The Romany Heiress

by Nikki Poppen

  The villagers and tenant farmers mounted up on similar converted wagons. Many piled into wagon boxes as if the outing were a hayride without the hay. Giles clucked to his team and they were off, forming a little parade. Those who had stayed behind to see to baking and last minute preparations waved to them from the cottages. Someone started a lively song, and soon the sound of merry voices joined the jingle of harness bells.

  It was a beautiful day, a perfect day complete with a brilliant-blue winter sky overhead and sparkling white snow on the ground. The singers breaths came in great puffs as they sang. She could ask for no better setting against which to see her first Christmas unfold. She thought of the small gifts she had for Giles later and hoped they would be enough to convey how thankful she was for this day.

  The sleigh-wagons pulled into a clearing and everyone piled out. Everyone knew their job from years of tradition. It was easy for Cate to fit into their rhythm.

  The women took baskets and gathered holly full of berries, the leaves a waxy green against the snow. They hunted for mistletoe and other greens for the kissing bough they’d make back at the abbey.

  The men set to work gathering great swags of greenery to decorate the mantle and to twist into a garland to drape down the long staircase. Another group of men, led by Giles, took out axes and saws and set out to find the perfect yule log.

  Deep in the woods she could hear the men calling out to one another and finally a victorious cry that the right tree had been found. The women put down their baskets and moved towards the voices, excitement rising at the prospect of seeing the yule log cut.

  Cate joined the other women. She stared in amazement at what the men had found. It wasn’t a log at all by any stretch of her imagination. It was practically a tree. She’d privately thought the men a bit ridiculous in hauling out their saws but she could see now that a saw would be put to good use.

  The butcher and the blacksmith started the process of cutting the great trunk into a log that could be hauled back to the abbey. There were goodnatured catcalls and jests as their tremendous efforts resulted in little progress on the trunk but plenty of sweat on their brows. After awhile another team took over and another until all the men in attendance had played a role in cutting the yule log. Giles and the head groom from the abbey went last, either by design or by accident, Cate wasn’t sure which.

  The day was cold but sawing was hot work. Giles had shucked off his outerwear and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Patches of sweat showed through the material as he flexed and pushed with the saw, reminding all present of the excellent physique of their earl.

  At last Giles and the groom were triumphant. A great cheer went up as the saw cut clean through for the final time. There was much backslapping among the men surrounding Giles and then ropes were lashed about the log, which was still much larger than she had expected. The men took up their places at the ropes and began the haul back to the wagons.

  It was afternoon by the time the log was hitched to a team of horses and the wagons loaded with people and greenery. The afternoon was graying with the promise of more snow. People were cold and the prospect of hot drinks back at the abbey kept spirits high as they headed home.

  Giles’s housekeeper had mulled wine and hot sticky buns waiting for the glad crowd. The older participants drank for warmth and headed home for other preparations. The younger people stayed on to help with decorations.

  In what seemed an impossibly short time, the abbey was transformed into a Christmas dream. Evergreen garlands draped around the banister of the staircase, adorned with bows Giles had brought down from the attic, saved from holidays past. The yule log was positioned in the large fireplace awaiting the night’s festivities. The dining room had been prepared for the laying out of the abbey’s silver and the Christmas feast. Spelthorne held nothing back. Tonight it would be silver and candles and plenty for all who attended.

  As dusk fell, the young people sang out their goodbyes with promises to see each other shortly. Cate stood in the hall, watching the last of them go.

  “There’s one more thing to do,” Giles said, materializing beside her.

  “I can’t imagine what that would be. We’ve done so much already,” she said.

  “It’s down at the chapel. Are you up for a walk?” Giles took a lantern in one hand and her arm in another and led the way to the little chapel. There was no one there. It was quiet and dark and peaceful.

  Giles set about lighting a few more candles. “We need to unpack that box in the corner.” He nodded his head to large carton set near the altar. “I had it brought down earlier today.”

