Chapter 7

WILL COULD NOT keep his gaze off Julia as she descended the broad staircase into the great hall, though he was in the midst of a conversation with several of the other gentlemen. She wore a brocade gown that he had not seen before, and as it was neither the rather drab styling that the maid had favored, nor the provocatively low neckline of Laurentia’s borrowed finery, he knew her own garments had been restored to her. She walked with grace and ease, though he knew such gowns ought to be wretchedly uncomfortable, and stairs sometimes difficult to navigate. If he had seen her thus, instead of as a frozen, disorientated survivor of a crash, he would never have doubted that she was a lady.

And yet, as she was apt to remind him, she was not born a lady. It did not matter to him; she was a lady in every way that mattered.

As she approached, he first noticed what attracted the attention of everyone else, though it was the least interesting thing about her.

“My dear, you have your jewels after all,” murmured Miss St. John, as she walked past Will. She kissed Julia on both cheeks, like a continental.

“But they surely aren’t paste, are they?” asked Miss Rossiter, as she fingered Julia’s earrings. This forward behavior was neither British nor continental, though undoubtedly American. “Why would the rogues have left them behind? They could have gotten a pretty penny for them.”

“They might not have known the difference,” said Lady Jersey tersely. “But I remember these emeralds very well. Lord Kingswood confided that he wished for you to have something of your own, not part of the family estate.”

Will wondered why the question of a lady’s possessions should be a matter of conversation. But when Lady Jersey said Kingswood’s name, Julia looked up at him with a question in her eyes, and he realized she wanted to know if it mattered to him.

“They are very lovely, and suit you to perfection, Lady Leighton,” he said, to a chorus of sighs. “May I accompany you into dinner?”

Julia said nothing, but clung to his arm until they were nearly at her seat.

“They were in a pouch nestled in several garments, and I suspect Mimma did not know they were there,” she said.

“What of everything else? The scoundrels risked a good deal by making off with your trunks, without making good on their spoils.” Will pulled out her chair, but she remained standing while others assembled in the great and festive room.

“Geoff told me Hedges made the case that they thought me dead, and tried to save anything they could carry. They made a pallet of some sort, that served as a sled as they escaped through the snow.”

“That argument, and the fact they did not sell your jewels, will probably save their skin,” Will said grimly. He was not prepared to show those two any mercy.

But Julia was made of finer stuff. “I believe them, Will. No matter what their original intent, no real harm was done, and it is the season for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness, indeed! That this is a house of joy, and not of sorrow, is no thanks to the two of them.” Will felt the spurt of anger that had burst through his calm demeanor each time this subject came up.

“Of course not, Will. It is thanks to you,” Julia said clearly.

At his shoulder, someone cleared her throat, and Will realized the whole room was privy to some of their conversation. He gestured to Julia that it was time for her to be seated, so that the men could do so as well, and he slipped in beside her.

“I believe our hosts finally have a full house,” Julia said conversationally, as she might say to anyone else in the room.

For some reason, this bothered him as well. As they were served a spiced aspic, he paused to consider why this was so, and he realized it was because, in the time they had spent traveling, he had grown accustomed to not having to share her with anyone. Most couples with their degree of intimacy had the promise of days and nights to come, knowing that they would not be pulled asunder.

But he and Julia did not yet have that promise, and he had no way of knowing if she would go off with Princess Charlotte’s choice for her after Twelfth Night, or if he would find his way back to London with Miss Rossiter. Miss Rossiter, indeed.

“Do you not enjoy the aspic, Will?” Julia asked. “You look as if you find it sour.”

“It is as fine an aspic as ever I tasted. Geoff has a Flemish cook, so I am not surprised.”

“I know how to cook,” she said. “I was not raised in a house of privilege.”

“Then I suspect you will be a useful person to have around,” he said most sincerely, and then realized he was as tactless as those who wondered if her beautiful emeralds were made of paste. “That is, you would know if the cook is skimping on the sugar or reusing the tea leaves.”

She replaced her fork on her plate and waited until the serving man cleared her setting for the next course. A steaming bowl of soup was set before her, with cockles rising to the surface.

