Chapter 13

C old seeped into her boots and past the layers of wool and muslin, yet Angelica found herself watching Guinevere walk away, and her heart sank at the sight of her sister’s rounded shoulders. Things may not have been perfect in the Callaghan home, but there was no denying that their parents’ relationship had always remained strong. Angelica wished she could say the same of her siblings.

Guinevere’s courtship couldn’t have been more different than her parents’. No instant spark drew them together. No whirlwind of kisses and sweeping declarations. No hasty marriage. Her sister and brother-in-law had been childhood sweethearts who’d known each other their entire lives and hadn’t rushed into the decision that now bound them together. Yet every step was laden with disappointment as the lady returned home.

Music rang through the air, the happy notes striking her ears like a death knell, warning everyone far and wide of the coming agony. There was nothing to be done about it, so Angelica shook off the snow and crossed to the front door. Carefully, she shut it behind her, inching forward without causing a single floorboard to squeak, but to reach the stairs she had to pass before the parlor door, and try as she might, she couldn’t make herself invisible.

“There you are, Angelica,” called Mama. “Do join us. We are practicing for tonight.”

“And preparing the costumes,” added Father.

Wrinkling her nose, Angelica contemplated the various excuses she might offer, but there was nothing to be done. This was a dance she knew well, and no efforts on her part ever allowed her to escape entirely; one could not win every victory, and it was better to take this minor loss to avoid a greater one later.

Casting off her cloak, she hung it on the peg by the door and entered the parlor. Emily sat at the piano with the family gathered round; with both Viviane and Aloysius married within the last year, the group ought to have looked meager, but Thomas and Charity being in attendance filled out the numbers. The children all ran about, barely able to contain their excitement for Christmas Eve and the celebrations to come, and even Biddie toddled after her cousins, spending most of her time getting back on her feet after having collided with one of them.

Ivy garlands and holly branches festooned the mantlepiece and piano, and a pile of evergreen cuttings sat on the sofa, waiting to be woven together. The children came rushing over from their mother’s side, the youngest clamoring for her attention as they demonstrated the robes they were to wear, whilst the elder two clung to their maturity by only the barest threads.

“Grandpapa said we can sing a verse of ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ ourselves,” said Gael, to which Alegría nodded vigorously, and Angelica could easily imagine just how compelling it would be to see the pair bedecked in those plants and their costumes whilst they passed around the collection box.

“Is that so?” she said, crouching down to meet the children.

“Your Aunt Angelica was the first to sing that part,” said Papa, his expression beaming as he watched his daughter, but the reminder made Angelica’s stomach sink.

“Do say you’ll join us,” said Mama with a grin.

“You know I do not go caroling,” replied Angelica, and although they had shared this conversation an endless number of times over the years, the lady still managed to look crestfallen at the pronouncement.

“Please?” added Gael as Alegría snatched her aunt by the hand to tug her toward the piano.

“If ever there was a plea that could change my mind, it would be that,” said Angelica, leaning in to give the pair a buss on the cheek, though Gael wriggled out of reach before she was able to seize her prize.

“Why not join in the fun?” asked Thomas.

Shooting to her feet, she met her brother’s gaze. Those bright eyes of his sparkled as though caroling was the best thing a person could do.

“She never goes caroling anymore,” said Helen, turning back to the piano with a sigh, for she was still young enough that her parents’ edicts bore the power to force her attendance.

“Thank you for the invitation, but no,” said Angelica.

But that only encouraged the bounder to cross over to her, settling his arm around her shoulder. “Come now, we are having a splendid time of it. You can keep me in order. Dunce that I am, I cannot find the harmony, and you were such a fine singer when we were children. I cannot believe that has changed.”

Angelica shrugged off his teasing (and his arm) and stepped away, giving Thomas a narrowed look. “I said no. I do not go caroling.”

That laugh in his expression faded, his brows pinching together.

“I know it may seem inconceivable, but much has changed since you were here last,” she replied, turning to the parlor door.

