Christmas At Hollywell (The Seldon Park Christmas Novella Book 4)

by Bethany Sefchick

  "You look lovely, my lady," Molly said as she came to place a strand of garnets around Catherine's throat. "You will take Lord Valette's breath away, you will."

  "Julian is not a lord," Catherine corrected her maid automatically, resulting in a grunt of dismissal from the maid.

  "Everyone here knows he's the real De La Croix," Molly scolded as she fussed over Catherine's hair. "That's good enough for me. And for you, if I may be so bold." Then she gave Catherine's gown a sharp yank, pulling it down just a little bit lower. "Everyone also knows he's been right dazzled by you. It's all anyone here can talk about."

  Catherine frowned. "Anyone who?" She did not like the idea of gossiping servants, even though this was not her household any longer.

  Molly shook her head in disgust at her employer. "The staff here at Hollywell, that's who. Servants talk. You know that. And they're happy for you. For him, too. It's why they won't say anything about your presence here alone with the Comte."

  "Excuse me?" Catherine turned around, careful not to trip on the edge of the carpet for she was that unsteady on her feet at her maid's words. "What do you mean they're happy for me?"

  The maid tilted her head as if weighing something internally. "May I be honest, my lady?"

  "Of course!" Catherine had never known a time that Molly didn't speak her mind.

  "Some of the old staff from the time of your parents are still alive and well, doing odd jobs around Hollywell as Lord Valette doesn't have the heart to release them unless they wish to go. Those servants remember what it was like before, when you were young and more cheerful. The ones that have not been around quite so long? They remember what you were like when the pervious Lord Crossbury was alive and you was the mistress here, how miserable you were then, too. Servants talk, as I said. They observe. The new servants? All they know is Lord Valette, but they see the same thing as the others. They heard the talk about before. And the talk of now."

  Frustrated now, Catherine wanted to shake the young woman into making sense. "What talk, Molly? Please start making some sense."

  "That you're happy. Excited. Alive. Both of you." Molly acted as if this was not news to anyone but Catherine. And possibly Julian. "You? You were happy with your parents but it was different. Muted, I guess you could say. With Lord Crossbury and later his nephew? You were unhappy. Almost miserable. You walked through these halls as if you were half dead and on your way to the gallows." She shrugged. "I've seen it meself. You're different now. Even different from when you was Madame C., with all of her fancy parties and the like." Molly gestured towards the door that connected Julian's suite to Catherine's. "Same with Lord Valette or so I'm told. He plays at being happy here, but he didn't smile much until you showed up. Ever. Last night when he picked you up out of the snow? He smiled. All the servants saw it. They noticed because it was different. Because he changed, almost in an instant. You changed him. No one else."

  Catherine had no idea what to say. Could she have made that much of a difference in Julian's life? Surely not. That was absurd. Bedsides, Julian was...well, she was going to say a handsome young man, but she had made the decision earlier in the day not to dwell upon age. Julian certainly wasn't. Or at least he said that he wasn't and she had decided to trust him on that point. So could such a change really be possible in so short of a time, almost the blink of an eye? The rational part of her said no. Then again, she felt different after only a day in his company and the promise of a night spent together. So was it possible that he felt different as well?

  Her mother would have said that this was the beginning of a Christmas miracle, but Catherine no longer believed in miracles. Nor in the magic of Christmas itself. Those beliefs had been stripped away long ago when she had become the Countess of Crossbury. For the earl didn't believe in magic or miracles or Christmas either, and in the process of taming her to his liking, he had stripped away her belief in such "foolishness" along with other, just as vulnerable, parts of her.

  Did Julian believe as she once had? Catherine honestly had no idea.

  Those thoughts chased each other around her brain as she made her way downstairs for dinner. Only tonight, Julian was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, a grin upon his handsome face. Perhaps Molly and the other servants were correct after all.

  "You are exquisite."

  Julian could think of no better word to describe Catherine the moment he laid eyes upon her as she descended the grand staircase. She wasn't wearing another matronly gown, as she had been last evening, nice as that frock had been. And while this gown was hardly revealing, it did offer him a glimpse of her tantalizing breasts and made him begin to fantasize about all the pleasure they might give to each other later on that night. When they were alone. In his bed.

  Shaking his head, Julian offered Catherine his arm so that he might escort her into dinner. He had decided to have the table set less formally tonight, but he had still requested that she dress formally. The truth was, he wanted the opportunity to peel one of her gowns off of her delectable body - preferably sooner rather than later.

  "I am pleased that we gathered the greens when we did this afternoon," she remarked, fat flakes once again falling outside the two walls of circular dining room windows as they entered. "I fear that it will snow for at least another day or two before it ceases. The roads will clear in time for your ball I am certain, but gathering greenery for decorations in the meantime might be all but impossible."

  "About that," Julian began as he led Catherine to a small, intimate table he had requested be set up in the vicinity of the window. It was colder here of course, but he would have her warm in no time if he had his way.

  "Yes?"

