‘Tonight. When I went to see him,’ she said, nodding.
His reaction should be to admonish her for seeking out the company of a young man, but he could see the love she felt and the pain it was causing and he did not have the heart, especially as Christmas morn approached, to admonish or reprimand her.
‘I would say, then, that he needs time to accept his situation, his future and your feelings…his as well. For I suspect that he does have tender feelings for you, Julia.’
She took some comfort in his words, and a smile lit her face. ‘Do you think so?’
He reached out, drawing her near, and kissed her on her forehead. ‘Aye, Julia, I do. My question to you is this: is he a man you could settle with, or is this just a passing fancy for you? I would urge you not to trifle with him if the love you say you bear for him is less than genuine. This is not the first time you’ve spoken of love for him—yet you came to regret that, as I recall.’
She leaned back and met his gaze. ‘Oh, Trey! You heard that story second-hand, and you know that I was only ten years old when I said it to him that summer.’
‘True, it did not match the seemingly rational young woman I met when I was courting your sister. Still, are you confident in your feelings for him now?’
In that moment Trey knew the truth of the matter of her heart and where it was leading her. The love that shone in her eyes told him that she had grown up and fallen in love even while he had been watching her these last five years.
‘Then we must wait and watch for some way to convince Iain of the folly of his ways,’ he promised. She smiled then, and he stepped away and lifted his candle to lead her to her sister, who needed reassurance of her well-being. ‘Come. Anna awaits word of your condition. Tell her what you have told me, so that she can rest more easily over the matter.’
‘If only more men were as sensible as you, Trey,’ Julia teased.
He did not rise to her baiting this time. Let her believe that men could not understand the tender feelings of a woman’s heart. Let her think he did not see the proof of it in her eyes. And, Lord above, let not Iain make the same mistakes he had.
Christmas Morning brought her sister’s young sons and stepdaughter to Julia’s chamber door, where, along with several of the servants’ children, they sang carols for her. As they moved along the hall, Julia stretched under her covers to wake from her troubled sleep. As each guest was awakened in the same manner, Julia realised that their Christmas celebrations combined the best of both English and Scottish traditions.
The part she loved—exchanging gifts—would come during their family breakfast in just a little while, and then they would all attend church together in the nearby village. Pushing back the covers, she ran to the window and looked out on the new day to find another newly fallen and very thick layer of snow. It would make travelling to the village difficult, but since Anna and Trey took their duties as lord and lady seriously at Christmas, it was something not to be missed.
Walking to her chest of drawers, she searched in the top one to make certain her gifts were wrapped and ready. She’d chosen a Belgian silk scarf for her sister, a cravat pin for Trey, a handmade box for his daughter Maddy, to keep all her drawing pencils and colours in, toy horses for her nephews and several other gifts for her maid and the other servants here. For Clarinda and Robert she’d sketched a picture of Broch Dubh, Robert’s ancestral home in the Highlands.
Glancing over at her wardrobe, she realised she’d left Iain’s gift there. Going to it, and pulling the box from behind some of her gowns, Julia ran her hand over the smooth leather satchel that she knew would be of use to Iain in his work. She’d planned this for months, hoping against hope that this would be their first Christmas together since his accident and knowing that he would appreciate something to make his work easier.
Did she dare give it to him now? Was everything so changed between them—with her recognition of her feelings and his rejection of them—that she should ignore the tradition of exchanging gifts? Listening to the soft voices singing songs about the Lord’s birth and the joy of the season convinced her to carry on with her plan.
Even if he could or would never accept her love, they were still friends, and they had spent many childhood years together and exchanged many gifts to mark this day. Shaking her head, she called for her maid.
Nay, this was Christmas morn, and she would proceed as they’d always done—a family breakfast, the exchanging of gifts, services at the village church and a wonderful dinner later in the day. And if Iain could not face her, then he would have to deal with that.
Chapter Nine
Although he’d been absent from it these last few years, Iain knew that Anna and Clarinda planned Christmas Day festivities a certain way, and he’d learned early on not to argue, plead or complain about it. Secretly, Iain enjoyed every moment of the special day and had longed to be included once more. Of course that had been before Miss Julia Fairchild had decided to pledge her love to him and he’d rejected it.
As he washed and dressed, he wondered if he would be barred from the family observances once his actions became known. When his aunt sent word that they were waiting breakfast for him, Iain worried that they knew and were planning some sort of retribution, or if Julia’s midnight visit to his rooms had gone unnoticed. Making his way down the hall to the small dining chamber, he found everyone there but for him.
Instead of a dubious or lukewarm welcome, Lord Treybourne and his Countess greeted him as family and invited him to sit. Once the servants began placing bowls of thick, honey-sweetened oatmeal, loaves of steaming bread, crocks of butter, honey, jams and preserves, as well as cuts of cold beef and chicken and sliced cheeses all around them on the table, the mood became festive, and memories of their last Christmas all together—the Earl’s first one as Anna’s husband—filled his thoughts.
