Caroline was almost finished dressing for dinner. She wore a burgundy silk gown with tiny cap sleeves, the high waist beaded with freshwater pearls that matched the pearl hair combs she’d tucked into her dark curls. She was just checking her hair in the mirror when Maggie knocked on the door, saying, “Your parents would like to see you before you go down to dinner.”
Curious, Caroline went her parents’ sitting room, which was adjacent their bedroom at the end of the hall. Both of them were standing near the white marble fireplace, in which flames happily snapped and leapt over a freshly laid log.
Her mother looked excited. “Caroline, you wore your red gown. I’m so glad.”
“Why?” she asked, mystified.
“You will be twenty-one in January, but we didn’t want to wait until then. We thought you’d enjoy this gift now, over the holiday when there’s opportunity to wear it.”
“Wear what?”
“Your inheritance.” Her father handed her a flat, hinged box made of a lightweight, silky-grained wood.
Caroline lifted the lid, and gasped. Inside, against snowy white satin, red stones glowed with inner fire. It was a necklace of rubies, of various sizes arranged to resemble several teardrops hanging along the golden chain. Caroline remembered her mother wearing it on very special occasions, and every time she felt that the effect of the ruby necklace was to make her already elegant mother look as grand and glorious as a queen. To imagine that this remarkable jewelry was now hers was almost too much to take in.
“For me? Truly?”
Caroline’s father smiled and gently took the necklace out, fastening it around her neck. “For you, dear child. Though you’ve grown up so much, you’ll always be our little girl.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered. “The stones are so beautiful.”
“You enhance them, darling,” her mother declared, reaching out to straighten one of the drops. She turned Caroline so she could face the looking glass. Caroline scarcely recognized the glamorous figure in the mirror. The bloodred stones sparkled against her skin, and the red dress echoed the colors perfectly.
“Oh, Mama, are you certain I should wear them? I don’t know if I’m…worthy.”
“These stones have been in my family for generations,” her mother told her. “It was my grandmother who had them set into a necklace. Before that they’ve been seen as a brooch, a bracelet, even a crown…if family legend is to be believed. You are the next generation, Caroline. And you’re of age to wear these like a true lady, with pride in your family and the knowledge that you are worth far more in your own right.”
Caroline felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her mother was rarely so emotional, but she’d clearly prepared for this moment.
“Thank you, Mama. I’ll be very careful with it.”
“Of course you will,” her father said. “You’re always so precise about everything in the laboratory, and you do the same in life. Mind you, no wearing the necklace while doing experiments! You don’t want to drop it in something caustic!”
She laughed and said, “Certainly not! Though I can’t wait to get back to the lab and work on the latest version of the formula.”
“We’re so close,” her father said, excitement in his eyes. “Just a few more tweaks, and of course after thorough testing on our subjects to ensure there are no ill effects. Truly, I think that by the New Year, I can present the formula to—”
“Oh, no! That’s quite enough of such chatter!” her mother interrupted, with a playful wag of her finger. “It is Christmastide, and we should be thinking of the holiday, not working matters, no matter how fascinating. And I pray that you both remember that not all our guests wish to discuss chemicals and elements at the dinner table!”
“Yes, Mama,” Caroline said, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. See you downstairs!”
Holly and ivy were draped all along the banister, and she inhaled the sharp green scent of cut branches as she walked. She was conscious of how she usually tromped down the stairs, so she tried to glide down, with tiny steps in her evening slippers. Ugh, it took so long to get anywhere in a ladylike way!
At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered Aunt Juniper in the foyer, who was polishing off the last of a berry tart before a maid spirited the empty plate away to the kitchen. Caroline chuckled, and said, “I should have told Cook to save two.” She looked around the room, sure that the heavy boughs of greenery had increased since that afternoon. Mistletoe hung at the apex of every doorway, and a bunch of it even hung from the chandelier in the center. “Goodness, we’re practically in the forest, aren’t we?”
“It’s good luck,” Juniper said. “And good sense too. Ah! Got the rubies, have you?” Aunt Juniper said, squinting at her neck. “Your mama wore those the very first time she hosted a party as Mrs Garland, you know! Talk of the village for months. Pretty little stones, for those who like that sort of thing.”
“They’re a family heirloom, Aunt,” Caroline protested.
“They’re rocks, at the end of the day. But they do look well on you, dear,” she added with an indulgent smile. “Now, let’s go into the parlor to await the others so we can go in to dinner properly. I’m starving!” She brushed the last few crumbs of tart from her lips.
That evening, Caroline was the center of attention. Everyone commented on the rubies she wore. Estelle quietly declared her to be prettier than a sunrise. “I’m going to paint your portrait, Caro.”
Other guests complimented her appearance, while her family members all seemed to agree that such a ladylike look surely meant she was finally thinking about marriage.
After the meal, the men lingered for a smoke and some brandy, while the ladies preceded them into the drawing room, where candles glowed in every corner and a fire blazed in the hearth. Clove-studded oranges decked the mantel, lending a rich scent to the air. Caroline accepted a small glass of mulled wine from the maid who was pouring them out, and inhaled the sweet smell of spices and the pungent aroma of the ruby-red wine, watching as the steam curled upward like a little ghost. She smiled. She did love the holidays.
