“Not parade ground voice,” Luke corrected, elbowing his brother in the ribs. “Especially not in my ear.”
“Sorry,” Nick muttered, “It’s just that is what I’ve been saying for the last candle mark.”
“So you were right. Rub it in. But I’m right, too. It means we will not be done when the verse is done.”
“There was a wonderful lady in my neighborhood who was writing her memoirs. She would write her entries for the week in chalk on a large board that had been painted black, then on Sunday afternoons, she would copy them down neatly in her diary. That way, her diary always looked neat and tidy because she did all the corrections on the chalk board.”
“Did she keep writing on the same board?”
“In a way. She would erase it when she had it all copied down, and start the next week anew. Perhaps that is what is meant by starting with a clean slate.” Something I wish I could do. Although how I would change something someone else did is beyond me.
Sebastian tapped at the door, and called out, “Good morning!”
The boys quickly bundled the slates, parchment and books out of sight. It was almost magical. Lillian began to understand how it was that they had been able to perpetrate so much mischief on their tutors. Good thing they like me. I am spared a good part of their shenanigans. Then a realization struck her. What will become of them when I must leave?
There was no time for brooding, however. Breakfast came in directly after the Duke, and was quickly set out on the scarred, old table. To save time, Sebastian did something few of his peers would even consider: he invited Martha Louisa, Mr. Stableman, and Mr. Gardener to join them at table.
Martha Louisa took it in good part. She was often seated with the family when they dined in the schoolroom. The two footmen took a little persuading, but soon saw the sense in not standing on ceremony.
When all appetites were satisfied, the footmen gathered up the breakfast things and took them away while Lillian and Martha Louisa checked the boys over and made sure they had all their outdoor gear, before leaving them with Sebastian. Then Lillian and Martha Louisa hurried to get their pelisses and cloaks, their hats, veils, and scarves.
When all were ready, they walked downstairs and stepped out into a land of wonder. Snow lay everywhere. The trees along the drive, the shrubs and garden walls, everything was coated in a thin film of ice. It all sparkled in the sunlight as if some master jeweler had used every diamond of his trade to decorate the landscape.
Although it was only a short walk to the chapel, they did not take the sleigh. This allowed the stable hands and horse boys to attend chapel with the rest of the household.
The air was brisk, but the short walk was enough to warm them. On the chapel lawn, there was a mock-up of a stable and carved wooden figures that recreated a tableau like the one the children had made on Sunday. It must have been put out the night before, because the roof of the little stable was covered with snow, but someone had brushed a path to it, and carefully dusted every flake from the manikins.
Inside the chapel, greenery decked windows, pulpit, and every possible surface. It smelled of fir, rosemary, and bay over the top of its usual clean scent of lemon balm and beeswax. The family filed into the Parkforton pews, but squeezed in a little tighter to allow the increased number of servants to be seated for the service.
Behind them, the villages filled the pews, and some were even forced to stand at the back because no seats were available.
The parson, resplendent in his holiday vestments, stood silent at the front of the chapel for a moment, as if bemused by the splendid turn-out for the Christmas Day service. He then opened the huge Bible that rested on the lectern, turning to the Book of Mark, rather than the popular account by Luke.
It was a rousing sermon that focused on the sacrifices made by both Mary and Joseph that their special child could be brought into the world and raised as an ordinary boy. From there, he went on to mention the hard times that had come to everyone in England, drawing parallels intended to comfort and to open the pocket books of the wealthier members of the congregation.
Lillian hardly heard him, although she was assured that he preached another fine sermon. She was deeply aware of Sebastian, seated on the other side of the boys, his strong profile turned toward her as he focused on the message. To her left, Martha Louisa held their hymnal and cued her when to stand up or sit, so she did not draw undue attention to herself. This left her free to just enjoy sitting so close, to hear his rich baritone during the responses.
Afterward, as the twins bounded up to ply the two footmen with questions and Martha Louisa stopped to have conversation with a friend, Sebastian offered her his arm in front of everyone!
“You are quite bold, Your Grace,” she said softly.
“And so are you, Miss Doyle, for is not that your hand in the crook of my elbow?”
She smiled up at him. “I believe it is, Your Grace.”
“Then do not chide me for my boldness, but let us enjoy this moment.”
So she did enjoy it. Having not been privy to the catechism to which the village headman had subjected Sebastian, she marveled that none of the villagers seemed to take exception to his walking her home in so friendly a fashion.
The twins tore around the churchyard in the company of the village children. Someone had marked out the pattern for Fox and Geese in the snow, and the youngsters were pelting around it, tagging each other and calling out. Other members of the congregation were also pairing off. Some were married couples, others were young women and men in the various stages of courtship.
