Giles drew a deep breath and Julia released his hands before he could move or speak.
‘I’ve some silver paper in the dresser somewhere.’ She talked as she searched, covering the sudden awkwardness. ‘And some ribbon in my sewing basket. I can make these trifles look quite festive, I think.’
Presents. Focus on gifts, not on that moment just now when all I wanted to do was to melt into the arms of the man behind me. I still do.
With an effort she made herself think about the fact that it was Christmas, that they were expected back at Bluebell Cottage in a few minutes.
Presents.
But she had nothing for Giles, unless...
She looked thoughtfully at the larder door and mentally reviewed the contents. Yes, the very thing. And exceedingly warming for a man who ended up in snowdrifts with remarkable regularity. If she could just get him out of the house for a while.
‘Giles, could you go into the front garden and cut some holly? Ours has got much better berries than the bush in Bluebell Cottage garden.’ As soon as he was gone with a pair of small shears she went to the larder and searched the racks under the stone slab. Yes, one last bottle of ginger wine remained, although wine was perhaps too mild a description for its fiery potency. The curate had become quite tipsy on two glasses last Christmas, even breaking into a most inappropriate popular song when he had called with the carol singers, involving a bishop, an ass and a passing milkmaid.
She swathed it in brown paper, added some very masculine dark brown and orange ribbons, wrapped the bonbons for Molly along with a length of hair ribbon and put them in the bottom of her basket under the silver-paper-wrapped parcels. She was just in time before Giles came in with an armful of holly, thick with blood-red berries.
‘That is perfect, thank you. If you put it into this sack, we can carry it without getting pricked.’
‘There is something in the front garden I want to show you,’ Giles said, as he wrestled the holly into the sack.
Julia followed him down the hall and out of the front door and stood looking out over the view from the top step. ‘It is becoming cloudy over the Vale. Perhaps rain is coming from the west.’ The clouds were massing, heavy and grey, but without the tint to them that spoke of snow, and the wind held rather less chill than it had first thing. ‘Yes, I think a thaw is coming. And then you can escape,’ she added as she followed him down towards the gate, crunching through his footprints.
Giles came to a halt under the bare branches of the old apple tree that, in the spring, showered anyone entering the gate with pink and white blossom. ‘Yes, I could,’ he agreed, his voice expressionless. ‘A fine old apple, this.’
Julia nodded, wondering why he wanted her to look at her own tree. ‘It still bears a small crop, despite its age, and the thrush sings from the very top of it. I think he likes the view.’
‘Look up high, on this side. I don’t expect you can see it from the house.’
Julia moved round to his side of the trunk and tipped her head back, squinting through the tangle of branches. ‘It really needs pruning. Oh! Mistletoe.’
They were standing very close and she clutched at his arm to steady herself, dizzy from looking upwards, but Giles did not move. When she lowered her gaze to meet his eyes he was watching her, his gaze dark and intense. ‘Mistletoe is always a good excuse to snatch a kiss at Christmas, but I do not want to snatch, Julia. Nor do I want to beg or to present you with a decision that will cause you worry. We are skating on thin ice, I think, and I can hear it crack every time we touch.’
He shook his head, as though exasperated with himself. ‘Now we are standing here I regret bringing you out to see the mistletoe. I should have had more self-control because something is happening and I do not know whether it is simple proximity or Christmas magic or something more, but—’
Julia went up on tiptoe, hands on his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his, sealing in the words. Giles kissed her, his mouth moving over hers, gentle yet intense, their breath clouding the chill air between them. She did not want to think, did not want to hope or wish for more than this. Dare not, because this was surely founded only on starlight and snowflakes.
And ice cracking beneath us.
‘Julia.’ He stood looking down at her and she wanted to cry, or to run away or to reach up and pull his head down again.
‘Julia, dear! Mr Darrowby! Yoo-hoo!’
The front door opened and there was Miss Margaret, bundled up like a multicoloured snowwoman, Miss Jepson peering over her shoulder. ‘Oh, do forgive us for coming through the house like this, but we became anxious when you did not return. The snow is so treacherous and there are so many ditches and hollows.’
Her sister came past her and down the steps into the front garden. ‘We came armed with our shovel and broom in case you needed help.’
