Chapter 15

T he children were a wonder in the snow. Their beautiful faces were aglow with happiness. Their apple cheeks were bright, their eyes danced like jewels, and their mittened hands clapped merrily as they made snowballs and snowmen.

Their governess, Miss Abbot, watched them and played with them with remarkable glee. It was no easy thing, Gordon assumed, for a woman to play in the snow, especially when her skirts were no doubt growing sopping wet at the hems.

And yet Miss Abbot did not seem annoyed. No. Her own gaze was rather merry, and her cheeks were a bright apple red too. The children clearly adored her. They followed her like ducklings or danced about her laughing.

In between bouts of snowballs, she led them in simple Christmas carols.

She was, it seemed to him, a remarkable woman to be able to manage so many little people. Of course, she did have assistants. There were nursemaids and housemaids to manage the small horde. Gordon could only imagine what it was like taking care of so many little people, but perhaps soon he and Perdita would have one of their own to join the group.

The thought struck him as shockingly odd and wonderfully beautiful at the same time. Christmas morning at this castle was unlike anything he could ever remember. It had been one giant cacophony of noise from the moment the children had gotten up, gone downstairs, and opened their presents.

There had been many cries of excitement, embraces, and thank yous.

After that, all of them had gone to the breakfast room and devoured a marvelous breakfast. He had been quite surprised that there were no servants. He had thought he was one of the only people in the kingdom to give his servants the day off. But the Briarwoods, despite their number, looked after themselves on Christmas Day.

There had been cold meats and beautiful fruited breads kept in the pantry for them. And the brothers had brought it all up as soon as the presents were finished.

The wives had seemed full of love and cherished as their husbands took such care.

One might have worried about their morning beverage. He needn’t have done.

Much to his amazement, the Briarwoods knew how to boil water. Most aristocrats could not, but as the brothers had collected the platters of food, the sisters had gone to the kitchens, set the fire ablaze, boiled water, and made both tea and coffee and brought it up while singing merrily.

The breakfast room had been decorated in such a way that the soul had to soar.

There was colorful paper that had been painted and drawn upon or cut into shapes, clearly by the children, and hung with the holly and ivy.

Mistletoe hung in the doorway.

Good God! The mistletoe had been so used that he wasn’t entirely certain it should ever be put up again. He had stopped counting kisses, even the kisses he gave his own wife. Once he had realized that kissing was the goal of the couples, he had engaged too, much to the delight of Perdita.

He had, perhaps, kissed her already twenty times this morning. Twenty times more would not be enough. Each kiss seemed to make him wish for another. He never wanted to be out of his wife’s presence. It was strange.

It was a confusing but appealing new land. They had sat together at breakfast, and he had watched in amazement as the couples had made merry as they ate their simple yet delicious fare.

The love in that room could have lit London.

Then, after eating a great deal, they had all decided to go out for a walk.

He’d taken his falcon with them, who was now soaring overhead. The bird was eyeing the melee with the sort of wisdom that only a creature like that could do. He stayed far away from the children, and Gordon was rather glad.

He had no idea how the falcon might react to the excited hands of children. He was a bird of prey, after all, not a robin. But even so, the falcon kept close to him. It had been an odd few days, allowing his falcon out or keeping him carefully in his room.

He and Perdita had been most particular about ensuring her crow and the falcon never met. After all, in nature, crows did go after falcons, and falcons did go after crows. They did not want to risk such a dangerous thing.

The precautions had worked.

His heart was light as they walked towards the woods. He took Perdita’s hands in his and began twirling her about in the snow.

She laughed. “What has come over you?”

“I don’t know,” he said happily. “I think it is your family. They are magicians. Somehow, a spell has been cast over me.” He paused. Then winked. “Perhaps it is just you and your mother. The two of you…”

“No, no,” she said, pursing her lips playfully. “Do not say it. We’ve already discussed this.”

“I was not about to say that you two are witches,” he protested. He gazed at her, trying to understand how he had begun to open to her, to life again. “But there is a magical power to both of you that can make anyone do anything.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Have you no free will then?”

He softened at that and pulled her into his arms. “Of course, I have free will. I showed you that last night, didn’t I? When I chose to marry you. When you chose to marry me, you showed you had free will too.”

She laughed. “You don’t think it was just some happening, forced by the universe?”

“Never,” he whispered, pausing as they entered the edge of the woods. “I think I’m beginning to take a leaf from you Briarwoods. Perhaps it was exactly what was meant to happen. Though I cannot see why.”

“Can you not?” she teased, her mittened hands sliding up his shoulders to link behind his neck.

“I can’t,” he replied honestly, wrapping his arms about her.

Her face filled with emotion then and she tilted her head back to lock gazes with him. “Because your happiness is wanted by the universe and you deserve it, and you are finally getting it.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Your certainty is a remarkable thing, Perdita, about how people deserve to be happy. In my experience…”

“Yes,” she tsked quickly, “I know. You have been surrounded by difficulty and cruelty. Now, I think it is time that you let joy in.”

“I am,” he replied, cupping her cheek with his gloved hand before swiping a snowflake away from her lashes. “I am. I shall do my very best.”

“Good.” She turned and looked back towards the children, who were now a considerable distance away near the castle. “They never feel the cold, do they?”

He looked at them as well, amazed. “No, nor do you,” he pointed out.