“Yes, of course,” she said, through the steam, breathing deeply. “And after I supervise the work in the kitchen, I can provide the entertainment for the evening, assuming I am not needed to wash the dishes.”

Will laughed out loud, attracting the attention of everyone near them.

“Please share the joke with us, Lord Willem,” said Lady Jersey. “I am in the mood to be amused.”

He was sure she was, but was sorry he had been so unstudied in his response to Julia. “Lady Leighton was mentioning her several talents, but neglected to mention her wit. However, I believe she is to entertain us all this evening.”

The ladies all shook their head in unison, as if rehearsing a performance of a Greek chorus. They may have rehearsed it before, because they also seemed to know something he did not.

“Oh, Lady Leighton shall not sing this night, Lord Willem. She is to save her voice for Christmas Eve,” announced Miss Rossiter. “The other ladies will have the opportunity to entertain us this evening. And the men may join them, as well.”

As uttered by Miss Rossiter, the words were undoubtedly a direct invitation. Will felt Julia’s hand on his thigh, beneath the table. That was also an invitation, and a more tempting one.

“I did not realize,” she murmured, “though I am somewhat relieved. The plan must have been hatched while I was rediscovering my lost possessions.”

“We decided another day of rest would do Lady Leighton much good, after her ordeal on the road. Besides, the other ladies wished to have their opportunity to shine, and otherwise delight us,” Laurentia said, for Julia as well as everyone else.

THE LADIES—AND some of the gentlemen—did otherwise delight them. Or delighted them in ways they did not intend. Julia knew that all eyes were upon her at the conclusion of each person’s song, and she behaved both generously and in a manner to do Laurentia proud. She clapped, she sighed and tapped her breast above her heart, gesturing towards heaven after a particularly heartfelt carol. Mr. Wolfe demonstrated why he was a renown violinist and another gentleman sang a song that suggested he was either drunk or completely forgot that there were ladies in the room. The ladies, however, did not complain.

Miss Rossiter modestly protested when she was asked to sing, though everyone knew she wished nothing more than to do so. The fact that she held a sheet of music in her hand revealed the truth, but it wasn’t until Will made a particular request of her that she rose to her feet. “But you must join me, Lord Willem,” she asked plaintively.

“Alas, Miss Rossiter, I must not,” he demurred. “That is, unless, Lord and Lady Howard’s guests wish to have digestive problems this night.”

“Ah, and you call me a wit,” Julia said to him, as she clapped. “While you have the cleverness of a jester.”

“That is faint praise, Lady Leighton,” he said, knowing they had an audience. He wondered if he was being overly sensitive to the fact, but they seemed to attract more than their share of attention.

“Not at all, Lord Willem. The poor jester had to manage all the strategems of court life. Often, his life depended on it.”

“So true, Lady Leighton,” pronounced the princess. “We are lucky to live in enlightened times. Though I suspect Lord Willem needed both diplomacy and wit to navigate himself about Mr. Raffles’s island colony.”

Everyone laughed again, though the spirits they had imbibed probably had more to do with it than the princess’s observation. Julia glanced to where Lord Nicholas had been seated just moments before, but he was gone. As was Miss St. John.

Julia was absurdly pleased by this, for at first they seemed as unlikely a pair as ever were promised to each other. Chary was a most unconventional sort, a woman who relied on her talents rather than a natural beauty or her father’s wealth to make her way through society. She dreamed of travel to places known to her only through the pages of a book. And Lord Nicholas had some of the pirate’s soul, a spirit of reckless adventure and bravery. But there was bravery in her, and great gentleness in him. Julia, perhaps already seduced by the spirit of romance, believed they would find much happiness with each other.

Miss Rossiter waited politely at the pianoforte for the laughter to subside. When the princess nodded her assent, Miss Rossiter launched into Adeste Fideles, mercifully dropping her voice on the high notes. Julia, who had been genuinely surprised to learn that everyone would be singing this night without her, finally appreciated the wisdom of Laurentia’s plan. She was not so extraordinary a singer that she posed much competition for those who were well-trained, but she had a strong enough sense of herself to know that she could still outshine most ladies.

Leighton once told her he was bewitched by her singing.

And Will had said very much the same thing only a few nights before.

Perhaps she wore her talent as other ladies their silk gowns, or their glowing beauty, for it seemed to serve her well.