They stood together, beaming at the pair under the tree, and Julia conjured up a bright smile from somewhere. ‘I am sorry you were anxious. I had some domestic matters to arrange and we were just gathering some holly, the tree has such good berries. I thought you might like some cut for decorations at dinner. But we are ready to come back now.’
They all trooped back into the house. Julia checked Fred’s water and took the basket of presents, Giles threw the remains of the blanket over the crib and picked it up under one arm with the sack of holly in his free hand and set off towards Bluebell Cottage, Miss Margaret at his heels.
Her elder sister held back a little and good manners compelled Julia to slow her pace. ‘Such a considerate and pleasant young man, the Viscount,’ Miss Jepson remarked quietly.
‘Yes,’ Julia agreed, then stopped dead. ‘You know who he is?’
‘I recognised him—he is the image of his father, whom I knew years ago in London, and of course I know that the family name of the Viscounts Missenden is Darrowby.’
‘Er...’ Julia racked her brains for something to say.
‘And it was a godsend that he was here last night, although how he came to have midwifery knowledge I cannot imagine. Or is he simply a very good actor?’
‘He helped the wife of one of his gamekeepers in an emergency. He thought that a little knowledge and a calm manner might help matters.’
‘It most certainly did. And you know him well?’
‘Not at all. We had never met before. He took refuge with me when he was trapped by the heavy snow.’
They stopped and watched as Giles helped Miss Margaret over the wall and the two walked on, apparently talking about the woods, from the gestures Miss Margaret was making.
‘What a strange collection of clothing—I could swear that is a livery coat and breeches with the buttons changed.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Julia made herself smile and wondered if the Spanish Inquisition was any easier to deal with. ‘What he was wearing when he arrived was completely wet and he was very cold.’
‘Quite. You will forgive me, my dear, but you have no mama to advise you—young gentlemen of the aristocracy, however pleasant, do have a somewhat cavalier attitude to female virtue on occasion.’
‘I assure you, Lord Missenden has done nothing to alarm me,’ Julia said, praying the cold was keeping the blushes from her cheeks.
‘You may not have been alarmed, but, forgive me, only one bed was slept in last night,’ Miss Jepson said drily.
Oh, Lord, I should have thought to make the beds...
‘Yes. Lord Missenden fell asleep fully clothed, exhausted. I looked in, went to pull off his boots, which did not wake him, sat down to adjust the covers and I must have dropped off, too. It was all perfectly, um, proper.’
They had reached the wall and Julia lifted her basket over, then turned to help the older woman. Miss Jepson stayed where she was, mittened hands clasped together, a look of determination on her face. ‘That is as may be, but he had already spent one night under your roof, had he not? My dear, the Darrowbys are high in the instep, as the saying goes. There is no doubt of what is the right thing for him to be doing now, but one cannot rely on the nobility to always take that attitude with ladies who are not quite their equal in rank, particularly if those ladies are unprotected, as you must appear to him to be.’
Julia stopped, well short of the gate to Bluebell Cottage, and waited for Giles and Miss Margaret to disappear into the back yard before she spoke, schooling her tone into a calm reasonableness with an effort. ‘I do appreciate your advice and warning, Miss Jepson. But as nothing at all untoward occurred and as no one but you and Miss Margaret know of the circumstances, I cannot feel that there is anything more to be said. Lord Missenden will be on his way as soon as it thaws sufficiently for him to reach the village.’
The older woman sighed, then climbed over the wall. ‘It would be a very fine match, my dear,’ she said as they entered the yard.
‘I cannot contemplate life with a man on whom a marriage has been forced by duty and obligation.’ Julia found she was losing her temper. ‘And I do not care even if he should be a duke!’
‘Who is a duke?’ Giles opened the back door for them, then closed it on the cold as they hurried inside.
‘Oh, simply a figure of speech.’ Julia set down the basket and began to unravel her scarves and coat. ‘Where are Annie and the baby?’
‘Asleep in the parlour. Miss Margaret is making up the cot with the little blankets and coverlet that she and Miss Jepson have been making.’
‘It is delightful,’ Miss Margaret announced, standing back with a flourish to display the crib. She set it rocking. ‘See what clever Mr Darrowby has contrived, Caroline.’
‘Most ingenious. And what a good idea to bring holly, Julia. We have been so much distracted by anxiety about Annie that we have neglected to decorate the house this Christmas. Why do you and Margaret not create some arrangements in the dining room and light the fire in there? I think we should all take our Christmas dinner in style this year and if Mr Darrowby would be so good as to move the sofa in there once Annie is awake, then she can join in as well.’
