Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Mary, Claire and Chastity, upon hearing of Dahlia’s plans for the holiday decorations, volunteered their help. Dahlia had been reluctant at first to involve them for she felt it would be an intrusion of their time.
“Not at all!” Mary said. “We would really like to help.”
“Oh, please Dahlia, let us help! We will not make a mess of it, we promise!” Claire pleaded with her.
“I have never heard of such a practice, so of course, I would like to experience it!” Chastity added.
After their pleadings and assurances, Dahlia had accepted their help. She was, in truth, quite flattered that they, and indeed the staff as well, showed such enthusiasm for her small project.
Sha directed the twins and Chastity to gather the flowers from the hothouse with specific instructions as to which ones they were to collect.
They entered the sitting room in a flurry of excited conversation, each carrying a basket full of blooms. They gathered red and white camellias, white hyacinths, and red amaryllis.
Simmons and Deakin, the footmen who had cut down the fir tree, now entered the room with it, each one carrying one end of the tree. Dahlia had instructed them, before entering the castle, to shake off as much snow from the tree as they could.
Once inside the sitting room, Dahlia watched as the footmen debated on how to make the tree stand, one or the other coming or going in search of tools or materials to be used.
When, finally, the tree was sturdy enough to stand —and stay standing on its own—the ladies rushed forward in all their excitement to decorate it.
The tree, with its stand, stood close to ten feet. It looked bigger than it had in the outdoors.
“Mary, you put the amaryllis please; Claire, you are in charge of the camellias; Chastity, you take the hyacinths. I shall add the pinecones when you have finished,” Dahlia said. “In the meantime, Helena and I will be working on the garlands for the staircase balusters.
“And what shall I be assigned to, Your Grace?” Mrs. Baker asked, an expectant look on her face.
“Oh, I had not wanted to interfere in your duties, Mrs. Baker.”
“It would not be interfering with my duties, Your Grace, not at all.”
“Well, if you are sure…”
The housekeeper smiled at her and curtsied.
“You can help us with the staircase then, thank you, Mrs. Baker.”
An hour passed without any of them noticing it, for indeed, they were all enjoying their tasks. Multiple exclamations from the opened door of the sitting room could be heard as the ladies expressed their appreciation of their work.
“Look how beautiful!”
“The tree looks like a garden grew on it!”
“The sitting room smells wonderful!”
Leaving Helena and Mrs. Baker to check on the younger ladies’ progress, Dahlia’s walked with a bounce in her step.
The tree was looking wonderful. The red and white flowers contrasted beautifully with the green of the fir tree, creating a festive picture. She imagined it with pinecones and ribbons; the vision made her smile. Hands clasped together, she praised the three for their work.
“Brilliant work!”
“Why, thank you, Your Grace!” Claire curtsied.
“We are only halfway done,” Mary added. “We had to rearrange the flowers twice.”
“I think this practice is wonderful; where did you say it hails from, Dahlia?” Chastity inquired of her.
“Germany,” Dahlia said. “I shall be back with the pinecones; let me just get them. We are almost done with the staircase decorations.”
Smiling warmly at them, she gave them her thanks again.
“The pleasure is all ours, truly, Dahlia.” Mary smiled back. “I have never had so much fun preparing for Christmas before.”
She hurried out to Helena and Mrs. Baker and stopped as she saw their handiwork, appreciating the difference the flowers brought to the decorations.
“How is it looking from there, Dahlia?” Helena asked.
“Splendid!”
Dahlia walked backwards slowly, widening the angle of her view of the staircase, when her back collided with a solid wall. Hands firmly on her shoulders steadied her before she even had a chance to lose her balance.
“Is this a practice in Germany as well? Walking backwards?” Peter asked, a laugh in his voice.
His words, so close against her ear, sent a funny shiver across her skin.
“Peter!” Dahlia whirled to face him. Stepping back, she saw that Matteo was with him. too.
“You have been busy, Your Grace.” Matteo walked towards the staircase appreciatively.
“Lady Helena, I trust you and the Duchess have all the pinecones you need? Just say the word and we shall shake more trees for you,” they heard Matteo say as he went up to talk to Helena and Mrs. Baker.
“These are quite enough, thank you, Your Grace.”
“Quite fortuitous that Peter and I walked your way.”
“Yes, quite,” was Helena’s reply.
“Allow me to assist you and Mrs. Baker.”
“There’s really no need, Your Grace.”
“But I insist, I must be of service.”
“If you must,” Helena replied in a clipped voice.
