Christmas at Rosewood

by Sophie Pembroke

  ‘And Aiden,’ Caro piped up. She’d switched seats so she was sitting next to him, I realised, and he was still holding baby Nicolette. He looked quite the family man.

  Utterly unlike the boy I remembered.

  ‘And Aiden,’ Saskia agreed. ‘Although honestly, he’s been here so long I almost count him as family already.’

  ‘Is that a hint that I’ve outstayed my welcome?’ He made it sound like a joke, but underneath I could hear a slight hint of worry in Aiden’s voice.

  From his other side, Isabelle patted his arm. ‘Never, my dear boy. You are always welcome at Rosewood. Even if you leave us, you can always come back.’

  But she wasn’t looking at Aiden as she said it. She was looking at me.

  A strange feeling settled over me as I met Isabelle’s gaze. Edward had told me that Rosewood had a way of drawing out secrets, but suddenly I realised it wasn’t the house that had the power. It was the people.

  Once again, I couldn’t help but ask myself if Aiden had fallen prey to that. Just because he hadn’t told Edward, didn’t mean he hadn’t told anybody.

  I was going to have to ask him, I realised. Even if that meant giving him the opportunity to ask me questions I’d been trying to avoid.

  But that was definitely a conversation to have in private, which meant waiting until the family dinner was over.

  I settled back in my chair, still feeling unnerved, and tried to listen to Saskia’s reading of Nathaniel’s story. She had a great voice for storytelling – resonant and expressive. I found myself paying more attention to her than to the story, which, given that it was a Drury story, was saying something.

  Saskia tucked her dark hair behind her ear as she leant forward, her voice lowering as the story reached a dramatic patch. It was an allegorical story, more like a traditional folktale than a short story, and every word of it was filled with festive magic. I found myself holding my breath as it seemed like Christmas might never happen again for the village, and Saskia paused for just a moment too long. I glanced around me and realised that every one of us was leaning in, waiting for the happy ever after…

  ‘But then, in the distance, a bell rang,’ Saskia said, and I breathed out at last. ‘A tiny, silver bell, almost impossible to hear over the sounds of misery and unhappiness in the village. But it wasn’t alone. At the sound of its chime, another bell heard and answered it. Then another, and another, until every bell for miles around rang out loud through the village. And with that sound, the village woke up to Christmas morning, after all.’

  Smiling, I listened as Saskia described the return of Christmas to the village, using her grandfather’s words. I liked her more than I’d expected to, somehow. Edward was my little brother, after all, and I’d always felt rather protective towards him – and after he’d been screwed over by his last fiancée, I hadn’t imagined he’d be in a huge rush to jump into a relationship again.

  But Saskia was good for him, I decided. I’d watched them, absently, as the evening had gone on – noticing subconsciously how they were always aware of where the other was, how they checked in with each other regularly through the night. How when Saskia laughed, Edward turned to watch her happiness, even if he was on the other side of the room.

  I was no judge of love, I knew that, but already I’d seen more affection and connection between them than I’d ever felt with Darren. That had to be a good sign, right?

  The room burst into applause and cheering, and I realised I’d missed the very end of the story. I joined in, clapping along, and wondered if I’d be able to steal a read of the short story later. Now that I knew my Nathaniel Drury reading list was incomplete, I couldn’t rest until I’d read it myself.

  ‘And now, you all get to help with the clear up,’ Tony announced. I smiled, standing as I gathered in the plates nearest to me.

  This, at least, was something I knew how to do. Clearing up the physical mess was easy.

  It was clearing up the emotional mess I found myself in that seemed impossible.

  Chapter Five

  After the clear up, everyone retired to the drawing room again. The big fireplace had been lit, and the room was cosy and warm with just the firelight and candlelight to see by. Flickers of light sparkled off the brandy glasses Isabelle brought out, and even I accepted an Irish coffee before settling into a wingback chair by the fire.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ Max asked Caro, as they perched on the small chaise longue opposite me. He hadn’t spoken loudly, obviously still a little intimidated by his surroundings. I didn’t blame him.