“Can you work on the costumes for us, then?” asked Father, nodding toward the greenery on the sofa as the youngest began spinning in place, the gold braiding holding on for dear life as it saw yet another Christmas and another pair of Callaghans wearing it.

Holding back a sigh, Angelica nodded. “Very well.”

Without further ado, she slipped over to the sofa, and her hands set to work, going through the process with the ease of one who had made dozens upon dozens of these crowns before. Weaving the branches together, she focused on the task as the music started up once more. The voices blended with the harmonies Emily had developed years before; for all that they insisted on long practices every year, the music never changed, and the family all knew their parts.

Even now, Angelica heard the harmony she’d once sung amongst the blend of piano and voices; the notes were so worked into her memory that she could hardly recall the proper melody, and she fought to keep herself from humming along.

“May I join you?”

She looked up to see Charity standing there with Biddie on her hip, and Angelica nodded at the empty cushion on the other end of the sofa. Shifting the child to her lap, Charity sat opposite her, and Biddie immediately reached for the holly, but Angelica’s hand shot out with practiced ease, reaching her before her mama.

“Oh, no, sweetie. You do not want to play with that,” said Angelica, brushing her thumbs across Biddie’s soft hands. Though the child looked every bit her father’s daughter (even including his dimples), it was Charity’s eyes that stared back at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Wrinkling her nose, she gave the child a silly expression that made Biddie’s gaze widen. Glancing at the festive paraphernalia on the sofa, Angelica discarded the poisonous, messy, or prickly elements (which made up the vast majority) and snatched up a pinecone.

She held it up with a smile. “What about this, Biddie?”

Those little eyes widened even further, her smile growing as she reached for the proffered item. Of course, Biddie also attempted to grab at the pile of yew, holly, and evergreens as well, but between her mama and aunt, they were able to distract her with the pinecone. Biddie raised it in the air and then shook it, banging it against her leg and then pressing it to her mother’s cheek and mouth. And then the lady’s eyes.

Angelica chuckled and set to work weaving the branches into a crown. Each caroler required one, as they could not possibly go about the village singing songs without a festive headdress, and as much as it pained her to aid them in this endeavor, the children’s excitement for their costumes allowed her to dismiss the lingering heat that threatened to color her cheeks whenever she thought of what was to come tonight.

“Is your family going caroling as well?” asked Angelica, counting the heads that required the decorations.

“As we left our nursemaid in London, I fear we haven’t anyone to watch Biddie, and I do not want to keep her up so late. In fact, I should leave before long, as she ought to be down for a nap,” replied Charity. “Thomas is likely going to attend, but I shall remain at the inn to watch over her.”

“I would be quite willing to watch her if you wish, and several women in the village serve as temporary nursemaids for such times,” she said, looping a length of ivy and testing the size on her head. “Though I would suggest you and Thomas bow out tonight.”

Charity’s brows pinched together as she slanted a look at her sister-in-law. “Is there a reason?”

Try as she might, Angelica couldn’t keep her cheeks from heating. “There is, but please just believe me. You will not enjoy the Callaghans’ Annual Christmas Caroling.”

“I will admit that only raises more questions, and my curiosity demands that we attend simply to see what the fuss is about,” said Charity with the faintest of smiles. Then, drawing in a breath, she nodded. “But you do not strike me as the sort who says such a thing without cause, and I would be a fool not to heed your warning. Though heaven knows how I will convince Thomas.”

Angelica’s hands paused at the pointed casualness with which the lady mentioned her husband, and when she forced her fingers to move again, she replied, “He seems to adore you. I have no doubt he will listen if you ask him to remain at home tonight.”

Charity grimaced and let out a sigh that caused her daughter’s curls to flutter. “That was my terrible attempt to broach the subject of your brother, but I fear I do not have his tact and shouldn’t attempt subtlety. I want to apologize for Thomas.”

Glancing up from her work, Angelica stared at the lady. “And why is that?”