‘Of course.’ Giles picked up the log basket and the small hatchet for splitting kindling. ‘I’ll bring in wood before it gets dark, shall I?’
‘Most kind, Mr Darrowby,’ Miss Jepson murmured. She hesitated and he glanced at her, arrested by a look of indecision on her face that seemed out of character. ‘Mr Darrowby, you will not hurt her, will you?’
He almost said, Who? But there was no need, really, they both knew whom she was talking about. ‘I have no intention of doing so,’ he said stiffly. ‘Miss Chancellor will come to no harm through me.’
‘I do not mean physical harm,’ Miss Jepson said, blushing slightly. ‘I mean her feelings.’
The hatchet slipped through Giles’s fingers, landing with a thud and just missing his toes. He set the log basket down and straightened up to his full height. ‘I can assure you, ma’am, I do not trifle with a lady’s feelings.’
‘I am sure not. Not intentionally. But she watches you when she thinks you are otherwise occupied. And you watch her and I do not think it is simply because you are a man and she is an uncommonly attractive young woman. But of course, she is doubtless beneath your touch—I do know who you are, my lord, although I think it would be best if the other members of the household are in ignorance of the fact. Things slip out, however careful one is about gossip.’
She means well. She wants to protect Julia, Giles told himself as he fought the desire to administer a sharp set-down. But...I watch Julia? I look at her in such a way that an observer thinks I might be more than simply attracted? And she looks at me?
‘I am sure you are mistaken, ma’am, but I thank you for your concern for Miss Chancellor.’
He picked up the hatchet, tossed it on to the log basket and made as dignified an exit as a viscount who has just been lectured on his duty by a spinster could, his mind in as much of a stir as his emotions.
There was something to be said for the chill of a log store in the depths of winter—it was certainly calming. Giles leaned against a sawhorse and tried to sort out his feelings. He was attracted to Julia, but any man would be—she was attractive, intelligent, good company and she made him laugh. She was kind to her friends and independent in her attitudes. And when they touched he could feel that ice cracking—or perhaps hear a fuse fizzing.
He had certainly felt he should make the offer of marriage, even though he had no wish to be leg-shackled, and he had felt something that was more than piqued pride when she refused him so flatly.
Thwarted desire, he told himself.
But did that add up to what Miss Jepson had been implying? He made himself think the word. Love. Surely not. No one fell in love in two days and after a few kisses. That kind of thing was for folk tales and romances.
Giles was still brooding on Miss Jepson’s words and their implications as he moved the couch for Annie into the dining room and set a low table beside it so she could eat her dinner. Master William—fed, changed and blowing bubbles in his sleep—was snug in his cradle beside the hearth.
He tried to study Julia without not only her noticing but also without Miss Jepson’s eagle eye on them. She seemed natural enough, he thought, wondering how one told if a woman was in love with you. Or if you were in love with her, come to that.
But, he argued with himself as he took in the tray laden with cutlery to set the table, if Julia loves me she would have agreed to marry me.
She distracted him by coming in with a large copper jug brimming with holly and trails of ivy which she set down on the sideboard. ‘I do admire your skills as a footman. Perhaps it comes with wearing the livery,’ she suggested, teasing as she rubbed at a smudge on the belly of the jug with her sleeve. ‘I am certain that you have never laid a table in your life before.’
‘I am quite capable of observing how it is done,’ Giles said, refusing to rise to the bait.
She laughed and leaned across him to tweak a table napkin into perfect order and he caught a hint of her scent, something herbal and citrusy, and his body stirred.
‘Oh, Giles.’ She straightened up on a sigh and smiled at him.
‘Yes?’ It was curiously hard to breathe.
‘This is nice, isn’t it? No formality, kind people, the baby.’ She looked across at the crib and her smile softened into something tender. ‘So perfect for Christmas.’
‘Yes, perfect,’ he agreed as Miss Margaret bustled in with a stack of plates, singing a carol, very slightly out of tune, under her breath.
And it was perfect, he realised. Perfect despite the ache in his chest and the turmoil in his mind and the lack of privacy to talk to Julia. Or perhaps to kiss her and make love to her until she admitted that she loved him and he would know whether he loved her because, just at that moment, he had no idea and to make a mistake over this would be cruel indeed.