It was a scene of universal harmony. Deep in her heart, Lillian knew it could not last, but she soaked up every bit of it with a prayer of gratitude.
“What are you thinking with such a solemn look on your face?” Sebastian asked.
“How wonderful all this is,” she replied. “We will go home to the castle and have our luncheon. Will we dine in the schoolroom today?”
“Not today,” Sebastian replied. “We won’t have a party for the villagers until Twelfth Night, then the King and Queen of Misrule will be selected for the evening, and everyone will take part in the revelry. Today, the mummers will come by and entertain us and anyone who has stopped in to pay their respects. Are you ready to act as my hostess for today?”
Lillian swallowed hard, and clung to his arm as one foot slipped on the ice. She had not expected this. “If it pleases Your Grace, of course I will.”
“‘His Grace’ is honored, and Sebastian is delighted,” the Duke said, neatly dividing himself between his position and his personal feelings.
“Are you sure I will not disgrace both of you?” Lillian asked.
“I am certain you will do the honors with your usual grace and elegance,” Sebastian said. “I cannot imagine you doing otherwise.”
If you only knew how many hours of training before my marriage, and more from Charles afterward, went into that ability. No, on second thought, I am glad you do not.
Aloud she said, “I shall do my best to deserve your trust.”
Back at the castle, the Yule log blazed upon the dining room hall hearth. The staff had laid out a wonderful buffet, and parcels as well as a great wassail bowl sat beside the door for mummers and other visitors.
All afternoon the mummers came. Some were pitiable, some were charming. The little ones were the sweetest, but the absolute best was a group of farmers who enacted St. George and the Dragon. They put a twist upon the old tale by making the dragon an ice dragon that froze the crops, and having St. George bring the sun. It was well thought out, what with the dark days of winter still upon them, and the winter solstice just past.
When the last mummer departed and the last guest went down the hill to the village, Lillian collapsed on the ladder back chair in front of the dining hall hearth. “Sebastian!” she gasped, “You do this every year?”
“Every year,” he confirmed. “I must admit that the turn-out this year was especially fine. I th
ink many of them came just to get a look at the new governess.”
“To see the commoner that you are courting,” she corrected mildly.
“Yes, that too. It is a ninety-day wonder, after all, and will no doubt continue to be so until we are wed.”
“You are very confident of yourself, Your Grace.”
“I cannot afford to be otherwise,” he rejoined. “To do so is to lose the race before it is even begun. I shall think only on winning your hand.”
“And if you do not?”
“I will deal with that only if it comes. Are you planning to say no?”
I am planning to run away before Twelfth Night, but I will be leaving my heart here. Still, life clings to life, and I would as soon not become a leaf on the hangman’s tree.
“Honestly, Your Grace, I am not planning at all. I am simply keeping my cards hidden and biding my time.”
There. True enough. I hate lying to him. It hurts my heart and the more promises I make, the worse he will be hurt when I go.
“I think we should hire you a lady’s maid,” Sebastian mused.
“Why? I am pleased with Martha Louisa. She is a wonder and a rare fount of information about the village and all its doings.”
“She is all of that. But I am worried that being your maid as well as the schoolroom maid will soon wear on her. In all events, I think she has become more of a friend and companion than hairdresser and keeper of your wardrobe.”
“You have a problem with this?” Lillian felt her voice take on an edge.
“Not at all. In fact, what I had in mind was to free her of some of the drudgery and leave the two of you some time for enjoyment. What would you invite her to do, if you could?”
“Honestly, Sebastian, I have no idea. She is a very busy woman, and exceptionally competent. I think I might be intimidated just thinking of asking her.”
“There, now, you see? She is totally wasted as a lady’s maid. As a companion, she is more than fit.”
“Would it bring her a raise in salary?”
“It would.”
“Then I think she would accept. She has been walking out with one of the farmers from the village for some time now, but they have been having a hard time saving up. Especially since his father has taken ill.”
“I had heard that there was an illness in the village.”
“Sadly, yes. We must hope that all of the coming and going today has not let the miasma from it into the castle.”
Lillian looked alarmed. “Do you think it could?”
Sebastian sighed. “It has happened. One person in a village becomes ill, then soon everyone has the same illness. We could try to shut ourselves up in the castle, but we are not provisioned for a siege. We need the goods that come to us from the village, just as they need employment and the distributed gifts from stores. But enough of that. Mr. Gardener has taken the boys up to the schoolroom. Let’s retreat to the library for just a little time away from them.”
Lillian smiled and gave herself up to making pleasant memories. “It shall be as you desire, Your Grace.”
Chapter 25
Sebastian led Lillian into the library. It was not a huge room, cozy rather than grand. Three generous bookshelves along one wall were filled with leather bound books. A scroll case stood beside them, and a globe stood near clear-glazed casement windows.