The men rejoined them shortly afterward, and Francis made straight for her.
“Caro, you must be having the time of your life tonight, with a fortune tied around your neck!” Francis said, reaching out to chuck her under the chin.
“Well, don’t say it like that,” Caroline retorted. “You make it sound like a noose!”
“Ha, criminals should be so lucky! Must be quite the occasion for your mama to lend such a trinket.”
“Not lent!” she said proudly. “They’re part of my inheritance, now that I’m turning twenty-one.”
He looked suitably impressed. “Is that so? Happy Christmas, indeed! Oh, look. Mistletoe! You know what that means.”
He leaned over to kiss her, but as he did so Snowdon happened to step back to allow a lady by, and he bumped into Francis and sent the man stumbling forward a few paces.
“What the devil!” Francis recovered himself and spun around angrily.
“Apologies,” Snowdon said in a smooth tone. “Rather more crowded here than I expected.”
“Watch where you’re going!”
“Excellent advice.” Snowdon seemed utterly calm, making Francis’s sputtering reaction all the more excessive.
“No one’s been harmed,” Caroline said. “And Lord Snowdon has already apologized. Unless you intend to call him out over the slight?” she teased.
“Of course not,” Francis said, still sulky.
“Then let’s forget about it. Perhaps you’d better get some of the mulled wine before it’s gone.”
He took his cue and sailed toward the drinks. Snowdon asked, “Is that typical?”
“Francis’s reaction? No, not at all.”
“Francis, is it,” he noted. “Do you have an understanding?”
She blushed. She should not be using Francis’s first name so freely. She said quickly, “Heavens, no. We practically grew up together. I suppose I’m just used to calling him what I called him when we were children.”
Snowdon nodded, but asked no more, and then the vicar and his wife came up and began to chat, until her grandmother appeared and shooed them away. (Caroline was quite certain that her grandmother could banish a ghost just by glaring at it.)
“You are certainly looking very mature,” her more cranky grandmother noted, looking hard at Caroline. “It’s a good thing those rubies bring out the color in your cheeks to prolong the last bit of bloom.”
“Oh, thank you for that,” Caroline replied wryly. “Shall I prop up my coffin in the corner so my posture is straight?”
“Don’t be impertinent,” her grandmother chided. “Such wit in the young is not endearing.” Annoyed, the old lady strode off in search of new prey.
Caroline sighed. This evening was not going well.
“The problem, as I see it,” Lord Snowdon said softly, “is that not everyone appreciates wit, which can be very endearing.”
Caroline was mollified by this, but she got swept away by Estelle before she could pursue the matter. Estelle stuck to her side for the rest of the evening, and resolutely did not even look at Mr Stockan, though Caroline could see him looking at Estelle. Perhaps she could engineer a moment where the two of them would have to stand under some mistletoe together. That could hasten a courtship along.
Thinking of courtship, she caught Lord Snowdon’s eye from across the room, where he was speaking with her father. Snowdon gave her a secret smile before he continued his conversation.
His smile quite melted her heart. For a lord, Snowdon was awfully approachable. And very charming. Really, he was everything a girl could wish for.
In fact, he was everything she had wished for.
Hmm. He loved animals and loved to travel. Blue eyes, with light blond hair. Tall and icy in demeanor.
“I don’t trust him,” she announced suddenly.
“What? Who?” Estelle asked, not being privy to Caroline’s thoughts.
“Come with me,” Caroline whispered, pulling Estelle along with her as she left the drawing room for the much cooler foyer. There she turned to Estelle and said, “Snowdon.”
“But…why? He seems like a perfect gentleman.”
“I know,” Caroline said. “He’s too perfect. That’s why I don’t trust him. There must be something dreadfully wrong with him. If you asked an artist to paint a perfect gentleman, they would paint Lord Snowdon.”
Estelle sighed in exasperation. “What are you suggesting, Caroline? That he’s a fraud? Your papa would never allow anyone suspicious near you, let alone permit him to stay as a guest in the house!”
“I’m not saying he’s a fraud,” Caroline clarified. “I’m just saying that it’s a bit strange…this gentleman arriving on my doorstep only hours after I made a snowman in much the same image.”
Estelle raised an eyebrow. “You are not serious. You believe the snowman came to life?” Her skepticism made Caroline’s cheeks burn. But she knew there was something off about the perfect gentleman in the next room.
“There’s only one way to be certain,” Caroline declared. “I’m going back tomorrow morning to look!”
Which was exactly what she did. The next day dawned with rose and peach in the eastern sky, though heavy clouds were sweeping in from the west. Caroline dressed quickly, put on her cloak, and hurried out the side door of the house, avoiding the attention of her mother, who’d ask a lot of questions. Mothers were always full of questions!
Caroline walked quickly through the woods, along the same path she’d taken with Estelle yesterday. When she reached the clearing, she stopped in shock.
The snowman—her snowman, the one she built so lovingly and made into her ideal—was nowhere to be found.