white aprons. As housemaids, Savannah and Holland had a bit of lace on their aprons, whereas Dulcie’s dress and apron were of the lightest weight of unadorned cotton, and she most often wore a cotton cap over her hair to keep it out of her way and the food.

“Hurry, girls. Mr. Hudson has guests, and there is much to be done this morning. Start with the bedrooms. Oh, there’s also a new parlormaid and help in the kitchen. Introductions will have to wait,” Remington said in passing as they stepped into the hallway near the kitchen. Rather than stop for their morning cup of tea with Dulcie, the sisters raced up the servants’ stairs to the second floor, retrieved their cleaning supplies, and started with Brant’s room.

Savannah opened the windows to air the room while Holland made the bed, inconspicuously drawing in the decadent, masculine scent that was all Brant. Holland tackled his bathroom while Savannah dusted the bedroom and emptied ashes from his fireplace.

Working together, they were soon finished with Brant’s room and moved down the hall. It appeared whoever was staying had children as the nursery looked like a whirlwind had touched down inside it. Once it was set to rights, they hastily cleaned what was set up to be the nanny’s adjoining room.

Holland had just closed the window from airing the room when she heard voices and stepped into the hall in time to see a beautiful dark-haired woman give Brant a tight embrace, kiss his cheek, then take his hand in hers as they descended the grand curving staircase.

Emotions, unfamiliar and bitter, surged through her. Anger. Jealousy. Envy. Disappointment. Despair. Wave after wave of them washed over her until she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over at her sister.

“What’s the matter, Holland? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No ghosts, just …” Holland sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, nothing is using up precious minutes we should be working.” Savannah pointed to the bedroom across from the nursery. “Let’s finish this room. It appears to be the last one used last night, then we can help downstairs.”

Holland nodded and returned to work.

All morning, as she dusted and mopped and straightened rooms, her stomach tied itself in a tighter and tighter knot until she thought she might be ill. When she reached the library, she half hoped and half dreaded finding Brant there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

In need of a moment to collect herself, Holland pushed open the hidden door and stepped outside, only to observe Brant strolling with the woman she’d seen earlier clinging to his arm. The woman said something, and Brant threw back his head in laughter, looking so happy it made Holland’s heart hurt to witness his pleasure in a female that wasn’t her.

Disgusted with herself—and with him for letting her think he cared about her—she marched into the library, closed the door, and spun around to find herself facing a stern-faced gray-haired woman who appeared to dine on lemons and green persimmons for breakfast.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked, glaring down her sharp, thin nose at Holland.

“Cleaning the library,” Holland said, noting the woman wore a dark blue dress, similar to their uniforms but made from more costly fabric. She had an ornate chatelaine fastened at her waist from which hung a watch, a pair of swan-neck scissors, a brass tube for needles and thread, tweezers, and a few empty rings which would likely hold keys in the not-too-distant future.

Apparently, a head housekeeper had finally been hired. Holland had been dreading the day. She and Savannah had learned what they could about being maids in a large elaborate home, but she knew Brant and Remington had given them—all of the staff—quite a bit of leniency because there wasn’t a housekeeper in charge. They all did their work, kept the house spotless, but Holland had a feeling this sour-faced woman was about to change everything.

“Are you the new head of housekeeping?” Holland asked, forcing a smile to her face, although it felt fake and stiff.

“I’m Mrs. Mirabel Sanders. I was hired by Mrs. Mitchum to take charge of this place. I see much training is in order before the staff is able to function at the level of exceptional service that I demand and Mr. Hudson should expect. Who might you be?”

“Holland Drake, Mrs. Sanders. My sister and I were the first two female staff members hired. We enjoy working here, but we also know we have much to learn.”

The woman didn’t reply, merely glared at Holland. Finally, she pointed to the fireplace ashes that needed to be emptied and the kindling to be reset for lighting later in the day. “You had best get to work. There is much to be done and little time to do it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sanders.” Holland strode toward the fireplace, relieved when the woman marched off, the items dangling from her chatelaine clinking together as she walked.

Despite her earlier anger with Brant and the unknown woman, and the abrupt and rather rude woman who brashly announced she was now in charge, Holland grinned, likening Mrs. Sanders to a cow with a bell. At least with her chatelaine chiming discordantly with each step, it would be easy enough to keep track of her.

Holland worked straight through lunch. She discovered the new parlormaid—a red-haired Irish lass named Kierney—working in the music room, and welcomed her. Finally, when she couldn’t ignore the growling in her stomach any longer, Holland dashed to the kitchen only to find Dulcie chatting with a girl named Ellen who introduced herself as a new scullery maid. Holland wasn’t even sure what that meant, but she was glad to see someone giving Dulcie a hand.

