Chapter 15
If Jem had been asked to design the perfect Christmas Eve setting, he could not have done better than Kellworth this year. The nursery candles had long since been extinguished, and the twins were safely abed, leaving the grown members of the household free to linger.
Snow had fallen steadily since afternoon, softening the edges of the estate even more until the world beyond the windows seemed hushed and almost reverent.
Inside, the house glowed with firelight and candles, the scent of pine and cinnamon in the air.
The ladies had helped the servants drape additional evergreen boughs on the banisters, and ribbons the color of old wine wound their way along the railings.
Jem pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos. If he ever had an opportunity to work on the set of A Christmas Carol, he wanted to be able to re-create the feel of this, if they had the budget for it.
Smiling to himself, Jem pocketed his phone and moved to the edge of the door to the long drawing room, studying the others. He learned so much about human nature from his people-watching, things he used for his roles and for suggestions to his students in their plays.
Evangeline sat near the fire, her hands folded loosely in her lap as she listened to the Colonel speak. His previous bluster and authority were gone. Tonight, he was simply a man showing a woman particular attention, his voice pitched low, intimate despite the room full of people.
And, based on the loosening of her shoulders and the softness in her eyes, she was eating up his gentler approach.
The air practically sparked with the relaxing of the barriers between them.
Were Ellen and Michael’s comments at the dinner truly all it had taken to convince the man to make a move?
Or was it a combination of that and George’s marked attention to Beatrice?
Across the room, George stood near the tree everyone had decorated that afternoon with paper chains, ribbons, small handmade ornaments, and dried fruit, as the twins had watched with excitement.
There were even a few candles that Gareth watched with concern, while Catherine periodically touched the pitcher of water on a table near the tall pine.
Beatrice’s head tilted toward George. From her expression, she was trying not to pay too much attention to the hand he had resting on her chair. With all this romance in the air, Jem almost wished he were a writer. There was certainly enough material just in this room for more than one play.
But love could sneak up on you when you least expected it, like it appeared to be happening with these two couples.
Like it had for Jem when he had finally cottoned on to how his feelings for Reese had changed from a childhood friend to something so much more.
He hoped these older couples could find the happiness he had with her.
She stood near the piano, her fingers tracing the edge of the polished wood as she talked with Ellen. They laughed at something, making him smile in response. He loved the sound of Reese’s voice.
But she seemed to hold herself a little too tightly, like she did when something bothered her. Was she worried about becoming a mother? She shouldn’t be. Reese would mother like she did everything else, with a fierce passion.
He wanted to cross the room and take her hand, to tell her everything would be all right. But he also knew that whatever lay behind that tension could not be soothed away with calm reassurance. Jem considered his options. It might need daylight. Or candlelight. Maybe just the plain truth.
Catherine moved to the piano and played the opening notes of Joy to the World. The various conversations faded as everyone rose to gather around the piano. Jem put an arm around Reese’s waist. Catherine sang first, but the others quickly joined in.
As the final verse faded, the Colonel cleared his throat.
“I hope you will forgive an old soldier for speaking plainly.” His focus shifted to Evangeline. “But I find I have no desire to spend another Christmas pretending I am content with less than I want.”
The room seemed to hold a collective breath. Red crept up her cheeks, and Evangeline touched her throat.
The Colonel gently took her hand and brought it to his chest, over his heart. “I had given up hope of you ever being mine, my dear. And until recently, I believed we could only be friends.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Reese breathed beside Jem, leaning against him.
The older man dropped suddenly to one knee. “My dearest Evangeline, I have loved you since the first moment I met you. I know I have asked this of you before, but will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, Arthur, I will, though I must say it’s about time.” Evangeline softened her words by caressing his cheek.
Gareth had to help the Colonel to his feet, and then the older man kissed her. With his arm around her, he scowled at the crowd and said defensively, “Since you all insist on kissing your spouses in public, I claim the right to do so with my fiancée.”
“Well said, Colonel.” Michael clapped him on the shoulder while Ellen kissed Evangeline’s cheek.
