Chapter Twenty-Two

1911

God, it was cold out there. Laurie was grumpy. Why the hell had he decided to storm out of Elsie’s house like that? And not even to sensibly stomp outside, hail a hansom cab and get back to his own accommodation where he could pour a brandy and huddle by the fireside.

The family had a house in London, which didn’t really belong to any one of them individually. The Pencradocs had bought it many, many years ago, a tall, thin townhouse near Kensington Palace Gardens. It made sense for the family to still have a pied-à-terre up there, especially when Jago was travelling to town for business, and, latterly, when Laurie — as the eldest boy — was working with his uncle on estate business and needed to be there as well.

In years gone by, the young ladies of the family would have been expected to stay at the house while they took part in the Season and the ridiculous — in Laurie’s eyes — Queen Charlotte’s Ball, where twittering debutantes would be presented to the Queen, who held court next to a giant birthday cake .

Nowadays, it was a place for the family to stay if they were in London. Much to the secret chagrin of the Wheal Mount girls and Laurie’s sisters, the Pencradoc family was no longer devoted to the Season. If any of them happened to be there, all well and good — they could enjoy a party or two. But the families would not be making a special effort to find the girls husbands during the Season.

But Laurie had not done the sensible thing and headed back to the cosy house near Kensington Palace Gardens. No. He had walked around the streets near Brunswick Square, huddled in doorways and stomped around the garden square itself — all in the vain hope that Viola would leave Elsie’s and he could apprehend her for a quick word.

That’s all he wanted — a quick word, out of earshot of his sister.

He was just cursing his own stupidity, promising himself that he would give up in five more minutes, when he saw the door to Elsie’s house open and Viola step outside. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. It looked like she was catching snowflakes as they drifted down over the heavy sky. Then, opening her eyes and smiling, she looked along the road and stepped out onto the pavement.

Thank the Lord!

Laurie hurried along the snow-covered street — he could barely feel his fingers and toes right now, despite his thick boots and warm gloves, but he caught up with Viola and reached out, touching her shoulder.

‘Hey!’ she cried, swivelling around, anger in her face. ‘What the . . . Oh! Laurie. It’s you.’ The anger disappeared from her face and was replaced with a startled expression instead. ‘Sorry, I . . .’ She gestured wildly with her hand muff but as her hands were still tucked inside it, it all looked a bit odd. ‘A girl from back home, Dorothy Arnold — she disappeared last year from New York. She was taken from the street, maybe, and I thought you were . . .’

‘Going to grab you from behind and spirit you away?’ he asked. ‘Oh, hell. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I should have called your name and got your attention that way.’ Would he ever do anything right? Or was he fated to always make huge mistakes any time he was near this girl?

‘More or less.’

‘I’m sorry — I honestly didn’t mean to scare you. That’s dreadful about that girl — Dorothy, you say? Doesn’t anyone know what happened to her?’ The thought of one of his sisters vanishing like that was horrendous.

‘No.’ Viola shook her head. ‘There are lots of stories, but nobody knows the truth.’

Viola looked upset and Laurie could have kicked himself again for not thinking before he approached her.

‘Again. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘Oh, I’m not scared now I know it’s you,’ she said. She nodded, pulling herself together. ‘Well. Good day, Mr Teague. Unless there’s a particular reason why you tried to get my attention beyond just for the hell of it.’

Laurie pushed his hands into his pocket and tried his best to look contrite. It didn’t come easily to look contrite around Viola. A scowl felt much more natural. ‘There was a reason I waited for you—’

‘You waited for me? In this ?’ She looked up at the cold grey sky, thick with falling flakes. ‘Why ever did you do that? Couldn’t you have just come back into your sister’s house?’

‘So many questions.’ He fought against a smile. ‘Look, can we walk for a little? I really think I’m going to freeze to the spot if I stay here any longer.’

‘Sure.’ Viola looked surprised. ‘I’m heading this way.’ Again, she gestured with her hand muff.

‘Thank you. Shall we?’ He gestured for her to begin walking and fell into step beside her. ‘Now, to answer your questions. Yes, I waited for you — as I told you. I’m not in the habit of lying to make myself look more gallant. I did indeed wait for you.’ He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘In this.’ He thought he saw a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth. That was a good sign.

‘I don’t want or expect any gallant or grand gestures,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Let’s just get that straight between us right now! Never!’

