Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Everyone is welcome, and it would be our honor if you would attend,” Valerie said, repeating the same speech she had delivered to the countless houses and lodgings and shops that they had already passed.
At least this is the last house, Adrian thought, his face aching with the effort of ‘seeming pleasant.’ Whatever that meant. He did not know; he just knew that it was uncomfortable to behave in a manner he was unaccustomed to.
“Oh, now, how lovely!” the woman in the doorway cooed, calling back into the house for anyone else who happened to be nearby. “Children, come and see this! The duke is outside, inviting us all to a party!”
Three ruddy-faced creatures appeared out of nowhere, small hands clinging to the woman’s skirts, big eyes peering up at the duke as if they knew what a beast he was. After all, it was right there on his face, written in every scar.
“What party?” one of the children, a suspicious-eyed girl, asked.
She gained a sharp smack on the back from, presumably, her mother. “Manners, child! My goodness!”
“What party, Your Grace?” the girl repeated, a touch facetiously.
For reasons he could not explain, Adrian laughed. The sound startled him almost as much as it seemed to startle Valerie, who stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.
How long has it been since I have laughed? He could not even begin the task of remembering, for there were too many years to sift through, too many bleak memories to smother the handful of good.
“It will be the evening before Christmas Eve,” he said, remembering himself. “In honor of the orphanage. There will be music and dancing and refreshments and other such things. Your attendance is requested.”
His speech was not quite as friendly as Valerie’s—he lacked the charm that seemed ingrained in her—but the somewhat rude little girl appeared to appreciate his blunt delivery.
“We’ll be there,” the girl declared decisively. “Merry Christmas, Your Grace.”
He blinked, those two words like a stallion’s kick to the chest, winding him: Merry Christmas. Much like his laugh, he had not heard that greeting, that sentiment, in more years than he cared to count. But he could remember the last time it had been said to him.
“Merry Christmas, my sweet boy.”
He had been eighteen, just returned from university for the festive recess, and none-too-pleased about having to attend a party at Blackwall Castle instead of spending the season with Richard at his family’s estate.
He had been sore about having to refuse the invitation after his father had forbidden it.
Seeing his mother with a bruise on her arm had soured his mood further, layered with guilt that he had wanted to be anywhere else.
She had hugged him and murmured those words—“Merry Christmas, my sweet boy”—and though he had hugged her back, his bad temper had made him more reluctant than usual.
Now, he wished that he had held on even longer.
It was the last Christmas they ever spent together.
“Yes, well… Merry Christmas to you too,” Adrian said, more gruffly than he had intended.
With a polite dip of his head, he turned and strode away from that last house—a quaint gray stone cottage with snow on the roof and holly in the windows—and headed for the town green. His horse grazed there, searching through the blanket of white for tufts of grass.
“Adrian?” Valerie’s voice halted him.
“We ought to be returning,” he said. “I shall ride alongside.”
Her hand came to rest on his arm. “Are you well?”
“Perfectly.” He did not shake her off, but he walked away from her comforting touch and up to his horse. “Come, we should not delay. I really do think it is about to snow again.”
A frown furrowed her brow, and he could tell she was about to protest or make a jest, but when she turned her face up toward the sky… a plump, white flake fluttered down onto her nose. She blinked in surprise, a laugh of pure delight rippling from her lips.
“Oh… oh, goodness!” she gasped, as more flakes joined the first, falling slowly. “I do hope this will not ruin the party.”
He wanted to smile, but he could not get his mouth to cooperate. “No matter how heavily it falls, we shall be at the party.” He paused. “Even if we must load my horse with roasted geese.”
Valerie looked to him then with eyes so bright and a smile so beautiful that his breath faltered, and his heart felt strange.
Not the subtle warming he had experienced while making wreaths, but an ache, like sitting before a fire after being out in the snow too long: the waking up of a body that had been entirely numb for far longer.
“Let us be on our way,” he muttered, extending his hand to help her into the carriage, for he could not forget his manners. “It will be dark soon.”
The northern winter days could be beautiful, but they were so very short.
Night seemed to creep in quicker and quicker, though none were so short as that day: the winter solstice.
Two days until the party, three until Christmas Eve, four until Christmas Day, and then… that would be the end of all this.
Valerie had not stated exactly when she intended to leave. It would be peculiar if she departed before Christmas Day, but after that, Adrian had no notion of how much longer he would have her near.
As such, it was better if his heart stayed frozen.
“Can it be done?” Valerie whispered in the gloom of the old ballroom, her heart jumping at every creak of wood and groan of ancient stone.
It was the one room in the castle where she could well imagine ghosts wandering—or dancing—at their leisure, casually haunting anyone who dared to set foot in their domain.
But that was almost entirely the fault of the dark that had, indeed, veiled their corner of the country with urgent haste, as if the skies wished to cover something up before they were found out.
Most of the sconces in the disused ballroom had fallen into disrepair, unable to hold a candle, and the chandeliers were too high up to light.
So, Valerie and her conspirators, Kate and Esther, were forced to undertake their very important task by lanternlight.
Eerie enough if it had merely been dark inside the ballroom, but the bubbling, tarnished mirrors that hung all around had turned the effort into a series of startling shocks to the heart.
“The whole castle?” Kate replied, the lantern casting her face in unsettling shadows. “Not without more hands to help. But the entrance hall, the main drawing room, the library, and a few hallways—we could manage that while he is tending to his duties.”
