Under a Christmas Sky

by Sharon Sobel

  Soon, she was ushered behind the curtain, and whatever went on there was punctuated with a great deal of gaiety and sighs of pleasure.

  And when she finally emerged from behind the curtain, resplendent in a dark green gown with a plaid sash, pale lace at her breast, and white ribbon loosely woven through her curls, he gave a sigh of pleasure as well.

  “Your husband certainly approves,” said one of the women.

  Julia looked at him as if she quite forgot he sat there, and parted her lips.

  “I am her brother, and I do approve,” he said quickly. After explaining the need for two rooms to the innkeeper, who surely would have preferred to accommodate another group of travelers, it was essential that they kept to their story. “But dear sister, you may be in need of other garments before we arrive in Rye.”

  The two shopkeepers did not need a second invitation, and pulled Julia to the tables where she was persuaded to select a good many more things. Just once she turned back to him, with a questioning look on her face, but he just shrugged his shoulders as if he was quite accustomed to purchasing a lady’s requisites.

  He was not, but decided the delighted look on Mrs. Julia Townshend’s face was worth any expense.

  Chapter 4

  MR. GRANGER OFFERED the services of his modest carriage and driver to bring several of his guests to the Christmas ball, but as they rode the short distance to the public hall, Julia looked out the window and saw that many townspeople and others from the inn had elected to walk. The road was lined with burning torches, lighting their way, and illuminating the last remnants of the storm, still falling from the dark sky.

  “It is enchanting,” she said to the others in the carriage. There was a newly married couple, spending the night in Langerford on their way to join their families for Christmas, two rather jovial women who undoubtedly would have joined a party anywhere, at any time, and a rather solemn man who told them he was simply curious to observe the rustics.

  “Oh, will you not dance with me, Mr. Corrigan?” asked one of the party women, leaning forward so that the feather on her bonnet tickled his nose.

  Mr. Corrigan sneezed. “I am not one for dancing, Miss Lavender. But perhaps I can be persuaded to participate in a reel. I have heard that once the basic steps are learned, they are not forgotten.”

  “One can say that about some other things you and I can do this night!” Miss Lavender laughed. Her friend thought the whole matter was uproarious, and slapped everyone’s thighs in the event they did not appreciate the humor.

  Julia was not sure she did, and the slap did nothing to inform her.

  “I am not sure ‘enchanted’ is the word I would use,” Will whispered in her ear, and pressed against her shoulder as he attempted to avoid proximity to everyone else. Or perhaps, she dared to imagine, he just wished to be closer to her.

  Julia whispered in return. “Years hence, I suppose I shall consider this journey to be my great adventure. In a matter of a few days, I have been in a crash, rescued by a mysterious stranger, relied upon the generosity of others, and am on my way to a holiday ball where I am acquainted with no one but yourself. And that is really only a very slight acquaintance, at that.” Nevertheless, she leaned into the curve of his body. “I daresay for you, these events are nothing more than a mere diversion in your otherwise adventurous life.”

  She felt the vibration of his laugh, but could not hear him over renewed laughter in the carriage.

  “Most people would say I live a rather sedate life. I have traveled far, but for the purposes of diplomacy and business. When at leisure, I explored the landscape and studied the animals on Java, which has always been an interest of mine. I took my degree at Leiden, in natural history.” He paused when the carriage shifted ominously to the left, only to continue on its way. “I hope I have not disillusioned you about your great adventure, for the stranger is hardly mysterious at all.”

  “And no longer a stranger, it seems,” Julia answered, though truly, she did not know much more about him.

  He went on as if he hadn’t heard her, and perhaps he hadn’t. “But I had many opportunities to meet true adventurers very often, sometimes even as they disembarked on Java.”

  “Surely most people able and willing to endure a journey of that sort have a greater purpose in mind than looking for adventure?”

  “And yet there are many for whom the sense of discovery is reason enough to board a ship, hike to the summit of Ben Nevis, run for a seat in Parliament. And most adventures come with the dream of going further or faster, or being the first to do something extraordinary.”

  She turned to face him, fully aware of how close he was. She looked directly into his light eyes, and saw the reflection of each torch they passed along the road.

  “You sound as if you know. But I suppose such dreams are relative to one’s expectations.” She considered the dramatic examples he offered, and knew she could not match them. “I confess, my expectations are very modest. I feel as if I’ve had adventure enough for a lifetime.”

  He did not answer, and she suddenly was aware that their companions were listening to them. She had probably already said too much, both for their audience and for him. But she was, at least, silent on one point, and it might—in those years to come—prove to be the most memorable.

  That is, she met him. They might never see each other again when they parted in January, but knowing him gave her hope she might once again find happiness in her life. That was an adventure of another sort.

  The carriage stopped abruptly, and though they had traveled only for the length of one brief conversation, their companions cheered.

