Under a Christmas Sky

by Sharon Sobel

  “It is too soon,” she said. “I love you, and you tell me you love me, but I have not yet sorted it all out. Laurentia planned it and the princess has given her approbation, but it is only for us to decide.”

  “No, my love, it is now only for you to decide. I have spread my cards out on the table, and have nothing left to hide.”

  Julia returned his gaze and could scarcely breathe for what she saw in his eyes. If she could know the future and thus imagine it would be like this for eternity, she would answer him as he wished. But still she held back.

  “But I will not press you on it, for you deserve to feel unburdened by any promises this Christmas. You have suffered sadness in your life, and I will not add to it.”

  And he had suffered great sadness as well, but did not speak of it. She must tell him that this indecision on her part had nothing to do with Leighton, for the love she lost. And yet the words did not come.

  “You have other things on your mind this night, dear Julia,” he said, making her name sound like the sweetest caress. “I am being selfish, for this night belongs to a shepherdess, who can hold her own against any number of queens.”

  He bowed a little stiffly and turned on his heel.

  Julia held out her hand to his departing figure, but the words she wished to say remained unuttered for now. She decided they would best be saved and perhaps presented to him for Christmas.

  IF MIMMA HAD NOT abandoned her, Julia would have had the services of her own maid throughout the Christmas house party. Instead, it was necessary to share a maid with several of the other ladies, whose costumes for the masquerade ball were far more elaborate than her own. Laurentia had not exaggerated in her warning that all the other ladies were to be queenly in their costumes, though not necessarily in title. Miss St. John, she knew, was making her grand entrance as Cleopatra. The vicar’s wife could be nothing less than the Magdalene.

  And among them would be a simple shepherdess, capable of dressing herself and plaiting her own dark hair into long braids. By the time the maid knocked on her door, Julia was nearly dressed, and had been standing at the window of her bedchamber, watching the arriving guests through frost encrusted glass.

  “You look splendid, my lady,” said the maid. Julia already knew her name was Nell and that the woman came to Seabury for events such as these. In quieter times, she worked in her family’s dairy, milking cows and goats. “I need to do little but pin the lace at your shoulders and perhaps braid some ribbons through your hair.”

  Julia stood still, allowing the young woman to use her talents to improve on her own poor efforts. She thought she managed well while traveling with Will, but there was something distinctly indulgent about having someone fuss over you. She had not grown up with such expectations, but how quickly she had gotten used to it after her marriage to Leighton.

  It was not so different from growing accustomed to marriage itself. She loved being with Leighton, the pleasures of intimacy, the knowing looks that passed between them, the quiet evenings in their own home when they could imagine there was no other person in the world but the two of them. She missed it so dreadfully.

  What had compelled her to hold Will off as she did when she desired nothing more than to be with him always, and share the things she had missed so much? She loved him and wanted him. She was a fool to deny them both.

  “There is a bruise on your shoulder, my lady,” Nell said, and pressed it just enough so that Julia felt what had been already forgotten. “It was hidden when you wore your blue gown last evening, but the neckline is a bit wider tonight.”

  Julia dipped in front of the mirror so she might see it, but it was scarcely visible to her. “Yes, I do not doubt it. I was in a most dreadful accident on my way to Seabury. It is not the worst of my injuries, but possibly the only one that anyone might note.” She brushed her hand across her hairline, where she had carefully disguised her healing scar.

  “I do know about the accident, my lady. Miriam Humphries is my cousin.”

  “Mimma?” asked Julia. She felt a brush of fear, still stinging from the treacherous betrayal.

  “Yes, Mimma. It’s what we called her as a little girl, and the name stuck, even when she went into service. She’s a little like that, our Mimma,” Nell said, and sighed.

  “I do not understand. Like what?”

  “Like a little girl, easily influenced and ready to believe what she wants to believe. I warned her about Hedges, that he was up to no good.”

  “I wish you had warned Lord Howard,” Julia said severely.

  “It was not my place. I did not know what they were about.”

  Julia heard the tremor in her voice and was sorry she ever brought up the subject.

  “At our farm, we prepare a salve to put on such bruises,” Nell said, probably feeling the same way. “It’s made with milk and cream, and can sweeten the skin. Would you like to try it?”

  “I should love to try it,” Julia said, though she doubted anything would have much effect on such discolorations as she had. “Poor Mimma will have learned a lesson from her deeds, and will likely spend some time in jail. But I forgive her, for she is young and silly. And I shall suffer no enduring harm as a result.”

  Indeed, Julia was now optimistic that there would be a great deal of good.

  WHEN HE HAD first accepted the invitation to spend Christmas at Seabury, Will had not anticipated such a crush. He had been away from England for too long, he thought. Or he doubted that so many people would wish to be away from their own homes and families. In the last few weeks, he guessed that most of the guests would not manage to arrive at all.

  But it may be said that an invitation from the Earl and Countess Howard was compelling enough to bring even the most exalted personages to this southern shore, as evidenced by the presence of their princess and her consort, and the estimable Lady Jersey. He could run down a list of all the others who added their glow to this house party, but as they were all masked and their behavior was not anything like their own, it could scarcely matter. Besides, there was only one person who mattered to him.