Will shifted heavily in his seat, and pressed his arm against hers. “I have a mighty headache,” he said.

Julia nodded but waited until Miss Rossiter sang her prepared encore, and then gestured that they slip out of the room.

They were not alone in the great hall, for others had chosen equally opportunistic moments to escape. Will did no more than nod to the assembled guests, when he pulled Julia off to a corner, as far from the music room as was possible.

“Do you feel better?” she asked. “I admit the singing is a bit much this evening. You would have done better with a few more goblets of Geoff’s fine port.”

“If I had anything more to drink, I might have been dancing a jig on the pianoforte,” he said. “I wonder if the cold air has finally affected me, for I have grown accustomed to the warm winds of the Pacific.”

“Ah,” she said, “then I believe I have the perfect place for you.” And she did, if she remembered her way through this grand labyrinth to find it.

She took his hand, warm and strong, and led him in the direction of the south wing.

“Not the chapel, please,” he said as he pulled back. “There will be enough of that on Christmas Day.”

“Wicked man,” she murmured. “I have in mind something more like a cathedral.”

He looked mystified, as so he should, but said nothing else as they passed through halls and walked up stairways, and opened doors onto rooms that looked as if they had not been used for ages. Finally, Julia recognized their destination, and pushed against the great doors that she hoped had not been locked. They were not.

She brought him into the great conservatory of Seabury, built for one of Geoff’s ancestors who fancied himself a botanist. It was used through the years by the large staff of gardeners, but Laurentia mentioned that it was a necessity during the cold and bleak summer they recently endured. Otherwise, the many exotic plantings cultivated over so many years in the garden would have been lost.

“It is a greenhouse,” Will said, breathing in the slightly fetid air.

“It is a conservatory,” Julia corrected. “A different thing altogether. But to the same effect, I think. I imagine it must remind you of Java.”

He laughed, and she felt a bit foolish. “I thank you for this, for it may be the best gift I shall receive this season.”

She knew it would be the best gift she could give him, in any case. For she had nothing. The many things she had knitted and embroidered through the year had been returned to her, but she could not have anticipated a lover for whom she had nothing to give but herself and a glass room filled with overgrown plantings.

“I feel refreshed, but it is nothing like Java, dear Julia. But in either place, we are woefully overdressed in our winter garments.” He tugged on his cravat, loosening it about his neck.

“What does one wear in the East Indies?” she asked.

“Not very much,” he said softly, and reached for her.

“Will, I should remind you we are in a glass room, where anyone could see us.” She knew she was unconvincing, so she tried another diversion. “Did you intend to wear an island costume to the masquerade?”

He dropped his arms. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I have brought a Sinterclaus costume, borrowed from my father in The Hague. I thought it quite clever of me, though your sister-in-law attempted to convince me otherwise.”

“Laurentia? What has she to do with it?” Julia thought Laurentia had enough to do with organizing her party without worrying about the costume of each guest. Aside from herself, that is. “Oh, dear heavens. Please do not tell me she asked you to be Oberon.”

“If Oberon is the great king of the wood sprites or something of that sort, then that is precisely what she intends.”

Julia sat down on a stone bench beneath a spindly orange tree. “Of course. Oberon is the king of the fairies. Did you never see a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Mr. Shakespeare?”

“I don’t believe I have. Shakespeare productions are in short supply in Holland. Why does it matter?”

Julia wondered that herself, but knew that it did. Had this whole journey been a bit of trickery by her well-meaning sister-in-law? Was it possible that even the crash was planned, as was her rescue by the gallant Lord Willem Wakefield? No, that was absurd. She had almost died. Laurentia would not have gone so far. She couldn’t. It was impossible.

“Julia?” Will asked. “Please tell me you aren’t going to shun me because I have neglected to see a play written two hundred years ago.”

“No, this is not about you as much as it is about dear Laurentia. She has her dressmaker sewing a costume for me to be presented as Titania.”

“And I gather Oberon and Titania are somehow related.” Will seemed amused about the whole thing.

“She is his queen. Though as to that, she spends more time in the play in love with a donkey.”

“I will be a donkey if you prefer it. It is Sinterclaus’s preferred mode of travel.”

