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

Alice helped her mother to take her seat at the table. ‘How are you feeling this evening, Mama?’

‘Quite well, thank you, my darling. Jane has kept me fully employed today, which took my mind off my ailments, and the sorry position in which we find ourselves.’

‘Self-pity is a waste of time,’ Jane said severely. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Beth. It’s all in your silly head.’

‘Really, Aunt,’ Alice protested. ‘That’s not fair. Mama has always been delicate.’

‘Sit down, Alice. You too, Horace. I can’t do with people hovering.’ Jane rang the bell again. ‘Where is that idle child?’

‘Perhaps I ought to go and help?’ Alice suggested tentatively. ‘She’s quite small to carry heavy dishes up from the kitchen.’

‘People from her walk of life are born with the strength of oxen,’ Jane said dismissively. ‘That’s why they dig roads and plough the soil. We were put on earth to guide them and to help them control their base instincts. The child has to learn.’

The crash of breaking china was followed by a loud howl. Alice hurried to the door and opened it to find Clara on her knees amidst shards of broken crockery. She raised her to her feet. ‘There, there, don’t cry, Clara. It was an accident.’

‘I’ve broke the best plates. I’ll get a beating when Mrs Jugg finds out what I done.’

‘No one will harm you; I’ll see to that.’ Alice patted her on the shoulder. ‘Go and fetch a shovel and a brush and clear up the mess.’

‘But the dinner, miss. I’m supposed to fetch it.’

‘Leave that to me.’ Alice stepped back into the dining room. ‘Mr Hubble, would you care to assist me?’

His look of surprise was quickly replaced by a smug smile and he rose swiftly to his feet. ‘Of course, Miss Radcliffe. Anything you say.’ He was at her side in seconds, smiling down at her and exposing long, yellow teeth that put her in mind of a pony she had ridden as a child. It had not been a gentle animal and had taken every opportunity to give her a savage nip; it was not a pleasant memory.

‘There has been a mishap,’ she said, closing the door so that her aunt could not hear. ‘I’m going below stairs to fetch the food and it would help to have someone like you to assist me.’ She could see that he was shocked by such a suggestion. ‘You did say that Aunt Jane ought to employ more staff. Perhaps this will convince her.’

He fingered his cravat, clearing his throat nervously. ‘This is highly irregular, Miss Radcliffe. Below stairs is the servants’ domain.’

‘And at present there is only the cook, and a young girl who is terrified that she will be beaten for her clumsiness. I think dinner will be delayed a lot longer if we simply sit and wait for it to arrive.’ She walked off without waiting for his answer, and had just reached the baize door when he caught up with her.

‘You’re right, of course. You are a very wise young lady.’ He held the door for her. ‘And I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ she said vaguely as she hurried down the narrow staircase.

Cook stared at them in amazement. ‘Oh my Lord, whatever next? The silly girl told me that she’s dropped the plates, and she’ll be punished severely.’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Jugg,’ Alice said calmly. ‘It was an accident and no one blames Clara. She is going to clear up the broken china and we will take the food upstairs.’

‘Oh, no, miss. That’s not right at all. And you, sir, what must you think of us?’ Mrs Jugg glanced anxiously at Horace as if expecting the worst.

Alice picked up the soup tureen and passed it to Horace. ‘Mr Hubble is in complete agreement with me.’

His sickly smile was unconvincing, but he nodded his head. ‘Just this once.’

Alice went to the dresser and selected four soup bowls. She picked up a basket of bread rolls. ‘Tell Clara not to worry, Mrs Jugg. It could have happened to anyone.’

Cook’s lips worked soundlessly as Clara rushed in from the scullery armed with a brush and coal shovel. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she breathed. ‘Ever so sorry.’

Alice stood back to allow her to race on ahead. ‘She’s a good girl,’ she said firmly. ‘Nothing more will be said, Mrs Jugg. And the soup smells delicious.’