But that was met with a challenging lift of Charity’s chin. “I fear you are no better at pretense than I am, Angelica Callaghan, so do not feign ignorance. I know this visit has been very difficult for you, and I keep telling him that he is making matters worse by pretending all is well. But Thomas has spent a lifetime honing his humor into a shield, and though I have made great strides with him, I fear he is prone to hiding behind his jests and teasing to avoid difficult discussions.”

Pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head, the lady grumbled, “Though he is always eager to press the issue when that difficult discussion doesn’t involve him.” Charity raised her voice and continued, “I know how complicated family relationships can be, and I fear his floundering is off-putting to you, which only compounds the trouble. He does care for you.”

Angelica frowned at the crown in her hands, which was now a tangled mess of ivy and holly. With a sigh, she cast it aside and began again. “How are you enjoying your time in Northumberland? I understand it is your first time this far north.”

With another huff (which drew Biddie’s attention and began another round of poking with the pinecone), Charity shook her head. “So you are going to avoid the subject as well, are you?”

“As you said, family relationships are complicated, and at present, I would prefer speaking of anything else,” she said, measuring out another length of greenery.

That earned her a narrowed look. “As you wish, Angelica, but I warn you now that I am only going to allow you and your brother to flounder for a little longer. I learned from my family troubles that waiting for things to improve never solves anything, and I will take action if needed.”

“I am duly warned,” replied Angelica with a half-smile.

Charity nodded and asked, “So, you do not care for Christmas?”

Angelica’s brows rose. “That is your idea of a more pleasant subject?”

“You are the one who insists on a more pleasant subject. I am simply attempting to get to know my sister-in-law, who has been avoiding me throughout our visit because she is angry with my husband and likely believes I am so unfailingly loyal that I couldn’t possibly understand that there are two sides to every story and that her pain might be just as justified as his.”

“And what justification does he have for being angry with me?” demanded Angelica, her eyes narrowing on Charity. But she answered her own question by holding up her hands and adding, “Do not answer that. I do not need to know. He can be as angry as he wants, for it doesn’t change the truth of the matter. I did not send him from home, and I did nothing to deserve the silence I received until he decided to reappear on our doorstep.”

That earned her another raised brow as Charity watched her with a long-suffering smile upon her lips.

Drawing in a deep breath, Angelica shook that away and turned her attention back to her work. “No, I do not care for Christmas.”

Silence. Angelica hadn’t meant to sound so curt, but it was clear from the lady’s fidgeting that both of them were discomforted by the previous conversation. Drawing in a deep breath, she reminded herself that Charity had been extending an olive branch, and it was best not to turn it around and prod her with it.

“I do apologize,” she said with a sigh. “I fear I am out of sorts because this time of year is so positively wretched.”

Among other things.

But Angelica ignored that thought and continued, “I admit that I love the idea of Christmas, but the Callaghans bring chaos wherever they go, and never is that more true than at this time of year, and it leaves me entirely unable to appreciate the beauty of Christmastime.”

Charity’s brows twisted together as she shifted Biddie on her lap. “I am sorry to hear that. I wouldn’t say that I had ever given the holiday much thought before, but the last few years have made Christmas my favorite time of the year. Last year, my daughter was born and my father remarried an incredible lady, who has been such a blessing to us. I married Thomas not long after the Christmas before that, and I met him at a Christmas Eve party three years ago today.”

“And he swept you off your feet? A grand moment of love at first sight?” asked Angelica, fully able to imagine the self-assured fellow blundering into a lady’s life with all the cockiness befitting a flirt.

Just like their father.

But that earned Angelica a bark of laughter as Charity shook her head. “Gracious, no! I thought him an insufferable fool, placed on this earth to torment me. I called out his ridiculous behavior and gave the pest a setting down that left him stunned.”

Angelica laughed. She couldn’t help it, for she could well imagine this blunt lady doing just that, and it gave her a twisted sense of glee to know that her brother had someone in his life who would call a spade a spade.

“Is that so?” said Angelica, but Charity required little prodding as she set about recounting the tale of their courtship with biting humor, which was directed inward as often as it was outward, and Angelica couldn’t help but hang on her every word.