Chapter 13

13

Mariah turned in front of the full-length mirror, unable to hold back a smile. The gown for this evening’s ball had turned out beautifully. She’d already turned slowly to examine it from every angle and had declared to Mrs. Roy that it was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever worn.

Mrs. Roy had smiled in pleasure, whispered that the other projects were done and in the hands of their recipients too, and then had gone to make certain Mariah’s mother and sister had no last-minute adjustments needed for their own gowns. Blakely had trotted off with her to assist Louise.

Which meant no one was watching.

Feeling a sly grin settle onto her lips, Mariah curtsied low to the mirror, pretending she saw Cyril in it instead of herself. “I would be delighted to give you this dance,” she whispered to his imagined question. Left arm raised as if resting on his shoulder and right hand holding up the long skirt with its short train, she hummed her own music and waltzed about her bedroom.

It was going to be a good day—no, a magical day. It was Christmas Eve, and she’d awoken with a heart warm and thrumming and ready for delight. She’d sneaked outside at daybreak and found Misters Smith and Green already in the wood, their children laughing with them, setting up the play’s props—all but the Almond Gate, which would be too visible from the house. Those would come later.

The children had decided that the best way to be certain the guests traveled the right paths throughout the adventure would be to position themselves strategically around the wood. The boys, already in the grey clothing of their mouse costumes and one of them even with a tail on, had chosen spots by potential wrong turns and were planning to toss acorns and snowballs at passersby to keep them from entering.

“Gently,” young Theo Green had solemnly sworn. “We’ll only frighten them off. We’ll aim for their feet.”

“And we,” Georgette had added, spinning about in her snow fairy costume, which looked positively darling, “will guide them on the right path.” Then she’d come to a halt, bounced on her toes, and grabbed Mariah’s hand. “You ought to see Mama! She looks so pretty in her gown!”

Of that Mariah had no doubt. Just as she had no doubt that Louise would outshine her at the ball. But as she pretended to dance with Cyril, none of that mattered.

Because she would dance with Cyril tonight, and it would be twelve years’ worth of dreaming coming true. Even if he stomped on her toes or she spilled mulled cider down her front, it would be perfect.

She’d lain awake long into the night, staring out the window at the few pinpoints of starlight visible before clouds obscured them, praying and thinking over the choices she had to make. She tried to imagine herself accepting Gyldenkrone’s proposal, traveling with him to Denmark, leaving England behind. Leaving Plumford behind.

She couldn’t. Much as his reaction yesterday had helped her to see his warmer side, that very revelation made it clear to her that he wasn’t the husband the Lord had for her. Because even as she’d looked into his repentant blue eyes, even as he begged her forgiveness as they hurried back to the manor, all she’d wanted was Cyril’s apology. Cyril’s repentance. As the greve had helped her from the horse and rushed her into the warmth of the house, she’d wished it had been her old friend’s arm steadying her.

She hadn’t meant to remember every dream she’d ever dreamed of Cyril. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him even before he confessed that he’d never felt anything but wishful thinking for Lady Pearl. She hadn’t meant to give in to the blasted convenience of it all.

But it had taken only a few hours of his company to remember why he’d been her dearest friend for so many years, even when they had only letters to connect them. The distance of the last four couldn’t erase that, especially when that gap was bridged so easily now.

It wouldn’t be fair to marry Gyldenkrone when she felt this way about Cyril, even if Cyril never saw her as anything but his childhood friend.

And so tonight might be only an illusion, a magical pretending that faded back to ordinary after the holiday. But for tonight, she was going to let herself dream. Tonight, she wouldn’t know yet if he’d never want her as she wanted him. Tonight would be all potential. It would be Christmas, and that was something no circumstance could take away.

However the day went, it would end at ten till midnight, and their ball would stop, and the vicar would step forward and lead them to the manor’s chapel. They would hear the story, again but always anew, of Christ’s coming. They would sing her favorite hymns.

It would be Christmas. Magical—no, miraculous Christmas. The day when heaven had come down to earth. The day when the stars sang out His glory, and the angels with them. The day God Eternal wrapped Himself in delicate human flesh and put His feet into time.

Today would be a beautiful day, and tomorrow too. No matter what happened, no matter how wrong things went, no matter how her silly little plan of fictional adventure fell through, it would be beautiful.

“Oh, Mariah. How I envy you.”

She nearly tripped, not just at Louise’s voice suddenly intruding, but over that strange note in it. Mariah halted, spun, and spotted her sister leaning into the doorway that Blakely had left open. Louise watched her, not with her usual disdain, but with ... wistfulness.

Mariah frowned. “I can’t think why you would.” Louise also wore her gown for the ball, and it highlighted every perfect feature that her sister had.

