The Christmas Card: The perfect heartwarming novel for Christmas from the Sunday Times bestseller

‘It’s not my fault, ma’am,’ Mrs Upton said hastily. ‘It was I who prevented them leaving.’

‘Miss Radcliffe, I will have words with you later, but please stop the child making that dreadful noise.’ Lydia retreated to her room, slamming the door.

Flora stopped howling, but her whole body shook with suppressed sobs. ‘I – I hate you, Upton.’

‘That’s no way to speak to Mrs Upton,’ Alice said severely. She pulled Flora to her feet. ‘Say you’re sorry.’

‘But I’m not sorry. It’s the truth. I hate you all.’ Flora stamped her foot and genuine tears spurted from her eyes.

‘The child is a she-devil.’ Mrs Upton shook her head. ‘She’s past redemption. That’s what you get when you take a brat from the slums into a decent home.’

Alice placed her arm around Flora’s shoulders, holding her close. ‘It’s no wonder she misbehaves if that’s what you think of her.’

‘Mrs Dearborn will hear more of this and you will be replaced, Miss Radcliffe.’ Mrs Upton turned on her heel and marched off with the keys on her chatelaine jingling, but it was not the happy sound of Christmas bells.

‘Never mind, Flora,’ Alice said, taking her by the hand. ‘We’ll go back to the nursery and I’ll explain everything to your mama when she sends for me. I’m sure if she understands why we were going into the gardens then she’ll change her mind.’

Flora wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Do you think so?’

‘I do indeed. After all, it is almost Christmas, the season of peace on earth and goodwill to all men.’ She chuckled. ‘And women, including Mrs Upton.’

The summons to the morning room came two hours later. Mrs Dearborn was seated by the fire, hands folded in her lap with a judgemental look on her face that did not bode well.

‘What did you think you were doing, Radcliffe? You know that Flora is easily upset and yet you decided to go against my wishes and take her out.’

‘I only intended to take her into the gardens, Mrs Dearborn. I thought that she would enjoy playing snowballs and running around like any ordinary child.’

‘I don’t pay you to think, Radcliffe. You will know by now that a previous employee filled the child’s head with nonsense about her natural mother. Flora is obsessed by the idea that she wants to find the woman.’

‘Then it is true, ma’am?’

‘Flora was adopted by my husband and me. She would never have known had it not been for the nursemaid who turned out to be a drunken slattern. Flora is unstable and given to bouts of temper tantrums that can only be controlled by large doses of laudanum. You were supposed to take care of her and prevent such outbursts.’

‘No one told me what to expect, Mrs Dearborn. But I don’t think that Flora is unstable, as you put it, and I decry the use of laudanum on such a young child.’

‘You dare to tell me what to do?’ Lydia stared at her, delicate eyebrows raised until they disappeared into her hairline. ‘What gives you the right to question my authority?’

Angry and undaunted by her employer’s indignation, Alice faced her squarely. ‘I don’t question your authority, ma’am. But from what I’ve seen of Flora she is a little girl who needs love and affection.’

‘Flora has the best of everything. My husband spoils her and she wants for nothing.’

Alice could see that this was going nowhere. Lydia Dearborn did not seem to have any maternal feelings towards her adopted daughter, but arguing was not going to help. ‘I can see that she is a lucky little girl to have come into such a comfortable home, but I was an only child and it’s a lonely path to tread. Might I suggest that she be allowed a little more freedom? She is intelligent and talented, and if she were allowed out under my supervision I think I could help her.’

‘I haven’t decided yet whether or not to sack you, Radcliffe. If you are a bad influence on Flora then you must leave.’

Alice said nothing. She clasped her hands behind her back, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl standing in front of an irate headmistress, but there was little she could do other than wait for Mrs Dearborn to decide her fate. She could imagine Aunt Jane’s smug expression if she were dismissed. It would give her added encouragement to see marriage as the only solution, but the thought of marrying Horace made Alice feel physically sick.

