Bernie did not consult with her brother after all. Last night's humiliating, albeit freeing, confession had proved to her precisely how nonsensical she had been. She was a grown woman. She would make the best decision for both of them.
The kiss had no bearing on anything at all. An accidental thing, or perhaps a bit of curiosity, but Lord Matthias was in love with another woman and always would be.
As for Simon, It wasn't as though he actually objected to John Barton. Of course, it went without saying that John would be very good to Simon. Bernadette had been holding her little brother up as some sort of shield before the difficulty of making such a life altering decision. Again, very childish.
So that morning she roused her brother, dressed him quickly and sensibly and sent him down to breakfast without her. Then she sat before the vanity and took great care with her appearance. Almost as much as she had taken preparing for the ball on the night before. She pulled her hair back into a practical knot at the back of her neck. She put on her best everyday dress, the blue one. She even remembered to pinch her pale cheeks to bring a bit of color.
This is an excellent step. This is not an execution. A fine man awaits you downstairs and you are a very fortunate woman to have such a man ask for your hand.
She felt quite calm. The frantic stretching at the seams of her life had been quelled by the shame she felt over her ill-fated obsession with Lord Mathias. That last burst of extremely silly behavior at the ball had come none too soon. She did not despise herself for dreaming of the love of such a man. She only berated herself for perceiving a dream as reality.
Appropriately dressed, entirely composed, she left the room with quick, even steps and descended the stair to join the family at breakfast. John already sat at the table with Aunt Sarah, Uncle Isaiah and Simon. While Bernadette watched, John bent low to say something to Simon and Simon laughed. Then John mussed his hair and laughed as well. Aunt Sarah looked on benignly, as if she'd never scolded either Bernie or Simon for toying with their hair at the table. Uncle Isaiah looked on beneficently, the proud patriarch at ease.
This is my family now.
This is my future.
Bernadette, and yes, she was Bernadette now, moved to stand behind the last chair at the table. Isaiah and John rose to their feet in welcome. She smiled and waved them back.
"Happy Christmas, Uncle Isaiah, Aunt Sarah, Simon!" She turned her new, calm, mature smile on the man who gazed at her with growing hope in his eyes. "Happy Christmas, John. I should like to accept your very kind offer, if you still wish it so."
John beamed. Uncle Isaiah beamed. Aunt Sarah beamed. Simon looked quizzical and then resigned as understanding came clear.
Bernadette smiled firmly at her family. Yes. Such a little word, to bring such happiness to the people she loved.
John stood and rounded the table. "I cannot express my joy at your words! Happy Christmas, dear Bernie!" He took her into his arms. They were strong arms, welcoming arms.
They simply felt like the wrong ones.
Yet, what did it matter if deep down she felt as shattered as the ice on the edge of the rushing River Churnet?
Surely winter could not last forever, could it?
In the new-fallen morning's snow, Perseus frisked his way down the lane, clearly happy at the notion of another ride. He did not usually enjoy so many outings when stabled at Havensbeck Manor.
Yet for all his mount's enthusiasm, Mathias could only wish Perseus longer-legged and faster-paced at this moment.
This morning he had opened his eyes to the same curtain-shrouded dimness as ever morning in his house. He had lain there in that blank moment, as one did, and then sleepily slid his hand across the sheets in the blank space beside him.
She was not there.
Bernadette was not there.
That thought had sat Mathias upright in his bed with his eyes wide and yes, his jaw actually hanging. All these years he not been able to imagine a life without Marianna. He had clung to her so fiercely.
Yet Marianna had gone ahead, leaving him behind. And now he felt his torn heart whole and strong and pumping again. It stuttered when Bernadette smiled. It swelled when she laughed at him. It pounded like a galloping horse at the thought of waking up next to her.
Bernadette. It was so simple. He must be a fool not to have seen it before. He felt quite brilliant for having seen it at last.
She had read his half-mad ravings and not been repulsed. She had endured his stiff and awkward company and not faltered in her friendship. She had given him the truth, had shown him her flaws and confessed her transgressions, when she might easily have shielded herself.