Esther nodded. “And if the snow falls thick enough tonight, I know some of the maids have been desperate to build snowmen, after they saw the ones in the rose garden. We could decorate the driveway with them.”
Valerie suspected that ‘some of the maids’ translated to Esther herself and smiled at the girl’s festive enthusiasm. It was precisely what the castle required, especially if they were to initiate Valerie’s surprise before tomorrow evening. Rather, her sweet revenge.
“As two ladies who know his habits far better than I do, how long do you think he will be in his study?” Valerie asked.
She could guess to a degree, but she needed precision for this endeavor. She needed averages, arithmetic, possibilities, and probabilities or it would all be for nothing; the surprise ruined before it could have its full effect.
Kate chewed her lower lip in thought. “It’s usually easy to deduct based on his mood. Judging by the pace of his walk and the depth of his frown when he entered the castle, I’d say he’ll be in his study until at least sunset tomorrow.”
“To ensure it, we could ask Mr. Jarvis to provide distractions if His Grace tries to leave his study earlier,” Esther suggested.
“An excellent notion,” Valerie agreed. “We might get a few more rooms done if we begin early enough and we can finish late enough. Oh, but I would hate to put Mr. Jarvis in an awkward position.”
“Consider it done,” a new voice joined in.
The three women screamed.
Whirling around, lanterns up and hands shaking, the amber glow cast its muted shine upon the alarmed face of Mr. Jarvis himself. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he, too, had very nearly unleashed a scream.
“Apologies, Ladies,” he croaked. “I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. I was so intent on finding my way in the dark that I forgot to announce myself.”
Harsh breaths hissed through the dead silence of the ballroom, the three women slowly regaining their composure.
But Valerie could not stay mad at someone like Mr. Jarvis, who had been so lovely to her from the very beginning.
She would never have told him, for obvious reasons, but there were things she might never have experienced if it were not for the butler’s kindness on the night of her arrival.
You were like my Christmas angel, Mr. Jarvis.
The butler seemed confused, making Valerie aware that she had been staring at him without saying anything.
“It is quite all right,” she said with a smile. “We were already spooked before you crept up on us, Mr. Jarvis. In the daylight, you would have been welcomed in a far friendlier fashion, I am sure.”
The butler expelled a sigh of relief. “I truly am sorry for not announcing myself.”
“Nonsense,” Kate reassured with a grin. “You would have frightened us either way.”
A shy little laugh barked from the man’s throat, as he folded his arms behind his back and stood like a soldier at attention. “Instruct me, Ladies. I am at your disposal for any and all festive endeavors.”
“Are you certain?” Valerie asked, endeared by the man. “I would not want you to get into any bother because of my secret Christmas exploits.”
Excitement radiated from the butler, ingrained in the smile that he could not wipe from his face and the boyish shuffle of his feet.
“I confess, I have redeveloped a taste for this merry season because of you, Miss Wightman. Now, I cannot help myself. I am quite in the mood for festivities. I have even taken the liberty of amending an old tailcoat of mine for the party.” He grinned.
“So, please, instruct me. What do you need of me for your next endeavor?”
“Are we invited?” Esther chirped, her hands clasped. “We have all been talking about it, but none of us maids have been certain.”
Valerie rolled her eyes. “Of course you are all invited! Goodness, I hope you do not think I am the sort of person who would make you dig out every decoration in this entire castle and not invite you. That would be cruel indeed!”
“Heavens, no!” Esther urged. “I think you are… the loveliest lady who has ever visited this castle!”
“That is a rather short list,” Valerie teased. “Indeed, if my understanding is correct, I am the only one who has been permitted to stay so I am the winner of a race with no other participants.”
Kate chuckled, while Esther continued to look aghast. Either way, it had broken the tension of Mr. Jarvis appearing out of nowhere like the very ghosts that Valerie was certain were floating about the room.
“I am jesting with you, dear Esther,” she said, to put the poor girl out of her misery. “Indeed, it is an honor to hear such kind words.”
I am unaccustomed to receiving those… Whenever she was away from the town hall, no longer distracted by immediate tasks that needed to be done for the party or the proximity of Adrian, her mind wandered to her family in the south.
She could not help it, for she wished with all her heart that her brother and sister could also attend the party.
Their father would not do anything to mark the passing of Christmas, beyond sullenly trudging to the church.
They were the ones who encouraged you to go. Remember that. Truthfully, she kept forgetting.
“Mr. Jarvis, may I give you the valuable task of rallying the staff to my cause?” Valerie said, if only to stop her mind from dwelling on those who would be having an altogether duller Christmas period.
“I shall need to borrow everyone, just as soon as Adrian has retired to his study in the morning.”
The butler blinked and Kate’s eyebrow rose in a knowing fashion, the two of them exchanging a pointed look that did not go unnoticed by Valerie. If she had missed the look, she might not have realized that she had just referred to the duke by name.
“Certainly, Miss Wightman,” Mr. Jarvis said, remembering himself. Although, a faint smile lingered, a subtle second look of the sneakiest kind passing between the two members of staff. “And what, pray tell, shall I have them do?”
Suddenly awkward, cursing herself for making such a mistake, Valerie turned her gaze toward the lumps and shapes that filled the dark ballroom. Indeed, she was grateful for the gloom now, for it hid the heat that had undoubtedly turned her bright red.
“Help me fulfill my mission,” she said, permitting herself a smile. “My mission to bring Christmas back to Blackwall.”