Chapter 8

A ngelica cleared her throat, and her sister didn’t even jump at the sound. Glancing from over Mr. Stickland’s shoulder, Guinevere’s eyes dimmed at the interruption, though her mischievous smile was fixed in place.

“Here you are, Guinevere,” said Angelica with as much steel as she could muster as Mr. Strickland jerked away from the lady’s touch, and even in the dim shadows of the stairway, Angelica saw the gentleman blush as he stammered an apology.

Her sister sighed—a great heavy thing filled with all the exasperation of a younger sister—as he scurried away. “Don’t look so thunderous, Angelica.”

“As your husband isn’t here to do so, I feel obliged to take up the responsibility on his behalf.”

Guinevere pushed away from the wall with another sigh worthy of Ophelia. “It’s an innocent flirtation. That is all. Just a harmless bit of fun since my dear husband deemed tonight’s party beneath him.”

“Your husband has to rise early tomorrow to provide for you and your children. I would think that would earn him a little understanding,” said Angelica with a frown.

With a vague wave toward her elder sister, Guinevere flitted down the stairs and disappeared, and Angelica leaned heavily against the wall just as the other had done a moment ago.

“It’s an innocent flirtation.” The dismissive manner in which Guinevere spoke had Angelica’s stomach souring and her ribs constricting, for she couldn’t think of anything less innocent than being unfaithful to one’s spouse, in word or deed.

The creak of a floorboard had her gaze darting upward just as a flutter of movement whisked out of sight. Rubbing at her forehead, Angelica didn’t bother moving.

“Any children found out of bed will be made to copy lines from Grandfather’s poetry tomorrow,” she called up at them, and before the final word was placed on the sentence, five sets of feet scurried away, and even above the din of the party, she caught the slam of the bedchamber doors as they flew into bed.

Allowing gravity to take hold of her, Angelica slumped onto the stairs. Tucked out of sight, she was protected from prying eyes and the worst of the noise, and she longed to remain in that little haven. Forever, perhaps. It wasn’t as though her life was a constant whirlwind, but when her family set their minds to it, there was little peace to be found in her world.

Life wasn’t lived unless it was to the “fullest,” though she hadn’t the foggiest notion of what that meant. Was a life “lesser” if one preferred calm and quiet? Or didn’t see the appeal of riotous laughter and drinking to excess? Or adored an intimate conversation rather than the shouting matches going on downstairs?

A footstep below gave her only the briefest of warnings before a shadow invaded her space. Angelica shot to her feet at the same time the other jolted back.

“Pardon, I didn’t mean to intrude—” The stranger paused. “Angelica?”

“Oh, Thomas,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It is you.”

“You startled me. I was looking for a respite,” he said with a huffing laugh before motioning for her to return to her seat, but she shook her head, so he took it instead with a wince. “You don’t mind, do you? Monstrously rude to sit when a lady is standing, I know, but I need to rest my feet or I will collapse. I do not recall Father’s parties being so…”

“Chaotic?” offered Angelica.

Thomas gave her a wry smile and nodded. “I have been to many an evening party before, but none have been anywhere near as lively. It is not even half ten, and I am already longing for my bed, which is something I never thought to say.”

The gentleman seemed to want a response, though Angelica couldn’t think of what to say beyond, “I am envious of your wife, who has Biddie as a ready excuse to bow out. Even if I were to sneak away to my bedchamber, I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink with all the noise.”

Silence fell between them. Or as much silence as could be found with the guests raging below.

“I feel as though we haven’t had a moment together since my arrival,” said Thomas, leaning his elbows against his knees.

“This is a busy time of year for the family.”

Thomas’s lips quirked into a smile. “Or you are doing your best to avoid me.”

Angelica refused to allow her emotions to play across her face. She would not give him that satisfaction, though her pulse quickened and her muscles tightened.

“Come now,” he said, his head canting to the side as a hint of a laugh entered his tone. “I know it’s been a long time, but the Angelica I knew wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth. I would like to know that girl again.”

“The Angelica you knew was a child, and though the people downstairs are doing their best to disprove the belief, most of us change as we age.”

“True, but that is the reason I am here. To know my family better.”

“A simple note would’ve done wonders,” mumbled Angelica.

“Pardon?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Pay me no mind,” she said, turning back down the stairs. “I need to see to the refreshments.”

“Can’t you remain for a moment? I do want to talk—”

“I am terribly busy and haven’t a moment to spare,” she said with a wave of farewell from over her shoulder. “Surely you can understand that.”

Angelica tried to keep her voice even, but it was impossible to remove all derision when faced with the utter ridiculousness that was her brother. Sitting there, feigning interest after all these years? When he couldn’t be bothered to ever visit before? Or sacrifice precious time to write his sister a letter or two? Only a passing mention of her in his biannual letter to Mama?

Oh, yes. Thomas Callaghan had missed Angelica desperately.

The sound grew as she descended the steps, and she steeled herself to venture back into the fracas, though she required another moment or two to herself without one of her all-too-often vexing siblings ruining it. Forcing thoughts of Guinevere and Thomas from her mind, Angelica moved to the dining room and examined the refreshments, which were still doing well without her constant attention.

Considering them, she wondered if she ought to replenish the ginger biscuits, despite there being a pile on the plate. It would give her something to do.

