Chapter 17
Reese could only describe the atmosphere among the staff on Boxing Day as excited. In the front foyer, Gareth stood with Catherine and the steward, overseeing the distribution of Christmas boxes.
Watching how he did it now made Reese wonder if his becoming a happy family man had changed this tradition. She would have to ask Ellen.
As the steward spoke each name, either Gareth or Catherine placed an envelope in the servant’s hands and exchanged a few words.
He wore such a look of contentment that it made Reese’s eyes sting with happiness for him.
While she doubted she had seen him at his worst, his behavior at their first meeting had definitely been near when he’d hit bottom.
And throughout the Boxing Day event, Jem flowed easily among the people.
He stopped to help a footman struggling with a tray, bent to speak to one of the younger maids with the same respect he offered Gareth, and laughed briefly with Michael over something Reese couldn’t hear.
She loved watching him do with effortless ease what took so much conscious effort for her.
Finally, Gareth closed the gathering with a brief statement, reminding everyone to join them on Twelfth Night for the ball.
The family had planned a quiet day, giving the servants as much rest as the holiday allowed. Trays of leftovers were laid out in the breakfast room for people to snack on. They read, played games as they wished, and Catherine reviewed plans for the Twelfth Night Ball.
They spoke of ribbons and candles, of which rooms would be opened and which kept closed, of who might come and who would likely remain at home. It all felt pleasantly domestic, the gentle future unfolding one small decision at a time.
Reese loved it.
Gareth set down his glass and scanned the drawing room. “My billiard table has been gathering dust. Would any of you care to help me rescue it from neglect?”
Catherine tilted her head. “Are you issuing a challenge?”
“Only if you’re inclined to meet it, my love.” Gareth’s eyes gleamed.
“I might be.” Catherine rose from her chair.
“Heavens, no.” Ellen waved at Michael. “You go. I would only embarrass myself.”
“I’m terrible at it,” Reese said. “Jem, you go. I’ll keep Ellen company.”
The older couples opted to play whist.
“Beatrice must love being able to finally take part,” Reese murmured as she moved to sit with Ellen at the window.
“Yes, and she looks so joyous now.” Ellen smiled happily, but then something clouded her eyes.
“What is it?” Reese asked.
Ellen played with the fringe on the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “I feel foolish that I cannot quiet my fears enough to make up my mind.”
Reese waited, pretty sure what her friend was fretting about but not wanting to pressure her.
Ellen sighed. “I wish desperately to see the gardens Michael created in your time, but I am terrified. Yet I cannot stop thinking about it. When Michael declared his love for me, he promised that I could attend university should we decide to live in the future. Imagine that.” She shook her head.
“But of course, such a thing is commonplace in your time.”
“Do you want to?” Reese asked, a little surprised.
“Not as you did, but I would love an opportunity to study whatever I wished. It would also help me understand my husband by learning more about what he loves to do. What we both love to do.” Her expression turned wistful.
“He has sacrificed much to stay with me in this time. It feels important that I should do this.”
“And yet?” Reese prompted gently.
“And yet I nearly died the last time I traveled to the future. Sometimes I still dream of the pain.” Ellen closed her eyes.
“It was horrible. I was trapped in a dark place. I would call, but no one heard me.” She opened her haunted eyes.
“I truly do understand, even the tiniest bit, what it must have been like for Beatrice.”
Reese shivered, and it had nothing to do with the snow outside.
“It was Michael’s voice that brought me back. He was my strength, and you have been my inspiration,” Ellen said. “I know he would never ask me to return to the future, but I want to. I wish to be a tiger like you.”
Reese wiped at the corner of her eyes before throwing her arms around her friend. “If you really want this, then we will do anything we can to help you overcome your fear.”
“Thank you.”
Straightening, Reese asked, “Have you told Michael?”
“Not as of yet,” Ellen admitted.
“Then I think you should begin with him.”
After the quiet of Christmas and Boxing Day, Jem enjoyed the shift into preparing for the Twelfth Night Ball.
“So, did Gareth get involved with all the setup for the balls before he married Catherine?” he asked Ellen as they approached the community hall in the tenant village.
“Oh, my, no.” Ellen gave a soft laugh. “And he does so now reluctantly, but he will do anything she asks.”
“And she insists,” Michael added. “But he has seen the benefits of their working with the servants and cottiers with improved relationships and loyalty. I’m pretty sure he only complains now for show.”
The buzz of activity in the hall impressed Jem.
He’d never seen the place so full. To clear space for the dance practice, they had stacked the village’s wooden chairs and benches, supplemented by lighter seats from Kellworth that folded neatly when not in use.
A fiddler was near the hearth preparing his instrument, while people gathered in small groups, laughing and greeting one another.
Catherine coaxed a reluctant pair of older cottiers into the line. Ellen quickly joined them but then laughed at herself for stepping on Michael’s foot.
“I never dreamed the day would come where I would see Gareth’s housekeeper teaching the cottiers to dance,” Jem murmured to Reese.
She grinned. “I’m not surprised at all. I got to know her and his cook when I first started the village cleanup. They resisted at first but came along quickly.”
The fiddler lifted his bow, and the room settled into motion.
They formed lines and took hands appropriately.
As they danced, whenever someone missed a step, they laughed or apologized.
It was a simple country dance, the music lively and filling the room in a way that made the cold feel unimportant.
Along the far wall, several women sat with baskets at their feet, needlework in their laps. Some passed cloth around while others worked with ribbons.
“Some of those came from the attic at Kellworth,” Reese said. “Even old, they’re better quality than these women could ever afford.”
“I never thought of that,” Jem admitted.
“I love that the old gowns are being reborn into something new. They’ll likely mean more to these women than they ever did to the wealthy ladies they were originally sewn for.” Reese nodded toward the group. “Mrs. Hale hasn’t had a new dress in years.”
Jem stared at his wife. “How do you know that?”
“Because she told me, and she looked so happy when she did, it made me think of how I felt as a little girl on Christmas Eve.”
Jem pulled Reese into his arms and gave her a hug. The fiddler began another tune.
“Do you think we should get in on the dance practice? It’s been a while for us.” He waggled his eyebrows, making her think back on that remedial dance lesson when he’d turned up as her surprise partner.
“Not quite yet.” She pulled back but kept her arms around his waist. “Ellen confided in me yesterday.”
“About what?” he asked, curious.
“That she’s going to travel to the future. She told Michael she wants them to come with us when we return.” Reese gave a little sigh of happiness.
“Wow, that’s huge for her.” Jem’s mind reviewed their plans. “My folks will understand if we can’t get home until New Year’s. Will your mom be okay with it?”
“I warned her we might need to stay in the UK a little longer, but I think we can spend time with Ellen and Michael and still be home for Christmas.” Reese wrapped her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think this will be so good for Ellen.”
“I think you’re right... if she doesn’t chicken out,” Jem said.
“Oh, Ellen’s a tiger,” Reese assured him. “Now that she’s made up her mind, she’ll do it.”
“And she learned it from you.” He kissed his wife’s temple. “Now, we really should practice.”
“You’re right, but only because it’s so much harder for us women in these awful skirts.”