Chapter Three #3
His niece didn’t need to be told twice. She leapt onto it the moment he stepped back, snatching up the piece of rope he held out to her.
‘Hold onto this and keep your arms tucked in. If you lean forwards, you’ll go faster.’
Duncan set a foot on the back of the wooden seat. ‘Are you ready? Then—off you go!’
He pushed firmly, sending the sledge shooting over the crest of the bank. Charlotte gave a shrill squeak and then she was gone, carried away down the slope at a speed Jane suspected would have made Mrs Fitzjames wince.
Duncan stood with his hands on his hips, observing with interest as his niece raced away. ‘What do you think? Will she fall out?’
‘I doubt it. She was clutching onto that rope for dear life.’
Charlotte was picking up speed. She flew over a series of hidden bumps, each one making her scream, and then ploughed directly into a snowdrift at the base of a bare tree.
There was a moment of stillness. Then—
‘Can I go again?’ a distant voice floated up the bank, cutting through the cold air, and Jane echoed Duncan’s laugh.
‘Of course,’ he called back. ‘Wait there.’
He turned to her. ‘I’ll just go to get the sledge. It’s too heavy for her to manage by herself.’
Jane nodded. Duncan waded away and she watched him go, feeling a different kind of admiration as he reached where Charlotte lay in a crumpled heap and gently set her back on her feet.
He always was good with children, she reflected, touched to see him wrap his niece in a hug that was enthusiastically returned. He’ll make a wonderful father one day, to children of his own.
Abruptly, she pressed her mouth into a tight line. That didn’t stop the rush of sadness that swept over her, however, and she bunched her fingers into a fist, digging her nails into her gloved palms.
Seeing him with his family was precious but at the same time it made her ache for what she couldn’t have.
To make her own family with Duncan was what she wanted and the power of that want caused her eyes to prickle behind her veil, constant grief for Deborah already lying heavy beneath her ribs.
She’d known that being under the same roof as him would be difficult but she hadn’t realised quite how much, the future she’d been forced to sacrifice now seeming so very far away.
She would never feel she’d made a mistake in choosing Deborah’s safety over her own happiness but it would probably never lose its sting either, the fact she’d been backed into such a wretched corner impossible to forget.
‘Were you watching? Did you see?’ Charlotte called out as she skipped closer and Jane gave herself a stern internal shake.
‘I was and I did. I’m very impressed.’
Having dragged the sledge up behind him, Duncan now repositioned it at the top of the slope. ‘On you get. Let’s see if you can hit that other mound of snow this time.’
Charlotte scrambled aboard. Lifting his leg, Duncan once again set his foot on the seat and with a sharp shove sent the little girl shrieking away down the bank.
As they followed her progress through the snow, Duncan casually addressed Jane over his shoulder. ‘Are you tempted to have a go yourself?’
‘I think not. I may, however, gather some of that holly.’ She pointed to a tree a short distance away, wreathed with berries and gleaming green spikes. ‘I promised the girls I’d show them how to make Yuletide decorations this afternoon and I have a feeling I’ll need more supplies.’
He smiled, the upward quirk of his lips doing something strange to her insides. ‘Good idea. I find, when it comes to those three, it’s always best to have plenty of spares.’
He retreated to retrieve his niece from her second pile of snow and Jane moved away likewise. In the chilly December wind, the holly leaves seemed to beckon to her and she wasn’t sorry to go, glad of a few minutes to collect herself after her previous slide into regret.
It wasn’t easy to gather the leaves. The spikes were vicious and the stems thick and even after a while of twisting and pulling she’d still only managed to amass a small pile.
Behind her, she could hear Charlotte’s repeated ventures down the slope, much screeching and laughter splitting the quiet, and it was only when another unexpected voice piped up that Jane turned back round.
‘Sir?’
A maid emerged from the trees at the bottom of the slope. Duncan was engaged in excavating Charlotte from her latest drift but he looked up at the servant’s approach. ‘Dinah? What are you doing here?’
From atop the bank, Jane heard the maid reply. ‘The mistress asked me to bring Miss Charlotte home, sir. She’s worried about her catching cold and requests you send her back now.’
‘Does she?’ They were too far apart for Jane to hear Duncan sigh, but she knew he must have done by the movement of his shoulders. ‘Since having influenza, my mother sees illness round every corner. Charlotte seems well enough to me, but I suppose we can’t disobey a direct order.’
