"So what is the delay in announcing your nuptials? Surely you'll not allow such a catch to escape?" Jonathan asked with a hint of unusual temper.
Diana couldn't continue to take out her bitterness on him. He had come home from a long, painful war, weary at heart and soul, to be faced by a cold father and little future. It was Christmas, and she could afford to be generous with her love for just a little while, just not enough to let him suspect.
She gave him a wry smile offering a truce.
"We have no interests in common. The only topic we can discuss together is the weather. Can you imagine saying ‘It is raining out today, dear,' and having exhausted all conversation for the remainder of the day?''
Jonathan choked back a laugh. Wickedly, he inquired, "Surely it cannot be so bad as that? After you were married, he would have to bring up a new subject or two, I daresay. What would he say ..." he hesitated and modified his original thought somewhat, "if he wanted to kiss you?"
Diana understood that tell-tale hesitation. She had not followed at her brother's heels and eavesdropped on his conversations without learning a few things, but Jonathan persisted in being a gentleman. She gave him the reply his question deserved.
"I should imagine he would say, ‘It's Saturday night, dear. Shall we?" Then, not stopping to watch Jonathan's reaction to that conceit, Diana marched off to prepare herself for church. If he remained here much longer, she would have need of a prayer or two.
His laughter followed her up.
* * *
Diana absorbed the pleasure of both families returning to the house from the quiet, dark snow after church. The joyous choir still rang in her ears, greetings of "Merry Christmas" tingled her tongue, and the smile on her face reflected that of the others around her. If she couldn't have the exact perfect Christmas she had wanted, she at least had the quiet comfort of the familiar—and the presence of all her loved ones.
Despite his bandaged hand, Jonathan helped removed her pelisse as the others removed their outer wraps. While the rest of the company tried to shake the chill from their bones with a flurry of coats and scarves and stamping feet, Diana was conscious of the heat of Jonathan's proximity.
The yule log had been left to burn merrily, and Elizabeth and Marie naturally gravitated toward the drawing room. Their outburst of giggles gave fair warning of mischief ahead. With a worried frown, Mrs. Carrington hastened after them.
Diana raised her eyebrows in suspicion at Charles's grin, but he shrugged and gestured for her to precede him. Then he made a point of seeing that Jonathan followed her through the doorway.
She gasped at the sight of the silver-and-gold-beribboned mistletoe dangling from the center of the kissing bough. It was more elaborate than any attempt her father had ever made. The greenery glistened in the firelight, swaying teasingly with the draft from the hall. Marie placed herself beneath it, contemplating the brilliance of the ribbons with an innocent air.
To everyone's surprise, Charles took advantage of the poised beauty beneath the berried leaves. Skirting around Diana and Jonathan, he caught Marie's hand and lifted it to his lips.
The loud cough behind her reminded Diana of why her usually reckless brother had limited himself to such circumspect behavior. Taking Jonathan's arm so as to include him in the conversation, she turned to Mr. and Mrs. Drummond.
"It appears Father Christmas or some mischievous elves arrived while we were out. I do not remember half so many gifts hanging among the garlands when we left.''
The frown on Mr. Drummond's face faded. "Well, let us investigate, shall we?" He nodded to where Charles was already reaching up among the branches to bring down a package addressed to his mother.
"I concur." With some formality but a trace of a smile, Jonathan steered Diana toward the garlands where Charles had already begun to reach for a package addressed to Marie.
Diana knew her brother had only followed the custom set by their father of tying tiny surprise packages to the greenery, but she could not help a slight flutter of anticipation as Jonathan purposely guided her toward the low-hanging branch where he and Freddie had snitched the apples. The Drummond family had been with them enough Christmases to join in the game also, but it could scarcely be expected that Jonathan would have had time to purchase any gifts.
Still, while everyone else was merrily tearing into their surprises, Jonathan reached among the evergreens and pulled out a poorly wrapped and oddly shaped parcel addressed to Diana. His expression as he handed it to her was guarded.