Yet her sister’s smile was small and sad. She pushed off the door and moved to sit on the edge of Mariah’s four-poster bed, her gaze never leaving Mariah’s face. She shook her head. “I don’t think I ever ... I don’t remember ever being so free as you looked just now. So ... light. Bright.”

Mariah hesitated. Just for one moment, or perhaps two. How many times had she tried over the years to really talk to her sister? To shower her with affection? To make them friends? But Louise had rebuffed her and chided her and always left her feeling more alone than before.

And yet never before had Louise sat there with such vulnerability on her face. How could Mariah not try, just one more time? She moved swiftly to sit beside her sister, even daring to reach out and weave their fingers together. “It’s no secret that we are very different. But that’s no reason you can’t be free.”

Louise shook her head, even that action looking elegant and graceful. “I always resented you so.”

“Resented me?” That wasn’t the word that Mariah would have thought fit the situation. She would have said she annoyed her sister, that she frustrated her, disappointed her. But resented made it sound as though it originated in Louise’s heart, rather than in Mariah’s own flaws.

“You didn’t remember. Within months of Father’s death, you ... you forgot. You were too young.” Gaze unfocused now, Louise stared into a past Mariah couldn’t see. “I know you were only two when he died, but I hated that you forgot him so quickly. He was my favorite person in the world. Fred remembered at least a little, but you...”

Mariah frowned, but what else could she do? Apologize for being too young?

Louise didn’t wait for her response anyway. “And then Mother married Cass, and before the first year was out, you were calling him Papa. And you were laughing again and twirling about and telling your silly stories. You were happy. You were always happy, and I...” She squeezed her eyes shut, and her lips trembled. “I never stopped missing him. It tinged everything.”

Throat tight, Mariah took Louise’s hand into her lap and forced out a question. “Why are you telling me this?”

Louise’s head bowed. “I thought life would grow brighter when I married Swann.” Not an answer, but Mariah didn’t push. Perhaps her sister was working round to something. “We were a good match. Well suited. I ... I know you think me heartless, but I did love him. Perhaps it wasn’t why I chose him, but it came quickly.”

“I never thought you heartless.” Not convinced her sister even heard her, she squeezed her fingers too.

“I thought once I had a family of my own, I’d be able to shake the old sorrow. But instead, new sorrow found me.” Tears dripped down Louise’s cheeks. She didn’t even wipe them away. “First the stillbirths. Then Swann himself. Why, Mariah? Why has grief and death dogged my every step?”

Mariah had no answer, and she didn’t think her sister honestly expected her to have one. She let go of her hand and wrapped her arms around her instead, resting her head on Louise’s shoulder. “I don’t know. But I do know that a woman of lesser strength would have buckled. Not you, though. You are so strong, Louise.”

“I’m not. I’m ... brittle.”

“You’re strong. And you’re inspiring. I know we disagree on our approaches to life, but I have always looked up to you.”

The breath of laughter that puffed from Louise’s lips sounded more incredulous than amused. “No you haven’t.”

“Of course I have. My beautiful, perfect sister.”

“Hardly. I’m a dusty old widow well past my prime.”

Mariah’s laugh was also more incredulous than amused, if a good deal brighter. “Are you jesting? Fishing for compliments? Louise, you are only twenty-six, and without question still the most beautiful woman in London. You put that ghastly Lady Pearl to shame. Crook your finger and you’ll have men falling at your feet again whenever you’re ready to wade through them.”

“You exaggerate.”

“I don’t! Do you know that the only time Lady Pearl paid me any attention at finishing school was on our last day, when she took it upon herself to interrogate me as to whether you would be rejoining society this last Season? She was in dread that you would be, and that she’d be competing with you.”

For a moment, Louise looked flattered—or, no. Just startled. Genuinely surprised at the thought that a debutante would be intimidated by a widow so much her senior. Then even that melted back into malaise. She shook her head. “I admit that I miss society. That I miss the company of a husband. But the thought of competing for one again holds no allure.”

“Well look at that. Something we can agree on.”

Louise smiled. A real, true, albeit small smile. Aimed at Mariah. Over something she said.

She’d count it as the first miracle of Christmas.

Her sister drew in a long breath and rested her head against Mariah’s. “You’ll not have to navigate those waters again. I hope you realize how fortunate you are, little sister. Lord Gyldenkrone is one of the finest men I’ve ever met. He’ll be good for you and you for him.”

Did she dare to risk this fragile peace by contradicting her? Not quite yet, anyway. Better to firm up its foundations a bit more first. “He told me what you said yesterday. How you advised him to offer kindness instead of logic.”

