by Sharon Sobel
The sudden revelation ought to be humbling, but she was suddenly alive with possibilities and joy.
“Lady Leighton.” Julia recognized Mr. Wolfe’s low and slightly accented voice, and turned in her chair to greet him.
“Mr. Wolfe,” she acknowledged him cheerfully. “Are you enjoying this evening?”
“Indeed, I am,” he said, pausing to look back at the crowd. “I usually find myself up in the balcony, grateful that our host has remembered to feed the musicians. It is rare that I have the opportunity to speak to the guests, and dine at the tables. I am enjoying this very much.”
“Miss Rossiter seems to be enjoying the party as well,” Julia said, smiling at him.
“She is a lovely lady, with a very promising future.”
Julia blinked, not certain she heard that correctly. Already familiar with the lady’s readiness to make assumptions, Julia hoped the rumors of the lady’s future had nothing to do with Willem Wakefield.
“I have agreed to be her tutor, for she would like to improve on her singing skills,” Mr. Wolfe explained.
“Mr. Wolfe, you are a man of many talents,” Julia said, still not certain she heard correctly. “I did not know you sang as well.”
“I am a man of many talents,” he agreed, bowing before her. “What is the voice but yet another instrument? You must appreciate that above all else, Lady Leighton.”
He was right, of course. She had just never thought about it before. Indeed, this was proving to be a night of revelations.
“I’m afraid my instrument is a bit rusty right now. I may play it very poorly tomorrow night.”
“Ah, yes. And we have scarcely discussed our little concert,” he mused. “I have the music you requested, and Lady Howard assures me you are accustomed to singing with accompaniment, though your voice is so fine as to require none.”
“Dear Lady Howard has a very exaggerated sense of my abilities, Mr. Wolfe.”
“That must be because she loves you,” he said. “One hears what one wishes to hear. But in this case, her opinion has been confirmed by others. At least two ladies have suggested that your voice is a gift.”
Yes, so she had been told. Her family had not the means to hire a tutor for her, as Miss Rossiter was prepared to do. Leighton was happy to hear her sing when she wished, in church or at dinner parties. But she had never sung on the stage, as Will had mistakenly believed.
Julia turned from Mr. Wolfe to look out on the ballroom, at the glittery array of people. Will was not the only one circulating through the crowd, sharing gifts and sweets. There were others, some anticipating Christmas Day, and some perhaps seizing on the opportunity for surprise. Julia thought about the gifts she had brought, carefully wrought but not intended to astonish anyone.
“Mr. Wolfe,” she said slowly, thinking through a sudden notion. “I hope you might use the audience on Christmas Eve to display your own talents, quite apart from a lady squawking the words of songs everyone already knows.”
“Lady Leighton, you are not being kind to yourself.”
“But it will be Christmas Eve, Mr. Wolfe, so is it not more important to be kind to others?”
He looked uncertain.
“Come now, Mr. Wolfe. Let us consider this a gift to our audience. I recently heard a town watchman sing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and imagine it would be very cheerful as an instrumental piece. The words we sing to While Shepherds Watched do little justice to Handel’s music. Can you play that on your violin? Perhaps we can honor Prince Leopold with the music of Austria.”
Julia watched as the musician considered this unexpected change of plans, and nodded as she offered each suggestion, until she arrived at the idea that prompted her burst of enthusiasm.
“And do you know the Christmas songs of Holland?” she asked quickly, as Will was coming towards them.
“Of Holland?” Mr. Wolfe asked with the tone of one who was asked if he could bake a Christmas pie. “Oh, yes, I see.”
Julia guessed what he saw was Lord Willem Wakefield approaching.
“Do you?” she urged.
“I do,” he said at last. “I know a melody of which Sinterclaus himself would approve.”
Chapter 9
THE GREAT HOUSE was silent when Julia made her way downstairs on Christmas Eve day, though the sun was unusually bright and high in the sky. The servants must have restored the ballroom and dining hall to order hours ago, if only for the anticipation that they would be well used again this very night. The scent of cinnamon and yeast wafted from the small dining room, though it was not accompanied by the clink of fine silver, to suggest anyone feasted within.
Surely, everyone had feasted enough last night to serve them well into 1817. It was possible that some would sleep into the New Year as well.
Julia was not particularly hungry, but she was unable to sleep any longer, as she anticipated the day to come. And it looked to be a glorious day, with no hint of the fog and grit with which they had been enveloped for months and months.
She ought to be anxious, nervous, even dreading her performance this evening. Since Laurentia invited her to join them at Christmas so many months before, she had been planning for this day, and rehearsing as if she had nothing else to do with her days.
In truth, she had nothing else to do with her days but visit some of the tenants and walk into Lowerwood and have luncheon with some of the other widows in the neighborhood. To be invited to sing at the home of Leighton’s sister served to remind her of her loss and brought more sadness than joy.
And yet, here she was. She’d set out on her journey to Seabury with all this in mind, and awoke this morning to discover that her long-awaited performance was not the first thing she thought about, nor was it the most enduring.