Time and time again his gaze met Julia’s across the wide table. In spite of the dishes being passed round, the presence of the children and the number of separate and intertwined conversations occurring around them, he could only hear her voice and see her expressions. At first he told himself that it was just to ascertain if she was angry or still hurt over his rejection, but then, as the meal progressed and he actually engaged her in a discussion about the newest writer gaining Edinburgh’s attention, he knew it was because he enjoyed her company.
She’d grown so much—changing from hoyden to young woman, gaining an intelligence he’d not noticed before from both her education and her travels. Clarinda had spoken to him of her when she visited, and brought news of Julia’s accomplishments, but nothing could have prepared him for the woman she’d become in his absence.
And nothing could have prepared him for the depth of his desire for her. Or the love he knew dwelt in his heart.
She laughed at something his uncle said, and her eyes lit and sparkled. She wore a simple gown in a vibrant red colour, and it made her hair look even paler than usual. Drawn up and held away from her face, the style of it softened her face and brought out the shape of her eyes and chin. So caught up in his perusal of her was he that he did not even notice his uncle calling his name.
‘Lord Treybourne has said that the roads closest to the estate are of the best condition in the area. Most roads leading south are completely impassable now.’
Unable to decide if he should be unhappy that his escape had been prevented, Iain nodded and accepted the news it truly meant—he would be here most likely until Twelfth Night now. It would prolong the pain of knowing he would not see her again when she did not belong to another man, but it promised him some measure of pleasure in watching her blossom during these festivities. Either way, he would have memories to keep him for a long time.
When they moved into one of the parlours, he knew it was time to exchange gifts. He stood by the window and watched as the Earl and Countess gave gifts to their children and then to Julia and his aunt and uncle. The one presented to him was a surprise—a pair of boots, a greatc
oat and leather gloves.
‘You ruined yours in saving my dearest sister, Iain. We are happy to replace them. But your real gift will come later,’ the Countess said, and she exchanged some meaningful look with her husband.
He would have argued, but they moved on and gave the head servants—the butler, the cook, the housekeeper, the ladies’ maids, the nurse and the governess and the Earl’s valet—their additional stipends, along with small personal gifts for each. The women received scarves and the men received gloves.
Then it was Julia’s turn, and each of her gifts was well received. When she walked over to him and stopped there, he was surprised.
‘This is for you, Iain. I hope you find it useful,’ she said softly.
He took the box—the rather large box—from her, and offered her the gift he’d bought her. ‘And this is for you, Julia. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Christmas.’
She smiled as she accepted it, and he thought of their many happy Christmases, celebrated either in Edinburgh or at Broch Dubh. He waited for her to open the package, wanting to see her expression. It was the only one of the gifts he had to give out that morning that he had chosen himself. His aunt had helped with the rest of them, but he had known this was for Julia as soon as he’d seen it in a shop in London on his last trip there.
Julia was never gracious about waiting to tear open a present, and this morn was no different. When the torn paper revealed a book, she nodded and smiled.
‘This is wonderful, Iain. Where did you find it?’
He’d found a copy of a traveller’s guide to Italy—a place that Julia had always longed to visit when she was younger. This one, with drawings of local historical sites of interest, as well as a commentary on the social aspects of the country and its capital city, was very popular.
‘In London,’ he replied. ‘I know a shop there that specialises in travel books and the like. When I saw Italy in the title, I thought you might like to read it.’
‘I visited there last summer—perhaps you did not know?’ she asked, while motioning at the box he still held. ‘Aunt Euphemia and I travelled to meet her cousin, who has a wonderful villa in a small town on the southern coast.’ She made a gesture with her hand and spoke a foreign word to him. ‘Bene.’
The Earl and the Countess laughed then, and he realised they were laughing at Julia and her accent.
‘It was the only word in Italian she could speak,’ said Anna. ‘Even after two months there. And the only word she would use for quite a while upon her return.’
‘But, Anna, bene can be used in so many situations I never felt the need to learn more.’ She turned back to him. ‘The food? Bene! The weather? Bene! The scenery? Bene! So useful, with so little effort.’
Iain laughed too, and nodded. ‘Languages were never my strongest suit,’ he said. ‘I can appreciate finding such a useful word.’
‘Go on, Iain. Open your gift.’
He pulled the ribbon on the box loose and lifted the lid. Inside he found a well-tooled leather satchel, one meant to carry papers and such. His own was several years old, borrowed from his uncle and worn, with the stitching coming apart at one corner. This gift would be much appreciated…and more so because it came from her.
‘This will come to good use, Julia. Thank you for it,’ he said. And it will always remind me of you.
She met his glance then, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, and he did not or could not look away. Nor did he want to, for in that moment he wished he could be the man for her.
The Earl interrupted, giving instructions about leaving for the church services, and Iain put the lid on the box so he could carry it back to his room. A footman offered to do that, so he relinquished his hold on it. He already had his coat and gloves for the trip, and was about to find his hat when the group all became silent. Peering across the room at them, he shrugged, not quite knowing what the cause of their interest was.