  Julian waved his hand in the air. "I was wondering if you would be so good as to, ah, take charge of that sort of thing on the 'morrow. I realize, of course, that it is entirely inappropriate as you are no longer truly mistress here, but it would be a great favor to me." He helped her into her seat, as any gentleman would, taking the opportunity to peek down the front of her gown, though he could see little. Bother and damnation. "I am a man and know little of how these things are done. I was planning to have my housekeeper take charge, but as you are here..."

  However, Catherine had stopped listening long ago, her violet eyes shining with delight. "I would love to, Julian! Thank you ever so much! My last Christmas at Hollywell and I shall decorate as I desire!" Then she blushed and looked down, as if her exuberance might bother him as he took his seat opposite her. "My apologies, Julian. I did not mean to overstep."

  "Hardly," he scoffed with a smile as the first course was served. "Actually, I enjoy your enthusiasm. And your skill. That was a rather masterful way you handled the servants out there today. Especially as I doubt many of them have ever gathered greens."

  She shrugged. "It is in an acquired skill. You have a few members on your staff who were present before when the previous Crossbury was the earl. They would have remembered easily, I am certain." He noticed she was careful not to mention age. Good girl. There was hope for her yet. Though why he should care, again, he did not know. After this brief interlude they would go their separate ways. He would never see her again. Suddenly, that idea did not sit quite as well with him as it had the previous evening when he had first contemplated bedding her.

  "Be that as it may," he replied as they began to eat, "I would still greatly appreciate your help in that regard. You are correct when you say that I wish to make a good impression upon my neighbors. Especially as I plan to remain here for quite some time."

  "So you are keeping Hollywell?" He could not interpret her tone and Julian decided to tread carefully. For no real reason that he could understand, he did not wish to hurt this woman any more than she already had been.

  He nodded. "I am." He put down his fork, his dinner already forgotten for a moment. "I could buy another estate, if I chose. Three or four more if I desired." He glanced upwards to frescoed ceiling that depicted a Renaissance artist's concept of Heaven. "But I c
ould not purchase the history of this place, the detailed architecture or the richness of the details found here and here alone. The walls of Hollywell have experienced much over the centuries. It is my turn to keep those experiences safe under my care and listen to what she has to tell me."

  Catherine's face bore a peculiar expression. "You speak of Hollywell as if she is alive. You did so earlier today as well."

  "To me? She is." Julian saw no sense in denying it. From the first moment he had seen the grand old castle rising up out of the mists while he was out riding with Candlewood, he had been drawn to the place. Upon closer examination, it was as if the walls had begun whispering to him, telling him stories of the past and, like a lover, whispering her secrets in his ear. For Hollywell was a lady. Just as her former mistress was.

  "I thought I was the only one." Catherine's voice was almost a whisper itself. "I thought that I was the only one who could hear her whispers in the dark."

  Shaking his head, Julian gestured for a footman to pour more wine. "No, my sweet Catherine, you are not alone in that regard. She speaks to me as well. That is why I purchased her and why I shall keep her in my care until I pass from this Earth."

  "Thank you." Julian looked over to see tears shining in Catherine's eyes. "I confess that part of the reason I wished to come here was to see how my beloved Hollywell was being treated after so many years of neglect. I am glad to know that she is in good hands."

  "The best," Julian assured her as he squeezed Catherine's hand. "I love her. For me, it was love at first sight. There can be no other."

  Something strange twisted in Julian's stomach just then and he wondered if he needed to cut back on some of the richer foods he had been indulging with as the holiday season approached. Perhaps a few too many compotes and trifles and cookies and other sweetmeats were giving him indigestion. However the sensation passed quickly and he continued on with dinner, not giving the peculiar moment a second thought.

  And dinner itself was a delightful affair, the most entertaining that Julian could remember in a very long time. The previous night, he and Catherine were just getting a feel for one another but tonight, after spending the day collecting greens and cavorting about in the snow like children, they had developed an easy rapport. They chatted as if they were old friends, discovering that they both had much in common.

  While Julian did not care for lurid Gothic novels as Catherine did, he was surprised to know that she had a deep appreciation for the classics as well - and not just Shakespeare. She had read Dante's Inferno at least six times, if not more, and Machiavelli's The Prince at least twice. She had an appreciation for Voltaire, and while she did not necessarily share his views on many subjects, she was open to debate upon the issues he wrote about so passionately.

  Even though she was female, she had received a boy's education through exceptional tutors and governesses and had an appreciation of history and mathematics, as well as geography and all of the other sciences. She was accomplished in the feminine arts as well, proficient on the violin and pianoforte as well as needlework, though she did confess that her skill at watercolors was a bit lacking.

  Catherine also had a quick wit and a fiercely independent streak, one that Julian suspected Crossbury had likely never been able to tame, at least if the way she occasionally spoke of her late husband was any indication. In fact, from what Julian could gather, save for those few moments in the bedchamber once a month, she rarely saw her husband and when she did, they spoke little, as the old earl had preferred to reserve his conversation for those "more of his age," to use the turn of phrase that so easily fell from Catherine's lips.

