by Sharon Sobel
He melted any resistance that might have remained. It did not matter that she felt aching and sore, and very much loved. It also did not matter that she would be perfectly happy to be snowbound with him for years and years to come. But they were guests in the home of her sister and brother-in-law, and it was Christmas, and there was much to be done. Already, the sounds of servants and perhaps a few sleep-deprived guests could be heard in the hall.
She pushed him, gently, but he obediently rolled on his back, taking her with him. “I intend to use everything to my advantage, dear Lord Willem, and have every expectation that you will indulge me. And so, I will ask that you wait until this evening, when the house is once again quiet, and the night is dark. In the meantime, we shall behave as if there is nothing particular between us. You may flirt with the ladies, and play chess—or whatever it is that you do—with the gentlemen. I shall dutifully admire my new nephew and listen to talk of birds from Miss St. John. You will discuss Mr. Raffles’s memoirs and possible elevation to the knighthood with the others. I will discover who is no longer welcome at Almack’s.”
Will sighed so dramatically, Julia might have thought he expired, if she did not know him so well. He pulled himself up on his elbows, supporting them both.
“Please explain to me how all these distractions will play to your advantage?” he asked.
“Why do you not worry that we have seen quite enough of each other? We have spent more time together than most old married people, and I doubt I can continue to tempt you.” Julia blushed, and said something she never would have said to her husband. “I believe you have seen every last bit of me.”
His response was immediate, as she guessed it would be. “Beauty looks quite different in the light of day. And besides, I can think of a few bits as yet unexamined.”
She asked for it. And he found them.
“THERE IS SOMETHING different about you this morning, my dear,” Laurentia said, studying Julia with a speculative gaze usually reserved for blocks of unpolished granite in her studio.
Julia guessed that her clever scheme of acting as if nothing had changed in her life was doomed to fail. They sat around a large table in the parlor along with the other ladies, stringing red berries on white thread. It was not so very different than a sewing circle, but for the blood-red juice stains on their fingers. Anyone coming upon them might think they were stitching up the wounded after a battle.
“I suppose my bruises are healing after all these days, or I am no longer suffering from the travails of a long and arduous journey,” Julia murmured, thinking it was time to launch into another conversation. But she had also had a long night, and her words could not keep up with her thoughts.
“Oh, yes, it must have been very arduous traveling with the fascinating Lord Willem,” said Miss Rossiter, a young lady who seemed to find every eligible gentleman fascinating. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugh, and now had the bloody juice running down her cheek.
Laurentia picked up a scrap of linen and leaned across the table to wipe Miss Rossiter’s face before the juice stained her pale gray dress.
“But you looked just lovely when you arrived,” Laurentia said, and everyone looked at Miss Rossiter. “And no one could have imagined you had endured a crash, nearly freezing to death, and a desperate rescue by a gallant gentleman.”
Everyone turned back to Julia.
“Let us not think of such things, Lady Howard, for this is a season for celebration. Lord Willem told me that my biggest concern seemed to be that I might yet sing on Christmas Eve, for my first words to him must have sounded like a croaking frog. But he plied me with hot tea and porridge until I sounded more like myself.” Julia hoped her explanation would be sufficient to deflect any more interest in her own personal drama. “Indeed, Lord Willem supposed I was an opera singer.”
“Do you mean, an actress who would appear on the stage?” asked Chary St. John, as if it was the greatest thing for a lady to own to a profession.
“That seems rather common,” said her Aunt Catherine. “Surely he did not believe it of you.”
“As to that, I cannot say for certain. After all, I might have been anyone at all, a nobody who was abandoned by her fellows in the snow. I had no possessions, and I daresay he was suspicious when I admitted I was also traveling to Seabury. Truly, the coincidence defies belief.”
Laurentia sniffed. “I hope he was sufficiently convinced when I greeted you at your arrival,” she said imperiously.
Julia noticed that Chary St. John’s thoughts were elsewhere, surely not in the room. She looked towards the door. “Such coincidences are the things of great romances, wherein unexpected circumstances contrive to bring lovers together.”
“Lord Willem and I are not lovers,” Julia said quickly. Too quickly.
“Of course not,” Laurentia said, with a certainty that disarmed any reproof from the others. But Julia knew her too well and avoided her gaze.
“I think I should like to sing, as well,” announced Miss Rossiter.
“Do you mean as an actress, on the stage?” asked Chary St. John.
“Oh, heavens, my mother would be appalled if I even toyed with the idea. She does not even permit me to join in charade at a house party, which she considers quite unladylike.” Miss Rossiter sighed. “However, she very much values your good opinion, Lady Howard, so if it is permissible for your sister-in-law to sing, I am certain she will allow me to do so as well.”
“I was not aware you had talent in that direction, Miss Rossiter,” Laurentia said. “But we should be delighted to have you entertain us.”
“Oh, I am not known for my voice, but I am sure I might manage, Lady Howard.”
