Chapter 6
The melancholic ache that so resembled winter, in Laertes’s personal opinion, was never very far away.
But after the wedding, oh, the joy that flowed through him!
He loved the fact that his family was always having a wedding, that there was always a promise of good fortune ahead.
That his family chose to believe, in the face of the most brutal wars that had been seen in some time, and the cruelest deaths in the French Revolution, and a dictator who had attempted to destroy all of Europe, that there was always hope. And that hope was seen in the weddings!
The Briarwoods believed there should be families, that children should be born, and that they should laugh in the face of it all and not succumb to sorrow.
And so it was that, from a small boy, he had often shoved his sorrow to the very back of his being, never allowing anyone to see it.
It felt a bit like a blasphemy to feel sad in his family, not because they’d judge him, but because of their luck.
He knew that if he was sad, his family would accept him. That’s what they did.
But even so, he felt guilty about it.
It was difficult not to.
He did try, over and over again, to not succumb to that sorrow that seemed to have come with him to this earth upon his birth, because he knew his grandmother would gently, kindly, lovingly pull him aside and remind him that it was perfectly all right to be born with a certain sensibility, and that one simply had to accept it and get on with it.
His cousins, his uncles, and his aunts with their own particular oddities? They all had done so. So when that ache in his heart came about, painful as it could be, he just needed to accept that about himself and move on.
It was still difficult.
For even on the most wonderful of days, as the stars shimmered in the crisp cold heavens, as the candles danced in their sconces and candelabras, and the children ran about the house, coming in with cheeks aglow from the cold snow and hair full of ice—for the children had romped in the snow on the way back from the chapel—he hated the fact that there was sorrow in his heart which refused to go away.
But he smiled anyway.
And sometimes he thought it made his smiles greater, for despite the sorrow, oh, he smiled at the joy!
Now, several hours after the wedding, the children had changed from their snowy clothes into wonderful clothes of celebratory hues.
The house, of course, was decked up and down with all the glorious things that his whole family had arranged with the servants.
From top to bottom, there was holly, there was ivy, there was juniper. Every banister was looped with it. Every fireplace was decked. Every surface was covered with winter greens.
And the mighty Yule log that had been brought in by his uncles and himself a few days ago crackled mightily in the massive fireplace.
There were paper cutout snowflakes that the children had made. The scent of dried oranges, cloves, and spices filled the air. And musicians had been brought from Europe to fill every hallway with the sound of music that was joyful and bright and could lift the heart.
Tonight, oh, what a feast they had feasted upon!
The Christmas banquet had been laid out, and all of their guests and all the family had made merry on venison and beef and roast turkey, pheasants, and quail.
There had been meats of every good kind in delicious pies.
Then there was fruit, plump and delicious, in bright notes of color.
Wine and champagne and lemonade had flowed, though generally his family did not over-imbibe.
And desserts of every imagined confection had dazzled their eyes and tastes.
Mrs. Ellen and his cousin now by marriage, Lady Hester, had covered a whole table in the most beautiful arrangements of spun sugar and chocolate and cakes. And the children had oohed and aahed with wonder, eating until they fell asleep on chairs and cushions.
“Will their nanny not take them upstairs?” a voice said beside him.
He whipped about, stunned to find that Lady Seraphine stood beside him. Her black hair had been done up, coiled into different shapes and woven through with crimson ribbon. Her gown was a beautiful green that matched the waxy leaves of the holly bush.
She looked refreshed, beautiful. Her cheeks were bright.
“Why would they?” he asked. “It’s Christmas.”
She frowned, confused. “But children don’t belong at such parties, do they? This is for the adults, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” he queried, winking at her. “If you think that my aunts and uncles aren’t all children at heart, you’re very much mistaken.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, “and I’m sure you know it.”
“The ball is about to begin, and why should we ask the children to not entertain themselves on Christmas Day?”
“But it’s getting late,” she said.
“Dinner is done,” he said. “All of that will be swept away, and they shall dance too.”
