It began to snow again in the early evening. By the time the small house party came down for supper, there were a good four inches on the ground outside.
Caroline stopped on the stairs and looked out the window. She clenched her right hand into a fist and punched the air with glee. Caroline loved snow. For all the inconvenience and mess, it brought, she liked nothing better than to stand out in the freezing air while snowflakes swirled around her.
She raced back to her room and grabbed her coat and gloves. She managed to get her right hand inside its glove, leaving her left hand only protected by the bandaging.
Heading back downstairs, she opened the front door and stepped out into a white winter wonderland. She checked the driveway to ensure no one was coming, then with arms held out wide, she began to slowly spin.
“She is doing it,” muttered James.
Francis looked over to where his cousin was pointing and smiled. For as long as anyone in the family could remember, every Christmas at Strathmore Castle, Caroline would stand outside in the snow and slowly spin. For hours she would silently worship the sky as it poured white heaven over her.
“What is she doing?” asked Julian, coming up the stairs.
“Caroline’s snow dance. Few people outside the family have ever seen it. You should feel privileged,” replied James.
“She loves the winter. Some unkind people have given her the name of the Ice Queen, but they don’t realize just how close to the truth it is,” added Francis.
At that moment, Caroline stopped spinning. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth. In the golden glow from the torches lighting the drive, Julian caught the incredible sight of a young woman in rapture. Snow fell on her face and at times into her open mouth, all the while Caroline stood with her eyes closed and arms held out.
“I have never seen anything like it in my entire life,” murmured Julian, thoroughly entranced.
As he stepped away, he caught sight of a movement in the shadows near Caroline. Midas was keeping a close guard on their guest.
Caroline slipped off her snow-soaked coat and single glove and handed them to a footman.
He pointed in the direction of the downstairs sitting room. “Lord Newhall said to tell you that he and the other gentlemen are waiting for you.”
“Don’t tell me it has stopped snowing,” teased James as she entered the room.
She laughed, full of the joy of winter. “No, but it was beginning to seep through my coat, and Midas made his protests known. Besides, I heard there would be hot food and you know me after I have been outside in the snow. I need pies.”
Julian stepped forward and bowed low. The blush that unexpectedly raced to her cheeks brought some sense of feeling back to them.
“Then you shall have pies, as many as you can eat. I understand it is part of the tradition that when one has finished worshipping the snow god, one indulges in pies,” he said.
She looked to Francis, who shrugged.
“We had to explain to Newhall why you were standing outside, spinning in the snow,” he said.
Heat burned on her cheeks for a second time. What was it that being in Julian’s presence did to her? She was used to men crowding around her, jostling to find her favor, yet there was something different when it came to him. He made her feel uncomfortable. No. He made her feel different. Perhaps I am losing my touch.
Caroline pushed the notion away. She had clearly been standing for too long outside in the freezing air, and her brain had simply become a little muddled.
“So, it will just be us again tonight? I am so sorry, Julian. I hope that tomorrow will bring a cavalcade of carriages and coaches to your front door,” she said.
“Not to worry. I must say, you three are the sort of guests that are always welcome when it comes to a snow-bound estate,” he replied.
The door of the sitting room opened and in stepped an older woman. Julian came to her side and taking her arm, walked her over to where Caroline and the others stood. “Lady Margaret, may I introduce our guests? This is Caroline and Francis Saunders, and their cousin, James Radley.”
Caroline curtseyed sweetly and the others bowed. As she looked up, she caught the sight of Lady Margaret holding out her hands to her.
“My dear girl, welcome to Newhall Castle. I must apologize for not coming to see you when you arrived late last night. I understand you injured your hand,” she said.
“Yes, but Julian did an excellent job of fixing me up with first-class battle stitches. I still have feeling in the hand, which at the moment is a mixed blessing, but hopefully I shall regain full use of it,” she replied.
Lady Margaret winced as Caroline held up her heavily bandaged hand. She turned to the others. “And this is Francis? Oh and of course James, I know your father.”
James had the pained smile on his face that he always adopted whenever his father was mentioned in company. Everyone in the ton knew the Bishop of London. James was forever being asked to give regards to his father from those that he met. Caroline’s heart went out to him; she was not the only one who society had set expectations upon.
“My aunt has worked hard to get this house party ready. She worked with my mother to arrange all the invitations. The countess, unfortunately, could not join us this week,” said Julian.
Caroline looked at her brother. An unspoken agreement passed between them. No one was going to mention the countess, and the lack of her presence at Newhall Castle.
“Yes, I expect there was a lot of work involved in planning everything. Did you have to bring much up from London?” she asked.