She looked up at him and at the dark sky above their glass ceiling. She saw the moon and the stars, as they had seen them that lovely night in Langerford, walking through the snow when they returned from the country ball. She had fancied herself a bit in love with him then, and now, with his artless words, she knew it was so. No ordinary gentleman would offer to present himself as an ass in such exalted company as assembled here at Seabury.

“Yes?” he asked in a cheerful voice, though she guessed he might be having some second thoughts.

“No,” she said and smiled. “Though such a costume might be equally suitable for a shepherdess, I think Sinterclaus would be a charming addition to our party. Should you ask me to dance, your choice will prove far more amiable for ducking beneath a tunnel of raised arms than if you wore a large papier mâché head with ears.”

He sat next to her and pulled her close. “I gather your rustic costume has been restored to you?”

Julia leaned her head against his shoulder, but still studied the sky. “It may be the very reason the jewels are intact. Poor deluded Mimma would not have bothered to unfold a simple gown such as that, for it would have reminded her of what she left behind. The jewels were in a small pouch nestled in the skirt of my costume.”

“Why ‘poor, deluded Mimma?’” he asked. “In my experience, servants are often sharper than the rest of us.”

“I hardly knew her, but she seemed very much under Hedges’s influence. She trusted him implicitly, and I suspect she avoided my fate by trying to escape the coach. She was on her way out the door when we crashed.”

“Was she indeed? Do you think it was not an accident?”

“I have wondered it, but how could such a dreadful thing be planned? I suspect she was desperate to be with him, and thought she could climb outside and up into the box.”

“Then she was not deluded, but merely insane,” he said succinctly. He lifted her onto his lap.

“She was in love. Perhaps that’s what love does to one,” she said. And yet, she was sure she was in love with Leighton, and didn’t remember feeling that way. After his death, she was sad and lonely, but not desperate with grief. “What did you feel after Leena died?”

She felt him pull away, just slightly. Perhaps she had startled him with her question or perhaps he had never considered the answer.

“I felt I would have mourned her more, had circumstances been different,” he said after a few minutes had passed.

“As you have already confessed that you are not overly familiar with Shakespeare’s plays, I ought to point out that Macbeth said a similar thing when his lady died.”

“I seem to recall she was insane, and not for love.”

“One could say she was insane for power.” Julia thought about marriages of people she knew, of family alliances, and arranged marriages. “Perhaps it’s not always possible to tell the difference.”

Will shook his head. “We are a cynical pair. Here we are, under a Christmas sky, safe from volcanoes, snowstorms, and thieving servants, and we can be doing something so much more pleasing than discussing Lady Macbeth and the nature of her delusion.”

“I thought we were discussing the nature of love,” she whispered.

“Even better,” he said, and finally kissed her.

For several blissful moments, Julia allowed herself to forget everything else, about the circumstances that brought them together, about the day in the near future when they would inevitably part, about the fact that he had never answered her question about Leena. On this clear December night, surrounded by trees and lush flowers, they were together and there was no one else.

Except for whomever trod on the stone path.

“Will!” Julia said, pushing against him. “We are not alone.”

He was alert at once, his eyes bright as he sought to locate the sound. He put a finger to his lips.

“It is Hawkely,” he said after an eternity. Julia held her breath. “And I believe it is the bird lady.”

“Miss St. John?” Julia felt a thrill of delight. “How wonderful.”

“For them,” Will grumbled. “Let us escape before they see us.”

And so they sat, side by side, for several moments while the other couple walked to the far end of the conservatory, unaware of their presence. When they could no longer hear the murmur of conversation, Will raised his brows and helped her to her feet. Slowly, they made their way to the heavy doors that separated the winter garden from the ancient, drafty house.

“YOU MOST CERTAINLY will not be a shepherdess tomorrow night,” Laurentia said dismissively. “Mrs. Gaylord has been working day and night on your Titania costume, and it will suit you admirably.”

Julia decided that for all Laurentia did for her, it was nevertheless time to stand her own ground. “It would suit you admirably, my dear sister, for you have more the elegance and beauty of the Queen of the Fairies than I ever could.”

