With that, she stormed out of the little room and slammed the door just because it felt good to do so. She climbed up the three flights of stairs to their rooms, and the exertion taxed her considerably. She was breathless by the time she caught up with Matty in the sitting room. Matty stood by the window with her back to the door.
“Are you alright?” Dahlia asked, coming to her side.
This question surprised Matty. “Yes, of course.”
“Then you were there…willingly.”
Matty cast her gaze to her feet. “Yes.”
“You haven’t,” Dahlia started, not knowing how to phrase her question. “You haven’t done more than I saw, have you?”
“No, I swear. I wouldn’t let him.”
“Well, you let him do an awful lot, Matty. You were lying with him on top of you!”
Matty didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t negate the truth of what Dahlia said, so she just agreed. “Yes.”
“Are you engaged?”
“No.”
“Well, you soon will be or I’ll ask Mr. MacFarlain to send him away. He needn’t stay at the castle all the time. Let him go home.”
Matty looked stricken by this possibility. “Yes, Miss.” Matty said quietly.
Not knowing what else to say, Dahlia went into her bedroom and shut the door. She was still out of breath from climbing the stairs and shouting. She sat down on the edge of the bed and found she was trembling. She knew she had not handled the situation very well. She lay back on the bed to try to clear her head. She knew Matty was in love with Trevor and that he was partial to her; of course they would want to spend private time together. She had sought the same stolen moments with James. What if her father had walked into the barn that night and found her not just in the arms of James, but leaning into him and kissing him back! Granted, she had not been rolling around in the hay with him with her corset half undone. While making this comparison, Dahlia fixated on the image. When James had kissed her the other day in the sitting room, she knew she would have let him lie with her there, on the carpet, or in hay – had there been any. His kisses, his touch, made her forget the world around her. It would be no different for Matty if she really loved Trevor. Dahlia was ashamed to realize she was slightly envious of Matty. James was so polite with her – almost too polite. They were, after all, married. Unlike Matty and Trevor, they did share a bedroom – yet the only time he had slept on the bed was one night when he had fallen asleep after brushing her hair.
She needed to apologize to Matty. She had yelled at her for all the wrong reasons, more out of her frustration with her own situation than indignation for Matty’s. She got up and went through the sitting room to knock on Matty’s door. It opened, but looking past Matty, she saw James.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Dahlia said. “I’ll come back when you are done.”
“We are,” James said to her. To Matty he said simply, “You’re sure?”
She took a breath and nodded profusely. “I’m sure.”
James followed Dahlia into their bedroom. She resumed her place at the foot of the bed. “Well?”
James smiled. “Seems we’ll have a wedding by New Year’s Day.”
“New Year’s? So soon?”
“From what I hear, you were about to handfast the two of them on the spot.”
Dahlia smiled, then blushed. “I think I overreacted.”
“Perhaps a little,” James agreed, smiling.
“I was worried for her, for her reputation. One can’t be too careful. And I didn’t know at first glance whether or not she was there of her own accord.” She thought a moment, then looked up at her husband. “They don’t have to get married so quickly. Matty said they really haven’t done anything…irrevocable.”
“Aye. MacTavish told me the same. He also said he already had it in his mind to ask her to marry him.”
“Really?” Dahlia’s outlook brightened. “He must really love her. I’m happy for Matty,” she declared. She stood up to go tell her so – and to apologize.
“I wouldn’t do that,” James cautioned, his hand catching her arm as she walked by him.
“Why not?”
“You might just catch the two of them in another – awkward – situation. MacTavish was waiting in the hall for me to finish with Matty. He’s probably still in there with her, asking her to marry him.”
“Oh.” Dahlia went and sat on the couch.
“They’ll announce their engagement at dinner tonight.”
Chapter 73
The anticipation of the wedding, in addition to Christmas, threw the castle into a frenzy of excitement. Matty became a focal point with everyone asking her questions from what she wanted served at the wedding dinner to her measurements for a dress. She walked around half-dazed most of the time, not used to so much attention.
Dahlia and James were to be the official witnesses and attendants at the ceremony. As Matty’s closest friend, Dahlia took on much of the organization of the festivities. This role she thoroughly enjoyed, not having the luxury of remembering the planning of her own wedding. In the evenings, she would give James a summary of all the things she had done and what still was left to do before the event. He, too, noted her enthusiasm – as well as her questions about what had been done for their ceremony. He felt completely inadequate and berated himself for not getting with Matty beforehand to try to patch together some details to tell his wife. Luckily for him, he was able to divert most of these questions, claiming that he had not been involved in the preparations for their wedding. Regarding details from the event, he told her he hadn’t noticed many as he only had eyes for her that day. This seemed to appease her curiosity, much to his relief.