“It seems that I owe you and apology,” Peter told Dahlia as they watched Matteo and the others, a wry smile on his lips.
“Whatever for, Peter?”
“I will admit that I thought your plan to be completely insensible when you had described it to me earlier today.”
“Insensible?” She put her hands on her hips. “Ye of little faith.”
“And for it, I apologize.” Peter grinned. “Is your forgiveness mine, Your Grace?”
“I shall give it soon, but first you must see the sitting room, so your regrets might feel more sincere!”
“You doubt my sincerity now?” Peter’s brows rose.
“Entirely, Your Grace.”
The laugh that rang across the main hall had Matteo, Helena and Mrs. Baker looking at the Peter and Dahlia. Matteo and Helena looked at each other with knowing looks directed at their friends.
“Oh, Peter look!” Claire hurried to her brother and took his hand.
“Is it not beautiful?” Mary asked him, bouncing on her heels.
Peter searched for the words to describe what he saw—indeed, what he felt. He stopped and stared at what they had created. The whole room seemed somehow different. It certainly smelled different, like the outdoors. Fresh and crisp because of the fir, lovely and alive because of the flowers.
“It is… marvelous.”
He did not know why this tree, with its red and white blooms, invoked such feelings in him. He looked at Dahlia. Why did this woman, this Dahlia Hill—Dahlia Thornscroft, he corrected himself—move him so?
He looked at his sisters, at his home. Not for an exceedingly long time had a feminine touch become so influential to him as hers had been these past few weeks. Indeed, he could not seem to remember a time when she was not there.
She was made to be the center of a family. At that moment, it seemed to him that she was the center of this one.
“Now you have my forgiveness, Your Grace,” Dahlia told him quietly, a proud smile on her face.
“Your Grace, I have the items you asked for.” Biddy went to Dahlia.
Handing her mistress a box, Biddy’s eyes widened at the site before her.
“Oh, Your Grace! This is wonderful! Just like you always wanted to do back at Cosgrove!”
“Yes, Biddy. It turned out very well thanks to the flowers from the hothouse.”
“Why did you not decorate Cosgrove in this manner?” Peter asked.
“Well, for one thing, we did not have a hothouse full of beautiful blooms, and for another, the staff could not be spared. My parents always entertain at Christmas; all the staff needed to put their efforts into that.”
Dahlia looked at Biddy with a conspiratorial smile.
“But Biddy and I once tried to do it. Unfortunately, my father found out and was furious that I went out to cut a tree. I was fourteen; you can imagine his anger justified. I did not want to cause him further worry, so I never attempted it again. But that same night, when the adults were all enjoying themselves, Benson and Biddy brought me a tiny tree—Benson was able to cut the top part of a fir tree! It barely reached my hip, but Biddy and I decorated it with ribbons.”
Dahlia opened the box she held.
“Just like these ribbons for trimming bonnets.”
She unrolled the ribbons with a flourish.
“That little tree was marvelous in its own right, wasn’t it, Biddy?
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
She and her lady’s maid went to the tree, showing the other ladies her plans for the ribbons.
Peter could easily see her, a young Dahlia, pining for such a tree but getting instead not even half of it. It made him want to thank Benson and Biddy; it made him want to give her a hundred fir trees to decorate. Finding his emotions unsettling, he took a deep breath.
Matteo, Helena and Mrs. Baker came into the room declaring that they had finished with the staircase decorations. Matteo carried the basket containing the rest of the pinecones that were to be used for the tree.
“Oh, well done!” Helena exclaimed at seeing the tree.
“It is not yet done, but you can see how perfect it shall be; we must do this at home, Helena!” Chastity said.
“We certainly shall if we can manage it.”
“Peter,” Claire called to her brother, “will you not help us with the top portion of the tree? It is quite impossible to reach unless we stand on a chair.”
“Allow us,” Matteo said, putting the basket down and issuing the most elaborate bow that Dahlia had ever seen. This elicited laughter from all the ladies, except Helena who rolled her eyes.
“Come, Peter. These lovely maidens are in need of rescuing. Direct us as you please.”
Shaking his head and chuckling, Peter went with Matteo to stand by the tree and await directions.
“Continue with the flowers please. See how they have done it? Mixing the kinds of flowers and colors about.” Dahlia pointed to the carefully placed blooms.
When Peter and Matteo started on their task, Dahlia directed the rest of the ladies, including Biddy and Mrs. Baker to make the bows for the tree. They gathered near the fireplace, the three younger ladies grouped together, giggling as they completed their tasks.
“Look at Biddy’s, she did it perfectly!” Dahlia said smiling.