  As they spoke, Julian began to understand precisely how Catherine's fear regarding age and the notion that she was old had come to be. For in the Crossbury family, everything had been about age, particularly hers. At first, she had been too young - to be the countess, to be a wife, to even be spoken to as an adult. Then, when the old earl had passed and a new, far younger earl and countess took her place, she was informed that she was too old. Age to these people was everything, leaving Catherine trapped in the middle. Eventually, she began to believe in that nonsense as well, much to everyone's detriment. Especially hers.

  However here with him, Julian watched Catherine begin to blossom. She came alive with just a little prodding and he wondered what Society would think if they could see her in this moment, her face shining with delight, flirting and laughing while she displayed both her sharp intelligence and her lush body. Likely, Julian decided, they would see precisely what he now saw - a beautiful, intelligent, desirable woman who would make any man a fine mistress. Or an even finer countess.

  Not that he was looking for a countess, of course. That pre-supposed that he had his title back, which he didn't. And even if he did, his was a title in name only and of little value here in England. No, all Julian desired at this moment was a lover and Catherine was perfect for that role. In the back of his mind, however, a small, dark cloud formed, reminding him that once this snowy Christmas interlude was over, he would have to share her with the world - and the gentleman of the world - again. She would no longer be his and his alone. However he tamped that notion down deep inside of himself. He would deal with the loss of Catherine from his bed later. First, however, he had to get her there.

  "Finished?" he asked Catherine as she placed her fork beside her plate and sat back with a satisfied smile upon her face.

  "I do not think I could eat another bite." She looked rather pleased with herself though the way she bit her lip revealed a bit of uncertainty, just as it always did. "I know it is not ladylike, but I was rather famished. All of that traipsing about in the fields today and we skipped luncheon."

  Taking her hand in his, Julian pulled Catherine to her feet and led her away from the table. "Actually, I enjoy a lady with a healthy appetite. It tells me that she is not afraid to be her true self." Then he grinned wickedly. "And that she likely has an appetite for other things as well."

  Julian knew Catherine took his meaning for she blushed prettily, but she did not protest. She was nervous. He could understand that. After all, she might not be a virgin any longer, but in many ways, she was still innocent. The very idea of what might transpire between them this evening probably frightened her to some degree. Well, Julian was determined to make this a night of pleasure that she would never forget. One she would look back on fondly and not with fear.

  "Walk with me?" he asked and was pleased when she nodded in easy agreement.

  Together the left the dining room and went into the long hallway that branched out to the various wings of the castle. Normally, Julian requested that only the hallways and rooms that he used frequently be lit with branches of candles, but tonight, he had requested that the entire castle be illuminated. He had no idea where Catherine might wish to go and he didn't want to deny her anything she desired.

  So now, he was content to wander where she led, allowing her to pull him along through the hallways. She hadn't had much time to explore earlier in the day and now, she traipsed through the halls as if she owned then, pointing out various bits of decoration to him, giving him some history on the particular rooms they passed though and noting the changes that she had always envisioned making one day.

  Julian was happy to let her talk. He enjoyed listening to the sound of her voice, and, unlike the various chits he had encountered in London, Catherine always had something interesting to say. She did not waste words or make idle chitchat. He knew he was supposed to expect that kind of inane nonsense from a woman, perhaps even enjoy it, but then, he had always gone against the grain of society in that regard. No, Julian much preferred Catherine's carefully crafted stories about life here at Hollywell in days gone by and the wisdom and experience in her words.

  Finally, they came to the door of the conservatory. Out of all of the rooms at the castle, he had paid the least attention to this one, though he had made certain that whatever plants remained alive when he took ownership of Hollywell h
ad been maintained and cared for. He had even given the gardeners leave to see what they could do with the seeds and other cuttings left behind by the new earl who had envisioned himself as something of a master botanist but was little more than a fool playing with plants. So in truth, Julian had no real idea what he would find when he opened the door.

  Thus, he was pleasantly surprised when he entered, Catherine trailing behind him, and was greeted by a blast of warm air.

  Most of the room was bare, as he had expected. However he could see new plants beginning to spout to life and in the far corner he saw several holly bushes, their bright red berries almost glowing in the dim light of the stoves that kept the glass-walled room toasty warm.

  "They are still alive," Catherine breathed as she hurried over to the bushes, which were easy to see, given how empty the vast room was. "I would have thought they were all dead by now."

  "The holly bushes?" he asked as he followed behind her and watched her sink to the floor beside the plants as if in awe. "Well, given that this estate's name is Hollywell, it never occurred to me not to save them." Actually, Julian had always enjoyed an affinity for the little plants and the one directive he had given his gardener was to save the holly plants if at all possible. They were, he thought he had read somewhere, original to the castle and it seemed a shame to let them die.

  She stroked one of the jewel-green leaves. "Once, there was holly everywhere about the estate. It was the pride of my family, actually, that the bushes grew so thick and wild that every family who wished for a sprig for Christmastide could have one. My last husband did not care for holly, however. Said it was messy." She snorted. "Then again, he viewed anything outside of his orderly world as messy. Including me."

  "Have I mentioned how much I despise your late husband?" Julian's voice held no humor.

  "Likely as much as I did at the end." Catherine glanced up at him. "Until recently, I believed Crossbury to have been a good man. Or at least a kind one. I was wrong. He was wretched and I was too foolish to realize his actions for what they were."