‘There’s roast beef to follow. The mistress always puts on a show for her cousin. He’s her only living relative, apart from you, of course, Miss Alice.’

Alice knew that, but it did not explain the extravagance of the hospitality, or her aunt’s desire for them to meet. She hurried after Horace and arrived in the dining room as he was about to place the tureen on the table.

Jane stared at them both, aghast. ‘Horace, what do you think you’re doing? And you, Alice, you should know better.’

‘There was a slight mishap due to that clumsy young maidservant, but I could not bear to think of you waiting a moment longer for such an excellent repast,’ Horace said, taking the credit for the idea even though he had been against it at the start. ‘Miss Radcliffe was kind enough to assist me.’

‘I’ve a good mind to send Snippet back to the workhouse. One takes these people in for the most Christian reasons and they invariably fail in their duties.’

Horace lifted the lid and was about to begin serving the soup when Jane held up her hand.

‘We haven’t yet said grace.’ She launched into a much shortened version of the prayer. ‘I don’t know why I burden myself with these charity cases. They always let one down,’ she added at the end.

‘Your acts of generosity to the poor are well known, Cousin,’ Horace said, ladling soup into a bowl and placing it in front of her. ‘The world would be a happier place were there more people like you.’

Jane smile modestly. ‘You’re too kind, Horace. Do sit down and enjoy your meal.’ She clicked her fingers at Alice. ‘You may finish serving the soup, and after dinner you will go down to the kitchen and tell Snippet that unless she pulls herself together she will spend Christmas in the workhouse.’

‘That seems a little harsh, sister-in-law,’ Beth said timidly. ‘The child is very young and she will learn.’

Alice filled a bowl with soup and passed it to her mother with a grateful smile. She knew how much courage it would have taken to enable her to speak up for Clara. ‘I agree with Mama,’ she said stoutly. ‘Snippet is eager to improve.’

Jane’s brows drew together in an ominous frown, but Horace beamed at Alice. ‘Well said, Miss Radcliffe.’ He used his table napkin to mop up the soup as it dripped from his moustache. ‘You have inherited my cousin’s charitable nature.’ He shot a sideways glance at Jane, who snatched up a bread roll and tore it into tiny pieces, popping one into her mouth and grinding it with her teeth.

Alice repressed a shudder as one of Flora’s nightmare sketches flashed before her eyes. Jane was suddenly the wicked witch about to eat Hansel and Gretel. She blinked hard and found Horace staring at her with a bemused expression. She managed a weak smile. ‘The soup is delicious.’

Jane curled her lip. ‘This will be our festive repast. I spend Christmas Day attending church services. You would do well to come with me, Alice.’

‘I would, of course,’ Alice said quickly, ‘but I’m afraid I have to work. Mrs Dearborn has not given me the day off.’ It was not exactly a lie, nor was it the complete truth. In fact, nothing had been mentioned by the lady of the house, but Flora wanted her to be there, and even on such a short acquaintance her welfare had become important to Alice.

‘Really?’ Beth’s eyes were moist with unshed tears. ‘Must you, Alice? Surely everyone deserves to spend the day with their family?’

‘You’re invited too, Mama,’ Alice said in desperation. ‘Miss Flora will be glad of the company. The poor child spends most of her time alone in the nursery.’

‘I’m proud to belong to such a caring family,’ Horace said, clasping his hands as if in prayer. ‘Although I was hoping that perhaps I might be invited to spend Christmas Day here with my only living relatives.’

Alice held her breath, praying that Aunt Jane would not weaken, and she could have cried with relief when her aunt shook her head. ‘You have friends who will make you welcome, Horace. You’re always telling me how popular you are.’

‘Well, yes, indeed, but …’

‘No buts, Cousin. I’m sure you will find somewhere to go, but it won’t be here. I will be in church or helping the poor and needy, as is my wont.’

Horace mumbled something into his beard.

‘What did you say, Cousin?’

He gave her a sheepish grin. ‘I said you are a saint, Cousin Jane.’