Where he was not able to divert her attentions, however, was in the matter of their sleeping arrangements. Several days before Christmas, he returned to their room late. Dahlia was already asleep, but she had left a single candle lit on the bed stand opposite hers. The quilt and extra pillow for the couch were gone, despite his searching for them in drawers and closets. He was too tired to find replacements elsewhere, so he climbed into the empty side of the bed. He had to smile at the sleeping figure of his wife, marveling at her ability to adapt to the situation in which she had found herself. Trying to imagine how he would react if the tables were turned and it was he who could not remember getting married and moving to a strange place, he realized just how trusting Dahlia had been. She had asked her share of questions, granted. However, she had accepted the tales and explanations he and Matty had contrived, knowing no reason to discount their validity.
He stared at her beautiful face, completely peaceful in sleep. An enormous flood of emotion surged in him for her – an unlimited amount of love and respect for how she had handled her ordeal and her adjustment to her new life. He silently prayed that she would never remember the actual circumstances of these changes, even if that meant she would not regain her inner music. She had not sung or played an instrument since her recovery, but he thought he could happily forego ever hearing her exquisite voice again in his life if it meant she could continue to be happy in the lies they had woven for her. While they still had to wait several more weeks for confirmation of whether or not she might be pregnant, James also began to think that she could handle that as well – given she didn’t remember the truth. If she could have that strength, then so could he.
James reached out to lay his hand gently on Dahlia’s where it rested on the pillow, his eyes filled with tears.
-----
Christmas Eve day dawned clear with the sun making everything about the castle sparkle, from the snow glistening outside to the rainbows that the crystal glasses, candlesticks, and chandeliers cast inside upon catching the rays that came through the windows.
All the children were beside themselves awaiting the gifts and treats to be magically delivered by Saint Nicholas. The adults had their hands full with last minute preparations and trying to get them to nap that afternoon so they would be able to
stay awake through the feast and midnight mass.
Trevor and James were in the circular sitting room waiting for Dahlia and Matty to emerge after their lengthy ministrations to dress for dinner. A fine double malt whiskey helped them pass the time as they discussed this and that with no particular direction to their conversation. When the ladies at last emerged, all speech left them entirely as they took in the appearance of their respective loves.
Both women had gone to great lengths to honor the clans of their men. The tartan colors of each were incorporated into their attire and the ribbons woven into their hair. Matty wore a deep burgundy dress that set off her brown hair and eyes with a band of the MacTavish tartan fitting around her small waist like a belt. Dahlia’s dress was white with navy blue, green, and gold piping to accentuate the MacFarlain tartan that comprised a long sash that lay over one shoulder and crossed on the opposite hip with a thick tartan pin embellished with the castle’s crest. The green in the MacFarlain plaid was the same color as Dahlia’s eyes, and James couldn’t help but believe that fate had indeed played a hand in their relationship as he saw her eyes reflecting the same shade. James also noted that she had on a full corset for the first time since her accident. The way it accentuated her figure made him draw in a quick breath.
The silence in the room as the two pairs looked at each other would have been amusing to an observer, for it was not just the men who gawked. Dahlia was shocked to find her husband and his friend in full Highland dress regalia – and it was impressive. With the tight fitting blue coat that set off his eyes, the ruffled white shirt that reminded her of the Roma, sporran, and kilt that revealed his well-formed legs clad in white socks to the knees, James was a sight to behold.
The suspense of sound in the room was broken by compliments and exclamations on both sides, as was the distance between the two pairs. With their ladies on their arms, the men escorted them downstairs.
The foursome joined the rest of the castle’s inhabitants in the grand foyer at the bottom of the main staircase. Everyone was attired in their best, and even the children seemed pleased to be gussied up. Greetings and compliments were exchanged, and drink glasses clinked as the merriment of the evening commenced.
The feast was sumptuous and the wine flowed without limits. The courses of food kept coming, and only the tight corset pressing on her still sore ribs kept Dahlia from overindulging. She felt completely happy and part of the close-knit family of which she was now a member. Every time she looked at James, resplendent in his native attire, she felt grateful for her situation and blessed by whatever forces brought her here. Thoughts of her father and brothers and past Christmases in Cirencester, while present in her mind, did not mar her enjoyment of the evening.
Around eleven o’clock, everyone donned their wraps for the short walk to the chapel. The sharp, cold air only served to refresh the company after their meal. James held Dahlia close on the way, vigilant of the snow under foot and taking care she didn’t slip and fall.
James held her hand throughout the service, until the children got up to present their vocal tribute to the evening. Dahlia got up with them, whispering to James that she had been tasked with helping to organize the excited youngsters into some semblance of a children’s choir.
James smiled as he watched his younger siblings and cousins nervously accomplish their performance. Then, relieved it was over and they were that much closer to the treasures in their stockings, they disbanded and returned to their parents’ sides.
The priest continued with his service, but Dahlia did not return. James was starting to get concerned as Father Gordon finished speaking when Dahlia appeared at the front of the church. He held his breath as he watched her come to a halt in front of the congregation. Was she going to sing? He reached out and gripped the cold wood of the pew in anticipation. Her face was pale, almost as white as her dress. She sought him out of the crowd, and gave him a small, tentative smile. Then, she closed her eyes and sang.
