Chapter 8

THE MORNING OF the masquerade ball arrived as it should, with a sense of great anticipation and the scent of sweet cakes baking in the ovens. Seabury was thrumming with activity; for whatever various reasons brought so many guests to the house party, this evening was surely one event they all shared.

Long tables suddenly appeared in the great foyer, already set with punch bowls and platters. Maids ran through the halls, trailing thread and lace behind them. Musicians already arrived in the gallery above the ballroom, keeping their instruments warm under woolen blankets.

Julia passed Laurentia under the mistletoe, and pulled her away, so the little sprig of greenery could be put to better use by others. Laurentia held little Leighton, and handed him over to his aunt; balancing his little body in her arms, Julia wondered if he had already outgrown the sweater she knit for him as a Christmas gift.

“Why did we not think to have a crèche on display? Leighton would make a perfect Christ child,” Laurentia said.

“And would you have made an equally perfect Madonna?” Julia asked. “I cannot imagine you would be willing to stay seated for more than five minutes.”

“I am so exhausted just now, I would be happy to remain seated and not do a thing until Easter,” Laurentia confessed. “But I have very little to do this night, except don my costume, and smile at all my guests, and marvel at their costumes.”

“Have you need of my help?” murmured Julia, tickling the baby’s chin.

“Yes, of course. I need you to appear as Titania,” Laurentia said, unwilling to let the matter go.

“That shall not happen. Have you anything else in mind?”

“Please do not engage in any conversations in which you must raise your voice over the crowd. I wish to hear you above all else on Christmas Eve.”

“I suppose I can manage that much,” Julia reassured her. “I have been practicing every day and have already consulted with Mr. Wolfe.”

And yet, for all that, she scarcely thought about it all this day. It was strange to reflect how much importance she had put to her little performance when she set out for Seabury, so much that it was apparently the first thing she uttered to Will when she was slipping in and out of consciousness. She had worried about the soreness of her throat, and drank hot tea until she imagined her blood ran dark with darjeeling. She prayed the princess would approve of her choices.

And now, it scarcely mattered at all. She would sing the Kilmore Carols and While Angels Watched by Mr. Handel, and perhaps a few songs of love and longing, hoping that others would join her for The Twelve Days of Christmas. Some would sing. She guessed that Miss Rossiter would sing louder than them all. Others, accustomed to nights at the opera, or soirées in London drawing rooms, would applaud politely at Julia’s modest talents, and think about the feast to follow. Some would edge their way to stand under the mistletoe, and others would escape to private places to celebrate in their own way.

For she had changed, as Laurentia had noticed almost at once. The most compelling thing about this Christmas at Seabury was not the performance she agreed to present, a promise she made months ago. It was, instead, that Will had found her, and she had found him, and the shadows of their pasts had passed along with Tambora’s dark ash.

“You need not be concerned that I disapprove of your rustic little costume,” Laurentia said, nodding her head. “It is quite all right, my dear. As Lord Willem shall appear as a man of religion, it would not do for him to be taken with a pagan queen, after all. A shepherdess shall be more his style.”

Laurentia retrieved Leighton from Julia’s tired arms, and sauntered into the great foyer just as Will entered from another doorway. He murmured something to Laurentia, and dutifully tickled the baby before coming towards Julia.

Without a word, he took her hand, and drew her back under the mistletoe, kissing her on her lips.

“Will!” she said. “No one knows what is between us.”

“I believe you are mistaken, my dear. Everyone knows what is between us. I just had a conversation with the princess,” he said, but he released his hold.

“The princess! Did she tell you to keep your distance so that I might meet the German cousin?”

“No, she gave us her blessing, which I suppose means that poor Gustav would do well to set his sights elsewhere.”

“I rather like that name,” she teased.

“It is rather musical, but I understand you might have found fault with his beard.”

Julia reached up to rub her hand against his smooth chin. “And so I might. But now I suppose I may never know.” She could hardly wait to tell him that his Sinterclaus was considered a man of religion.

But he said nothing, so she dropped her hand. She wondered what else the princess might have said to him, what plans were discussed, what she might have offered along with Raffles’s elevation. Could he be thinking of the new year, of 1817, as one with new journeys and adventures? Though she was prepared to acknowledge that she had thought of him all this day, he might have had many other things on his mind.

“Have we come too far, too quickly?” she asked. “Do others have expectations for which we are not prepared?”

“You do not appreciate the princess’s interference?”