She laughed in turn as they walked a few more steps into the forest, yet still in sight of the castle. “I spend so much time out-of-doors that I do not feel weather unless it is extreme. Now, if there was a gale-force wind, of course, I would go inside. One has no desire to be brained by a tree branch, but if it’s cold?” She shrugged, her cloak fluffing about her. “It never bothers me at all. For this is the magic of it all,” she said, gesturing around to the glittering snow covering every surface. “I think cold is where we truly find ourselves. And of course, I love winter.”

“That truly does amaze me,” he said, stunned. “Given how much you love animals, I would’ve thought you were a creature of spring or summer.”

“Oh, I love new life too,” she assured, “but this? This time of the year? We cannot outrun ourselves. This is where we face ourselves. This is where we love ourselves the most because it is the most challenging. It is easy to love oneself when everything is easy and warm and the colors are bright,” she said, “but once the darkness comes and the cold surrounds us, and all we wish to do is stay in our beds and pretend the world doesn’t exist, and perhaps not speak to ourselves as kindly as we should? That is when we have a real chance to show how much we love ourselves.”

“And do you love yourself?” he whispered, his voice nearly catching in his throat.

“Of course, I do,” she said, her eyes widening with pleasure. “I have loved myself from the day that I was born. And I’m lucky because I had a mother who encouraged me to do so. You know, I have told myself I love myself almost every day since the moment I was born. Mama is really remarkable. She’s read so many books and had the most interesting teachers, and she was determined that her children should be secure and strong and know that love is the center of everything. She’s like no one else I know.”

He agreed with that. Sylvia lived life as she saw fit, with no worry of the world’s judgement, as far as he could see.

He admired it, though he didn’t entirely understand it.

“My parents loved me,” he admitted, “but I certainly didn’t have anything like that. And then being alone? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever said I love myself. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone except my parents, or maybe not even my parents, that I…” His voice dropped off.

“Love them?” she offered, her voice gentle.

He gave a tight nod of his head.

She smiled kindly at him, squeezing his hand. “I am very sorry for it,” she said, “but there’s still time, isn’t there?”

His stomach tightened, and he swallowed. Yes, there was time. And he parted his lips, ready to tell her that the feelings inside him, well, they had to be…

But before he could say anything, one of the children ran forward from the castle, pausing about halfway across the snow-covered lawn and shouting at the top of their very capable lungs, “We’ve let your crow out, Perdita. He wanted out. He was cawing wildly in your room. You mustn’t leave him. He’s always with you.”

The poor child, standing at some distance, managed to look confused and happy at once, struggling to understand why Perdita would leave the crow, and also joyful that they were reuniting the two of them.

A look of alarm crossed Perdita’s face, and she looked up to the intertwining branches and then back to the castle.

The falcon was soaring overhead still, lacing his way through the trees. And then, much to her horror, she spotted something on the forest’s edge.

He followed her line of vision, and his heart nearly stopped.

It was not her own crow but a group of them.

The crows began to caw, letting out loud sounds of aggression and anger. They spotted the falcon, and soon the group of birds set wing into the air like a dark cloud.

“Oh God,” he ground out. “Oh God, no,” he called.

His falcon spotted the group of crows coming towards him and let out a wild cry. And for a second, it looked as if the falcon was going to fly dead straight at the group of crows and attack them. But then he appeared to have a second thought and began to fly away.

The crows followed, chasing the falcon wildly. And then he spotted Perdita’s face as another crow’s cry filled the air, swooping in from the direction of the castle.

Her crow. For a horrified second, he knew with every bit of himself that her crow was going to join that attacking clutch of birds and kill his falcon. What had he done? What a fool he had been to think that he could bring the falcon to this place, where he could be attacked at any time by other animals.

The falcon was not prepared anymore for such things. He had taken such care with him. His insides felt as if they were being ripped to shreds, and the group of crows latched onto his falcon who could not, it seemed, outmaneuver the group of them.

They swarmed him. The falcon let out screams of pain, and then his falcon began to plummet to the earth, the crows chasing him.

Much to his shock, Perdita’s crow darted in. He did not chase his falcon. No. He did something else entirely. He began to caw and peck at the other crows, and the group of crows seemed to stop in the air, listening to him as if they were communicating. Gordon knew how clever crows were, but in all his life, he’d never seen this.

The group of crows began to circle Perdita’s crow, and then suddenly, shockingly, they all flew off deeper into the forest, leaving her crow behind.

His falcon descended to the ground, letting out plaintive cries. Gordon ran towards him, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Tears began to sting his eyes. He could not remember ever crying, but now hot salt tears slipped down his cheeks.

The falcon and he… Well, he had taken care of that falcon as he’d wished that someone would have taken care of him.

And now the bird lay on the cold snow. His eyes blinking slowly, his body prone.

Perdita’s crow landed next to the falcon and let out a sad little sound. He hopped and jumped around. The two were in no danger of making war. The falcon looked at the crow, and for a moment Gordon could swear he could see the falcon’s gratitude for her crow, for saving his life. Except he did not know if his falcon had been saved, for he was clearly wounded.

And in Gordon’s heart, he knew the great mistake that he had made. Thinking that he could soften, thinking that the world could be kind and benevolent. The world was vicious and hard, and it always would be.