  “We have arrived,” Will said unnecessarily.

  “And we might never leave,” added one of the women, laughing at her own humor.

  “Or perhaps we won’t want to,” said Julia quietly.

  Lord Willem pulled her arm under his as they walked the short distance to the open door, through which guests strode in all manner of costumes. Julia marveled at the variety, and at the apparent indifference to what others were wearing or how they styled their hair. This was quite different from the balls she had attended as Leighton’s wife, where every slip of lace was subject to commentary, and everyone’s story was well known to all the gossips.

  And when they walked into the heated, glowing room, no one addressed them, or announced them. They were as everyone else, just looking to enjoy themselves on a snowy evening.

  “It is a pity Milton didn’t come with us,” she said to Will.

  “Milton?” he asked, puzzled. “This is not at all his sort of thing. I expect he is gambling away his earnings in the back quarters of the stable, and having a grand time of it. Would you have preferred to dance with him than with me?”

  She didn’t look at him or answer as he divested her of her heavy cape, but when he caught her chin and drew her gaze to his, she saw he was smiling. He did not require her answer. He knew.

  They entered the larger hall together, jostled by other guests, and found themselves in a very large but simple room bedecked with Christmas boughs and wreaths. The same might be said of some of the people, who wore greenery in their hair or hats, or in sprigs upon their breasts.

  Julia also noticed at least three other women in gowns very similar to her own, undoubtedly the consequence of having only one dressmaker in town. She preferred to believe she did hers justice.

  “If I had but known, I would have snagged a bit of mistletoe from the inn, to adorn your new gown,” Will said.

  She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

  “Mistletoe?” she asked.

  “Yes, you know, that green stuff that seems to appear in this season, and only in this season? I know not where it grows, but everyone seems to mysteriously acquire it, just in time to display.”

  “But not on gowns, my l
ord. It is intended for doorways.”

  He turned on his heel and studied the doorframe through which they just passed. And there it was, the bright and suggestive reminder of an ancient custom.

  “I missed my opportunity, then. But I believe some ladies are wearing mistletoe in their hair, or on their sleeve, to make it more convenient for their admirers.” He looked about the room, standing head and shoulders above many of the dancers. “And by the look of it, some of the ladies have a good many admirers. I daresay young men shall be lined up to meet you.”

  He teased her, but she was not amused by the prospect of spending time with anyone else.

  “You can save me from such a fate, once again,” she said.

  “By leaving at once and joining Milton in the stables?”

  She tapped him on the arm. “By asking me to dance, my lord.”

  And he did, and did so again. He partnered her for far too many dances to be respectable in those ballrooms of her past, but were absolutely splendid in company where they knew no one else at all. And so they lined up for reels, and squared off for quadrilles, and stood up together for a waltz, a dance Julia had not even imagined had reached these parts, so far from London. Will was a fine dancer, for all he said, who managed to maintain some conversation without stepping on her toes, or the toes of anyone else. At their first steps together, she closed her eyes, briefly remembering such times with Leighton, but at the first sound of Will’s voice in her ear, she remembered where she was and with whom. She decided she was not being disrespectful of her husband’s memory, but disrespectful of the man who was with her, in the here and now.

  “I am asking too much of you,” he said as they passed shoulders and she looked back at him, startled. “You have only just recovered from the crash, and yet I am insisting you dance with me.”

  He was right, of course, and yet she had nearly forgotten about it. “I promise I will not faint away on you, my lord.”

  He took her hand and they dipped under the arms of Miss Lavender and Mr. Corrigan.

  “And you have insisted on nothing,” she continued. “Do you not think me brave enough to tell you to leave me well enough alone, that I wish to sit among the potted trees?”

  The music stopped just then, so her last words echoed in the silence.

  “Yes, my dear, you may sit down now,” answered Miss Lavender. “It is time for refreshments and, of course, our caroling.”

  “Of course,” Julia said, and looked at Will. She hoped he had not said anything to anyone about her singing. She had summoned enough energy to dance three reels, but somehow could not withstand the thought of singing to an audience just now.

  He shook his head slightly as he caught her hand, and they joined the procession of revelers climbing to the floor above, where an array of meats and cheeses awaited them. And though she had not thought much about overdoing herself so soon after her misadventure, she now realized she was quite exhausted and was perfectly happy to have him accompany her to an empty table, and bring her food and drink.

  IN THE SHORT time it took for him to fill two plates at the buffet table, it seemed to Will that she had sunk lower in her chair. She remained awake and alert, but sometimes the mind exceeded the limits of the body. He had exhausted her, for all she had denied, and he felt somewhat guilty about that.