She was no perfect vision. She was no angelic creation. She was a woman, in turns funny and generous, or outlandish and forthright. A woman real and warm and alive. A woman who had come to him, even knowing what she knew, and had given him back his spirit.
Who was to say that she had not been meant to find those letters? After all, hundreds, possibly thousands of people lived downriver from Havensbeck. Why had his heart-broken missives gone to someone who had known terrible loss, and who, however unlikely, was the one person who could show him how to go on again?
Miracles were not a form of belief he'd ever taken stock in. Until now.
Bernadette was his miracle, found by his river, drawn by his need, and now awaiting him a mere half-mile away. In his headlong rush to live again, he spared only a single moment of doubt.
What if she did not feel the same?
She had kissed him. Well, I kissed her, but she did not draw back. That was important, was it not?
He was quite sure he had not invented falling in love again. People must've been doing it for all of time. It was only that, on this Christmas morning, opening his eyes had somehow opened them on an entire new, adventurous, vibrant future. His future with Miss Bernadette Goodrich.
Therefore, although the hour might be considered dreadfully early for most of the ton, Mathias rang for his valet and began to prepare himself for a ride.
Jasper came to his room. "My lord, you do not have a valet here, remember?"
Mathias turned to Jasper urgently. "I'm going courting. What do I wear? I haven't the vaguest notion how to do this. It's been so long. Do you think she likes blue? It's Christmas day. Ought I to wear the green? Not black. No. No more black."
A strange burbling noise came from the butler. Mathias looked askance at Jasper's face. There was something wrong with it. The usual unflappable mien had cracked in half, broken wide by a smile such as Mathias had never seen on his faithful retainer.
"The green," Jasper said with definitive nod. Then he turned around, still grinning, opened the bedchamber door and stuck his head out into the hallway. "I'll need hot water, boot polish, and something very quick for his lordship's breakfast. Have that hellish beast saddled and brought round the front in a quarter of an hour. Himself is going a-courting!"
Mathias heard the curious sound of several people uttering restrained and muffled cheers. How many of his staff were out there?
Turning, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his wash-stand. His hair looked strange. He turned to Jasper. "What does my hair look strange?"
Jasper shook his head. "Don't panic, my lord. All will be well."
Mathias turned back to the mirror, plucking a lock of his hair and pulling it forward to stare at with his eyes crossed. "It's so black. Has it always been so black?"
Still with a small, irrepressible smile on his face, Jasper rubbed his hands together. "It's high time we began to get you ready, my lord."
Now, Perseus's pounding hoof-beats were as nothing next to the thundering of Matthias's own heart. Every stride of the great long-legged stallion down the lane toward the village brought Matthias closer to the object of his own heart's desire.
Bernadette.
After Cranston showed him into a small private parlor at the inn, promising to inform Miss Goodrich of his presence, Matthias waited with barely restrained impatience. He tried to sit, but he couldn't hold still. He found himself pacing and tried to quiet his restless manner. If he didn't gain control of himself, he was going to lunge at Miss Goodrich the moment she walked in the door.
She entered.
Matthias turned her eagerly, then forced himself to clasp his hands behind his back. He bobbed a quick bow. "Miss Goodrich. Good morning! Are you well after our adventure last night? I just came to see if you were well. Are you well?"
She remained standing just inside the door. There was an unfamiliar immobility about her. Her hands were still, clasped neatly together before her. Her small smile of greeting looked not a thing like her at all.
Greatly concerned, he took a step forward. "Is Simon all right? I was sure I had him warmly wrapped."
She gave a gracious nod. "Simon is very well, thank you. He slept well and his appetite is not in the least diminished. He is currently partaking of the sweets tray that Mr. Cranston provided us."
"Oh. That's, ah, excellent news." Blast it man, just say it! "Miss Goodrich, I thought perhaps that you might like to learn a bit more about our valley."
She looked at him. "I also live in this valley, my lord. Merely somewhat downriver."