  But his uncle obviously overheard, because he answered before Caro could. ‘Next, we hang our stockings by the fire – although not too close. I learned that lesson two years ago.’ We all laughed, but I couldn’t help but think how strange it was that Edward was part of Rosewood’s traditions now, not ours. I wasn’t sure I liked it. ‘Then some of us will be walking down to the church for Midnight Mass, I expect.’

  Max pulled a face, making Edward chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not compulsory.’

  ‘Besides, you’ll probably want to get to bed to make sure you’re asleep before Father Christmas comes,’ Mum added.

  Max shot me an is she actually serious? look, and I shrugged. It was Mum’s Christmas, too. If she wanted to believe that Max was still six, more power to her.

  Max, bless him, didn’t say anything either, and Caro gave him a small, secret smile.

  ‘I think I’ll give it a miss too, this year,’ Greg said, raising his coffee cup to his mouth. I wondered if his was as alcoholic as mine. I could barely feel my lips already.

  ‘After last year, I think that’s probably for the best,’ Isabelle said, her tone barbed.

  ‘What happened last year?’ I asked, unable to help myself.

  ‘Greg fell asleep halfway through “Once In Royal David’s City”,’ Ellie explained. ‘And now the whole village appreciates what I mean when I say that his snoring keeps me awake at night.’

  Greg turned a little red at that, but since it was getting him out of church he didn’t look too upset.

  ‘Sounds like I’d better not risk it either, then,’ Aiden said. ‘I mean, I’m not exactly renowned for sleeping silently, and it has been a long day.’

  Was it my imagination, or did half the room look to me for confirmation as he said that? I took another sip of my coffee flavoured whiskey and ignored them. I wasn’t about to explain that by the time we’d finally given in to sleep each night I’d been too damn exhausted for anything to keep me awake.

  Of course, they might already know that too. Who knew how much gossip Aiden had spilled?

  God, now I was getting paranoid. Well, if everyone else was at church, that would give me the perfect chance to quiz Aiden on exactly who he’d told what to. Then, maybe I stood half a chance of sleeping that night.

  Possibly.

  I sighed. At least I wouldn’t have anyone’s snoring to contend with.

  Before too long, most of the family were bundled up in coats and making their way out of the front door to walk down to the church in the village. The snow still fell lightly, coating the ground in a shimmering white. It wasn’t too far a walk, as I understood it, but I was very glad that none of them had planned on driving, given the amount of alcohol consumed over Christmas Eve dinner. I had a feeling that, if nothing else, Rosewood might leave me with a permanent hangover for the festive season.

  Ellie and Greg headed up to their room with the baby more or less immediately, and it only took a small amount of chiding to convince Max to go to bed too. Caro was already yawning and heading up, which made things easier.

  Mum had gone to church with the others, presumably missing the usual midnight service she attended at home. And suddenly, I looked back and realised that Aiden and I were alone in the drawing room. Just like I’d wanted.

  I swallowed, and tried to crush the urge to run after the others and attend a church service for the first time in years, rather than have to talk
to Aiden about ancient history.

  ‘Another coffee?’ he asked, reaching for the pot. He didn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered to be alone with me, I noticed. Except, when I looked closer, I realised his knuckles were white as he gripped the coffee pot. Maybe he wasn’t quite as unaffected as I’d thought.

  ‘I’m not sure my last one had any actual coffee in it,’ I joked. Humour was always good for getting through difficult conversations. When Dad died, Edward and I had developed a whole range of terrible, terrible jokes to see us through. Mum hated it, but it worked for us. ‘It tasted more like whiskey that had once read a book about coffee beans.’

  ‘They like their drink in this place.’ He poured me a coffee anyway, but held back from adding any more alcohol, which I appreciated. I wasn’t sure this conversation would be any easier if I were any drunker.