“I suppose I should be honored, for I am a most insignificant person among her subjects. But the business, our business, does not stop in Kensington Palace. Laurentia made it her mission to bring us together here this Christmas, and Lady Jersey has voiced her approval. The other ladies giggle when you enter a room, and wait for me to greet you. Even Miss St. John, the most discrete of ladies, has told me what good fortune I have.”

“I have reason to believe we shall celebrate her own good fortune before very long. I confided to Hawkely your little discovery in Raffles’s manuscript. Which, at the very least, casts some suspicion on Channing, Raffles’s purser. He intends to pursue this possibility at the first opportunity, and he is more hopeful than I have seen him since the night before Tambora’s eruption. I hope we shall soon learn that he has been absolved of all blame.” Will paused, nodding thoughtfully. “He sends his gratitude to you, by the way. And said something about the value of a good woman who knows how to read.”

Julia blushed at the compliment, which somehow was more meaningful than praise for her eyes or her fine figure. “How wonderful for her, for them both. Theirs has been an arduous journey, in more ways than one, and I believe they will find much happiness, at last,” Julia said, quite sincerely. Miss St. John’s steady nature was undoubtedly what Hawkely needed, and perhaps even desired.

Will surprised her by laughing. “Do you not think we have endured an arduous journey as well, and not merely in a metaphorical sense? I cannot imagine more trials and roadblocks.”

“Truly?” Julia teased. “I might have been found in my abandoned coach by Mr. Granger and compelled to sing at his inn all through the Christmas season. And you, good sir, might have rescued earnest Miss Rossiter, who would have found excuses to remain under your protection until the geese returned to Rye in the spring.”

Although Will laughed again, Julia knew her words were ungenerous, and regretted them almost at once.

“But Mr. Granger is a good man, and did much to make our prolonged stay a pleasant one. And Miss Rossiter deserves to be happy and sing upon waking every morning.”

“I know you cannot think unkindly of anyone, though I believe you had some suspicions about me when first we met,” Will said.

“I think it’s fair to say you had the advantage of me, and I could hardly be blamed for fearing that you were going to take me captive for ransom, or worse,” Julia said defensively. “I only remembered that Mimma jumped out, the coach went down, and then I awoke in a strange bedroom and was greeted by a man who looked somewhat familiar but I did not entirely recall meeting before.”

“You were very brave,” he said, and kissed her again. “It is one of the reasons I love you.”

“Love me?” Julia asked, not feeling at all brave at the moment. She was not quite ready to hear this from him, though she knew she loved him too. She spent her nights—and much of her days—dreaming about him, with alternating moments of joy that they might be together, and moments of dread knowing they would soon part.

She couldn’t read the expression on Will’s face, though she believed she could read him as well as her best beloved books. He glanced up at the mistletoe and muttered something he might well have learned onboard ship, and pulled her into a dark alcove of the great hall.

“Surely I have not surprised you with this?” he asked softly, his blue eyes intensely gazing into hers.

“I have dreamed that you confessed it,” she said, and he let out his breath as he might had he just surfaced a lake. “But . . .”

“There can be no ‘but,’” he said, “Unless there is some great thing you haven’t yet told me. You are already married. You intend to enter a convent. You prefer to be a German princess than an English countess.” He counted them off on his long fingers until he ran out of possible excuses.

“My reputation was thoroughly compromised on the road to Seabury,” Julia said, clasping his hand, and continued to count. “I have not the patience to learn Dutch.”

He looked bemused, and she dropped his hand.

“No,” she said. “I am none of those things. I only want you.”

“Then it is settled?” When she did not answer, he continued. “My mother would be delighted to tutor you in the language. She taught my father and has continued to correct his grammar for thirty-five years.”

“Oh, Will,” Julia sighed, and leaned against a pillar. She would have preferred to have his solid body at her back, but hers was an argument that needed to be said face-to-face. “That is precisely why I have reason to doubt. Can we survive together for thirty-five years on a love based on an acquaintance of two weeks? Are we not being encouraged by your heroism, our well-meaning friends, and the spirit of the season? What will we feel when we are supping alone in our dining room on a dreary February night?”

“We will feel it is time to finish our sweet bread pudding and make our way to bed,” he said succinctly.

Yes, she would enjoy that very much. In fact, she would be happy to forget about dinner altogether with such plans for the night. But was lust not as perilously frail as love?

“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, anticipating 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.

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.”