Chapter 34

T welve days of Christmas. No other holiday warranted so much time on the calendar, and though that ought to make it feel long and overdrawn, the days flew by with such speed, leaving one to wonder how one had leapt from Christmas Eve to Twelfth Night in a blink. And though the world marked the end of the season with cheers and dancing in the street, Julian stood at the window, wondering how his month in Haydon had concluded in such an unsatisfying manner.

Of course, he wasn’t in Haydon anymore. With Ernest having turned his back on Julian, he’d found refuge with his parents at the Wallises’ in Fellburn. Something he hadn’t foreseen any more than he’d anticipated falling for Miss Callaghan.

Only four weeks, yet Julian felt like a different man. As a whole, he remained much the same, but something fundamental inside him had shifted, leaving him feeling so much more. Yet incomplete. Though that wasn’t the proper word. He had spent hours trying to quantify the sentiment, and the only one that seemed to come close was “sad.” But that couldn’t encapsulate the emptiness in his chest.

Though his parents and hosts sat behind him in the library, enjoying some refreshment and a bit of quiet before the evening’s festivities, Julian gave not a thought to their whispered conversations, his eyes fixed in the distance.

Holbeck Hall did not sit in the center of Fellburn, but the Twelfth Night procession passed by as the villagers, bedecked in the remnants of their Christmas greenery, paraded down the lane that circled the village. Torches held aloft, they spun and danced, laughing at the evil spirits as their lights chased them away and protected their village for another year, and in the distance, he saw the smoke from the bonfires they’d lit along the way, ready to burn away the decorations of the season; the Wallises’ boughs and vines had already been gathered up, awaiting the moment they would be delivered into the flames. Several little girls trailed after the parade, their hands joined together as they laughed and spun about, waving their evergreen branches aloft.

“Are you certain you do not wish to join us?” asked Mother, her hand resting against his back as she offered up a cup of tea.

But he waved it and the invitation away. “My thanks, but no. I need to pack for our journey home.”

“As you haven’t unpacked your things after arriving from Haydon, I am not certain what more ‘packing’ is required,” said Father in a questioning tone so thick that Julian didn’t need to turn from his vantage to see the confusion on the gentleman’s face. Not that he wanted to.

“Come join us,” said Mother, patting the sofa seat.

“My thanks, but I am not hungry.”

“It wasn’t an invitation, son,” added Father with a hint of a smile in his voice.

“I am a grown man with seven and thirty years to my name,” replied Julian. “I am well beyond the age of being summoned for a scolding.”

“Of course you are,” said Mother. “But I never said it was to scold you. We need to discuss this Miss Callaghan of yours.”

“She isn’t mine.”

“But you want her to be,” she replied.

That drew him away from the window, and Julian turned to see the Wallises drifting to the far side of the parlor, apparently keen to discuss the new painting Mrs. Wallis had hung there.

Father motioned to the armchair by his wife. “Come now, Julian. It is long past the time for us to discuss this situation.”

“What is there to discuss?” asked Julian, crossing his arms for the briefest of moments before realizing how petulant that made him look and dropping them again. “You made your feelings clear about Miss Callaghan, and I assure you that neither of us wishes to bring shame to the family—”

“I want to apologize,” interrupted Father, motioning once more to the seat.

With a furrowed brow, Julian stared at the pair for a moment before doing as bidden. Clearing his throat, Father glanced at Mother, though she looked equally discomforted.

“It isn’t always easy for a parent to remember their child is an adult, capable of making their own choices,” said Father. “As you said, you are a grown man, and we ought not to have meddled—”

“But I appreciate your meddling, Father,” said Julian with the faintest of smiles. “I did not always value it when I was younger, but I have learned that you are often correct, and when you express an opinion I would do best to heed it.”

“That doesn’t mean he ought to give it,” said Mother, giving her husband the faintest of scowls.

Father reached over, taking her hand in his. “We do you a disservice if we are forever sweeping in with grand declarations and warnings. It is one thing if you were reckless or thoughtless, but Julian, you are a good man, and it isn’t our right to meddle.”

Mother nodded, drawing in a deep breath to add, “And it is clear that you care about Miss Callaghan. Deeply.”