‘All right. I believe you. Which is just as well, because all that is something I could never really be or do, and have never been or done. Much to my chagrin. But also, and here I switch your questions and answers around a little, I didn’t want to go back into my sister’s house today because I’ve had enough of her machinations and it always feels good to storm out on El, because you very rarely get the last word in otherwise. Trust me. I’ve known her all my life.’ The smile appeared to grow, although Viola kept her head studiously down, seemingly watching where she was going for patches of ice. ‘And the reason why I waited, Viola, is because I wanted to apologise to you.’

‘Apologise to me?’ Now he had her full attention and she looked at him, confused. ‘Why ever do you need to apologise to me?’

‘Two more questions!’ He took his hand out of his pocket and held up his thumb and his forefinger. ‘One,’ he said, folding his thumb back in. ‘Yes. I do need to apologise. And two.’ He folded his finger in. ‘I didn’t really mean what I said about us not liking each other. Obviously. I can’t speak for you liking me, but I wanted you to know that I don’t — dislike you.’ There. He’d said it. ‘I actually do quite — like you. In a weird way.’ It was his turn to put his head down and frown at the snow underfoot. ‘I mean, you and I haven’t exactly had the best of introductions to one another. First of all, I knock you into a puddle.’

‘Oof. Yes. But then I guess I was a little mean to you as well. The jigsaw puzzle was not broken. I just wanted to make you feel tiled for being such a clodpole.’

‘Pardon?’ It was Laurie’s turn to smile. ‘In English, please?’

‘Sure. Sorry.’ She laughed — she actually laughed. ‘I guess I am trying to talk to an English person. I wanted to make you feel guilty for being such an idiot.’

‘You sure did that, honey.’ Laurie’s American accent was so bad it verged on comical — even he knew that — but she laughed again. ‘Then next, we meet at my sister’s. Where we argued again.’

‘Very true.’

‘And then more arguments at that wretched ball . . .’

‘I’m not sure we actually argued at the wretched ball. We just — didn’t say enough to each other. You did rescue me from that fellow who was so entirely obnoxious that I could not have stood another minute in his company. That was a nice thing to do.’

‘He was utterly vile. Can’t stand the man. And after that, Halloween. Less said about that the better.’

‘Yes.’ Viola wasn’t going to elaborate on that one either. They stood in an uneasy silence for a moment. ‘Then here. Today. I nearly slip on the ice and you appear again.’

‘And El tries to be the most indiscreet matchmaker I have ever encountered.’ Laurie shuddered, then indicated that they should keep moving. It was bloody cold out there. ‘I can only apologise for her.’

‘I know. It’s not your fault. It’s fine — you had every right to shout and stomp like that. I might have done the same if it was Sam doing that.’

‘But I am right in thinking that we can tolerate each other well enough to not spoil the wedding, am I?’

Viola smiled. ‘Oh, I should think we can do that well enough, Laurie.’ Then her attention was caught by something further up the street. ‘Oh, look! ’

Laurie looked, and, towards Russell Square, there was music and laughter, and something altogether festive going on.

‘Shall we go and see what it is?’ she asked. ‘You know — to try to have a better time together than we usually do. So we know how to play nice with one another on the twenty-second?’

Laurie looked at the beautiful, perfectly oval face staring up at him, her eyes dancing and a smile most definitely on her lips now. He felt his heart and stomach do an awfully strange kerchung sort of swooping movement and he blinked.

‘Yes,’ he heard himself saying. ‘That would be wonderful.’

* * *

Viola laughed. She put on an English voice as bad as his attempt at an American one. ‘That would indeed be wunnerful — wunner — wun . . .’ She reverted to her normal voice. ‘No. I can’t say it. Why is that?’

‘You obviously need to spend a little longer in England,’ Laurie told her. ‘Anyway — shall we?’ He nodded up ahead to the Christmas fair or market, or whatever it was. He didn’t offer his arm, or ask to take her hand, or any of those terribly gallant things young men usually did, and Viola didn’t know whether to be relieved or put out at that. Be relieved , her sensible side told her. You are aiming for a truce, nothing more .

It would have felt awfully awkward to walk up to that square on his arm as if they were — together. But she did notice a little movement where Laurie pushed his hands further into his pockets and if she was a romantic at heart — which she was not — then she might have taken it as a sign of gentlemanly restraint and been a little hurt that he hadn’t offered his arm.

But she wasn’t interested in him romantically and she truly didn’t care if he took her arm or not, so she straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin up and walked as smartly as she could towards Russell Square . . . making sure, though, that she didn’t actually walk too smartly, in case he thought she was trying to walk away from him and that she did not want his company.

