CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Christmas morning could never be anything but cheerful, but the Christmas of 1820 was a particularly bright and pleasant day. Frost sparkled on the ground as Charles lifted Annabelle up into the carriage to go to church. Miss Kelsey was already inside, fussing over her scarf and fur muff, and taking unnecessarily great pains to see Annabelle tucked up warm under the blanket.
Charles turned around to take a glance at his home, so unusually festive with the holly that could be seen peeping through the windows and the frost heaped like bushy eyebrows over each ledge. He was just in time to see Julia emerge from the house, her cheeks already pink with cold.
She was absolutely beautiful. There was no denying it. She was wrapped in black furs, the tip of her nose reddening instantly in the chilly air, and wore a coat of grey wool with embroidered silver leaves running along the hem. Her hair – that hair Charles could never see without longing to run his fingers through it – barely peeped out from her bonnet. He wished he could lift her up the way he did Annabelle, spin her in the air and tuck her into the carriage himself.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Mallory," he said. Julia glanced around, seeing that no-one was close enough to hear them, and whispered,
"Merry Christmas, Charles."
His heart soared. He could not help himself. Any reminder of the intimate moment they'd shared in the library was the best sort of intoxication for him. Julia made his head spin more surely than any brandy. She was a potent, dangerous drug that he was already craving after only one dose.
On any other day, he would have been able to avoid her, but now that Christmas had forced them into the same carriage, he found he did not regret it at all.
He did his best to keep a friendly chatter going as they rattled along the path towards the church in Chiltern village. Miss Kelsey was a welcome companion in that regard – or she would have been, if he had been inclined to speak to anyone other than Julia. For her part, Julia simply sat and smiled, leaning forwards once only to tuck Annabelle's hair back into her hat. Charles's leg brushed against Julia's each time the carriage moved, and it was like a shock of lightning each time.
He'd done his best. No-one could fault him. He'd avoided her for weeks after their kiss. But now, having her so close, tracing out every contour of her pretty profile with his eyes, he was every bit as enthralled as he'd been the moment he kissed her.
They arrived at the church in good time to greet all the villagers. Charles was pleased to see that Julia was well-received by everyone she encountered. She had clearly become a favourite among them.
The service passed with the usual sermon about love and good cheer. Charles took the message to heart more than he had done in previous years. For the first time in a long while, his heart was more full of love than pain.
Love. Was that really the word for it? He had not been able to shake Julia from his mind despite riding out each morning and wasting away every evening with his male companions. Did that signify love?
He felt the sun rise in his chest every time he caught her eye. Was that what it meant, to love someone?
She sat at his side on the pew at the front of the church, singing the Christmas hymns in a voice almost unbearable in its sweetness. Charles finally understood the feelings that had stirred within him the moment he heard Julia sing.
He was unmistakably, irrevocably, all-encompassingly infatuated with Miss Julia Mallory. The moment he admitted it, he was overcome with the desire to open his heart to her at once. There was no more use in resisting. He was not man enough for it, and besides, he no longer even wanted to.
"Sarah, forgive me," he murmured to himself, looking up at the beams of jewelled light shining through the stained glass window. There came no reply. No blessing or condemnation. He was alone, to act as he chose.
The notion was liberating.
When he had finished bidding the vicar and the villagers a Merry Christmas, Charles caught Julia's arm before she got into the carriage.
"It's a fine morning," he said. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"
"I don't want to walk home!" Annabelle chimed in, assuming he was talking to her as well. Charles smiled indulgently.
"You do not have to, my little snowdrop. Miss Kelsey will take you back in the carriage."
Julia shot him a look of alarm. He wondered whether she found the thought of being alone with him frightening or enticing.
He certainly hoped for the latter.
It took a few moments for the chatter of the churchyard to die away behind them. The walk back to Harding Hall was a delightful one, even in the middle of winter. The path was lined with ivy-laden trees and, thanks to the morning frost, the way was not too muddy. Charles enjoyed the sensation of having Julia on his arm and watching his breath turn to clouds of fog in the cold air.
"Thank you for asking me to walk with you," said Julia. "I find it much more pleasant than being confined in a stuffy carriage."
"Are you much of a rider?" asked Charles. "I will have to take you out exploring the edges of my estate on horseback someday."
Julia flushed. "I can barely keep my seat on a horse. But I will try."
"Very good. I will be happy to teach you." They came upon a fallen log, pushed to one side of the road. Charles took a seat and gestured to Julia to sit beside him. She smiled, caught unawares.
"I am far from tired, Charles."
"I didn't think you were." He cleared his throat. "I must confess that I have quite another motive in asking you to walk with me today."
Julia's eyes widened. She looked ready to run away.
"Don't be alarmed," said Charles, soothingly. "Come. Sit. I will not say anything bad, I promise."
"That is exactly what I am afraid of," Julia whispered. "That you will say something good – very good – too good – and that things will change once I have heard it."