  ‘I’d noticed.’ I took the cup and saucer without touching his hands at all, and curled back up into my wingback chair, as he settled onto the chaise longue where Caro and Max had been sitting.

  ‘So,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Alone at last.’

  ‘You make it sound like you’ve been waiting for that.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘No.’ I shifted in my chair, tucking my feet up under me as I lied. I felt twenty-one again, instead of the thirty-five I knew I was. Alone with Aiden in the firelight, it was as if the years – and all the experience, confidence and life that had come with those years – melted away. And suddenly I was just Freya again – alone, scared and so damn uncertain about everything. ‘Maybe.’

  He gave a low laugh. ‘It’s been fourteen years, Freya. Fourteen years I’ve been wanting to ask you one question. And that’s a hell of a long time.’

  ‘So why haven’t you asked it? You’ve had all day.’

  ‘Because I wanted to be the only one to hear your answer. The only one to see your face when you give me the truth at last.’ The fury I’d sensed behind his smile when I’d arrived was back – and he wasn’t bothering to hide it from anyone this time.

  ‘I have questions too,’ I said, stalling for time. If he hadn’t forgiven me in fourteen years, no answers I could give now would help. I wasn’t ready for this – for this conversation, for what happened next. Why hadn’t Edward told me that Aiden would be here? Had Saskia asked him not to, because she knew the truth?

  ‘We’ll get to your questions,’ Aiden promised darkly. He sat forward on the chaise longue, his elbows resting on his knees. His hair was black in the dim light, his eyes brighter than ever, and damn it I could not look away from his face. Couldn’t forget the last time I’d seen it – younger, more open. More hurt. ‘But first, I have to know. Why did you leave with him that morning?’

  The words hung there between us, a moment in time we could never get back. He watched me hungrily, ready to devour my answer – as if I hadn’t asked myself the same question for years and failed to come up with an answer that satisfied even me.

  ‘You’re going to be disappointed,’ I warned him. I was disappointed in the girl who’d made that decision. Who’d followed Darren out into the snow and believed him when he said it was all out of his system now and he knew what he wanted – a future with me.

  ‘Anything is better than not knowing,’ Aiden said.

  I sighed, and reached for the bottle of whiskey on the side table, pouring a slug into my coffee cup. Suddenly, I understood why the occupants of Rosewood drank so much. Secrets required courage, and Dutch was as good as any in a pinch.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, at last, and Aiden pulled a face. I rushed on, before he could complain. ‘I mean, there were so many reasons they all muddled together. I’m just not sure any of them were very good ones.’

  ‘Tell me anyway.’

  ‘Because…’ I sighed again. He was going to hate me for this, I was sure. ‘Because it was a Christmas fling. A moment out of time. It barely felt real, once we reached January first. Because you were my little brother’s best friend. Because I was about to graduate and you’d barely started. Because I knew Darren, knew exactly what I would get with him, while you were a complete risk. Because I was looking to the future and you’d barely even thought about it. Because I wanted things I didn’t think you’d be able to give me.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Like, I don’t know. Like success. Money. A family. And I know that that’s crazy, given the way your career has taken off, but back then…’

  ‘I had no ambition. I remember.’

  ‘You were actively trying not to be a famous writer,’ I reminded him. ‘You were studying philosophy for heaven’s sake, and all you wanted to do was write stories so intense and so personal that no one would ever buy them.’

  He chuckled. ‘It was a point of pride, as I remember it. Two fingers up to the establishment and all that.’

  ‘So what changed?’

  Aiden raised an eyebrow as he looked at me. ‘I grew up. Didn’t we all?’

  ‘I guess.’ Except I didn’t feel like I had. Back then, I’d thought I was already the grown up – that I knew what I wanted from my future and how I was going to get it. I wanted a career, a family, a love like my parents had. I was already done with rebellion and all that. I wanted dinner parties for my friends and to be a proper grown up.