“We’ve known each other only a few weeks,” he said with a shrug, and though the words felt wrong on his tongue, Julian forced them out. “I enjoy her immensely, but it is far too short an acquaintance to consider it anything significant.”

“Do you generally mope for days over the loss of an acquaintance?” asked Father with a faint smirk.

“What do you wish me to say, Father?” asked Julian with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Miss Callaghan is a remarkable lady and has caught my fancy more than any other I’ve met. I spent the last few weeks trying to convince her to give me the chance to court her, and just as I was succeeding, this scandal forced us apart.”

Shifting in her seat, Mother drew closer to Julian, setting her hand on his knee. “I fear we judged your Miss Callaghan too harshly, Julian. She seemed such a lovely girl when we first met her, but your behavior of late concerned us, as more and more, you were turning into a Callaghan—which, from what we were hearing and seeing, wasn’t a good thing. We were worried about their influence, and I fear that caused us to think ill of her.”

“But she showed tremendous strength of character,” said Father, his brows pulled together.

“She has so much of it,” said Julian with a gentle smile. “She would rather deny herself than risk bringing shame to our family. I don’t know many people who would do so.”

“And after we treated her so coldly,” murmured Mother.

Silence followed that, and Julian’s fatigue lingered too long in his mind, slowing down his faculties enough that it took several long moments before he realized the implication of what they were saying.

“So, you would support my courting Miss Callaghan?” he asked, leaning forward as he glanced between the pair.

“Whom you court and marry is your decision, Julian,” said Father. “And if we ignore the gossip and focus on what we’ve seen of Miss Callaghan, she seems like a fine lady who might be well-suited for you.”

Julian could hardly believe what he was hearing. His pulse quickened, and he fought against the hope surging up, tantalizing him with thoughts of what might still be. “But the scandal—”

Mother scoffed, flicking her hand at him. “Yes, that. I cannot say how much it means to me that Miss Callaghan is concerned about our family’s honor. I will not claim that it won’t take some maneuvering to keep it from becoming an irritant, but the Knights hold sway in Newcastle, and the idea that the gossip of a tiny, remote village could harm our family is ludicrous.”

Turning quickly, she called over to her friends with a wince, “Not that Fellburn and Haydon aren’t lovely places, but—”

Mrs. Wallis waved the concern away. “But we are insignificant compared to Newcastle society. It is one of the reasons I prefer Fellburn, so I take no offense.”

Returning her gaze to her son, Mother nodded toward her friend with raised brows, as though that solved everything.

“As there is no point in pretending we haven’t overheard everything, I would like to say that Miss Callaghan is a fine lady,” said Mrs. Wallis as she and her husband returned to their seats. “Though I cannot claim more than a passing acquaintance with her, it is clear she is a considerate and intelligent creature.”

“It is shocking what they are saying,” added Mr. Wallis with a scowl. “The Callaghans have been a fixture in the neighborhood for decades, and anyone with sense knows Miss Callaghan is nothing like the rest of them.” Pausing, Mr. Wallis amended, “Though I did have an opportunity to speak with their eldest boy during his visit, and he seems quite a fine chap. Good head on his shoulders as well.”

Mrs. Wallis nodded and added, “There is bad blood between the vicar and Mr. Callaghan, which is far more involved than this latest scandal, and Mr. Peck is doing his best to stir up trouble. He’s an angry, bitter old man, and if not for him, Miss Callaghan would be talked about—there is no avoiding it—but she wouldn’t be the focus of so much of it.”

“Thank the heavens for our own Mr. Atwood,” said Mr. Wallis. “I couldn’t bear to suffer through such a cantankerous vicar like they have in Haydon, who is quick to toss about the hellfire passages of scripture and overlook the fact that though we ought not to turn a blind eye to sin, we are first and foremost to love our neighbor.”

Turning back to his son, Father gave Julian an encouraging smile. “In all honesty, I am more concerned about her lack of a dowry, as those funds are important in establishing a household, but you have worked hard and lived frugally, so that shouldn’t be a great burden.” Expression falling once more, he added, “Though I would caution you not to give her family so much as a farthing. Ernest Callaghan is a leech of the worst sort and will bleed you dry—”

Julian’s hands shot upward. “I do not know if I wish to marry her. I simply want to explore the possibility.”

Father leaned close, a spark of warmth in his gaze as he winked at his son. “Then go to it.”