"Don't judge my words before they've been spoken," said Charles. Finally, with a show of reluctance, Julia sat. "Here. I have something for you that I thought I had better not give you in front of the household."
He handed her a package he had been carrying under his arm. Julia unwrapped it, biting her lip as though the thought of what lay inside frightened her.
The brown paper parted to reveal a roll of leather tied with a ribbon. Julia unrolled it to find a set of brand new paintbrushes. The finest London had to offer; Charles had ordered them especially.
"These are beautiful," she gasped, running her fingers over them.
"I expect you to create beautiful things with them," he replied, smiling. At last, an answering smile illuminated Julia's face.
"You overestimate my talent, as usual."
"I do nothing of the sort." Charles rested his hand on Julia's knee. At first, she started away from him, but after glancing around to check that they were alone, she relaxed under his touch. Charles leaned closer. "It would be dishonest of me not to warn you that this was not my only motive for seeing you alone this morning," he murmured. Julia's lips parted, but she made no answer. The cold had turned her mouth a deep crimson which drew Charles's attention like nothing else in the world. He took a deep breath to quell the desire to kiss her, and ploughed on. "Julia... I cannot go another moment without confessing my feelings to you."
"Don't," she gasped, clutching her coat tight around her as though she had grown suddenly cold. "It's such a lovely morning. Let's not spoil it with foolish talk."
"There is nothing foolish about my desire for you," Charles growled, leaning ever closer.
Julia's eyes were wide and miserable. "It is extremely foolish to indulge in a fantasy which will never become real," she replied.
"Who says it must remain a fantasy?" Charles demanded. "I have wrestled with my emotions in secret for long enough. I will no longer deny myself the pleasure of telling you that I have admired you since the moment I first saw you, and loved you since – since I do not know when. I only know that the depth of my longing for you surpasses anything I have ever felt for another woman. Sarah, God rest her soul, deserved every part of this restless longing, but I could not give it to her. My marriage was based on affection, but nothing more. Indeed, I thought that friendly affection was all I was capable of. You have opened my eyes. You have enraptured my heart. Julia, tell me I am not going mad. Tell me you have an ounce of the feelings for me which I have for you."
Julia listened to his speech with a rising colour in her cheeks and a silence which almost destroyed him. When at last Charles was finished, he waited in agony to hear what she would say.
"I will not lie to you," Julia said softly. "My feelings for you have been deepening since the day that we met in London. The way I feel now... In truth, I do not have the words to tell you all that I feel." She gave a shy smile. "There is only one way to express all that is in my heart."
She moved forward and planted her lips on his. Charles was completely taken aback. So much so, that it was a good while before he realised he really ought to be kissing her back.
For a long moment, a moment so perfect and wonderful that Charles never wanted it to end, nothing passed between them but the sweet sensation of his mouth on hers. Julia's kiss – this second kiss they'd shared, a kiss of real passion – was everything he'd dreamed of. Hot desire flooded through him, so forceful and dangerous that he had to break away from her for his own self-preservation.
"Julia, let me marry you," he said. "Let me make you my wife. It's all I want in the world."
"Oh, Charles," she gasped. "I want that too – you cannot imagine how much I want it. But I am afraid it is simply impossible."
"What do you mean, impossible?"
Julia bit her lip and would not meet his eyes. "It is a question of family."
"Why, that is no obstacle. Annabelle adores you. You have given her a motherly love which she never knew before. Becoming her stepmother will only bring the two of you closer."
Julia closed her eyes and pressed her lips together tightly. "I'm sure she would be delighted to have me as her stepmother, but that's not what I meant. The family in question is mine. Charles, please do not ask me to explain why, but it is quite impossible for me to accept your hand. It is not that I don't want to. I want it more than anything. If you really care for me, you will not press me further."
"Then what is to become of us?" asked Charles. "Julia, I do not think I can go back to the way things were before. I would never wish to compromise your honour, but as long as you remain in my household I will always be wishing that we were something more."
Julia's eyes sparkled. "I only said that we ought not to marry, Charles. I said nothing about... romance."
"Romance?" Charles repeated. He liked the sound of that.
Julia planted a tender kiss on his cheek. "No," she sighed, "there is no hope of us ever going back to the way things were before. You have changed me. Perhaps for ever."
"I hope I have changed you for the better," said Charles.
"Time will be the judge of that," said Julia. Her eyes told him a different story. They shone with the inner glow which only came from true affection.
They spent as long as they dared sitting on that fallen log, exchanging kisses and promises of their eternal devotion. Before Charles was nearly satisfied, Julia rose and brushed off the back of her skirts. "We ought to be getting back," she said. "I don't want anyone to suspect what we have been doing here."
"Quite right," said Charles. "Here, take my arm again. I have never been as happy walking through my estates as I feel with you on my arm."
They made their way slowly back, arm in arm, towards their Christmas dinner and the comfort of their friends and family. Charles did not know what the future held, but, now that he had secured Julia's love, he felt equal to anything.
Even the whisper of Sarah's voice in his ear was not enough to dampen his happiness.