“I saved a bowl of stew for you,” Dulcie said, retrieving a small crockery bowl from the warming oven along with two biscuits.

“You are an angel of mercy,” Holland said and kissed Dulcie’s cheek.

“Hardly, but you need sustenance if you’re going to keep up with today’s hectic pace.”

“It has been a busy day,” Holland agreed. She rolled back her sleeves, washed her hands and face, then took a seat at the small table where she and Savannah had interviewed with Remington in what seemed like a lifetime ago but had only been a few months.

After offering a silent word of thanks for the meal, Holland buttered the biscuits, slathered them with a thick layer of apple butter, and bit into one.

“Savannah rushed in long enough to stuff a slice of ham and cheese between a biscuit before she and Serena were sent downstairs to help in the laundry,” Dulcie said, raising her eyebrow as she stirred what appeared to be a pot of custard filling. “Apparently, Mrs. Sanders is bent on reorganizing everyone.”

“I did make note of that.” Holland wanted to take time to savor her meal, but ate quickly lest Mrs. Sanders catch her and decide to fire her for taking a break, or leave her to scrub all the chamber pots. She shuddered just thinking about the odious task that Trinity never seemed to mind doing.

“We simply need more staff,” Holland observed as she bit into her second biscuit. “You worked in a large home, Dulcie. Was it as big as this one?”

“No, it wasn’t nearly as large, but there were five more house staff than we have. With guests here, one person can’t handle all the laundry, we need one if not two more sets of hands in the kitchen, and if herself,” Dulcie said, referring to Mrs. Sanders, “starts moving maids from upstairs to the basement, who will clean the rooms there? On top of that, Monroe has two young men shadowing his every footstep to learn how to be butlers from him. Did you know they are his nephews?”

“Nephews?” Holland asked. She had no idea they’d arrived, let alone were related to Remington. “He must be pleased to have his relatives with him, even if it is for a brief time while he trains them.”

“He did seem quite pleased,” Dulcie said as she poured the custard filling over pears Ellen had arranged in pie shells.

“I made a custard pear pie for the Harvest Dance. Bran … I mean Mr. Hudson certainly seemed to enjoy it.”

Dulcie grinned as she scraped the last of the custard filling over the pears. “Why do you think I’m making the pie? He described it in decadent detail and requested I make it for dessert tonight. Savannah gave me your basic recipe. I hope it tastes as good as yours. If not, you’ll have to write down the exact ingredients, and I’ll try again.”

Holland took the last bite of her stew, used her biscuit to mop up the remaining juice and shoved it in her mouth, then set her dishes in the sink and washed them. “You’re an excellent cook, Dulcie. I’m sure everything will turn out perfectly.” Holland swiped her finger around the inside of the pan to taste a remnant of the custard and grinned. “It’s delicious.”

Dulcie playfully swatted at her with the towel she’d been using to keep the hot pan handle from burning her hand. “Go on with you. If you find a spare minute, Monroe mentioned a fresh arrangement for the table in the entry, and one for the table in the breakfast room. Apparently, Mr. Hudson prefers to dine in there this evening.”

“I’ll check on Kierney and see if she needs help mopping the last of the hallway floor, then I’ll see to the arrangements.” Holland sped out of the room and nearly collided with two young men who bore a resemblance to Remington. They were both handsome, tall, and appeared to be close to Savannah’s age.

“Hello,” she said with a friendly smile. “You must be related to Monroe.”

The taller of the two smiled and politely tipped his head to her. “Dalton Steele at your service, miss. This is my brother, Gareth. I believe we met your sister earlier. You are Holland.”

“That I am.” She shook their hands. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I hope to hear about your journey and what brought you to Silver Bluff later. Perhaps after dinner things will quiet down. It’s certainly been an unusual day.”

“That’s what Uncle Remington said as well. He’s in a meeting with Mr. Hudson at the moment and told us to see if Dulcie might be willing to part with a few cookies,” Gareth said, looking with longing into the kitchen as delicious aromas drifted into the hallway.

“Ask her nicely, and I’m sure she’ll even give you milk to enjoy with the cookies.” Holland backed toward the stairs. “It’s nice to meet you both. Welcome!” With that, she turned and raced upstairs, found Kierney finishing the last of the mopping, and hurried back downstairs. Holland snagged an old shawl she wore outside while she was working and dashed for the conservatory. It had snowed an inch last night, and the heavy gray clouds overhead indicated they’d receive more snow soon.

Chilled by the time she opened the conservatory’s heavy door, Holland eagerly stepped into the welcome warmth and gave herself a moment to breathe in the earthy aromas. She knew Brant intended to eventually expand the already large conservatory to allow experimenting with plants, but for now, it served the purpose of providing a place to grow vegetables and flowers through the cold winter months.