  “What is it?” Cate asked, going to the crate and opening it. She took out the wrapped pieces inside.

  “Go ahead, unwrap them. Can’t you guess?” Giles’s voice was soft, almost reverent, causing her to wonder what could be so significant about the box.

  She carefully unwrapped the first piece. She gave a little gasp. “Oh, it’s a shepherd.” She held the piece up to the flickering lights. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s a creche, hand carved and painted from Italy. It was given to Celeste as a wedding gift from her father. She had a passion for Italian things,” Giles said, coming to stand by Catherine.

  “A creche?” She tried the unfamiliar word out on her tongue as she unwrapped another piece.

  “A nativity scene, a manger scene.”

  “Yes. I remember seeing one in a church.” Cate took out a carved wise man wearing brilliant robes of blue and gold. “I don’t think I have seen anything so lovely.” She was about to ask why such a lovely, valuable thing was not kept on display at the abbey where it could be safeguarded but she already knew the answer. Putting this out on display for all to enjoy over the twelve days of Christmas was Spelthorne’s gift to its people. This didn’t belong to one man but to all of them, perhaps as much a part of Spelthorne’s legacy as the land itself. Giles would never keep such a thing to himself.

  They set the nativity up on the altar, carefully arranging all the pieces to their best advantage, talking a little as they did so.

  “Did you never go to church on Christmas, Cate?” Giles asked hesitantly, setting up a cluster of sheep near the shepherds.

  “No. No one wants gypsies in church,” she said candidly. “Christmas was a lonely holiday for us. We had a little celebration of our own, perhaps eating meat or some extra ration of food to commemorate the day. It was a hard day in the heart of winter.”

  “I’m sorry,” Giles offered quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry or to bring up painful memories.” There was an awkward pause. “Do you blame me for it?”

  The question took her off-guard. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you resent me because your life was so difficult?” The strong man who had sawed through the yule log, who’d effortlessly organized the activities of the day without error seemed momentarily vulnerable in the candlelight as he asked his question. “I have often wondered if you hold me to blame.”

  She shook her head. “No. None of that was a coil of your making. You were simply involved through no knowledge or choice of your own. I do not resent you” She reached out a hand to stroke his handsome face. She wanted to dare more. In this moment it felt right to say the words “I love you,” to let him know that she saw only the future when she thought of him, not the tumultuous past which had dealt unfairly with them both. But she could not bring the words to her lips so they stayed silent in her heart, giving way to the caution that said “not yet, not yet”

  The night had been a splendid mixture of the boisterous and serene. The abbey had been filled with merrymakers drinking Bishop and Purl and eating roasted turkey from the groaning table in the dining room. Near midnight, she and Giles led a peaceful candlelight procession down to the chapel for Christmas services, then caroled softly on the late walk home amid delicately falling snowflakes.

  Tucked away in the privacy of their chambers, they took a moment’s peace to sip a final mug of Bishop an
d enjoy the quiet by the fire. Giles produced a small, square, blue velvet box. “I had thought to wait until tomorrow, but this seems like the right moment to give you this.”

  Cate took the soft case, caressing the velvet. “It’s a lovely box. Thank you” She would find something special to put in this box. “I have something for you too” She rose but Giles stayed her with a gentle gesture.

  “Wait. Open the box. There’s something inside it.”

  “Oh” She sat back down, feeling slightly foolish. The box was lavish enough to be a gift by itself. She opened the lid and found herself speechless. Bedded on blue satin that matched the velvet lay a single strand of pearls, all the same size and flawlessly white. “Oh, Giles, they’re beautiful. This is a magnificent gift,” she said in awe.

  “Let me help you put them on” Giles came to her side and lifted the pearls from their bed. Deftly he slipped open the clasp and placed the necklace about her neck. She could feel them laying lightly against her skin. She lifted a finger to fondle them. “I’ve never worn anything so splendid.”