  He wished only to find her and claim her, but he had not yet accomplished the first, and now hesitated on the second. What prompted her to suddenly doubt him, or his motives? After all they had shared, was it possible she still felt they were moving too quickly? He had presumed too much, it seemed. But if that were so, would she not have denied him her bed or her favors? For a man renown for his skills at diplomacy and negotiation, he was most unaccustomed to being in the dark.

  And suddenly there she was. He watched her slip into the ballroom, a simple shepherdess in a green gown and white pinafore, carrying a crook festooned with ivy and berries. She wore a half mask, which left no doubt as to her identity, and stopped to chat with several others, perhaps recognizing them as well.

  Did others see her beauty, and appreciate her quick intelligence and kindness? If other men had any sense, she would have been widowed for only a week before someone else claimed her. But he now was moonstruck enough to believe she was waiting for him, setting aside all others, and if she needed more time to recognize that, he could do little but indulge her. He would indulge her anything.

  In her simple costume, she managed to appear more queenly than all the great Elizabeths and Marys and Anne Boleyns who walked among them. She looked more regal than the princess herself, who was dressed as . . . herself.

  Will tugged on his leather belt, wondering why he thought it was a fine idea to arrive at a ball sporting a satchel of packages at his waist. It was a most inconvenient business, being Sinterclaus. And dancing would prove all but impossible; he might as well have been wearing his wooden klompen.

  Nick Hawkely walked past Will, paused just a moment, and could hardly contain his amusement.

  “I am dressed in the spirit of the season,” Will said glumly, anticipat
ing his question.

  “I have done you one better, Will, for I am blessed in the spirit of the season.”

  Will’s mood promptly changed. Here was good news at last, for he wanted nothing more than to return to their comfortable familiarity. “Do you mean Miss St. John has . . .”

  Nick held up his hand, still gloved in bright red leather. “She has indeed accepted me, and I have much to thank you for, Will.”

  “All is not certain, Nick. I merely discussed the matter with the princess and pointed to such evidence as could be gleaned from Raffles’s manuscript. Lady Leighton is the person to thank, in truth, for she discovered the reference while we traveled here.” Will felt a bit uncomfortable, knowing there was some gossip going on about the time he’d spent in close quarters with Julia. “We had a good deal of time together, and spent it reading, you understand.”

  Nick laughed out loud. “No, I do not understand. If I shared a coach with such a beauty, the blasted manuscript would have been out the window in an instant. Along with our garments.”

  “Then I am glad she was with me and not you,” Will said calmly, not wishing to resume their enmity.

  “I am away the day after tomorrow,” Nick said, clearly not willing to resume it either. “I am to London, to interview—or apprehend—Channing, and prove my own innocence.”

  “I understand your concern, but will you not then be away for Christmas Eve?”

  “The roads are clear and the sky is bright. And I have a mission.”

  “And perhaps, soon, a wife?”

  “Why, that is the very point of my mission, of course.”

  “And a very worthy one, Nick. I wish you well in your journey, and a safe return to us.”

  Nick looked him up and down. “And I wish you luck in finding your missing donkey, so you might be unencumbered when you ask a lady to dance.” He turned away from Will and followed his gaze across the crowded room. “Yes, indeed. We would have found something better to do than read that tiresome manuscript, if I had been the one alone with the lady.”

  LAURENTIA HAD SPENT weeks planning her masquerade ball, worrying every detail of the meals and the Christmas finery. Julia spent hours considering her costume before she even met the man she would most like to impress, and spent even more hours after she did so, wondering if he would like it. And yet, for all the meticulous attention to the perfection of this evening, she thought she would never forget the spontaneous joy of the Christmas Ball in Langerford, when her gown had been tailored for her in a matter of an hour and she had danced with Will for the first time.

  Where was he? Who was he tonight?

  Not Oberon, of course. They already dispelled Laurentia’s romantic fantasy. Surely he was not one of the ten or more men wandering about like the three wise kings. She preferred to believe he was not like any other man of her acquaintance. There was Lord Hawkely, hovering about Miss St. John, as suited his name. She saw Geoff leaning against one of the solid Corinthian columns while entertaining a group of men, looking like he and Laurentia did this every night.

  And when she saw him, she could only wonder why she hadn’t noticed him at once, for suddenly there was Will, and all else retreated into the background behind him.

  As she walked through the crowd, other guests parted to let her make her way among them, though some were great kings and queens, and she was nothing but a shepherdess. Perhaps her crook had something to do with it. But she soon realized they were not simply stepping aside, but also looking ahead to her destination.

  “Will, what a wonderful costume,” she said, standing at a comfortable distance, however much she was tempted to walk right up and kiss him. But there was the matter of his absurd white beard that covered half his face. “You are the only man here who has decided to honor the season.”

  “I feel rather absurd, but it seemed like a good idea back home in The Hague. I suppose I missed Christmas more than I knew, for not much is made of the holiday in the East Indies.” He looked at her thoughtfully, though she couldn’t read his expression. “But tonight I am struck not only by the wonder of this Christmas, but of all those left to come.”