A maid came though the foyer and stopped suddenly, as if surprised to see her.
“Are you looking for the dining room, my lady?” she asked.
“I know just where it is, but have just realized I prefer to be outdoors on this grand day. Are the roads clear?”
The young woman nodded. “I came up myself this morning, from Rye. We have not seen so fine a day in many months.”
“It’s a pity there is no one else awake to appreciate it,” murmured Julia.
“The staff is all awake belowstairs, my lady,” the maid cheerfully said. “We are invited to tonight’s dinner as well.”
“I see,” said Julia, taking a note from the maid. “But you will have to work all day so you might enjoy a party tonight.”
“It’s the way of the world, my lady,” she answered. “Shall I bring you your cape?”
WILL RODE UP THE long drive to Seabury, reveling in the fresh warm air. If he did not know it was Christmas Eve, he might have imagined spring had arrived, given the running of the river along the road and the singing of birds in the trees. Those living under the cloud of Tambora had little reason to believe the year 1816 would end on such a burst of optimism; and yet, he thought it was the most natural thing in the world.
He was optimistic.
He had been even more optimistic when he set out an hour or so ago, hoping the shopkeepers in Rye might have just what he desired as a Christmas gift for a lady, but their stores were pretty much depleted and they’d had little to offer him. It undoubtedly did not help that he did not know what he was looking for.
For the only Christmas he shared with Leena, the choice had been clear; he’d given her a telescope.
His mother always enjoyed a new lace shawl, though he sometimes wondered if her delight was a bit too enthusiastic.
For his hostess this holiday, he brought a music box from Amsterdam.
And, of course, Lady Jersey was already in expectation of a collection of soil-encrusted bulbs.
But as well as he thought he already knew Lady Leighton Ki
ngswood, he could only acknowledge that he would know what would give her pleasure when he saw it.
He allowed his borrowed mount to nibble at the grass just emerging at the side of the lake that was the centerpiece of the great lawn. The fountain was once again running and the layer of ice that had frozen everything in place for days floated on the surface in pieces, like a shattered platter. He saw a colorful form through the spray of the water, which he at first thought was a reflection, until it moved to the right and revealed itself as Julia.
He slid off the horse, knowing the mare would be content to chew the grass for a few moments, and walked along the perimeter of the lake.
“You are up early,” Julia greeted him.
He glanced up at the clear sky.
“It is well past mid-day, unless the sun is as confused as the rest of us.”
“I should say instead, that you are awake earlier than nearly everyone else, save for myself and the servants,” Julia said.
“Like the servants, I had business to attend to. Do you have the same excuse?” he asked.
She laughed. “Only that I am unable to sleep. I hope you accomplished your business.”
He studied her face, reddened by the sunshine and her walk, trying to guess what she would like, would most appreciate as a gift from him. He leaned forward and kissed her. Perhaps it was due to the peculiar circumstances of their meeting, or perhaps it was because she simply did not care what others thought, but she responded as if she knew to expect this of him. She caught him by the broad lapels of his coat and pulled him close, which is just what he expected of her.
She tasted like sweet coffee and had the scent of pine in her hair. In the weeks of her recovery she grew stronger and no longer seemed so fragile that he feared he would hurt her. His arms came around her, holding her close, embracing everything she was and everything he loved.
“This is Christmas Eve,” he said into her hair, which was warmed by the sun. “It has come at last.”
“I would not have made it, if not for you,” she said.
“And then I would have had nothing to look forward to, but for some knitted mittens from Laurentia, and fine cigars from Geoff. And I wouldn’t enjoy them half as much.”
JULIA HAD HER maid lay out the lovely gown she intended to wear this night, with its matching slippers and green shawl. But when she returned to her chamber, after a brief rehearsal with Mr. Wolfe, she decided it would not do. For all that she worried about her performance, she realized there was only one person she wished to please this night. And for him, it probably didn’t matter if she wore brocade or silk, blue or green. She did, however, have one gown in her wardrobe that he would recognize, for he had bought it for her himself.
She supposed it was time to pay him for all her expenses while on the road. But in the meantime, she might show her gratitude by wearing the green velvet gown so hurriedly altered for her so that she might wear it to the Christmas Ball in Langerford, on the night the stars finally came out.
“I should like to wear this instead,” she said to the maid, who looked doubtful.
“It is very fine,” the young woman said.
“Truly, it is not, but I doubt anyone here will have anything like it.” Julia remembered what the other maid told her this morning, and thought, perhaps, she might see it on one of the servants. “That is, I understand that Lady Howard and Princess Charlotte and the other luminaries will not be in velvet. In any case, this suits me well.”
“If you are certain, my lady,” said the maid. “But I should like to steam it in the laundry to get out the wrinkles.”
“I shall await your return,” said Julia. And while she did, she stood in the window and watched the sun set on Christmas Eve.
THE HUM OF conversation rising from the lobby rose to the third floor, drawing down those ready to join the party. Whereas last night was marked with excitement and frivolity, this night the mood was somewhat more solemn, as befitting one of the holiest days of the year. Julia was aware that several people watched her descend the last flight of stairs, including Laurentia, who stepped forward at once.