The goose was perfect, thanks to Dorothy’s skill with the unfamiliar range. There were potatoes, roasted golden brown, and carrots drenched in butter and an interesting dish made of dried peas and a cabbage that was made very palatable with the addition of an excellent gravy.
Giles insisted on pouring some of Miss Jepson’s brandy over the plum pudding and setting it alight, despite her protests that it was for medicinal use only. The resulting blaze made Molly shriek with delight, waking William and reducing Julia to helpless giggles as Giles almost set the tablecloth on fire.
Julia looked at Giles, fighting both blazing pudding and his own laughter, and wondered if her heart would break when he left. It felt as though it might. There was a dull, miserable ache beneath the happiness and joy of the present moment. She told herself to live in that moment, hold it tight for the memories, and managed not to let the tears of laughter turn into anything else.
They ate the pudding and then sat nibbling on cheese and nuts despite everyone protesting that they were quite full. Julia helped Dorothy carry out the dirty dishes and brought in her basket of presents and shared them round.
‘I’ve nothing for you,’ Giles said. He poured out two small glasses of the ginger wine and they sipped as they sat back and enjoyed watching the others opening their gifts and exclaiming with pleasure.
Julia looked at him and wondered at how serious he looked. Almost sad, she thought, puzzled. ‘You made the crib and you cut the holly and you dug the path so we could all be together at Christmas,’ she said. ‘And we shared the stars. That is more than enough.’
Giles looked down and she saw she had, quite unconsciously, put her hand over his on the table. He tightened his fingers around hers for a moment, then, with a glance at Miss Jepson, released her.
‘Is that rain I can hear?’ He stood up and went to the window, drew back the curtain and they all heard it, the sound of heavy rain battering against the panes. ‘The thaw has broken with a vengeance.’
‘That’s a blessing,’ Miss Margaret said comfortably. ‘It will make the most terrible mess, of course, and the snow looks so pretty, but the wild birds and animals will find it easier to feed with the soft ground and the roads will be open, after a fashion.’
‘If they aren’t waist-deep in mud,’ her sister retorted. ‘And the streams will overtop their banks, I’ve no doubt.’
The intensity of the rain increased as they cleared the table and went to the kitchen to all join in with the washing up, leaving Annie and the baby dozing in front of the fire.
‘Have you an umbrella I might borrow, Miss Jepson?’ Giles reached up to set the last platter on the dresser.
‘Why, yes, there’s that big one the Vicar left here last Tuesday.’ She pointed to the object leaning against the doorframe like a large and tattered crow. ‘But why should you need one?’
‘Because I think it would be best if I went back to Beech View and looked after the cat and the fires tonight. Then I will set out in the morning as soon as I can assess the state of the path down to the village.’
‘But Fred can perfectly well look after himself for the night, we left him plenty of food and water,’ Julia protested. Behind her a door closed and she looked round to find that, unaccountably, they were alone in the kitchen.
‘I need to go, Julia,’ he said and something in his voice, the gentleness, stiffened her spine and her pride.
He thinks I am going to beg him to stay, she thought.
‘Yes, of course. Your friends must be anxious and you will want to find out how successful your rescue plans were. It would be dreadful if, after all, the poor man was trapped into an unwanted marriage.’ She said it firmly, with a smile on her lips, and was pleased at how steady her voice was. ‘Don’t forget your hat and scarf, and your gloves are on that chair over there.’
Giles pulled them on, threw the gaudy knitted scarf around his neck and picked up the flapping umbrella. He should have looked ridiculous. The breath caught in her throat.
‘Julia—’ He had one hand on the door latch, but still he looked at her.
‘There are no stars tonight,’ she said. ‘The magic is quite gone.’
I have to let him go.
‘So it seems. Goodnight, Julia, and thank you for rescuing a sad rake from his folly. I doubt I will see you in the morning.’
‘Perhaps we will meet at a Royal Academy view some time in the future if my plans come to fruition,’ she said.
For a moment she thought he was going to step back towards her, take her hand perhaps or drop a kiss on her cheek, but Giles nodded and opened the door. Then he was gone, leaving just the darker mark of the rain on the stone of the threshold to show he had been there.
Julia took off her apron and folded it with great care, then went to find Annie to borrow the baby for a cuddle.