Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
When Geneva woke, the house smelled of pine, roasting meat, mince pies, and nutmeg.
One of the farmhands had probably already delivered the tree and set it up in the foyer, where boughs of pine had been woven through the balusters of the grand staircase.
The Bellamys always decorated the tree on Christmas Eve and left it up until Twelfth Night, and Geneva was glad that this year Rose and Jesse would be there to help them decorate.
Since the war, Christmas had been a sad affair that only served to remind them of the people who were missing from the table.
But this year, they would try to make today fun and would ask Cook to send up a few mince pies for them to enjoy.
And then tonight, the carolers would come from the village, and they would have a lovely supper, followed by the midnight service at St. Michael’s.
Geneva wondered if Rory would attend Christmas Mass and hoped that he wouldn’t be lonely on Christmas.
But he had to be. He was on his own, and, though he took his meals at the hall, he wasn’t really one to socialize with other members of staff.
Now, in the light of a new day, she felt bad about the way she’d run off last night, and resolved to go see Rory after tea.
He would be finished working by then, and she would be back in time for the carolers, so no one would miss her.
Geneva thought she should return his ring, but it seemed cruel to reject him so completely on Christmas and throw his love back in his face.
She would wait until New Year’s Eve and give back the ring then, just before he left for America.
That way she wouldn’t have to deal with his anger and disappointment every time they saw each other, and he would know that he was free to move forward without hesitation, since there would be no unresolved feelings between them.
Geneva ran a brush through her hair, still marveling at the ease of maintaining her new hairstyle, then walked over to the wardrobe.
She chose a white Jacquette blouse and paired it with a navy blue skirt and a matching cardigan.
She pulled on her stockings, got dressed, then buttoned her favorite Mary Janes before heading downstairs.
The wonderful smell of the freshly chopped tree filled the house, and boxes of ornaments had been brought down from the attic, and the baubles within sparkled in the winter sunshine that filtered through the tall windows.
Despite the upheaval of the past weeks, Geneva felt her heart lift.
It was Christmas Eve, one of the most festive days of the year, and, as she gazed upon the still-undecorated tree, she promised herself that this year she wouldn’t get sad as she recalled Christmases past when she had known nothing of the losses that were to come and had felt nothing but joyful anticipation.
Whatever happened, next year everything would change, and, whether she remained at Bellamy Hall or was forced to leave, she wanted to savor this last Christmas with her father and permit herself to enjoy the New Year’s Eve party that seemed so important to him.
Geneva was surprised to discover that she was the first one down to breakfast. Aunt Clarrisa was an early riser and normally already on her second cup of tea by the time anyone came down, and Rose loved breakfast at the hall since there was a variety of dishes and she could have second helpings if she was still hungry.
Clarissa didn’t hold with waste and had the same breakfast prepared every morning for both herself and Rose: a soft-boiled egg, two pieces of toast, and minuscule serving dishes of butter and marmalade.
The half dozen chafing dishes on the sideboard were still untouched, and the butter in the dish was beginning to soften.
Geneva had just helped herself to sausages, a fried egg, grilled tomato, and a spoonful of mushrooms when Sally arrived with a rack of toast and a pot of tea. She must have spied her coming down.
“Good morning, my lady,” Sally said with forced cheerfulness as Geneva assumed her customary seat.
“Good morning, Sally. How are you today?”
“I’m well, ma’am.”
As a rule, the servants looked forward to Boxing Day, when Douglas rewarded them generously for their service, but this year they were sure to have misgivings about what was to come.
In the way of servants, they knew what was going on, but no one had taken the time to properly explain the situation or address their concerns.
Geneva would have to speak to her father once he was up.
Perhaps he could offer the staff a word of reassurance on this of all days, or ask Mr. Lefferts to step in if he himself wasn’t up to the task.
Of course, although it was possible that he’d spoken with Jesse in private and they had come to an understanding, it was just as likely that her father was as much in the dark as the staff and just as uncertain about his heir’s intentions, since Jesse had yet to openly commit to remaining in England.
Aunt Clarissa swept into the room. Her period of mourning was officially over, but she still wore black or very dark gray.
Today’s dress was adorned with black lace, and she wore jet beads and matching earrings.
The jewelry had been in the family for decades and had been worn since a Victorian ancestor, who had been influenced by Queen Victoria’s devotion to her dead husband, had ordered a set while in mourning for her spouse.
“Good morning, Geneva,” Clarissa said as she absentmindedly fingered the beads.
“Good morning, Aunt.”
Clarissa took a seat across from Geneva and reached for the teapot, but, as she glanced at her niece, her expression was oddly calculating.
“Can I get you anything, madam?” Sally asked.
“Toast and a soft-boiled egg,” Clarissa stated imperiously. “I can’t abide a heavy breakfast. And be quick about it, girl. Or my tea will get cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Clarissa added a splash of milk to her tea. She never took sugar, for fear of gaining weight, and only permitted herself one tiny spoonful of marmalade on her toast. “What are your plans for the day?” she asked at last.
“There’s the house to decorate, the menu for Christmas dinner to finalize, and the presents to wrap,” Geneva replied airily.
Clarissa was happiest when annoyed. It was her natural state of being, but today Geneva wasn’t going to allow her aunt to spoil her hard-won good mood. If she found something to be unhappy about, she could keep it to herself.
“Your father would like a word when you’re finished your breakfast.” Clarissa peered at Geneva’s plate with obvious disapproval, but Geneva ignored her.
“Is Father all right?”
Clarissa shot her a scathing look. “I highly doubt my brother will ever be all right again, Geneva, but he is in possession of his faculties, and as long as he is still the master of this house he has a duty to us all. As do you.”
That was rather a harsh response to a fairly simple question, but Clarissa was clearly on edge, and Geneva had no wish to either antagonize her or encourage further conversation that touched on anything other than the weather.
“It’s a lovely day,” she said.
“Too cold for my liking.”
“It is the end of December,” Geneva reminded her.
“It’s milder in London.”
“No doubt.”
Geneva finished her breakfast, drank the last of her tea, and wished her aunt a good morning.
Honor and Rose were just on their way down to breakfast. Their faces shone with anticipation when they spotted the tree, and Geneva reminded herself that, despite their protestations to the contrary, when it came to Christmas, they were still children and deserved to be happy, even if only for a day or two.
Real life would reassert itself soon enough.
“Good morning,” Geneva said cheerfully.
“Good morning,” Rose replied. “Can we go ice-skating after we decorate the tree?”
Geneva felt a chill when she recalled her dream, but refused to give in to baseless fear.
It was only natural that she would have bad dreams, given the turmoil of recent weeks.
There was no reason to think anyone would get hurt, and it was cold enough for the pond to be frozen solid since it was hardly more than a shallow pool.
“There are skates in the mudroom. I think Jack’s skates should fit you, Rose.”
“Won’t you come with us?” Rose asked.
“I don’t think so. I have too much to do.”
“We can ask Jesse to join us,” Honor suggested slyly. “He wears about the same size as Father.”
“I bet he can skate beautifully,” Rose said. “He’s so fit.”
“Yes, of course you should invite him,” Geneva said. “I’m sure he would enjoy it.”
Honor looked a bit deflated, and Geneva thought her sister had been intentionally trying to bait her. She supposed she should be grateful Honor hadn’t mentioned Rory. That would have made Geneva angry, but she once again reminded herself that she intended to remain in good spirits.
Not today, she thought as she started up the stairs. Not today, Honor, she repeated as she knocked on her father’s door.