The little girl made a sound of protest but Duncan shook his head. ‘Your grandmama has spoken, I’m afraid. You’ll have to go along with Dinah. Miss Stockwell and I will follow once she’s finished gathering all the holly she needs. We won’t be far behind.’
With obvious reluctance, Charlotte took the maid’s outstretched hand, but not before looking up the slope to wave to Jane, who flourished a holly bough in return.
The servant dipped a curtsey and she and Charlotte withdrew, two cloak-swathed figures cutting through the trampled snow to disappear into the woods.
Jane returned to her task. Her fingers were starting to hurt from snapping the tough branches and she was about to reach for her final leaf when Duncan’s voice came from behind.
‘Have you got enough?’
She started. She hadn’t heard him approach, despite the crunchy ground, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed how she’d jumped.
‘I think so. That’s all I’ll be able to carry in my cloak, anyway. I should have thought to bring a basket.’
Twisting off the last prickly sprig, she dropped it onto the pile. If she held up one corner of her cloak she’d be able to make a sort of pocket in which to carry them, although she didn’t have the chance to try before he spoke again.
‘The snow up here is still so pristine. Between Charlotte and the sledge, the stuff at the bottom of the bank is as churned up as a farmer’s field.’
Jane looked up. Duncan was gazing around, one hand shielding his eyes from the wintry sun. ‘It’s beautiful, really.’
‘I think so too. I love when snow is as deep as this.’ She pushed the toe of her boot down into it, her foot almost disappearing beneath the carpet of white. ‘It reminds me of making snow angels with my sister, when we were about the same age as Charlotte. Those were happy times.’
She hadn’t meant to sound wistful. It was supposed to be a mere passing comment, but she realised that more than a touch of sadness had stolen into her voice when Duncan slid her a quick, searching glance.
‘You could always make one now.’
‘What? An angel?’ Hurriedly, she forced a laugh. She didn’t want him to know how close to the surface sorrow lurked for her, the loss of both Deborah and any future with him pressing on her heart. ‘I couldn’t. Auntie would say it was beneath my dignity.’
‘I disagree. I think she would want you to take happiness wherever you could find it.’
For a split second he looked so serious that Jane felt her breath catch. He seemed so earnest in his concern for her that she wasn’t sure what to say, but then he smiled.
‘What if I made one too? Would that make a difference?’
‘You?’ To her surprise, she laughed again, albeit this time far more genuinely. ‘A lieutenant of His Majesty’s navy, rolling about in the snow?’
‘Why not? It’s Christmas, after all. If not now, when?’
As if to prove his intentions, he swept off his hat and hung it on one of the tree’s berry-laden branches. ‘Come on. We’ll do it together.’
He held out his hand, and in a dizzying moment of foolishness she was sure was a mistake Jane allowed herself to take it.
The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the snow.
A damp chill seized her but she was too shocked to pay it much mind. The sky above was a perfect clear blue peeping through the skeletal treetops, a sight almost as beautiful as the unblemished snow, but it was Duncan’s chuckle in her ear that was the best thing of all.
‘I’m sorry. Weren’t you expecting that?’
She turned her head. Her bonnet had come off, she realised belatedly.
Her veil lay on the ground beside her like a shadow but she couldn’t seem to make herself reach for it.
Duncan was too close for that, lying next to her and his hand still very near hers, and when he looked over at her all such tedious thoughts of veils and bonnets instantly fled.
‘So?’ he asked her. ‘What now?’
Jane groped for the right answer, difficult to find when a pair of warm brown eyes were fixed on her face. ‘Now we move our arms and legs to make the shape of the angel’s skirt and wings.’
‘If you say so.’
They were too close together to fully outstretch their arms and she felt a thrill skitter through her when his hand accidentally brushed her waist. The snow scrunched up around them and her sadness of moments before faded into the background as she wriggled, the whole thing too ridiculous to allow any unhappiness to keep its grip.
‘Am I doing it right?’
One glance at Duncan was enough to force out any lingering gloom. He looked more like a fish squirming on a hook than an angel and she couldn’t hold back a laugh, louder and more real than any before.
‘No! What on earth are you doing?’
His grin could have lit up the darkest room. ‘My best, which is obviously not good enough.’
He fell still, his arms and legs still outstretched. Somehow, in their inelegant writhing, they had shuffled even closer together and another laugh died in her throat as she felt his fingertips come to rest, just touching hers.