The entry area was filled with tropical plants that fascinated Holland. Their bright colors and unusual blooms intrigued her. A small room to the left held orchids and lilies. The room farthest to the right was long and deep, where raised beds held an assortment of vegetables. One wing held bulbs in various stages of being forced to bloom and flowers she had no idea what they were other than beautiful. Another wing was dedicated to herbs and edible flowers. There was even a room where nothing but roses grew. She knew the gardener hoped to plant most of the flowers in beds in the spring.

Holland left her shawl on a hook by the door, snitched a strawberry from the bed at the back of the vegetable section, then wandered through the wings and connecting rooms, choosing a stem here and a blossom there. She pilfered a few more strawberries, returned the clippers she’d used to the hook above the planting table, and walked back to the entry. After covering the basket she held with a piece of burlap to keep the flowers from freezing, she was just about to wrap her shawl around her shoulders when the door opened, filled with a large presence.

Brant moved inside, shut the door behind him, and gave her a long studying glance.

“Mr. Hudson,” she said, dipping her head in a polite gesture. She was still angry with him, although he’d done nothing to deserve her ire. If she were addlepated enough to think he might ever hold any interest in or affection for her, that was entirely her doing, not his. She’d been a stupid, silly girl to even dream he might one day see her as more than just a maid in his house.

But in reality, that’s all she was. Hired help. Nothing more.

“Oh, I’m Mr. Hudson today, am I? You know there isn’t anyone else out here, don’t you? I was upstairs and saw you run out here. Have you had a moment to rest today?” His voice held a tenderness that made her want to throw herself into his arms and plead with him to notice her, to see how much she cared for him, but she didn’t.

Instead, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Mrs. Sanders runs a tight ship. Food and rest do not seem to be on her list of acceptable reasons to stop working.”

“Is that so? A regular old dragon, is she?” Brant asked, taking a step closer to her, his incredible blue eyes dancing with mirth. “Did she breathe fire?”

“Almost. Or it might have been the garlic I smelled on her breath.”

Brant chuckled and placed his hands on Holland’s arms, rubbing up and down. “Are you cold? Do you want my coat?” He started to slip it off, but Holland shook her head.

“I’m fine, Mr. Hudson. Is there something you need?”

He looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind. “I needed to see you, Holland. It’s been a topsy-turvy day, and I wanted a few minutes of sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” she asked, confused. “It’s so dark and cloudy out there, it might as well be dusk. What are you talking about?”

Brant moved closer to her, stopping only when the toes of his boots touched the hem of her dress. “You, Holland, are my sunshine. I need a daily dose of your jubilant spirit, or things just don’t seem right. I missed your bright smile this morning when I was in the library.”

“Oh,” she said, backing up until she bumped into one of the tables holding a potted lemon tree. “I assumed you were busy with your friend. Or is she your fiancée?”

“So, that’s the reason you look like you ate something tart. I thought your vinegary attitude was because of dragon-breathing Mrs. Sanders. You’re jealous of Eloise. Is that it?”

“Of course not,” Holland snapped, but the lie tasted terrible on her tongue. “Maybe,” she admitted, sagging in defeat. Then the name he spoke registered in her mind. “Eloise? As in your sister who’s coming for Christmas?”

Brant nodded. “The very one. She surprised me in town yesterday. She had her own entourage with the children, their nanny, her lady’s maid, and the others in tow. Did you meet Ellen and Kierney, and Remington’s nephews?”

No longer feeling as if her dreams had all died, Holland realized Brant had followed her out to the conservatory because he missed her. Missed their morning library chats as she cleaned.

She smiled. “I did meet them. The boys look like their uncle, don’t they? Will they study long with him? Will they stay here when they’ve completed their training?”

“They do look like Rem. I think it will take a few months for them to learn the basics, longer to become proficient. Remington has suggested I need a footman, a valet, a butler’s assistant, and any number of positions. We’ll see how the boys work out. It might be that one or both of them will work into positions here.”

“I’m sure Remington will be thrilled to have them nearby if they stay. Does he have many siblings?”

“No. Just one sister. She was eleven when he was born and married young, but she and Rem have always stayed in touch. Kari has the two boys, and a daughter, who is thirteen, I think.”

“How did they come to be with your sister?”

Brant stepped past her and wandered past a display of ginger root. “Dean’s uncle is dying, so he went back to New York to say his farewells. Eloise asked him to pay a call to Kari and see if the boys might be interested in training with Remington. They were excited by the prospect. As a surprise to both me and Remington, Dean put them on a train. It just happened to work out they arrived in Silver Bluff a few hours ahead of Eloise. She’d wired a message for them to wait for her, and that’s how they all came to be here.”