  “You’ll wear all sorts of jewels in London,” Giles said. “The Spelthorne vaults are there with the family jewels. I thought you might like something simpler to wear for every day while you’re here”

  Cate laughed nervously. “I can hardly imagine pearls being simple everyday jewels.”

  Giles covered her hand with his. “They look well on you, but anything would. You’re a beautiful woman, Cate, no matter what you wear. I was proud to have you by my side today and tonight,” he said quietly with such sincerity that she could not doubt the truth of what he spoke.

  She cast her eyes down, undone by the compliment. “I hope you will be proud in London. I do not think London will be as easily conquered as Spelthorne. Everyone here has been so accepting, so kind. I do not think London will be as willing to embrace me”

  Giles stroked the back of her hand. “Why wouldn’t London fall in love with you as the people of Spelthorne have? As I have?”

  She looked up at that. They had never mentioned love, but the expression in his eyes suggested he meant every word. “You’ve fallen in love with me?”

  She was rewarded with a blush from Giles. He looked away briefly. Was this self-confident man who effortlessly mastered crowds embarrassed by a single woman? She could hardly believe it could be so until she thought of her own reticence in the chapel earlier.

  He gave a small self-deprecating chuckle and continued to stare into the fire. “I have long thought that I was above voicing such sentimental drivel but apparently I am not” He cocked his head to catch a sideways glance of her. She offered an encouraging smile, urging him to continue, letting him know his sentiments were safe with her.

  “When I look back, I think I began loving you the moment I saw you at the Denbigh’s party. I feel like an infatuated school boy for saying it.”

  “We hardly talked except for business!” she exclaimed.

  Giles shrugged. “I remember every moment. We sat on a low bench by the gate in the cold winter shrubbery. You held my hand and promised me a grand passion. I wished at the time that the grand passion would be you” He adjusted his position to face her squarely now, crouching on his haunches. He dropped his voice, and Cate leaned forward to listen. “I often regret not following my heart that night.”

  She held her breath, her eyes not daring to leave his blue gaze. His eyes smouldered now, desire coming to life as he made his confession. His hand drifted up to her hair and he continued his seduction, slowly plucking out the pins from her coiffure as he spoke.

  “That night, I wanted to run my hands through your hair. It looked to me like silk. I find now that my impression was right.” The feel of his hands combing through her hair, letting its length sift through his hands was intoxicating. “I wanted to know you” He drew his thumb lightly across her lips. “You seemed to me the epitome of goodness and perhaps freedom, a freedom I wanted for myself. I thought with you, I could be free”

  “And are you?”

  Giles buried his head in her lap. “Absolutely. Can you not see how you’ve changed me, Cate? You’ve made the most ordinary, extraordinary again. I like to see the world through your eyes; I like to show you new things, give you new experiences. You are my adventure, my grand passion. I am completely in your thrall.”

  He lifted his head, and she could not hide from him the tears that glistened in her eyes. She had not expected such a confession from him, ever. She’d conditioned herself not to think of such an impossibility. She’d accustomed herself to knowing that any deep affection would be on her side alone.

  Giles reached up a hand to catch a tear drop. “Why do you cry?”

  She sniffed. “Because I had not expected you to love me and because I have loved you for what seems like forever, only I was too frightened to say the words”

  Giles drew her down to him. “Then we are agreed. We are in love.” He kissed her tenderly and she clung to him, wanting this moment to last all night.

  They stayed by the fire for a long while, unwilling to let go of the quiet moment. It wasn’t until later, when the fire had finally died down to mere embers that she realized she’d forgotten to give him her small gifts.

  Giles laughed at her as she sprang up to get them. “They’ll keep until morning,” he said, drawing her tight against him. He nuzzled her neck. “Besides, I have the greatest gift of all tonight. I have your heart and you have mine. No gift or pearls can equal that, no matter how sincerely intended.”

  Cate turned in his arms. “Merry Christmas, husband.”