‘Doesn’t it look beautiful with the snow everywhere?’ she asked. ‘We have some dreadful snow in New York, but this is nice snow. Not too much of it and just thick enough to make it look really Christmassy.’

‘In a few hours it will have turned to slush,’ said Laurie. ‘So you really have got the best of the day here.’

‘I am inclined to agree. And I wonder what we have in the square — oh! Can you hear that?’

As they got closer, they could hear the festive noise and cheer resolve itself into the familiar words of Christmas carols — a group of people were singing beneath a tree that had been hastily decorated in holly and ivy — as evidenced by the bucket containing that festive greenery, which was being carefully looked after by a very stern lady in a red coat. Children were running around in the snow, building snowmen and playing games. A toboggan or two was being dragged around the grass, and a mulled-wine stall and a roast-chestnut stand were cosily situated in an area radiating warmth from the fires the stallholders had lit. People were standing listening to the carols, enjoying the wine and chestnuts, and smiling at the children scattered around them.

‘Oh, how utterly perfect !’ said Viola, entranced. ‘I didn’t know this was happening today. Would someone have said?’ She looked up at Laurie.

He shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. ‘Not necessarily. The choir might have decided to come out because of the weather and once the chestnut and mulled-wine sellers found out, they would have come along too. And — well — children gravitate to places like this in weather like this, so it’s just a perfect scene, really.’

‘It is. It’s . . . magical. I’ve never had a roast chestnut before. They smell divine.’

‘They’re an acquired taste. And take some skill to eat. Wait here — I’ll show you what I mean.’

He headed towards the chestnut seller, and, after a quick conversation and some money changing hands, Laurie was presented with a bag of the hot, delicious-smelling festive treats. ‘These are better than that thing for warming your hands,’ he said, returning to Viola and nodding at her hand muff. ‘I promise.’

Viola extracted her hands, and, laughing, took the bag of chestnuts from Laurie. ‘You’re right!’ she said, holding the knobbly parcel carefully. ‘It’s almost a shame to eat them.’

‘Trust me,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘You may prefer to keep them as handwarmers. One moment. You need something else.’

He slipped away again and Viola saw him go to the mulled-wine stall. He came back with bought two small cups. ‘To take the taste away. Cheers. However, I shall hold them as you’ll need both hands to eat those things.’

‘Deevie,’ she said. And it was divine, actually, to be standing in Russell Square, listening to Christmas carols with the delicious scent of roast chestnuts tickling her nose, and the aroma of mulled wine tempting her into a warming drink. She opened the bag of chestnuts carefully and sniffed again. The shiny, brown nuts were looking awfully tempting and she took one out and looked at it for a moment. Then she looked at Laurie.

‘I find it easier to break it open,’ he said. ‘If you can use your nails, that works well.’

‘All right. I’ll try that.’ She pierced the shell with her thumbnail and exposed a strange, pale centre with a texture she couldn’t quite describe. Not what she was expecting at all. She eased a piece of the nut out and popped it in her mouth. In there, it was an even stranger texture, and, although she valiantly chewed and swallowed it, she found it all coated the inside of her mouth quite unpleasantly.

‘Ugh,’ was all she could say.

Laurie laughed. ‘Here. Take a sip of this. It should help.’ She took the mulled wine gratefully and sipped it, the spices filling her nose and mouth in a much more pleasant way.

‘I ain’t gonna give up on these devils,’ she said, handing the wine back to Laurie. ‘They ain’t gonna beat me.’

‘I salute you, then,’ he said, doing exactly that and bowing for good measure. Luckily, he managed not to spill any of that precious wine and by the time Viola had chewed her way through five of the devils, and he had taken the last one from her out of pity and pulled a face while he ate the thing, it seemed like the mulled wine really was, as he’d said, the best thing in the world to accompany the roast chestnuts.

‘Jeepers, what a disappointment,’ Viola said. ‘I was so looking forward to those. All traditional and everything.’

‘My family would be the first to tell you that “traditional” doesn’t always mean good. But, you’ve tried them, and . . .’ He looked around and held his arms out, encompassing the glorious scene before him. ‘What could be better and more Christmassy than this?’

‘Not much.’

They stood in silence for a moment, neither of them seemingly knowing where to look or what to say. Some form of unsaid words hung between them, as clearly as the choir was singing the notes of “In the Bleak Midwinter”.