“Actually no, the local town of Burton-on-Trent has much of what we need. We have a day trip planned there on market day. If the weather clears, we shall journey up to the town next Thursday,” replied Julian.
The gentlemen gathered at the nearby sideboard and began an earnest discussion of the merits of the various fine Scottish whiskies which had been set out for them. Lady Margaret took Caroline by the arm and they wandered over to the far wall where a number of paintings hung.
Caroline stood and closely studied the first piece of artwork. It was a sweeping landscape of rugged mountains and deep valleys. She appreciated the rustic reds and greys used by the artist. Portraits were well enough to look at, but paintings of nature and scenery were, to her mind’s eye, far more appealing.
“Is that from around this area?” she asked.
Lady Margaret shook her head. “No, that is where my family comes from. It’s farther north in the Peak District. Lord Newhall’s father had it commissioned for me not long after I came to Newhall Castle.”
Caroline bit down on her bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. If Lady Margaret was not Julian’s aunt on his father’s side, and she was not related to his mother, then how exactly was she his aunt?
Lady Margaret caught Caroline’s eye. “I am not really his aunt. I did my best to raise him in the years after his mother left. I was left a widow at an early age, and Julian’s father and I came to realize that being his mistress was a far better solution for me than having to go through the business of finding another husband. We did love one another, which was more than either of us had had in our respective marriages.”
“I didn’t mean to pry, but thank you for telling me. I promise not to mention it to anyone else,” said Caroline.
“At the rate things are going, we may not have anyone else. I am pleased though to see that you and Julian are making efforts to be friends,” replied Lady Margaret.
Caroline looked back to where Julian and the others were standing. They had been enemies until only a day ago. And she was still a little more than surprised at how warm and friendly he had been to her since her arrival.
“Lady Margaret, I must beg a favor of you, and ask that you be honest with me. I don’t understand why the countess was at such pains to invite me. Our previous meeting had been most unpleasant. So, I am at a loss as to why she extended the invitation,” she said.
The silence that followed added to her unease. Instead of immediately offering her reassurances that all was above board, Lady Margaret hesitated. “The countess made some last-minute changes to the guest list just before she left London,” she explained.
Caroline forced a smile to her lips and did her best to blink away unbidden tears. She now understood the look of genuine surprise on Julian’s face when he saw her standing inside the front door of the castle. Since he had not invited her to the house party, Caroline Saunders was probably the last person he had expected to find on his doorstep in the middle of the night.
Lady Margaret reached out and took hold of Caroline’s good hand. “You and Julian are friends now. Please let any past misunderstandings between the two of you remain in the past.” She glanced quickly at Julian, then turned back to Caroline. “You are welcome here at Newhall Castle, and are a guest the same as everyone else. I would ask that you not say anything to him; it would be deeply embarrassing to him if he discovered that you knew.”
Caroline considered Lady Margaret’s words. It was not something she was accustomed to doing, but she had made a promise to herself and her family to change her ways. She came to the uncomfortable decision that she would swallow her pride and say nothing to her host. “Of course. Besides, we are having a marvelous time. Julian and I defeated my brother and cousin on the snow-covered battlefield this afternoon. And he has offered for me to eat as many pies as I can this evening,” she warmly replied.
When a soft sigh of relief escaped Lady Margaret’s lips, Caroline wiped away another tear and made a silent vow. From this moment on, she would make every effort to deserve her place at the party.
After supper, Lady Margaret made her apologies and left them. The rest of the group lounged about on sofas and swore collectively to never eat another pie.
“So, Newhall, are we going to ride out tomorrow morning and see if we can greet some of the other guests?” asked Francis.
Caroline looked up from the book she had been reading by the fire. The expression on Julian’s face said enough. He was becoming concerned that no one else was going to come to his party.
“That sounds like an excellent idea. It will be fun to see who is on the road. You could dress up as highwaymen and cry ‘stand and deliver,’” she said.
James shot her a look of feigned horror. “Yes, and you can explain to my father why I am about to be hanged when someone does not see the funny side of the jest.”
Francis took hold of his cousin’s throat and pretended to throttle him. James, in turn, made an excellent impression of having his neck broken and crumpled to the floor.
The applause for his terrible acting was short.
“Perhaps you had better just rug up well against the cold and forget about playing Dick Turpin. I promise to be waiting here with hot coffee and more pies in readiness for your safe return,” said Caroline.
Julian turned to her and dipped into an elegant bow. “Thank you. That would make the journey out tomorrow all the more worthwhile.”
Caroline smiled back at him self-consciously. Her heart was beating an unfamiliar tattoo. Had the Ice Queen’s heart began to thaw?