Beatrice hugged her sisters as the others crowded around them to offer their congratulations. Catherine and Gareth wore satisfied smiles.
They played a game of charades, and then servants entered the parlor with a large bowl of wassail and trays of nuts, slivers of candied peel, small tarts, and spiced buns.
Jem was wondering if they exchanged any gifts on Christmas Eve or waited until Christmas Day when George approached Gareth and Catherine with Beatrice on his arm.
Michael’s grandfather’s stiff posture was a dead giveaway that something was up, and Gareth and Catherine faced the elderly couple in serious formality.
George cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how you do this in your time, but I have asked Beatrice if I can court her, and she has agreed. We would like your blessing, my Lord and Lady.”
Beatrice, who usually came across as mild-mannered compared to her more forceful sister Evangeline, pinned Gareth with a hard look and said, “Don’t you dare ruin this, nephew.”
Catherine was doing her best not to laugh, but her body was giving her away. She jumped to her feet and embraced Beatrice. “Of course, he won’t.”
But the earl wasn’t laughing. His eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his chin.
“Gareth?” Catherine asked, turning to face her husband.
“It would have been better to have this discussion in private. However, as you have chosen this public gathering to make your declaration,” he shot Jem a dark look, “I will respond here. Your actions nearly killed my sister, so I must ask what guarantees that you will not endanger my aunt. Lady Beatrice has endured enough.”
George’s face blanched, but he stood stiffly, reminding Jem for the first time of the Colonel.
“And you of all people should understand the value of redemption,” Beatrice said, her voice quiet yet firm.
“You do not know this, but after George returned to the past, he often came to my portrait and talked to me. It reminded me of when one goes to the cemetery and speaks to a loved one’s grave.
He had no reason to know a living being could hear him, but I saw his grief, both the one that drove him mad at the loss of his wife...
” She arched a brow and tilted her head, giving Gareth a meaningful look.
“But he also spoke of the anguish he felt at what his actions did to Ellen and to Michael. I believe I know George as no other person ever has, and I trust him with my heart and my health.”
Catherine went to stand beside her husband and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Repentance is a good thing.”
Heaving out a breath, Gareth reached up to cover her hand with his. “It is settled then. George Addington, you have our blessing to court Lady Beatrice. But I warn you?—”
“I am an adult,” Beatrice broke in.
“Yes, you are, but I have seen the future, and I know men of that time have different expectations of their relationships there.”
“I promise I will do nothing to damage your aunt’s honor, my Lord.” George chuckled. “But I take it as a vote of confidence that you believe a man of my age still possesses enough vitality to cause concern.”
Michael burst out laughing, and soon everyone joined in, even Gareth, though he appeared to do so reluctantly.
Finally, he cleared his throat and raised a hand for everyone’s attention.
“It is time for us to gather for our annual ghost story.” He grinned slyly and shifted his gaze to Jem. “Make it good, Taylor.”
Jem narrowed his eyes, recognizing the earl had thrown down a gauntlet.
Well, college had provided and even required Jem to do some work in improv theater.
Reese wouldn’t speak before a group unless she had prepared for hours and had a PowerPoint presentation.
He didn’t mind extemporaneous speaking, so if Gareth meant to trip up Jem, the earl was in for a surprise.
Jem let the familiar tightening settle between his shoulders, the sharpening of focus when he had a captive audience. He didn’t rush. That was the first mistake with any audience. So he waited, accepting the obvious subject of his story.
As he gathered his thoughts, Michael added another log to the fire while a servant moved quietly along the wall, checking the food trays. People shifted the chairs so they could all see him easily, and Reese grinned at Jem, her eyes full of anticipation.
Good. They were ready.
Jem took a step forward and placed himself at the edge of the fireplace, where his face would catch enough glow to be seen but would also create shadows. He clasped his hands loosely before him and let his gaze drift once around the room, making his expression thoughtful.