She sang a capella, but her voice did not need accompaniment. It filled the small chapel with the most heavenly sound. Having heard her voice reverberate in much larger surroundings, he recognized the relative hesitancy of her delivery. The remainder of the listeners, however, took the tone as beautifully appropriate to the song. James was barely over his surprise with the fact that she was singing when he realized what she was singing. She had chosen a very old Scottish Christmas melody, and she was singing it in Gaelic. He knew that alone would endear her to everyone listening – a gesture of tribute to his heritage and his family. She could have said a blessing in Gaelic at the feast, but she had chosen to sing. To his knowledge, she still had not recaptured the music in her mind. He remembered their conversation when she voiced her fears that he would not love her if she did not have her music, and that she would not be able to sing or play on key as a result. He thought she must be performing without the benefit of her music for her to appear so timid – so relatively unsure of herself. He was touched all the more by the fact that she would endeavor to sing for him without her inner music. This was a gift to him; a precious gift that must have taken a great deal of courage to prepare, let alone deliver, in front of so many people.
The muscles in James’ jaw flexed as he tried to stem the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. He was overwhelmed by her fortitude – her bravery at attempting something that had to be so very difficult for his benefit.
James could not tear his eyes away from his wife, but if he had looked around the room, he would have found that many eyes were glistening. All had heard that James’ wife could sing, but knowing a thing and experiencing the glory of her voice and the magnificence of her unique tone were not the same. The song ended with a note so pure and so prolonged that it was hard to tell where the sound ended and silence began, as if an angel carried the note on its wings out of this realm and into heaven.
Sheer silence pervaded the chapel as Dahlia opened her eyes and looked only at James. The only movement in the building was the dancing of the candlelight against the walls. Even the priest sat dumbly in his chair. Dahlia was afraid that her performance was a disappointment, but the joy on James’ face as he looked back at her gave her confidence it was not.
Finally, Father Gordon jumped up to convey the night’s final blessing, and the congregation got up to leave. Everyone was murmuring about Dahlia’s song, and stopping to convey their appreciation of the performance to both her and James. By the time Dahlia was able to rejoin her husband, they were almost the last people in the little church.
James had no idea of what to say to her that could convey what her song meant to him.
“Happy Christmas, James,” she said, to fill the silence.
He took both her hands and brought them to his lips. “You are an extraordinary woman, Dahlia.” He stroked her face gently. “You sang without hearing the music inside.”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. She had been encouraged by her ability to complete Trevor’s composition, and had sought out the little hidden room in the castle to try her voice and see if she could carry a tune.
“You let everyone hear a sliver of heaven tonight, Dahlia, and you gave everyone a memory to treasure for a lifetime.”
“It was for you, James.”
“I know, and it was the greatest gift I have ever received – besides you.” James felt his throat tighten as he said the words and felt their validity in his soul. He leaned in to kiss Dahlia gently, tenderly.
When they both climbed into bed later, Dahlia was exhausted from the apprehension leading up to her performance. James saw she still held her ribs protectively. James lay down with his face but inches from hers, and watched as she fell asleep, with her hand clasped in his. His last thought before closing his eyes was how marvelous love was that it would include at various moments friendship, deep desire, and an incomprehensible tenderness – for these were all emotions he felt for Dahlia in their turn.
He fell asleep feeling very lucky indeed.
&
nbsp; Chapter 74
Thick snow was falling Christmas morning and continued throughout the day, but the MacFarlain clan and its guests were content to be ensconced in the warmth and happiness of the interior. It was a day for gifts and games, repasts and repose.
Since the moment Trevor had heard her voice the night before, he was obsessed with finding out more about Dahlia. He took every opportunity to ask her questions – about her life and family, her music training, and her singing. After seeing what she had done with his composition and hearing her voice, he was convinced she was genius personified – genius wrapped in a beautiful package and surrounded by mystery. What attack did James and Matty whisper about? Who was Edward, and why did they need to find him? Why were James and Matty so protective of her, yet keep secrets from her like the letter from her father?
Trevor was careful in his inquiries. He didn’t want Matty or James to think his questions impertinent, or that his attentions to Dahlia were more than congenial interest in his fiancée’s closest friend. By the end of the day, he still had no concrete answers, but he had enough information to put pen to paper. After leaving Matty and returning to his room, he immediately transcribed the beginnings of the story that was forming in his head. He wrote his publisher in Edinburgh asking of his interest in publishing a serial for one of the literary magazines or journals. He preferred writing books, but they didn’t pay as regularly as the serializations. Now that he was getting married, he needed to consider a more regular influx of funds. The timing was perfect as the income from his land dissipated during the winter months, and he now had access to his source of inspiration.
Dahlia's Music Page 50