  Giles smiled in the darkness. “Merry Christmas, wife. I love you”

  Cate held those words close to her heart, hoping he wouldn’t regret them when they got to London.

  London, end of January, 1819

  In spite of her misgivings over going up to London, the day of departure arrived with alarming speed.

  The Christmas holiday, accompanied by TwelfthNight festivities and the New Year, had sped past in a bright kaleidoscope of parties and games. Christmas day Giles had opened the abbey to all for rowdy games of Blind Man’s Bluff and other entertainments. In the days following, there’d been card parties in the village and an assembly dance in the upper rooms of the inn for New Year’s.

  She and Giles were invited everywhere. Everyone was thrilled to have the earl and his bride with them for so long. Cate was not surprised to learn that after discharging his holiday duties, Giles usually returned to the capitol as soon as possible. This year he lingered.

  She suspected it was to give her as much time as he could to prepare herself for London. She also suspected that he wanted to postpone the trip as well.

  She waited nervously in the entry hall for Giles to tell her the covered traveling coach had been loaded. All of their trunks had been brought down earlier to be placed in the luggage coach. She thought of the house party in the fall when she’d watched all the guests and their extraordinary piles of luggage, thinking how fantastical it was to have two conveyances. Then she’d hardly owned enough to fill a small trunk and she’d been wearing borrowed clothing. It was difficult to believe that had been only a few months ago; it seemed like a lifetime away.

  She spotted Magda in the doorway of the drawing room. Even Magda looked respectable these days, dressed in a dark-blue wool gown appropriate to the status of a companion-cum-maid. With her ironcolored hair pulled back in a severe bun, no one would guess she’d been a gypsy fortuneteller a season ago. These days the woman looked every inch the formidable companion, although Magda was often left to her own devices since Catherine was spending more and more time with Giles.

  “Magda, just look at us. Who would have thought?” Cate held out the skirt of her green traveling ensemble and made a small pirouette.

  Magda nodded solemnly. “We’ve done well so far. This has turned out nicely but I don’t like him taking you to London without me” She’d not quite gotten over her anger at Giles having Cate Dupeski’s na
me on the marriage certificate.

  Cate laughed lightly at Magda’s fears. “Whyever not? Giles is perfectly capable of defending me if it comes to that” She desperately hoped it wouldn’t.

  “I am sure he is. He will defend you, even if it’s only to ensure his own honor. He gains nothing from having you exposed”

  “Speak plainly, Magda. I’m worried enough about this visit to town without you adding to it,” Catherine scolded.

  “Who will protect you from him?”

  “That’s nonsense, Magda. There’s no need to be protected from him. He loves me, and I love him,” Cate said simply.

  Magda smirked at that. “Is that what he’s been telling you these days? It’s talk of love that’s lit up your face? Be careful then. When love clouds the picture, you never see trouble coming until its too late”

  “Are you ready, love?” Giles entered the foyer, riding gloves and traveling cape in hand. He shot Magda a pointed look that suggested he guessed the tenor of her conversation and highly disapproved.

  Cate went to him, letting him drape her cloak about her shoulders. She could do without Magda’s doubt. She had enough of her own. The last thing she needed was to doubt Giles. His support was the bulwark she was counting on to weather London and whatever storms it might throw her way.

  The roads were jouncy affairs, rutted with frozen mud and icy clots of snow. Cate was thankful Spelthorne was so close to town. One slow day of progress was enough to see them up to the steps of Giles’s townhouse an hour after dark. In the summer, the journey was a half-day at worst, but in the cold of winter with questionable roads that could break a horse’s leg, it took double the time.

  The townhouse was ready for them. Lights blazed in the windows and the steps had been shoveled free of snow. Inside, the butler, a starchy fellow called Robards, met them with dignity and presented the staff. Cate congratulated herself on being ready for that. She’d learned enough from Isabella’s lessons and her own experiences at Spelthorne to be prepared to manage the staff. She smiled and nodded, doing her best to commit names to memory.