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JULIA DIDN’T WANT TO think or speak about the evening once they all got home, but Louisa sought her out in her bedchamber later that night as she was completing her preparations for sleep. She had already donned her nightdress, and the knock on the door sounded just as she was splashing her face with water.
“Go away,” she grumbled, and Louisa immediately walked in.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Louisa asked. She seemed distracted, so Julia took pity on her.
“Nothing, nothing. What’s going on? Are you all right?”
Louisa sat carefully on the edge of the bed to avoid creasing her dinner gown. “How do you think it went?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh, it was splendid,” Julia replied at once with her brightest smile.
Louisa’s dark eyes bored into her. “You’re a terrible liar. Was it disastrous, or just merely bad?”
Julia flung herself onto the bed and wiggled her feet thoughtfully, sighing as she considered her answer. She didn’t know whether Louisa wanted lies or the truth.
She settled for ambiguity. “I don’t exactly know. It definitely wasn’t like a cozy Christmas Eve at home. But I don’t think there’s anything you could have done differently to make it go better. Does that help?”
Louisa blew out a breath between thinned lips. “Maybe a bit. But the fact remains, they don’t really want me to marry him, do they?”
“As long as he wants to marry you, what does it matter?”
She knew that was dodging the question, but she didn’t really want to talk about this. She felt uncomfortable, even a bit envious. Which was ridiculous, she knew, since her season would begin soon and she would have her chance to find the same happiness Louisa had.
Except Louisa didn’t seem happy right now; she still seemed worried. “It was kind of them to have me join their game, but then they excluded you, which again seemed impolite to me. Not very hospitable. Do you agree?”
“Yes, and Lady Matheson was very rude to me at dinner, too,” Julia said. “I could hardly believe she called me common.”
Just the thought of it made the annoyance wash over her again. Although . . . then James had come to her defense. And then he had told her his future plans and family secrets. Had he told them to Louisa? Or had Julia somehow earned a special confidence?
The thought cheered her, although the memory of James’s bleak eyes was as painful as a wound.
“So, doesn’t that seem like a problem to you? If they aren’t willing to accept my family as well as me?” Louisa pressed.
Julia struggled to focus on her sister’s worried words. “It won’t bother me a bit, as long as it doesn’t matter to you,” she replied honestly. “I probably won’t meet up with them often. Though I did like James’s little nieces. I meant what I said about inviting them to Stonemeadows.”
Louisa was insistent. “But we should all have good relationships, shouldn’t we? Do you think James should marry without the support of his family?”
Now it was Julia’s turn to blow out a breath impatiently. She knew she should be giving Louisa her full attention, but she just wanted to stop thinking about the whole situation. “Louisa, he can do whatever he chooses. He is a grown man who’s already come into his title and estate. He’s what, almost thirty years old?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Fine, twenty-seven. So he’s self-sufficient. And if he wants to be engaged, which he does, his mother had better get used to the fact. She may be too top-lofty to notice anyone below her own rank, but it would be the devil of a scandal if she tried to break up a betrothal.”
A scandal. Julia could almost laugh, if it wasn’t so sad. It was precisely that—a family scandal—that James was trying to suppress through his marriage. Now that he was engaged, his mother ought to be more judicious about suggesting other young women for him to run off with.
Louisa acknowledged these words with a miserable half smile. “That may be true, but what kind of life would it be for his wife if she couldn’t get along with his mother?”
“Why are you speaking in hypotheticals?” Julia demanded. “You’re the woman in question; you’re going to be his wife. And then you’ll be a viscountess, too, as well as the mother of his heirs.” She paused. “If she’s too much of an evil cow to you, you could simply refuse to have any children but girls.”
She almost smiled at the mental image of the severe dowager being presented with a squalling baby granddaughter.
But the idea of James, the father of another woman’s child—that thought was enough to wipe any smile from her face.
“Evil cow,” Louisa repeated, much struck. “She was a bit, wasn’t she?”
“More than a bit,” Julia agreed. “She’s lucky our aunt wasn’t in an attacking mood tonight. I wasn’t either, really, but I wished they’d been more friendly.”
Louisa stared forward and nodded. “Yes, definitely that. A woman like that can put a lot of pressure on someone.”
Julia looked at her curiously, but Louisa seemed to be in a reverie.
“Well, I don’t mean to bother you,” she said, standing abruptly. “I just wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.”
She still looked uncertain, and Julia felt ashamed of her own reluctance to talk. If she had sensed unfriendliness in the air that evening, how much more so must Louisa feel it?
“I’m sorry,” she said at once, reaching for her sister’s hands. “Stay, talk as long as you need to.”
“No, I’m fine,” Louisa assured her. “I just have a lot to think about.” She squeezed Julia’s hands. “Happy Christmas.”