They were all staring above him, and then at him and the woman next to him there in the doorway—Julia. Another bundle of mistletoe was draped over the door, decorated with ribbons.
The youngest began chanting first, then the others until he could not ignore them. Whether a-purpose or accidental he knew not, but he was not fool enough to miss this chance. When Julia nodded, he took a step closer, leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.
Although everyone in the room seemed satisfied, he was not. But it would have to be enough—for it was the only way he would get to kiss her again.
With much laughter and festivity, the whole group proceeded out to the portico and to the sleighs waiting to take them into the village church. If a sleigh would hasten his departure, he would have commandeered one to get him to London. But they were not made for that kind of journey, and worked best only on packed snow and ice, so long as the horses pulling it could keep their footing.
Soon they arrived at church, attended the services, and returned to Wesley Hall with the vicar in tow as a guest for their Christmas meal. The house was ablaze with candles in the windows, and huge fires blazed in the hearths of each room. Iain, who had thought he could not eat another bite after their morning meal, found his stomach grumbling when he entered the house and smelled the appealing aroma of well-cooked food from the kitchen. Turkeys roasted and stuffed with bread and raisins and sausage, beef swimming in a red wine and garlic sauce, many kinds of fowl, along with accompaniments of all sorts, filled the tables to groaning, and Iain joined the others in eating his fill once more.
Since the day was Christmas, card games were not offered. Instead, the children were allowed to play several games, including an easy version of Oranges and Lemons and even Hunt the Slipper—with the slipper being hidden in the more obvious places that a child could spot. At a pace Iain would not have thought possible the day came to a close, and after a busy and thoroughly enjoyable day everyone sought their beds.
But rest would not come for him.
The events of the day ran across his thoughts over and over, and when his leg began to tighten in cramp, Iain decided to walk a little to ease the seizing. Only the servants remained busy, cleaning up after the feast and the celebrations, but they did not pay him any mind as he walked the length and width of the lower floor of the large country house.
He was on his second turn down the hall when he came face to face with Julia.
‘Iain, I see you are not abed yet either?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I needed to walk to loosen up my leg and back.’ He should probably not be mentioning body parts to a young woman such as she, but he knew it would not offend her. ‘And what is your excuse?’
‘I cannot sleep after such a wonderful Christmas. I thought I would come down and get my book to read. I left it in the parlour when we went to church.’
‘Come, then,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the front hall. ‘Let us walk there and find it.’
As they walked, in what seemed to be a companionable silence, the need to address his behaviour of last evening pressed heavily on him. Should he apologise for refusing her, or would that make it worse? Should he try to explain once more why it could never work between them?
He was not paying heed to the small step needed to reach the parlour, and he stumbled when his walking stick caught in the space between the wooden slats of the floor and the step.
Julia reached out to steady his stance as he tripped on the step. He recovered quickly, but she left her arm under his as they walked, and he did not remove his from hers. They followed along the hall until they reached the front parlour, where they’d opened their gifts this morning. The servants had already put this room to rights, leaving only the candles in the window left to put out on their final round of cleaning before bed.
She left him for a moment, and walked over to the table in the corner where the gifts had been piled. Her book was on top. She turned back to find him directly behind her.
‘What was your favourite part of visiting Italy?’ he
asked, then added with a laugh, ‘Other than bene, of course!’
She opened the book and glanced at several of the sketches inside it. ‘The food was magnificent. The weather was warm, with soothing breezes along the shore.’ She looked around, as though searching for anyone listening, and then said, ‘I even got Aunt Euphemia to walk into the sea!’
‘Scandalous!’ he said, as though it was an enticing thing. ‘And did you walk in the sea?’
‘The waters were so warm, Iain. Aunt Euphemia swore that the warmth eased her pains and keep her knees from cracking. Perhaps it is something that might benefit you as well?’
‘It may.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘The doctors have suggested it, but I am not ready to travel there.’ He met her gaze and she noticed the dark intensity in his. ‘I would not go in an invalid chair.’
Although she wanted to argue with him about his worry over the look of such a method of travel, she knew that was not what he needed to hear. Sympathy seemed to work in the other direction when it was given to men—especially young, proud men.
‘Well, now that you have come so far in your abilities, it may be time to consider it again. I can tell you the names of some wonderful villages we visited there.’
She had some pride herself, and she marvelled at how calmly her words came out. Especially since he stood so close now. Close enough that no one could fit between them. She watched as he fought some inner battle before speaking again.
‘Julia…’ he began, but his words faded after he spoke her name. He took in a breath and let it out before speaking again. ‘I need to offer you an apology for last night.’
‘Iain, please do not speak of it. I should not have come to your room. I should not have imposed my wishes on you—especially when I owe you so much.’
‘Julia, this is not your sin to confess. I am the damaged goods here—’
‘I have thought on your words and my actions today, and have realised that it was presumptuous of me to expect you to simply accept my declaration of love,’ she explained, not allowing him to continue.
One Candlelit Christmas Page 24