“Well. Not my exact words ... but you’re welcome.” She sighed out the breath she’d just pulled in. “I do want you to be happy, Mariah. And I ... I don’t want to see you ruin your chances with Lord Gyldenkrone over this old attachment you have to Cyril. He’s a fine enough young man too, don’t get me wrong, but he’s already engaged.”

“He isn’t, actually.” That didn’t mean he had any interest in Mariah as a potential wife. But a friendship like theirs could so easily grow into more. She had to believe that. It might take some time, but if she could artfully worm her way out of any expectations with Gyldenkrone, there was still hope.

And the way her sister spoke of the greve ...

Mariah narrowed her eyes. “Louise ... one can’t help but notice that you , in fact, would be better suited to Lord Gyldenkrone than I. And honestly, the thought of a husband who has already agreed with you more than with me is a bit exhausting.”

Louise looked caught between dismissal and amusement. “I know it’s difficult for you, Mariah, but don’t be silly. He came to England looking for a young bride with a dowry and family connections. Not an old widow with nothing to her name but her name.”

“You are not old! I do wish you’d stop saying you are, because I have no intention of granting that I am in a few years.”

Louise waved that off and straightened from her lean into Mariah. “Don’t fill my head with nonsense. It’s you he’s after. Not me. And that’s ... that’s as it should be. It’s your turn, little sweetling. Mine has passed and isn’t likely to come round again.”

She wanted it to, though. Never in her life had Mariah understood anything about her sister so clearly. She really did admire the greve, and this decision on her part to help him win Mariah ... it was a brave, selfless thing she was trying to do. To give to Mariah what she herself most desired.

Love surged up for this woman with whom she’d been at odds her whole life. Mariah captured her hand again and held it between her own. “You’re a good sister.” Her lips curved. “But so am I. Don’t give up hope yet, Louise. I think the Lord has a happily-ever-after in store for you yet, if you’re bold enough to seize it.”

Her sister narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to now?” Her voice, however, didn’t sound suspicious like it usually would have. It sounded curious.

Mariah just grinned all the more and stood. “I think we had better get out of these ball gowns.”

“I suppose you’re right. We don’t want to wrinkle them.” Louise stood too and moved toward the door.

“Louise?” When her sister paused and looked back, Mariah pursed her lips. “Dress warmly. I have a feeling we may end up outside this afternoon.”

“In the snow?” Louise sounded disbelieving as she glanced out the window.

It was snowing? Mariah spun around, a gasp of pleasure slipping out when she saw the beautiful flakes drifting slowly down. “Oh! Perfection! Well, that seals it. We must go out later! Oh, I hope there’s enough to break out the sleigh.”

“That does sound festive.” Louise sounded begrudging. “All right. I’ll dress warmly. Should I caution Mother to do the same?”

She couldn’t quite believe that her sister would accept her advice without demanding to know what she had up her sleeve, but perhaps the conversation had left her feeling warm toward Mariah too. She nodded. Waited for Louise to move to her own room, or to Mama’s. Waited until she heard their voices.

Then she darted out into the corridor, down to Cyril’s door, and rapped lightly upon it. She had no idea if he was there or if—“Oh!”

His valet, Kellie, opened the door, looking startled to find her there.

Cyril was right behind him, then elbowing him aside. His eyes were wide as they swept her from head to toe. “Mariah. Wow. Your costume for the day?”

She laughed at the idea—not ashamed to admit she was delighted by the response. “Don’t be silly. For the evening. I’m about to go and change. But first ... a slight tweak to the afternoon’s plans.” She leaned closer so she could pitch her voice low. “We need to orchestrate things so that Gyldenkrone and Louise end up together during the adventure.”

“We do?” His surprise quickly gave way to understanding, and then a smile. “Quite right. That makes much more sense.”

“Doesn’t it just?”

“They’re rather perfect, really. I mean, they’ll be doubly insufferable together. But perfect.”

She laughed and stepped away. “If you make it outside before I do, give the instruction to Mrs. Green and the children.”

He saluted her, stiff as a toy soldier, but for his wide grin.

Mariah darted back to her room just as Blakely made her way to it as well. As her maid helped her out of her exquisite ball gown and into the pretty, warm clothing Mariah had chosen for the day, Mariah let her smile—and her plotting—fade.

Better to pray than to scheme. Pray that the Lord would breathe life upon them today. That just as He had sent the ultimate miracle to earth on this coming night so long ago, He would send a smaller one now to their family.

That He would show them true joy. True peace. True love of family and neighbor. That somehow, through the whirl of snow and music of laughter, they would see what she so dearly prayed they would.

That joy didn’t come from what the world said made sense. Joy came by embracing love.