"I have no roses as a reminder, and I'm not at all certain that my gift is appropriate any longer, but if it still reposes where I left it four years ago, I would like you to have it anyway. If it has already been found and discarded then I understand that, too. I only want all your Christmases to be happy ones."
Jonathan's words were spoken so low none could hear except Diana. The blush rising to her cheeks would give her away, so she turned aside to tear open her package.
Acting as host, Charles distracted the others by discovering more surprises hidden in the evergreens. She would have to be grateful that no one would notice the contents of her package besides the giver.
Inside the paper rested a key. Diana held it in the palm of her hand and studied Jonathan's dark face, desperately striving to keep hope from welling up inside her. "The attic key? However did you ..." Then noting the tension behind his stiff stance, she continued, "Shall we try it? Do you think anyone will come look for us if we do?"
"We shall be home free before they find us." Using the words of the child's game they had once played, Jonathan caught her elbow and escorted her from the room.
Jonathan was relieved that Diana needed no explanations of the paltry gift he had hidden in the evergreens for her. He had not come prepared for the welcome he had found here. He had taken his chances when he clumsily wrapped that key with one hand. Now his heart rested in his throat as
Diana turned up the attic stairway. He carried only the lamp from the bottom of the stairs, and it threw odd shadows over the walls as Diana bent to insert the key in the door. With the silly anticipation of two children about to engage in mischief, they kept their voices to whispers while they rattled the lock.
"I feel like the twins must whenever they're about something they shouldn't be." The latch clicked and Diana gingerly pushed against the door.
"That's because you were always forbidden to hide up here and you always did, anyway," Jonathan reminded her. "I'm surprised the two of them aren't on our heels, or down amid the greenery. Their nanny must have given them laudanum."
Diana giggled. "At the very least. Ugh. I've just walked into a spider web. Shouldn't we have saved this expedition for All Hallow's Eve?"
"No." Jonathan's reply was surprisingly curt. He lifted the lamp and led the way to keep her from encountering any more unpleasant surprises. "It has waited too long as it is."
Diana sent him a searching glance, but in the shadows from the lamp she could barely discern his face and certainly not his thoughts.
He had changed his coat and cravat to attend services, and she smiled at the elegant figure he cut in the dusty shadows of the attic. Had she been permitted, she would have blurted out the words "I love you" just because of that anxious frown between his eyes right now. She had never stopped loving him, of course. She couldn't imagine why she had thought she ever would. He was as much a part of her heart and soul as the air she breathed. She didn't know what nonsense had brought him up here in the middle of the night while all else drank punch in the warmth below, but she would have followed him into darkest Africa had he asked.
"There it is." Jonathan pushed an old trunk out of the way so she could maneuver her skirts around it with a minimum of damage to the hem on the dust-coated floor. He set the lamp upon the scarred old secretary and turned to take Diana's hand.
"Did you ever once think to open the desk after I left?" He watched her as she stared at the battered remains of their childish hiding place.
She glanced up at him quizzically. "You hadn't been home in months. You ran off to join the cavalry instead of coming home at Christmas. I thought you were gone forever. I put our hiding place aside as I did my childish toys." She could have said she had put the desk aside with her childish dreams, that she couldn't bear the heartbreak of knowing there would never be another message waiting for her again. But she was not so outspoken as to reveal thoughts she had never said to herself. She turned from the intensity of his stare to trace her fingers through the thick dust upon the burnt surface.
"Open it now, Janey, one last time. Please, for me?"
Startled by the urgency of his tone, she sent him a glance, then did as told. The charred drawer moved with difficulty, and Jonathan had to help her. But he stood aside as she reached behind the drawer to spring open the secret panel. They had thought themselves so clever when they found that hiding place when she was less than the twins' age. Now it squeaked open with less vigor, but she studied the cavity with the same excitement as then.