Before they grew impatient, Jem spoke as though continuing a conversation. “I once heard a story about a woman who lived a comfortable enough life and yet didn’t live at all.”
A few people lifted their eyebrows, but Beatrice smiled faintly. Jem allowed a hint of humor into his next breath.
“Oh, she wasn’t dead.” He shook his head. “Only nearly dead.”
A ripple of amusement moved through the people from the future who caught the reference. Good. Humor first. Let them settle.
“The woman had no need of food, but she slept and remembered. She walked familiar halls and listened to familiar voices. She felt warmth where there should be none and heard footsteps that approached her but never quite found her.” Jem’s voice turned sad.
“But time passed her by as though she stood on the wrong side of a pane of glass. And sometimes one clouded with grime. There were moments when she felt a draft pass through her, though no door or window was open.”
Evangeline lifted her head from the Colonel’s shoulder, and Jem paused to allow the image to settle before continuing.
“The woman had suffered no loss, no pain or heartbreak, so she thought herself fortunate. She need not fear being left behind.” He paused, letting his gaze drift briefly to the Colonel and Evangeline, then away again. “There is something to be said for safety.”
He nodded, but Reese shook her head.
Jem bent his head to her in acknowledgment. “But a safe existence is not the same as living and taking risks.”
A log popped, sending bright sparks leaping, and a couple of people startled. Beatrice leaned forward, so Jem adjusted his stance.
“The seasons passed as the woman watched the people she loved grow older, the youngsters mature into adults and begin their own families. She saw beloved traditions repeated and sometimes cast aside while she was touched by none of it.”
Beatrice’s eyes glistened, so Jem softened his tone.
“She came to realize that she might be safe in her cocoon, might be spared grief. But she was also denied love.”
He let the word sit between them.
“The warmth of family affection, the steadiness and comfort of friendship, and the joy of loving another and being loved in return, of being a chosen life’s companion day after day.”
Beatrice sniffled, and Jem wondered if he had taken it too far, but George put his arm around her, and she smiled at him.
“The ghostly part of this tale,” Jem continued, allowing a faint smile, “is not that she lingered so close to people she loved, but that no one noticed.”
Several in the room shifted uncomfortably. A few uneasy smiles answered him.
“As time passed, no one spoke her name aloud anymore. None asked where she could have gone. Candles might gutter, a door creak for no reason when she passed. No one turned to look. They merely assumed that what was absent must also be gone.”
Jem scanned the room again, careful not to linger too long on any one face. Reese’s bright eyes and intent expression were more intense than he could recall. He would need to ask her about it later.
“But one night, that changed,” he said, standing taller, no longer relaxed.
The tension in the room shifted, filling with anticipation again.
“Someone came who had been the recipient of as well as the giver of pain. A man had grown old in his bitterness, but he had also shown himself open to change. And he seemed to sense another presence whenever the woman was near, to feel comfort from her closeness. He spoke to her, never knowing she stood near enough to feel the warmth of his breath. A bond formed between them.” Jem looked off into the distance.
“Eventually, the woman found she wanted to speak to the man more than she feared he might reject her.”
“And that was all it took.” Jem spread his hands at his sides, palms open.
“She chose a messy life with all its pain and all its joy. When the man next spoke her name, she reached out to him, and the glass of her cocoon shattered into dust and vanished. She stepped into his arms and never looked back.”
Jem allowed a beat, then added, with a touch of humor, “And she was never haunted again.”
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Reese jumped to her feet, applauding. The others quickly joined in. Jem met Beatrice’s gaze and bowed.
Gareth stepped to the fireplace and nodded. “Well told.”
Jem grinned and put his arm around Reese, who had joined him. She seemed excited about something but said nothing, so he didn’t ask.
“We had best conclude the evening before Father Christmas is discouraged by too much wakefulness,” Gareth said with an arched brow.
“I would like us to sing one more carol.” Catherine moved to the piano again and played the introductory notes for Silent Night.
Jem pulled Reese a little closer as they sang, her voice warm beside him in the candlelight while outside, the snow fell softly.