Julia responded in kind, and relaxed back onto her bed. It hadn’t really been much of a happy Christmas Eve, but there was still tomorrow to come, and pieces of the evening had been pleasant nonetheless. Eating a large, delicious dinner. Playing with two young, shrieking children. And above all, seeing James. Feeling the warmth of his trust in her.
It took a while, but she eventually drifted off into a troubled sleep, dreaming of her sister’s betrothed husband.
***
SHE WAS AWOKEN THE next morning by a gentle scratch on her forehead. Her eyes snapped open, expecting in the fog of half-sleep to see a man with green eyes peering down at her.
Instead, Louisa grinned at her and waggled a sprig of mistletoe across her face again. “Happy Christmas, Julia. Put on your wrapper and come see what our aunt has done.”
Julia yawned and shuffled after her sister, struggling toward wakefulness, away from the lingering threads of disturbing dreams. “Was it necessary for you to swat me awake with a plant?”
“You’re lucky it was I,” Louisa replied. “It’s mistletoe, you know. Our aunt wanted to send a footman in to embrace you awake, but I convinced her that would be vulgar.”
Julia choked. And then, when she entered her aunt’s morning room, she choked again. The sharp scent of evergreen slapped her fully awake in an instant.
“Did a pine forest anger our aunt?” she murmured to Louisa. The entire morning room was carpeted with evergreen branches; the ornate chandelier was twined with mistletoe and holly. Pine garland swooped around the delicately plastered walls and snaked around the legs of the chairs and sofa.
Julia crunched slowly across the room, wishing she’d donned some footwear. “Happy Christmas, Aunt Estella. What—”
“It’s Christmas morning, is what.” Lady Irving, festive in a men’s red brocade banyan and a bright apricot turban, rose from her perch on the morning room’s sofa. “I know you girls like to have your holiday folderols about you, so I’ve done my best. As you can’t go tramping about a forest in the heart of London, I’ve had the forest brought to you.”
As Louisa thanked their aunt with the pretty manners that always made Lady Irving demur with gruff pleasure, Julia sank onto the bed of pine and laced her fingers through the fragrant branches. Their waxy texture was fresh and pleasant, needling her into an awareness of the difference between last night and this morning.
Her aunt had turned her house into a holiday bower to please her nieces, knowing they would miss Christmas in the country. James’s poor nieces would have no such warm greeting this morning from Lady Matheson.
Aunt Estella interrupted Julia’s thoughts by shaking a string of nuts in her face. “The queen covers a pine tree with candles,” she said. “Rubbishy idea, if you ask me. One of these years, she’ll burn down half of London with a scheme like that. Still, I thought you girls would enjoy her idea of almond garlands. Eat.”
Julia was always willing to obey such an order. She took the nuts and nutcracker her aunt handed her and began to tease the almonds free from their string, handing every other one—well, every third one—to Louisa.
Lady Irving rearranged herself on the sofa near her nieces. “Perhaps we ought to have invited your young rooster over, Louisa,” she mused. “Think he’d like to meet you under the mistletoe, my girl?”
Louisa scrabbled for the end of the almond garland, her cheeks reddening. “I’ll see him a little later. His mother invited me for Christmas dinner, you know.”
So James would not come here. Julia tugged her wrapper more closely around her form. “Atonement, I hope?”
“Or she wants to dangle the promise of a better bride in front of James again,” Louisa said in a resigned voice.
Lady Irving raised her eyebrows. “You paint such an attractive picture, I’m tempted to stow away in your reticule and take part in the evening.”
“Louisa, I’m sure you’ll have a grand time at Matheson House,” Julia said. “We’ll be having plum pudding here, which I’ve been told is dreadfully common.”
Not even this mild joke lifted the discouragement from Louisa’s face, and her sister’s dilemma clanged through Julia like a caroler’s bell. Not yet a wife, Louisa must balance her own family’s needs with those of her future husband’s. This included trying to make peace with a woman who had no desire to make peace with her.
“If you have to go, I understand,” Julia said stoutly. “James will love to see you on Christmas. And I’ll save you a slice of pudding as big as the smile you can make right . . . now.”
Such nonsense teased a small smile from Louisa.
“That’s not big enough for two bites,” Julia scoffed. “Give us a big false one.”
Laughing, Louisa opened her mouth in a huge yawn, and Julia poked an almond into it before she could close it, sputtering.
“Much better,” Lady Irving agreed. “Now that we’re falling all over each other, we’ve a proper celebration under way. Breathe your fill of evergreen, girls, and then we’ll get ready for church.”
They obliged, then pounded back upstairs to dress for Christmas morning services.
All the trappings of the holiday surrounded them, and for that, Julia was deeply grateful to her aunt. But she was divided all the same. Though her body stood in Grosvenor Square, her heart went out to the girls caught in the chill of Matheson House, and to the hopes and plans of their uncle.
Especially to their uncle.