Julia could see that Laurentia was torn between suggesting that her enthusiastic guest save her breath for something else, and acting the gracious hostess. She studied their handiwork on the table as if it were as complicated as the Bayeux tapestry, and said nothing. For Laurentia, who had an opinion on everything, that was quite remarkable.
“It is an excellent way to attract the notice of eligible men,” Miss Rossiter continued. “I am thinking of one gentleman in particular.”
“Lord Willem promised to teach us all how to skate on the ice,” said one of the ladies, leaving no doubt whom that gentleman might be. “He was raised in Holland, of course, and I believe they do that all the time.”
“Presumably only in the winter,” said Julia, a little tartly.
A brief knock on the door announced the entrance of several of the gentlemen, including the one who apparently was of most interest to the assembled ladies. Julia despaired that she could neither lay any claim to him nor profess any particular interest in front of the others. She certainly had no interest in stumbling about on the ice and watching Miss Rossiter fall into his arms.
“Lord Willem!” said Miss Chary St. John. “We were just speaking of you.”
Will looked at Julia, who only acknowledged him with a brief nod.
“Lord Atherton, Lord Jamison, Mr. Quist,” said Laurentia. “We missed you at breakfast this morning. Are you aware that Lord and Lady LeFavre have only just arrived? They are recovering from their rough journey, but I have every hope that we will have a full house this Christmas.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” said Will. “You must blame me if some of your gentlemen were absent this morning, Lady Howard, for we needed to discuss some matters of consequence.”
“That would explain where my dear husband was, as well,” Laurentia said. “And I do not blame you at all, Lord Willem, for the business of diplomacy and politics must go on, even at a Christmas house party.”
“But we have done enough for this day,” said Mr. Quist. “The snow has given us a reprieve, and we hope the ladies will join us for ice skating. Lord Willem has promised to instruct us all.”
The l
adies abandoned their berries and needles in an instant and made hurried excuses as they met the men halfway across the room. Only Laurentia and Julia remained where they were, surrounded by puddles of juice and tangled string. Will looked over Miss Rossiter’s head, asking Julia an unspoken question and looking somewhat startled when she cheerfully waved him off.
And then he was gone, pulled away from her by the little typhoon of excited guests.
“Dear heavens,” said Laurentia. “Why did I invite her to Seabury?”
“Miss Charlotte St. John, do you mean? I supposed it had something to do with Lord Nicholas Hawkely.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Julia. Chary is a lovely girl. I refer to Miss Rossiter.”
“Oh,” said Julia. Of course, she already knew that.
“And yet, I suppose her best efforts will be in vain. She might sing her heart out, but I doubt it will have the desired effect.”
“She might prove hopelessly inept on the ice, and require a man’s strong arms about her, for support,” Julia added.
“Yes, there is that,” agreed Laurentia. “But I think I quite agree with Miss St. John, that there is something utterly romantic about coincidence and the meeting of two people in the most extraordinary circumstances.”
“Perhaps.”
“Something has changed, dear Julia. You can hide it from these girls, but not from me.”
“We are hardly older than these girls, as you say, Laurentia,” Julia reminded her.
“Yes, that is true. But I am already an old wife and mother, and you are far too young to be a widow.”
“I will never forget him, Laurentia. I adored Leighton. I always will.”
Laurentia patted her hand, leaving little fingerprints of juice. “Of course. I know that better than anyone, for I adored him too. But it is time for you to go on with your life, to have happiness such as I have now. Leighton will always be with you, but there is room in your generous heart for more than one love. I also know something about that.”
Julia was as close to tears as she had been in the months after Leighton’s death, but they were not ones of grief. They were of joy, for the love she shared with Leighton’s sister, and for her blessing to open the door to new hope and possibilities.
“So, whatever are we to do?” Laurentia asked suddenly.
“About Will?”
“Oh, Will, is it? Well, I suppose several days in cramped quarters would do that to anyone. But that is for you to figure out; my role is already over.”
Julia wondered what she meant by that.
But Laurentia went on, before she could respond. “I mean about your costume for the masquerade ball, of course.”
Julia had given it almost no thought. “I suppose the men Geoff sent out will apprehend Mimma and Hedges, and I shall have my bags returned to me. They may have sold my jewels, but I doubt they will do anything with a shepherdess’s costume.”
“Nor will you,” said Laurentia, with her accustomed air of authority. She rose and walked over to a table in the corner of the room, where she picked up a sheath of papers. “Come here. I have something to show you.”
Knowing Laurentia as she did, Julia did so with some trepidation, wondering what her sister-in-law had in mind.
“I see,” Julia said casually, after looking at what Laurentia held. “Your next project will be a statue of Titania, Queen of the Fairies.”
“Oh, it is certainly my next project, but has nothing to do with statuary. You have not the disposition to be a shepherdess, but I think Titania will suit you just fine.”
Julia did not know what sort of disposition was required to be a Fairy Queen, but she doubted she had Titania’s capriciousness and sense of mischief.
“Do you not think it peculiar if a Greek forest sprite returns the next evening to sing Irish country ballads at an English Christmas Eve?” Julia asked, even though she knew one thing truly had nothing to do with the other.