Lydia relaxed her hands with a sigh. ‘I suppose I will have to allow you stay on for the time being, Radcliffe. Apart from upsetting Flora even further, it would be difficult to find a replacement at such short notice, and at this time of year.’

‘I’ll do my best to look after her, Mrs Dearborn.’

‘You will indeed. There will be no more trips out unless you have my permission.’

‘I understand.’

‘You may go, but I expect you to work tomorrow, even though it’s Christmas Day. I have guests coming and I don’t want Flora to ruin my party.’

Alice nodded, biting back the sharp words that rose to her lips. This woman, she decided, was selfish to the core and she disliked her intensely.

‘You may go.’ Lydia dismissed her with a wave of her hand. ‘Wait. On second thoughts you can make yourself useful. The wretched tree needs decorating and the servants are all fully occupied with preparations for tomorrow. I’m going out to luncheon and will be gone all afternoon, so you and my daughter may hang the baubles and tinsel. It will keep Flora occupied.’

Flora knew exactly where the decorations were stored. She led Alice to an attic room at the far end of the corridor where the servants slept. Cabin trunks and other items of luggage were piled from floor to sloping ceiling. Oddments of furniture, oil lamps and a couple of crinoline cages were littered about the room, together with tea chests spilling over with unwanted items.

With a cry of delight Flora pounced on a wooden box. ‘There it is. I knew it was here.’ She lifted the lid and pulled out a strand of tinsel, holding it so that the silver threads danced in rays of sunlight that filtered through the grime on the small windowpanes. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ Alice glanced anxiously at the cobwebs that festooned the rafters, but to her relief there was no evidence of the creatures that had made them. She knew that for a grown woman to be afraid of spiders was irrational, but like Flora she had been at the mercy of a nanny who was addicted to drink and laudanum. The gruesome tales of giant arachnids that came in the night to punish naughty children had been told to subdue and scare her. The nightmares had ceased, but the fear remained. She closed the lid. ‘Let’s take them downstairs to the drawing room, Flora.’

‘And I want to put the star on top of the tree.’

‘I want doesn’t get,’ Alice said automatically, and for a moment she thought she was about to witness another tantrum, but Flora’s angry look melted into a smile.

‘May I put the star on top of the tree, please, Alice?’

‘Of course you may.’ Alice picked up the box. ‘You see how easy it is to get along with people when you speak to them nicely?’

‘I think I’m beginning to.’ Flora held out her hand. ‘Let me help you.’

Together they transported the heavy box to the drawing room and set about decorating the tree, stopping briefly at midday when Nettie summoned them to the morning room where, as a special treat, luncheon had been laid on a table in the window.

‘I feel like a grown-up,’ Flora said happily. ‘I’m not usually allowed to have my meals anywhere but in the nursery.’

‘We’re very busy below stairs, Miss Flora.’ Nettie placed a jug of gravy on the table next to the mutton pie with a glistening golden crust and a tempting aroma. ‘Mrs Upton said it would be easier if you and Miss Radcliffe ate here.’

Alice took her seat at table opposite Flora. ‘It looks and smells delicious, Nettie. Thank you.’

‘There’s boiled cabbage to come, miss. I’ll fetch it now.’

‘Ugh,’ Flora said, pulling a face. ‘I hate cabbage.’

‘It’s good for you.’ Alice cut into the pie. ‘But perhaps on this occasion we’ll just have the pie, Nettie. Miss Flora will forgo dessert and have an apple instead.’

Flora’s eyes opened wide and her bottom lip trembled. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll eat my cabbage, but only if I can have pudding. What is it, Nettie?’

‘Jam roly-poly, miss.’

‘And custard?’

‘Of course, miss. Cook wouldn’t serve pudding without custard.’ Nettie bobbed a curtsey and left the room, returning minutes later with a dish of boiled cabbage. Flora wrinkled her nose, but ate hers without further complaint. Alice smiled to herself and said nothing.