“Oh, please. Do not bring up your old argument that you are not a lady, not worthy to be a queen, or anything of that sort. My brother married you, chose you above all the Lady This and Lady Thats, and now you are a lady, too. You have never acted like anything else.”

“Lord Willem thought I was a common actress when we met, a singer on the stage.”

“Oh, certainly, though you were senseless at the time and barely knew if you were coming and going. I daresay that whatever he thought, he was enough of a gentleman to be entirely honorable, and not compromise you in any way.”

Julia said nothing. She was not certain that little matter of his undressing her that first night ought to count.

“Well, it is of no matter,” Laurentia went on quickly. “You are a widow, after all. It is the best thing for a woman.”

“Laurentia! How can you say such a thing! I miss Leighton all the time.”

“Yes, I know,” Laurentia sighed. “I have asked you about it often enough. But I meant that you now have the freedom to do as you will, and the coin to do it with.”

Julia stepped down from the chair on which she had been standing all during their discussion. With a hundred servants milling about, she was not sure why Laurentia insisted they hang the last boughs of fir from the drapery poles, unless it was to discourage anyone else from joining them in conversation. If that had been the plan, it had certainly worked. They had the entire back parlor to themselves, and only occasionally were they interrupted by a servant’s question, or someone delivering yet another string of berries to festoon the mantle.

“Inasmuch as I have all that freedom, I think I am quite able to decide what I wish to wear to a masquerade,” Julia said. “It was always my intent to come as a shepherdess, and I see no reason to change, now that my costume has been restored to me. I am sure the other costume won’t go to waste, for there must be another lady who would be delighted to dress as Titania.”

Julia hoped Laurentia intended to dress as Medusa for, at this moment, with fire in her eyes, she perfectly looked the part.

“Do you have another lady in mind?” Laurentia asked softly.

“Certainly. I suppose Miss Rossiter would jump at the chance. Especially if Lord Willem is dressed as Oberon.”

“You know about that, do you?”

“He and I speak, occasionally,” Julia said provocatively. “Perhaps we do other things as well, which are no one’s concern but our own. But you might have told the poor man that you were setting him up to be a match for Titania.”

“You are driving me mad, Julia, you truly are. But Lord Willem knew perfectly well I wished for him to be here so he could meet you.”

Of course. She had guessed that already. And yet there was something deflating about Laurentia’s words, a confirmation that for all her grand talk of freedom, Julia’s destiny was not entirely in her own hands.

She rubbed her brow, belatedly realizing that there was sticky sap on her fingers.

“What about the manuscript he wished to present to the princess and the case he intended to make for Raffles’s knighthood? What of the matter of Hawkely’s defense? Are those things not of greater importance than an introduction to a lady whose only distinction is to have the misfortune to have been widowed at twenty-three?”

Julia paused to catch her breath, but there was more to be said. Once she started the snowball rolling down the hill, it gathered in size and speed. “He risked his life to come to Seabury, and I almost lost mine. Instead of sharing Christmas with his family in Holland, he traveled all these miles and with no promise of success at the end of his journey.”

“But what did you just say about the ‘other things’ you have done? I assume you do not refer to besting him at whist,” Laurentia said sarcastically. “So, you see, he has been successful.”

“That is not pertinent,” Julia said stubbornly, even as she knew she was bested.

“Oh, but it is pertinent. It is precisely the point.” Laurentia had picked up an errant twig and pointed it at Julia, like a stern governess. “Something wonderful has happened, with nothing more done on my part than setting you both on the road to Seabury, and providing good food once you arrived here. The two of you did everything else. And I am perfectly delighted.”

“I will not be Titania,” insisted Julia. Even as she uttered the words, she knew she sounded as foolish as silly Miss Rossiter.

Laurentia shrugged. “If I ever regain my figure from the baby’s birth, I may wear it myself someday.”

“And the matter of my personal life is for me to determine. I am no longer the young girl who married your brother.”

“You are not. You are practically a woman of middle age.”

“I am not yet twenty-five,” Julia said.

“You have sap in your hair, and berry juice on your cheek,” Laurentia said irrelevantly.

“It is the curse of the season.”

The two sisters-in-law stared at each other, knowing that every argument in their life would end like this, in laughter or nonsense. Certainly, with a reconciliation. This, too, was love, as fine as any they might share with another.