Diana searched the small chamber with her fingers, discovering the package hidden from sight.
Her exclamation of surprise brought a smile of mixed relief and joy to Jonathan's lips. "You really did not know it was there!" His smile faltered, but he only said, "Come, let us take it below where it is warmer. We can open it there without sneezing."
Diana closed her fingers fervently around the gay ribbons of the package. She said nothing, only nodding in agreement at his suggestion. She didn't dare hope too much, but her hand trembled on Jonathan's arm. She didn't want to leave the darkness. She wanted to stay here with his hand at her back, his long frame close to hers, pretending this was their world and no problems existed.
Still, she followed him, closing the attic door and locking it while Jonathan waited. They descended the narrow dark stairs in the light from the wall sconces below. She could see the brownness of long fingers closing around hers as he helped her to take their childhood seats on the stairs.
"l have no right to ask you to open that package any longer. I gave up that right when I left my home against my father's wishes. But for what we once had, I would like you to have it. Open it here, Diana. I would not wish to embarrass you by declaring my feelings in public."
Those words gave her the courage she needed. She opened her lips to speak but could find nothing to say. Jonathan touched a gentle finger to her chin to close them.
"Open it, Diana. I cannot say more until you do."
With shaking fingers she ripped the bright wrappings off the oblong box. The package was too thick to be a simple missive.
A thick vellum letter fell into Diana's lap, and from between the pages, a fragile golden ring dropped. Diana exclaimed in surprise and lifted the ring, but before she could look to Jonathan for explanations, a scream rang out below, shattering the fragile bonds of anticipation.
"Fire!"
That panic-stricken cry destroyed any further thought. Even so, Diana clutched her treasures when Jonathan helped her to her feet.
They both ran down the corridor toward the front stairs to the accompaniment of frantic cries and shouts. Diana's heart beat frantically at the smell of smoke. Fire in the old wood and heavy draperies of the drawing room would spread with terrifying swiftness. If not stopped at once, it could not be stopped at all.
They ran into the large room on a scene of chaos.
"We only meant to hide in the window seat until everyone left the room!" Frankie cried, dumping the contents of the teapot on a fiery bit of ribbon that had fallen from the boughs overhead.
"We wanted to see the presents!" Freddie was weeping, while dangling from the chandelier. Charles righted a chair beneath it to stand on.
The remaining toppled chair and stool beneath the dangling twin showed how the boys had attempted to reach the presents. Diana ran to stomp out the candles that had tumbled from the evergreens to ignite the litter from unwrapped gifts.
Flames danced across the carpet, fed by the drafts along the floor. Mr. Drummond stamped ineffectively at the tiny fires trailing dangerously closer to the older draperies and giving off clouds of smoke. The women milled frantically beneath Frankie, ignoring the fire perilously close to their long skirts.
Jonathan jumped across the burning debris to grab the teapot from Freddie.
"Go fill the punch bowl with snow!" he yelled at the terrified child. "Diana, the coal scuttle! Anything else you can think of! Charles, you have two hands, help with the buckets. I'll get the boy."
Goudge tottered into the room with a bucket of water from the kitchen and nearly tripped and spilled it before Diana grabbed it from his hands to throw on the largest fire.
Understanding Jonathan's commands, Charles and Mr. Drummond scooped up the largest containers they could find and dashed outside for snow. Not only was it closer at hand and more abundant than the water from the old plumbing in the distant kitchen, but it would smother the flames more effectively.
Standing in the puddle Diana had created with Goudge's bucket of water, Jonathan grasped Freddie by his trouser waistband. "Steady on, old fellow. We've got you. Now let go."
With only one hand to grasp the boy, Jonathan had to put all his strength into his one good arm. The terrified little boy released his grip on the fragile chandelier, and Jonathan swung Freddie in an arc and down into the arms of his mother. The room erupted in sobs and cheers.