Matthias cleared his throat. "Yes. Yes, you do. But we are very proud of our village. And I think I speak for everyone when I say that your presence, along with that of your aunt and uncle and your brother, has been most enlivening for Haven and Havensbeck Manor."
A small crease formed between her brows. "Enlivening? One hopes that is a good thing. I should not like to think that we have enlivened away our welcome."
Matthias writhed inside. He was going about this all wrong. She'd given him her truth, unvarnished and unexcused.
He took a steadying breath. "Miss Goodrich, I like you. I should very much like you to stay longer. I wish to know you better. And for you to know me. For us to know each other."
He saw comprehension dawn upon her features. Matthias rushed on. "I mean to say, I should like to call upon you, Miss Goodrich. As a suitor." There, he'd said it. He felt himself grinning like an idiot in sheer relief. He'd actually said it! "I like you, Miss Goodrich. Very much."
It was only then that he noticed the strange look on her face. In fact, she seemed to be suffering from some sort of vertigo. An absent portion of his mind took note of how much he admired the extra ginger dots across the tops of her cheeks that showed better in her pallor.
Her lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes focused unseeing upon his cravat as if she were frozen in fear. Her lips parted but only the strangest little breath of a sound came out. In that moment of hesitation, the door to the little parlor opened and Mrs. Goodrich bustled in.
"Lord Matthias! Heavens, that Cranston fellow didn't tell me it was you who called upon us!" The elder vicar's wife stepped forward and beamed sternly at Matthias. Matthias, having never been the recipient of Mrs. Goodrich's smile before, blinked and smiled hesitantly in return.
He bowed. "Mrs. Goodrich, I hope everyone is well this fine Christmas morning?"
From the corner of his eye, Matthias sought thought he saw Bernadette make a slight, fruitless gesture. Then Mrs. Goodrich grabbed his full attention once more.
"Oh, your lordship, it is the grandest of news, is it not? We are all beside ourselves with joy! To think that the children have finally come to their senses and decided to wed! It is all that Vicar Goodrich and I could ever have hoped for!"
The children decided to wed? The children?
Matthias's gaze shot to meet the appalled eyes of Miss Bernadette Goodrich. "Wed." His voice sounded strange in his tight throat. "Are you perhaps referring to Vicar Barton? And?" It could not be. It could not be.
He looked into Bernadette's eyes, or rather, Miss Goodrich's eyes, soon to be the eyes of Mrs. Barton! They were wide and compassionate and yet, also a bit lost. He felt much the same, except he felt enormously lost.
Meanwhile, his tongue took off on its own. "My most sincere congratulations to Vicar Barton! And Miss Goodrich! How very happy I am for you!" If the words came out tortured and strange, Matthias could only wonder that he'd managed to get them out at all.
He bowed awkwardly. Of course, he could not manage to be smooth in such a moment, when he might wish more than ever in his life to be smooth. He bobbed another bow as if to erase the first one, which only became more awkward. His cravat choked him.
Mrs. Goodrich had tilted her silver head and begun to eye him with some reservation. Which one would, when eyeing a man who was swiftly going mad.
"Yes. Yes, best wishes," he blurted. "Best wishes to all. Happy Christmas! Happy, happy, happy Christmas."
He bolted from the room before he could be any more ridiculous in his shock and disappointment. Of course, as he fled blindly down the hall, he collided shoulders with Vicar Barton himself. John made a grab for him, as if to steady him. Matthias flinched away.
"My lord? Is all well with you?"
"Happy Christmas." For heaven's sake, stop saying that! "Congratulations on your engagement, John." You are the luckiest foul poaching blackguard who ever lived!
Jealousy roiled within him. Matthias had no notion how to manage such a forceful and vile sentiment. Yet, what had good John Barton done but see a lovely girl and act without doubt or hesitation upon his proposal?
Leave. Leave now. Leave faster.
Matthias left.
He'd been so happy to feel again, after so long existing in the twilight. Now his breath filtered only partly into a chest too tight to inhale.
How he longed for a bit of his former numbness now.
How very painful.