  But Julia was unexpected in every way and he scarcely had the time to adjust to her needs and capabilities. It was unexpected that they should come upon her carriage, that her destination should be the same as his, that she would prove to be an intelligent companion, that she would be the loveliest woman of his acquaintance. She said she was a singer, and yet, she was very much a lady.

  Although, for being a singer, she did not seem at all interested in performing.

  The musicians had accompanied everyone upstairs in the dining hall, and set up their chairs as soon as they had eaten. The crowd seemed to know what was expected of them, for as soon as the opening notes of “What Child is This?” were sounded, they put down their forks and started to sing, loudly, and with a profound indifference to the actual words.

  “As a singer, I am sure you can appreciate this,” he said to Julia as he leaned toward her.

  She smiled a little wistfully. “I appreciate that I am not shouting above the crowd, and straining my voice.”

  But after a while, he realized she was indeed singing, in a sweet soprano that couldn’t be heard above the throng. Sitting close, shutting out everything but her, he took pleasure in her quiet music, though he had the feeling she would not appreciate his praise or encouragement. He knew she wasn’t singing for him, but for herself.

  When the crowd threatened to dissolve into a brawling mass of people who’d had too much to drink, she caught his arm, and asked that they might leave.

  “Will the carriage be waiting for us? It is certainly early for this crowd.”

  She looked guilty, as if she would keep him from enjoying the rest of the evening. There was nothing to keep him from returning after delivering her safely to the Spotted Horse, but he was rather weary himself. It might be Julia’s adventure, but even the hero of the narrative was allowed to indulge in a good night’s rest.

  “Even if the carriage is not available, we can walk. It is not very far, and the others have trodden the path to smooth our way.”

  She nodded.

  “But do I ask too much? Are you able to walk the distance?”

  She smiled and rose from her seat. “I think I am, and I imagine it is a lovely night. Thank you for accompanying me, Lord Willem.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he said, as he would in any similar situation. But as he called for a servant to bring their outer garments, he realized it was absolutely true. This might be their last evening before arriving at Seabury, where there would be a large party and many distractions, and he would enjoy nothing more than having her to himself for the rest of their journey.

  She held his arm tightly as they walked downstairs, a bit unsteady on her feet. The servant was already waiting with their heavy woolens, and Will helped her fasten the toggle under her neck. And then, when they passed under the wide archway through which so many had entered only a few hours before, and the sprig of mistletoe displayed there demanded their attention, he paused and turning slightly to her, he kissed her on her lips.

  Her lips parted, and they might have enjoyed what she would undoubtedly call an adventure, but they had an audience, after all. He might have cared more about that than did she, for as he stepped back, he saw her eyes were closed and her lips still parted. It was tempting, truly.

  “Are you prepared for our journey?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him as if she imagined something other than what he intended. He was right about her intelligence, for she found meaning in things that would have been lost to others. He would need to have a care in what he said, as well as what he did.

  And yet, as they stepped out into the cold night, clutching each other on the icy steps, he never felt happier.

  “It is a fine night,” she said, once they started along the road. Most of the torches were still burning, and homes were lit along the way. The town watchman held a torch and sang “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” as was the custom, and thanked Will for his gift of a few coins.

  “Look, we can see the stars,” said Julia, rightly surprised at the novel sight. It had been some time since the sky had been so clear. “Is it possible Tambora’s angry fog is finally leaving England and going on to wreak havoc elsewhere?”

  Will thought of other lands where the flora and fauna might be devastated by days without sunshine, and pitied those who could not understand how one little event in a far-off place could affect climate throughout the earth. But there was another possibility.

  “Perhaps the damage ends here, with us, Mrs. Townshend. The snows have bro
ught down the particles in the air, the grit and dirt that have covered our garments and blackened our windows for many months now. Volcanic ash is a great fertilizer, and we might hope that there will be a renewal of all living things when spring arrives in only a few months.”

  “Lord Willem, that is perhaps the most romantic thing that anyone has said to me in quite some time,” she said and laughed.

  “Yes,” he said solemnly. “Dirt and grit and fertilizer is well-known to stir the heart.”

  She laughed again, and he realized that, somehow, it was true. He would have to try these flirtatious words with another lady sometime, though he hoped he would not have the opportunity. He much preferred to repeat them—and a good many others—to his Lady Frost.

  “So we have a lovely evening, which portends a fair day ahead of us,” she said. “Do you anticipate many more days of travel to Seabury?”

  He considered the distance and the journey ahead. The roads would be clear, and they would be descending in a general downhill slope as they neared the coast.

  “Not at all, Mrs. Townshend,” he said. “If our luck holds, we might arrive in Rye by tomorrow evening.”

  She glanced up at him, but did not say anything. Nor did he, as they walked the rest of the way to the inn. But he wished that for all his years of study of the natural world, he had somehow learned how to conjure a snowstorm so that he might further delay their journey.