  She recognized a proposal, of sorts, and felt a flush of guilt that she was tormenting him with her cautious indecision. She also dreamed of those Christmases ahead of them, of sugared plum pies, of house parties, of children. But she was fully aware of everyone watching them. If they stood here much longer, someone would appear with a sprig of mistletoe and dangle it over their heads.

  “Do you intend to dance?” she asked.

  “Do you wish to dance?” he countered.

  Julia sighed. “I should like it very much, but I think your leather bag is going to prove as difficult to navigate around as the vicar’s belly. What does it contain?”

  “I have brought packages of hopjes and sugar drops and peppermint for everyone. That, too, seemed like a good idea.”

  She laughed, as she always seemed to do when she was around him.

  “It is a wonderful idea. Though I believe Laurentia is most particular about what she serves her guests. She might be angry if she thinks the hopjes—those are little coffee candies, are they not?—will be more popular than her cook’s cinnamon balls.”

  Will looked over her shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “If your sister-in-law is the Queen Elizabeth who is entertaining a coterie of kings under the palm trees, I doubt she will be angry about anything. She is the most popular lady here.”

  Julia turned, so close to him that she could feel his light breathing on her hair. “That does sound like Laurentia, and lucky it is for her that our princess prefers to be understated. But did you say that there are other Elizabeths? That will bother her more than the hopjes.”

  “It does not matter,” he said, and his arms were around her. His satchel pressed against her hip, and her crook might have hit him in the eye, for he made a sound of protest. “I realize I much prefer the understated.”

  “The princess, do you mean?” Julia sighed happily.

  “No, I mean the shepherdess who might have been a queen. Any lady can don the robes of a queen and manage to look like one. But it is quite another thing to actually be noble, no matter one’s costume or family.”

  “What if I told you I truly am a shepherdess, and this is not a costume at all?”

  He was silent, and she was prepared to tease him about his avowed republican principles.

  “On that first night,” he said, “when I knew nothing about you or how you came to be abandoned in that cursed coach, I thought you looked like a creature of fairytale, pale and beautiful, and waiting to be awakened.”

  He turned her in his arms, his gaze on her parted lips. “That is really why I kissed you. I could explain it away to rational folk by saying that I hoped to breathe life back into your frozen body, but I think I really imagined I could awaken you, like some fool prince in a book my mother used to read to me.”

  Julia reached up to caress his cheek, parting the white cotton wool that appeared to be stuck on his face with some sort of sticky salve.

  “No fool prince, Will. For, you see, it worked.”

  “Yes, I believe it did, my Lady Frost.” He grinned, and his beard slipped away from one ear. “Now that that’s settled, shall we dance? The crowd seems to be forming a pattern for a quadrille.”

  “I should be delighted,” said Julia, thinking he did look a bit like a fool prince with his disguise somewhat lopsided. For all that, she was happy they left their Titania and Oberon costumes on the seamstress’ mannequins. “But I think we ought to leave your satchel and my crook here against the columns. Whatever else Laurentia wishes for this night, she would not want for us to cripple any of her guests.” She looked up at him, and he began to scratch his chin.

  “What about my cotton wool beard?” he asked.

  “I find it
very endearing,” she answered. “Besides, I cannot imagine it any more uncomfortable than a lady’s corset.”

  “But much less flattering,” he said, as he led her gallantly into the center of the ballroom floor.

  EVEN A SHEPHERDESS is likely to attract admirers, if she is an eligible widow and the sister-in-law of the hosts of a splendid evening party. Julia flirted with an array of kings, pirates, clerics and even a few unimaginative gentlemen dressed as wise men, but no one felt as suited to her as the one dressed as Sinterclaus, divested of his bag of sweets. He did give them out after dinner, though it was doubtful that anyone was able to consume anything else, as the cook’s cinnamon balls were very well received.

  Laurentia and Geoff were flushed with the success of their ball. The princess and prince held court beneath the musicians’ balcony. Sir Nicholas Hawkely and Miss St. John appeared to have come to a happy understanding. Even Miss Rossiter, all aglow as an angel, found a willing audience with Mr. Wolfe. Perhaps they discussed musical theory, for the violinist seemed quite animated.

  Julia allowed one of Will’s hopjes to dissolve in her mouth, savoring the sweet coffee flavor, and soothing her throat. She watched him move about the room, distributing his little gifts, and chatting with friends old and new, as if this was something he did every day of his life.

  And, she realized, perhaps it was. From the moment he pulled her out of the crash, he had been nothing if not solicitous, and not only of her. He worried about where Milton slept each night of their journey, he traveled to Seabury to help two of his old friends, he was considerate of everyone’s needs, from the princess to the town watchman in Langerford. He had been severely burned in his rescue efforts after Tambora’s eruption, and yet risked his own safety by rescuing her as well.

  Everyone spoke of the spirit of the season, but Julia believed she loved a man who lived with this spirit every day of his life. She thought of herself as kind and good-natured, but considered she could do more with her time and talents, and he was her inspiration to do so.