  Basically, I’d been forty-five at twenty-one, and it was only now that I realised how ridiculous that was. How much life and opportunity I’d given up by rushing to be an adult.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Aiden asked, shifting forward just a little so that the gap between us closed further. ‘You’re frowning.’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘At least reassure me that you’re not just remembering how bad I was in bed at eighteen. It was my first time, remember. And my second. And my third. And…’

  ‘Aiden.’

  ‘All I’m saying is, cut me some slack on the critique.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about that, actually.’ Catching his eye, I couldn’t help but smile. ‘And really, for your first time… we did pretty damn well.’

  ‘Well, I thought so,’ Aiden said. ‘And we only got better over those two weeks. But then I woke up and you were leaving with your ex, and the next thing I heard you were engaged, so you can understand how I developed a bit of a complex…’

  ‘Oh, you did not.’ I slapped his arm lightly. ‘Don’t lie. I’ve seen enough photos of you with models and actresses to know that’s not true.’

  ‘Maybe I was overcompensating.’ Aiden tried to look hard done by, and failed. ‘Okay, fine. I got over it. But…’

  ‘But?’ He looked serious now, and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know the answer. But I felt compelled to ask.

  ‘I did wonder. Not about the sex – even my inexperienced self knew that was pretty damn good. And once I got some more experience I knew it for sure. What we had that Christmas…’ he shook his head. ‘That was special. Which only made it weirder when you didn’t call. I mean, I left you my number, I waited for you after lectures, and then Edward told me about your engagement and… I didn’t see you again. You graduated and left, and I never saw you again after that morning, when you walked out with him.’

  ‘I know,’ I whispered, thinking of how I’d felt the day Darren had walked out. Like part of my life had just left. And sure, that had been after thirteen years of marriage, not two weeks of sex, but still... ‘I’m sorry. I should have handled it differently. It was just…’ Too much. That was the truth. It had all been too much.

  Aiden was right; it wasn’t just the sex. Although, yeah, actually that had been kind of spectacular, especially given the circumstances.

  But it was everything that came before, after and in between it that had made it too difficult to stay.

  Aiden reached across the gap between us and, moving my coffee cup to the table, took my hand. ‘Tell me?’ he asked, and his voice was so like it had been that first night we met – so open, so willing to listen, so engage
d in what I had to say – that I couldn’t not explain. He deserved that much, at least.

  ‘When we talked… I’d never opened up to anyone like that before. Not my family, not my friends. Not even Darren. I’d only known you a handful of hours, and suddenly I was telling you my whole life story. Not even just that – my innermost thoughts and dreams.’

  ‘And that was… a bad thing?’ Aiden frowned.

  ‘Maybe that kind of connection happens to you every day,’ I said. ‘But it freaked me out, okay? I wasn’t used to anyone seeing that… much of me. It was like you left me nowhere to hide.’

  Aiden tugged on my fingers, pulling me closer to him until our knees touched, and I could see every flicker of colour and emotion in his eyes in the firelight. ‘You see, that’s the part that hurt me the most,’ he murmured. ‘I never wanted you to have to hide from me. But you did. Every day, for months. Like I was some stalker you were trying to get rid of.’

  ‘It wasn’t you I was hiding from,’ I admitted. ‘It was the temptation to take the risk.’

  ‘The risk?’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘I was the risk?’

  There was something in my chest fighting to get out. Something hard and buried and rebellious. Something I knew I couldn’t let myself feel.

  I pulled my hands away from his and sat back, hugging my knees against my chest as an extra barrier between us, not caring that it made me look about six. ‘I didn’t know you,’ I reminded him, my voice sharp. ‘Basically, what we had was a short fling where I overshared drastically, and we both made it clear that the other person was the complete opposite of what we wanted. You wanted some sort of bohemian, rebellious, artistic life in a Paris garret or something, and I wanted a real life, with a career and a husband and a family. A future I already had lined up. Of course I went back to Darren when he asked me to.’

  ‘And how is that all working out for you?’ Aiden snapped back.

  ‘About as well as it is for you.’ I stared at him, my heart beating too fast and my breath harsh in my throat, waiting for his reaction.