As usual, Laurentia managed to be very persuasive. “I do not see it as any more peculiar than Mr. Shakespeare, who never left England, writing about the Greek countryside.”
“And what of midsummer? We are now in the wrong season, in a dream or otherwise,” Julia protested, trying again.
“Was there ever a year of seasons such as this? Spring, summer, autumn, winter: it has all been a topsy turvy mess.”
Julia saved her best argument for last. “How on earth can such a costume be fashioned for me in a matter of a few days? Shall I stand up before everyone with trim hanging from my hem and pins stabbing anyone who gets too close?”
Laurentia waved her off. “I am certain our Lord Willem has risked more harm to his body than being pricked by a few pins. And you have no need to worry about that, in any case. I already have my maid working on it, with the promise of a Christmas bonus when she finishes it on time.”
Julia had nothing left to say.
WILL CONTINUED TO look for Julia through the long afternoon, hoping she might appear at the lake’s edge, or in the pavilion on the hill or even skating towards him on the thick ice. The ladies whom he escorted about the lake did not seem to notice his distraction, for they were distracted themselves, trying to remain upright while maneuvering about on a sharpened blade of steel. Miss Rossiter, of all of them, seemed the most at ease, chatting about nothing all the while they spent together. She presented herself as did so many others of his acquaintance: she offered the dangerous combination of confidence and incompetence. She made little effort to learn how to skate, but knew he would catch her when she fell.
He did, and she fell often. In one of those moments, she mentioned that she would sing with the famous Lady Leighton on Christmas Eve. He wondered if Miss Rossiter could carry a tune, and if Julia knew she was now to perform a duet.
Julia. Where was she? Surely she and Laurentia would not spend an afternoon stringing up some beads or hauling around holly branches when there were servants to do that work. But the ladies could be anywhere, welcoming new guests or wrapping presents or playing with the baby.
As he led one of the ladies into a wide arc, he imagined himself in another place and another time, when his father first taught him how to skate on the ice. How strange and sweet it would be to teach his own children to skate one day, to catch them when they fell, and kiss away their injuries.
He had never thought of such things when he was with Leena, though he was not sure why. It was, however, not a mystery why he relished such thoughts now. Everything had changed on the day he met Julia, and his future was now entwined with hers on a path he had never trodden before.
“Would you take me for a spin, Lord Willem?” asked Miss St. John. She came up to him in the middle of the lake, revealing her newly learned skills. “Or am I being too forward to ask it of you?”
“It would be a pleasure, Miss St. John,” he said, and he placed her arm through his. “And not at all forward, for are we not friends now? Besides, I suspect you will be as keen a skater as am I, and I shall not have to pull you along as I do the others.”
They set off.
“I first tried on a pair of ice skates when I was a child, though I haven’t skated much since then,” she said. “I was never anywhere near as accomplished as you are. But my father lived in dread that some accident would befall his brood, so he took care to teach us to skate a little, and to swim and do all sorts of things that most ladies do not dream about.”
Will knew something of living an unconventional life.
“I believe you are mistaken, Miss St. John.” She looked up at him, and though she was not a beauty, she had fine features. “Most ladies may not do such things, but they dream about them.”
She laughed, and with her red cheeks and bright eyes, he thought she was radiant.
“Lord Nicholas is a lucky man,” he said. “My congratulation
s on your betrothal.”
She stopped laughing, and lowered her head, concentrating on her skating. They moved along in silence, further from the others who remained close to the shore, and could hear only the faint sounds of conversation echoing through the cold air.
“I have hardly seen him since we arrived and suspect he is avoiding me, Lord Willem,” she said, punctuating each word, so that he saw little puffs of moisture of her breath. “Our arrangement seems based on a misunderstanding.”
Will did not know how to respond to her words or how he could possibly give her any encouragement. He knew Hawkely’s reputation and yet had always enjoyed his company. Now there was that business of the lost artifacts, but Raffles himself offered some doubt as to Hawkely’s blame in the pages of his memoir. Will had forgotten all about Channing, Raffles’s purser, having access to the artifacts. Miss St. John was right to speak of misunderstandings, for Hawkely appeared to be beset with them.
“Let us hope for the best in the new year to come,” Will said at last. “It is Christmas, and a season of unexpected joys.”
She looked up at him without breaking their stride, and nodded as if she already knew something he did not.
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE and her entourage arrived with a great deal of fuss and bother, dozens of servants bearing trunks, and melting snow making traversing the great lobby replete with hazards.
Julia glanced at Laurentia, who seemed nonplussed by the royal intrusion, and the fact that the princess’s party had brought enough baggage with them for a stay of a year or two. Geoff took his wife’s hand and formally greeted Charlotte and Leopold, as generations of the Earls of Howard had always shown fealty to the crown and welcomed them to their humble home. As their sister-in-law, Julia was presented next.
“But of course,” said the princess graciously. “You are Lord Leighton Kingswood’s widow, are you not? His death was a sad business. But I should like you to meet the prince’s cousin, for he is also interested in marrying an English wife.”