“What do you mean?” she queried, clearly at a loss.
“Look,” he said, and he pointed out to the polished floor. The stringed orchestra had already begun and the ballroom, crowded with guests and family, all but hummed with excitement. And many of the children waited eagerly, their eyes aglow at being allowed to participate.
And his Uncles Ajax, and Hector, and Zephyr, and even Leander, bowed and invited many a girl to dance upon the floor in the most tender of scenes. His older aunts and many of his female cousins began dancing with the boys.
And, of course, there were many, many guests who joined them as the music swelled.
“This will not last for long,” he assured, “because as you say, some of the children will simply go to sleep. And they will be taken upstairs by their parents and the nannies, of course, to tuck them in so that they might have dreams of this Christmas Day that will last until next. But tonight is really the beginning of our revels that last the twelve days,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”
She arched a dark brow. “It depends. What are you asking me to join you in?”
“A dance,” he said.
“A dance?” she queried. She looked at the floor full of children.
“Or is it beneath you, Lady Seraphine?”
“Beneath me?” she exclaimed. “How could you say such a thing?”
He shrugged, eager to tease her. “Well, since you are accustomed to princes now, and archdukes, and all the grand halls of Europe.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now stop that,” she said.
“Of course,” he said with a grand bow. “Let’s show them a thing or two, that you love to dance amongst the children, and not just over-puffed peacocks.”
She put her hand in his and they went to the floor. How he loved the feel of her in his arms, and she danced beautifully.
She was graceful, almost a princess already, as he whisked her out on the floor. And when the music’s spritely waltz, without a hint of darkness to it, lilted, she followed his every lead and every turn, as beautifully as any dancer upon any ballet stage.
The little girls and young boys about them also danced with great excitement and enthusiasm. This was also the way of Briarwoods. There was no great separation between children and adults. No, because the Briarwoods knew that to raise great adults, such adults had to be around the children.
It was a shocking thing for the English.
The English did prefer to send their children away or keep them up in nursery rooms, distant from their parents.
Now, some of the boys, of course, would go away to school at a certain time.
But the girls would be raised at home with their tutors and governess, carefully taught the family ideas about life.
And that was that there were very few rules they truly had to obey and that they would not be made small by society.
And that they should choose men who would support their dreams and who would not try to shove them into tiny little boxes to wither away in.
But he had a strong feeling that Seraphine had never experienced anything like that.
She had experienced grandeur, she had experienced wealth, and she had experienced halls full of the most powerful people in the world.
But this was something entirely new to her.
And so as he whisked her about, he quite enjoyed the amazement upon her face.
“Do you dislike it?” he asked at last.
“How can anyone dislike seeing so many happy people?” she replied.
“I don’t know.” He winked at her, savoring the feel of his hand at her back and her skirts brushing his thighs. “I don’t know if that’s what you prefer. Perhaps you prefer everyone to look quite serious.”
She poked him in the shoulder, and he quite liked it. If she was playing with him, all of this was working.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
He grinned. “Am I so very ridiculous?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Have you decided?” he dared to query as he swooped her under his arm.
“What?”
“If you’re going to stay for the twelve days of Christmas. I did think you might bolt.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why would I bolt?”
“Because the Briarwoods could make anyone run, if they’re not up for it, and there’s not a single prince among us.”
She scowled at him, but her eyes were dancing. And there was something else. “Perhaps I don’t need a prince for a few days. Perhaps all I need is…”
Her voice died off, but he knew what she wanted to say. He knew it deep in his heart. She’d wanted to say that all she wanted was him. For a few days, at any rate. He wondered if he could accept that, the idea that he might be a sort of Christmas present for twelve days.
Maybe he could.
Maybe he enjoyed the temptation she was offering him as she eyed his lips and then lifted her eyes back to his gaze. Was she suggesting what he thought?
Maybe not.
Maybe she wasn’t that kind of young lady. Maybe she simply wanted his company, and that could be enough. Perhaps it’d be enough time to convince her that princes were all well and good, but a Briarwood was even better.