Angelica turned around, searching for something or someone to pass a minute with, and found the party still raging as boisterously as ever whilst the guests tippled more and more of the cider. Shouts from the parlor testified that a round of some game had begun, and Angelica shuddered at the thought of how they were managing such a thing in that confined space. But then, Mama always claimed that was half of the fun. For them, perhaps.

Glasses were raised at intervals and toasts drunk; the liquid sloshed over the edge as several of the more excitable guests punctuated their statements with sweeping arm movements. Angelica stared at the droplets scattering across the rugs and felt grateful that Papa hadn’t chosen to serve wine; the brown of the cider and wassail blended in with the fibers enough that the spots were hardly noticeable even now.

In a far corner, Angelica spied a quiet harbor in the storm as a pair stood together, their eyes darting about the gathering with the confusion of those who prized sanity more than the Callaghans. Slipping past the revelers, she drew near to the couple and smiled.

“Mr. and Mrs. Knight?” she asked with a bob. “I fear I wasn’t on hand when you were formally introduced to the family, but I am Miss Angelica Callaghan.”

“Oh, yes. It is a pleasure to meet you,” said Mrs. Knight with a curtsy of her own as her husband bowed.

“Your father was so kind to extend us an invitation,” added Mr. Knight with a smile too strained to be believed. Especially when the pair lapsed into silence as Mrs. Knight clung to her husband’s arm. It wasn’t difficult to grin at that, for though they tried their best to feign calm, they hadn’t Angelica’s lifetime of practice.

Leaning close, she winced. “Yes, my family’s parties are a bit raucous. My parents assure me I am, indeed, their daughter, but I cannot fully believe it as I am ill-suited for such boisterous gatherings. They are so very overwhelming.”

As though by magic, her words broke through the strain emanating from the pair, and Mr. Knight’s expression softened into something genuine.

“I fear this is far more…energetic than we anticipated,” he said.

Mrs. Knight nodded. “And as much as I do enjoy a party, I am of an age where I haven’t the strength to go on for hours like everyone here seems to.”

Angelica laughed. “Age has nothing to do with it. I am many years your junior, yet I haven’t the strength for this. Goodness, I was raised around such things, and I never developed a taste for it. I simply thank the heavens that not all of my parents’ parties are so exuberant—but they do love Christmas.”

With a furrowed brow, Mrs. Knight said, “But it isn’t Christmas. Not for another sennight.”

“Ah, yes. That is because my family is quite busy during the Twelve Days. With so many celebrations going on, their skills are in high demand. My father will spend most evenings gracing parlors to do readings or to tell ghost stories—”

“It isn’t a proper Christmas without them,” said Mr. Knight.

“True,” replied Angelica with a smile. “Though it pains my father to stray from his beloved verse, he is an excellent storyteller and is often invited to display his talents. And then many of my family will be called upon to play or sing for concerts and balls, and we spend the afternoons performing pantomimes and mummers’ plays.”

Though such skills were in demand throughout the other months, all other holidays consisted of a single day or two. Three at the most. Not twelve. The money they made from all those ventures during the Twelve Days of Christmas carried them through many of the leaner times throughout the year.

“As we haven’t time to celebrate it ourselves, my family has taken to hosting their annual party the week before,” explained Angelica.

“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Knight with raised brows. “You do seem to love your Christmas here.”

“Does Newcastle not celebrate it?” asked Angelica.

“Yes, we do,” said Mr. Knight, his eyes traveling about the gathering. “But not quite so…thoroughly.”

“I wouldn’t say my family is a pattern card for the entire area, but Haydon does love an excuse to make themselves merry,” said Angelica. “But I am pleased you could join us.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Knight with a nod. “We were invited to spend the holidays with friends in Fellburn, and being so close to Haydon, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the gentleman who has captured our son’s adoration so completely.”

The lady’s tone held a note of caution, and Angelica couldn’t help applauding it. No doubt Mrs. Knight feared for her son’s future if he continued with the poet’s life, and Angelica searched for some assurance to give, though she couldn’t offer anything concrete. Some protégés returned to their old life, hopefully the wiser. Others continued on their path, determined to fill the world with their words—only to spend their lives scrounging.

“My father has a habit of collecting correspondents. Especially those who share his love of verse,” said Angelica, refraining from adding most especially those who loved his verses. “But I do hope you are enjoying your time in this quiet corner of Northumberland. I know many might think me mad, but I do love it here in the wintertime. I adore the cold and the snow.”

Mr. Knight shuddered, though his smile didn’t slip. “I must disagree with you there, Miss Callaghan. I prefer a sunny day.”

“That is all well and good, but to see the world painted in white is divine,” said Angelica. “Especially when bundled up inside and watching the snowflakes floating down from the heavens, preferably with a cup of drinking chocolate and some spice cake on hand. It’s incomparable.”

“When you describe it thusly, I cannot help but agree,” said Mrs. Knight with a laugh. “Though I hail from Cornwall, where such days are few and far between.”

Slowly—ever so slowly—Angelica urged them further into conversation. No doubt her mama would despair at their discussing the weather (such an insipid subject!), but seeing the Knights ease into the familiar waters lifted not only their spirits but hers. They were a pair of sensible people lost amongst the madness of a Callaghan party, and Angelica would do her best to help them weather it.