Laurie fixed his gaze on her and scowled, and seemed about to speak, and her heart began to pound quite treacherously in her chest.

Perhaps this was a good time for her to reiterate that Christmas wish she’d been toying with, the very first time she’d seen that winter star in the sky . . .

But then—

‘Unca Laurie! Viola!’ The pair of them swung around to see Marigold gamely trudging towards them, waving at them, her own little hand muff hanging at an angle across her body. ‘It’s fun here! Look at the snow!’ The little girl stormed ahead, in front of an efficient-looking woman who Viola assumed was “Nanny”, and stooped to pick up a pile of snow. She squashed it in her hands in a childish attempt at a snowball and threw it, then clapped her hands and laughed delightedly.

‘Marigold Ashby,’ said Laurie, crouching down so she could run at him. She almost knocked him over as he closed his arms around her, then he stood up and swung her around before placing her back on the ground. ‘Good afternoon.’ That little scene did something even more strange to Viola’s stomach. He looked so happy and natural in the child’s company. Yes, he was clearly well used to small people.

She shivered. It wasn’t just that, though, that made her shiver. She had the oddest feeling that they were being watched and she couldn’t work out why. But someone, somewhere, was watching the events here unfold and something was happening somewhere that she couldn’t see, despite the fact she quickly glanced around the scene to check.

Jeepers!

‘Good afternoon.’ Marigold curtsied prettily, bringing Viola back to the present, and Laurie bowed back.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the nanny, hurrying up to them. ‘She saw you and ran, and I couldn’t catch her quickly enough.’

‘It’s not a problem.’ He smiled at the nanny. ‘I thought you were at Mr and Mrs Griffith’s home with her?’

‘We were, but we saw this on our way back and of course we had to stop the carriage and get out, and come and investigate.’

‘I’m not surprised. Well, I suspect Lady Elsie will be pleased to have you back in the warm before too long.’ Then he turned his attention to his niece. ‘Hot milk for you, Miss Ashby. And perhaps a buttered crumpet when you get in?’

‘Buttered crumpets are my favourite ,’ said Marigold. Then she leaned confidentially into her uncle, who bent down to hear her. ‘I had a buttered crumpet at Lily’s,’ she whispered — although Marigold’s whisper was not exactly a whisper and quite loud enough for Viola to hear. ‘But I may have another one when I get home. And. Hot chocolate !’ She clasped her little hands over her mouth and made her eyes wide. Laurie copied her gesture and Viola bit her lip to hide her smile.

‘I shan’t tell your mama you had one at Lily’s,’ Laurie said. He bowed again. ‘And I wish you well in your quest for extra buttered crumpets, young lady.’

Marigold spluttered a laugh and reached up for her nanny’s hand. Then she yawned. ‘Yes. I think I am ready to go home now. I am quite cold.’

‘All right. Be a good girl and we will see you soon.’ He bent down and hugged her, then Marigold looked up at Viola and smiled. Viola couldn’t help but bend down and take the tot in her own arms and hug her as well.

They waved at Marigold and Nanny as the pair headed off, and then, finally, they were alone again. Well, as alone as they could be in the middle of a carol concert in Russell Square.

‘I’m afraid,’ Viola said, ‘that I must echo young Miss Ashby and advise you, sir, that I am also ready to go home now. And also quite cold.’

‘Fair enough. Could I get you a cab or something? Or we could share — if you wished. I’ll need one myself as I don’t think I can stand being out here in the snow much longer — although, I have to say, it was worth it.’ Laurie studied her and Viola felt her cheeks redden and heat up. Did he mean it was worth waiting for her outside of Elsie’s or that it was worth walking through the snow to find this magical little scene? Or even, worth it to exchange a few words with his niece.

She cleared her throat. ‘It’s fine and dandy. Really. I’m just up there.’ She pointed to her street, which wasn’t very far at all — you could see it, straight up from the square. But it was, she knew, out of his way. ‘I’ll just walk, no need to escort me. You go ahead and get your cab. You must be frozen.’

Laurie seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. ‘Very well. I’m — um — I’m glad we managed to clear the air a little. So we can behave on the twenty-second.’

‘Yes. I agree. Oh — and Laurie?’

‘Yes?’

‘You waiting in the snow — I agree. It was definitely worth it.’

Then she put her head down, turned in the direction of her street and hurried away through the still-falling snow. Her cheeks were now molten — she could feel them burning — and he could take that comment about it being “worth it” in whichever way he chose.

She knew which way she had meant it.