A wide sofa stood before a small fireplace where a cozy blaze chuckled and popped to itself. Small tables stood at either end of it, and thick rug was thrown over the end of the sofa.
“What a charming room,” Lillian exclaimed.
“It was my mother’s idea,” Sebastian explained. “We did not have a library before my mother came to live here. Father was proud of her for thinking of it, and gave her free rein to hire workmen and oversee the construction.”
“Did you spend a lot of time here?”
“Not a lot. It was a special treat to take tea with Mother in the library. She was not always well, and she said this room rested her. Boisterous boys were not welcome, but quiet polite ones were.”
“I cannot imagine you as a boisterous boy.”
“I promise you I had my days. But I learned to be quiet and polite because I worshipped my mother as if she were the queen of heaven. Now, it is my retreat when I need a little quiet away from the household. I thought you might appreciate that.”
“After the busy days we have had? Yes, indeed!”
“Come, sit on the sofa with me.”
Sebastian captured Lillian’s hand and drew her over to the sofa. She gingerly sat on the edge nearest the fire. However, he noted that she left her hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She glanced up at him, her face flushed with lovely color. Two diamond bright tears spilled over and ran down her face.
“My dear! What is it? Have I frightened you?”
“No, no nothing like that. I’m just so h-happy here.” Her breath hitched in a sob. “I am afraid that it cannot possibly last.”
“Oh, but it can, Lillian. That is why I asked you to marry me so I could make it last forever. Or as close to forever as anyone can. Please, Lillian. Do you care for me even a little bit?”
“Oh, Sebastian, more than you can possibly imagine.”
Lillian leaned into him, burying her face in his coat as if by doing so she could shut out the world. He let go of her hand and put both arms around her, which let her return the favor. Her light, lithe form against him lit a flame he found hard to ignore. He was both gratified and confused by her words.
“Then why make me wait, dear one? You will find that I am still your willing servant after marriage, as before. By giving you the protection of a legal union, we can end the gossip and simply be.”
She made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, snuggled in closer and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Consider it one of life’s great mysteries, Your Grace, and trust that however much I might want you, I do have good reason for not stepping boldly into immediate matrimony.
Sebastian sighed, and rested his cheek upon the top of her head. “My dear, I have not felt this confused since I was sixteen and played a game of hot cockles with the people invited to my birthday party. The prettiest girl there laid her head in my lap, then swayed her shapely behind beneath the back of my hand while waiting for someone to strike my palm so she could guess who might have done the deed.”
Lillian now began to laugh. “Oh, dear! That is a very suggestive game. My mother would not allow us to play it. She said it was far too rude. Who would have suggested it for you at such an age?”
“One of my cousins, I believe. My Aunt Augusta put a stop to it almost at once.”
“What became of the girl?” Lillian asked, leaning back so she could see his face.
“She married the cousin who suggested the game. I think it likely that she had been its inspiration.”
“Oh, my.” Lillian wriggled around so that she could sit close beside him. “I did not mean to tease you, Your Grace.”
“I think I like it,” Sebastian said. “Please, do come tease me some more.”
“Your Grace!” Lillian gasped as if shocked, but he noted that the tears had stopped, although there was a flush along her cheekbones.
“Sebastian,” he corrected. “The name is Sebastian. You can even call me Seb as my brothers do.”
“Seb,” she repeated, lifting one hand to boldly trace the outline of his lips with one finger.
He captured the hand, and bent his head so he could kiss her full upon the lips. She melted into him, a fire far hotter than the one upon the hearth kindling between them.
She turned as if to get a better angle for the kiss, and he pulled her up onto his lap, thankful that the women no longer wore those metal cages to protect their lower extremities. He could feel that she wore several layers of petticoats but that was only natural with the weather so cold.
Sebastian found that it was far easier to kiss Lillian with her pulled up on his lap. She resp
onded ardently to his attentions, offering up her mouth as a flower to an importunate bee.
The second kiss was far better than the first, the third better yet. Sebastian was just going in for a fourth, when there came a tap on the door.
“Your Grace?” Evans called.
Sebastian sighed and rested his forehead against Lillian’s. “Yes? What is it Evans?”
“There is a constable here to see you, Your Grace. He says he has come up from London.”
“A constable?” Lillian clutched at his coat. “What is a constable doing here?”
“I sent for him,” Sebastian reassured her. “After you were attacked in the gardens. Our local fellow is good enough for tracking down lost pigs and calming feuding families, but he is not the man for high crimes. I feared something might happen to you. By courting you, I fear I might have made you a target.”
The Untold Tale of the Winter Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 13