“It’s wonderful. Your sister must care a great deal for you to go to so much effort to try and fill your house with appropriate staff.”

“Speaking of staff …” Brant turned to face her with his arms over his chest. “Tell me how you think we should distribute the house staff. I heard from Dulcie that Mrs. Sanders sent Savannah and Serena down to help in the laundry. I don’t think that is a particularly good use of their skills. I also know you would like to move to the kitchen. Is that still your desire?”

Holland nodded. “It is, but only if it doesn’t leave the housemaids short-staffed.”

“I sent Remington to town to see if he can hire more help in the laundry. Provided he hires someone today, or soon, you can plan to work in the kitchen tomorrow. That should leave adequate staff among the housemaids, don’t you think?”

“I do, but why are you asking me all this? I’m just one of the maids.”

“No, dear Holland, you are not. You’re my friend, and I value your insight and opinions.” Brant brushed his finger along her jaw before gently tipping up her chin. “Do you not know how important you are to me?”

Holland felt lost as she fell into the heat of his gaze, drowning in its depths, but there was no other place she wanted to be.

“Sweet, sweet Holland,” Brant whispered as his head descended toward hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his breath caress her cheek, the peppermint scent of the candy he so enjoyed mingling with the unique masculine scent of him.

Often she’d dreamed of what it would be like to kiss him, to be held in his strong arms, to be surrounded by his love.

Before she could discover that particular bliss, they were interrupted.

“Mr. Hudson, I wanted you to know, the—” The gardener who walked in abruptly stopped talking as Brant turned to face him.

Holland, feeling both irritated and embarrassed to be caught with Brant in the conservatory of all places, tried to gather her composure. She picked up the basket of stems she’d cut, grabbed her shawl, and nodded to the two men. “Thank you for your assistance, sir.”

Coward that she was, she ran all the way back to the house and retreated to the basement to arrange the flowers, knowing Brant wouldn’t come down there seeking her. For reasons she didn’t entirely understand, she felt as though he’d held a beautiful gift out to her, and it had been snatched away before she could even untie the ribbon.

Holland finished the arrangements and carried them upstairs. She was just leaving one in the breakfast room when she saw Brant walk by with a little girl in his arms. The child had to be his beloved niece, Clara.

Footsteps stopped, then backed up a few paces. Brant peered around the edge of the doorway and smiled. “The arrangements are lovely, Holland. Thank you.” He spoke in a soft, low voice.

“You’re welcome. I enjoy creating them.” She walked over and gazed at the beautiful sleeping child he held. “Clara?” she whispered.

“Yes. It’s past her naptime, and she refused to go to sleep until I carried her around a few minutes and she could no longer keep her eyes open. Eloise and Nanny Lewis are trying to get Mayes to take a rest as well. I thought I’d put Clara on the couch in the sitting room.”

“I’ll help you settle her.” Holland followed him to the sitting room done in light woods, with multiple windows. The furniture was covered in soft brown leather with wide comfortable seats and cushions. The walls, painted a pale shade of green, felt both welcoming and calming. It was the most peaceful room in the house, and the most comfortable.

Once Brant placed Clara on the couch, Holland lifted a blanket from a cedar lined chest placed against the far wall and covered the child. She brushed the curls from the little one’s face, seeing a resemblance to Brant in her nose and chin.

“She’s lovely,” Holland whispered when she and Brant stood in the doorway, watching to make sure Clara continued to sleep.

Brant glanced at Holland, his gaze intent on her lips. They tingled, remembering how close she and Brant had been to kissing earlier. Perhaps it had been divine intervention the gardener had interrupted when he had.

“You are lovely, Holland. I’m sorry about earlier. I likely won’t have a chance to see much of you later. I did speak with Mrs. Sanders about moving you to the kitchen beginning tomorrow. She didn’t appear particularly pleased, but then her face seems to be stuck in a permanent scowl.”

Holland did her best not to giggle, but it took effort on her part. Brant had accurately described the woman. She felt bad for leaving Savannah on her own to deal with the dragon-breath woman, but perhaps things would smooth out if Remington hired additional staff for the laundry.

“If you have any more trouble with anyone, let me know. I want all my employees to be happy here. Eloise has assured me Mrs. Sanders comes with a long list of references, but we’ll see if she’s a good fit for Hudson House. I have a feeling she’s all bark and no bite.”

“Maybe. Time will tell.” Holland smiled up at Brant, feeling the undeniable, nearly indescribable pull between the two of them. If she lingered any longer, she wasn’t certain what she’d do if he attempted to kiss her again.

She left the room and returned to her duties, realizing she’d eagerly kiss him back.