By this time, sleepy maids had joined them with all the pots and pans from the kitchen. Mounds of snow melted across the drawing room. The stench of burned carpet reeked in the air, and half of the kissing bough hung bedraggled and scorched to the floor, trailing smoking ribbons and bruised apples. With the flames doused, the company rested to survey the damage.
Jonathan searched for Diana and smiled with tired relief when he found her. She still clutched the crumpled letter and presumably the ring, although the paper was now wrapped around the bucket handle. Sensing his gaze, she blushed and glanced at the mess she had made of his careful missive.
"Good show, Drummond. Now I know how your troops survived all those battles." Charles wrapped a weary arm around his friend's shoulder and gazed about him. "Now admit it. We never caused this much trouble. The twins have us whipped."
"At least this is the kind of war you can fight in relative comfort." Jonathan shrugged off the praise, his gaze never leaving Diana. She seemed bewildered and alone and he wanted to go to her again, but she had not yet given him the right to do so. His heart ached as she set down the bucket and carefully smoothed his letter between her fingers. The ring sparked in the firelight. She held it pressed against her palm.
"You are too modest, son." Mr. Drummond stepped into the breach.
The twins' voices could be heard protesting as Mrs. Carrington led them back to the nursery.
Jonathan's mother was on the point of ushering Elizabeth and Marie off to their rooms to remove their wet clothing—but she hesitated at the tone of his father's voice. She turned with a question in her eyes that Jonathan couldn't answer.
He allowed hope to rise when his father approached him with his hand held out. "You thought more quickly than any of us," he said with some embarrassment. "You would be a valuable asset on the battlefield, or anywhere else you chose to apply your efforts."
Recognizing this as the only apology he would ever receive for all those long years of agonizing silence, Jonathan accepted his father's hand in his undamaged left one. "I learned that trick in service, sir. You would have thought of it soon enough. I thank you for the kind words, though."
Smiling with delighted relief, Mrs. Drummond hastened the younger girls away. Charles returned to the punch bowl to fill cups for a toast.
It was Diana's future Jonathan decided in accepting his father's hesitant overtures. For her sake, if he thought he had a chance at all, he would swallow his pride and beg forgiveness. He watched in agony as she toyed with the ring while he and his father battled silently and stubbornly .
; Almost absently, Diana slipped the ring on her finger.
At her gesture, Jonathan could breathe again. Instead of the cold, formal man he'd meant to be while accepting his father's stilted apology, he felt light as a boy, a boy filled with life, laughter, and love.
He hugged his father. "You will have to forgive me, Father. There is the matter of an unopened Christmas gift that the excitement interrupted."
Jonathan stepped away to stand before Diana. He lifted the hand wearing the ring and met her smiling eyes with hope. "You have not read the letter yet," he reminded her.
"I trust it includes some explanation of your abrupt departure," she answered solemnly, a teasing twinkle in her eye belying her tone.
"That, among other things. I asked your father's permission before I wrote it, of course."
"Papa? You spoke to Papa?" That knowledge brought tears to her eyes.
"His reply is in the letter, Janey. I wrote him from Oxford. He did not know I intended to leave, but his letter gave us his blessings. It was one of the happiest days of my life. I did not know it was to be my last for a long time."
"I didn't know, Johnny." She lifted her eyes to his, and he read the love and steadiness there. "He said nothing to me."
Charles handed Jonathan a punch cup and grabbed the letter from Diana's hand. "You mean to say there is a letter from my father in here? A kind of posthumous blessing, as it were?"
Instead of being annoyed at the interruption, Jonathan grinned. "Relieving you of the responsibility, old fellow. All I need is the lady's word. Now give it back and go away, if you would be so kind."
Mr. Drummond harrumphed from where he had been left standing across the room. "It seems to me, if you're entertaining ideas of taking a bride, that you will need some prospect of financial security to offer the lady. I know of a promising position, if you are willing to take direction from an obstinate old man."
Christmas Roses: Love Blooms in Winter Page 20