“And yet, in this season, I only see blessings,” said Laurentia, and hugged Julia, sap and all.

“IT APPEARS I AM too late,” said Princess Charlotte, tracing a pattern on the wooden desk with her forefinger.

Will waited until she explained herself, for he was entirely at her bidding. Earlier in the day, she had requested a private audience with him, and he assumed it had to do with Thomas Raffles’s elevation. He arrived in the anteroom of her bedchamber with his own notes and comments on the lengthy manuscript, in case the princess had not yet read it.

But, in fact, she had. She had read through the night and in the hours before dinner, when most ladies rested. She was possessed of an energy that was not to be taken for granted in the royal family, that her father had not exhibited, unless one considered the construction of his palace at Brighton, further along the coast.

Her father remained the regent while her grandfather still lived, and inasmuch as he professed to have set up a new wife in Brighton, he held on to his hopes that he might yet produce an heir.

But Charlotte’s mother also still lived, and though she now lived in Germany, it did not look likely that the regent’s petition for divorce would be granted.

As Will waited for the princess to speak, he considered that she would make a wise and judicious queen, capable of intelligent decisions and a model to all her subjects. He doubted she would have lost the American colonies. He was certain she would have settled the business of the lost artifacts of the East Indies before blame could be ascribed without solid evidence.

“Ma’am?” he asked, at last. “Do you refer to Lord Nicholas? You may have read the pages regarding Mr. Channing, as well as the opportunity he had. I believe he inserted those leaves belatedly, intending for you to read them.”

“I have read those pages and quite agree with your assessment, Lord Willem. The man has been living under a shadow for too long and I believe this will do much to hasten the pending investigation. I intend to act on it at once, certainly before the end of the year. I hope the new year brings Hawkely much happiness, for I believe that St. John woman will bring him around. I do not know if he has any interest in birds, but if he has any sense, he will cease any duck hunting, and start spreading out bread crumbs to attract the sparrows.”

Will laughed politely.

“Miss St. John’s family is engaged in business,” the princess continued. “But that is not her fault. Indeed, it may have given her good sense and a purpose; she is much more useful than ladies who do little more than gossip all day.”

Will waited for her to go on, but reflected that the royal family gave their subjects an endless stream of gossip, so much that for some ladies, there would be little time to do anything else.

“Lady Leighton was not born to a title,” the princess said, and finally looked up from her imaginary scrawls on the desk. She studied him, squinting a bit as if she tried to get him into focus. “But she is as fine a lady as ever lived. Lord Kingswood was a fool to have died as he did.”

“I daresay he wished to live a long and happy life with his lady, if he could have managed it, ma’am.”

“Even so,” the princess mused. “An experienced horseman such as he, to not notice a hanging branch on his own estate? I can only imagine he was distracted, perhaps by his beautiful wife. I have heard the physicians refer to the condition as ‘lovesick.’”

“If I may say so, ma’am, those may be the words of poets, and not medical men.”

“Perhaps. I have not the experience myself.” She looked down again, not meeting his eyes, and he wondered what was to come. “But I believe you have.”

“Ma’am?” Will’s heart begin to thud. For a man reputed for his diplomatic skills, he seemed embarrassingly transparent.

“I had hoped to introduce Lady Leighton to Prince Leopold’s cousin Gustav. By my mother, we are related as well. Of course, a man of your background must recognize the value of maintaining good friendships with our continental neighbors. And Gustav is a fine man, with a comfortable estate and excellent prospects. I am not that impressed with his beard, but I expected Lady Leighton to have something to say about that as well.”

Will felt a little sick. Surely the princess would not ask him to step aside, to make way for Gustav. Julia had already dismissed the prospect, as if it couldn’t possibly matter to her.

“But now, I see it’s too late,” the princess said, bringing the conversation full cycle. “She is yours; any fool can see that. And since neither of you are fools, I am delighted for you both. You do not need my blessing, but I shall give it anyway. I wish you much joy of each other.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Will rose as she stood, kissing her hand when she offered it. “I intend to make Lady Leighton very happy.”

“Have a care when you go riding, Lord Willem, and I expect everything will be as it should.”