“Is the gown new?” Laurentia asked as she hugged her. “I have not seen it before.”
“It is the newest thing in my wardrobe,” Julia assured her. “I have a new dressmaker, who tells me this is all the thing.”
Well, it was certainly true in Langerford.
“How utterly unexpected. And here I thought we were no longer wearing rosebuds at the breast.”
“Shall I tuck in a bit of mistletoe instead?” Julia asked.
“Absolutely not, my dear. I do not wish for anyone to kiss you beneath it. At least, not in the middle of my dinner party.”
“I shall be safe with the rosebuds, then.”
“I have you between the vicar and Mr. Wolfe, so you should be safe in any case.”
The serving man announced the start of dinner, and the guests lined up in precedence behind Princess Charlotte and Leopold to enter the great hall, where fruits and pastries of all kinds were already plattered along the tables.
“How delightful,” said the vicar, after Julia was seated. “I find that I have quite an appetite.”
“And you must get your strength, sir, for you undoubtedly have a very long sermon for us tomorrow morning.” Julia heard Mr. Wolfe laugh behind her.
“I do, and hope you enjoy it, Lady Leighton. For all their good intentions, many people do not come to pray on Christmas Day, for they are quite exhausted.”
“I assure you, I do not intend to do anything too rigorous this night.”
As she settled herself at the table she looked for Will, hoping he was not far. She glanced left and then right, before realizing he sat just across from her, obscured by one of the resplendent platters. They might have been separated by a river, for all that stood between them.
But when the dinner was done, and all eyes turned to Laurentia for the announcement of their entertainment, Will was somehow behind her, prepared to escort her into the ballroom, though poor Mr. Wolfe waited expectantly at her side.
WILL DID NOT NEED to be told that she wore her green velvet dress, the one he watched being fitted to her slim figure in that dusty little shop in Langerford, for him. He hoped she didn’t think she was repaying his generosity or anything of that sort, for she hardly needed the excuse. She looked even more splendid than she did that evening not so long ago.
She held his elbow as they left the dining hall, walked among the statues in the foyer, and entered the ballroom. The room was so transformed that he hesitated, thinking they were in the wrong place. The great palms had been brought closer together, and a small platform was set against the columns, so one could harbor the illusion that they were in an intimate theatre. It was an illusion because the room, with its towering ceilings, was nearly impossible to keep warm.
Julia generated her own heat and warmed him even through the sleeve of his jacket. He felt her trembling, though surely it was from excitement or nerves, rather than the cold. She looked up at him, and it appeared that the bruises, so evident even a day or so ago, were now healed.
“You once thought I was a singer on the stage,” she said.
“And it appears as if you will be.” He gestured towards the platform.
“I thought you a highwayman,” she murmured.
“I suppose I might take up the profession if the treaty between the English and Dutch fails to negotiate a smooth transition. My father is in excellent health, and I am in no hurry to inherit his title.” Will led her to a seat in the front row, though he apparently intended to find his own place in the audience. “Now that I think of it, perhaps I could wear my Sinterclaus costume when I ambush coaches on the road. It certainly would disarm everyone immediately.”
“And you’d have the advantage of wearing that great satchel
to stash away the jewels and cash. It would be both an impressive disguise and a very convenient one.”
“Would you take a chance on a highwayman, Lady Leighton? It’s a very lucrative profession, I understand.”
“But not one with a strong future, Lord Willem. Think of the dangers.”
“But I’ve already survived a volcano,” he argued.
“And I’ve survived a husband.”
He looked down at her as she spread her green velvet skirt about her and sat on her chair. She looked more elegant than the princess, who was only a few seats away, and she looked more beautiful than any woman of his acquaintance. And yet, while he thought he understand every nuance of her behavior as well as he knew every contour of her body, she managed to continually surprise him. How had this conversation evolved from a teasing recollection of their first hours together to a serious reflection on love and loss?
Mr. Wolfe had been busy on the stage, fussing with his music stand, but he now waited expectantly for Will to step aside so that he could be seated next to Julia.
Will realized that aside from any other frustrations, he was tired of being separated from her for reasons of propriety. He did not wish to leave her now—or ever—but he seemed to have no choice in the matter. He had no claim.
But he bent down to kiss her.
“Good luck, my dear. Remember that I safely delivered you to Seabury just so you might perform this night.”
“I will never forget,” Julia said, looking up at him.
Will straightened, and realized that Mr. Wolfe had been watching their little performance all the while, grinning as if he knew something they did not.
“And good luck to you, too, Mr. Wolfe. I depend on you to keep Lady Leighton on key.”
Julia swatted him with her fan as he sauntered off to find a seat.
As he walked up the long aisle, he realized that some of his separations from Julia might have been carefully orchestrated, not so that he would be frustrated, but that each of Laurentia’s guests would become acquainted with everyone else. Therefore, he recognized everyone and might have joined anyone in this company. Geoff might have imparted his own diplomatic skills to his wife.