Chapter Thirteen
Most of the household gathered in the afternoon, ready to grasp handfuls of the fresh greenery and bring the winter indoors for a little while.
Paul and Harriet had put the branches and vines on a side table, and supervised, trying to make sure that pictures or mirrors remained on the wall, and that nothing terribly dangerous occurred. Since several ladders were being used, and the candles about to be lit, discretion and supervision were definitely required.
Paul admitted that the guests had done an excellent job—there was an abundance of soft pine branches, their resin scenting the air—and in addition, a holly tree had surrendered a dozen or so of its branches, ripe with glossy red berries.
Ivy was abundant, since it trailed over one side of the house. Nobody had had any problems cutting lovely flowing vines, and those blended nicely with the fragrant pine boughs.
Harriet had discovered a basket of unused ribbons in her travels, and the maids had passed a happy evening or two tying the prettiest into bows. There were golden ones, red ones, glistening white ones, and even an elegant purple silk one.
Tying that to the tiny bunch of mistletoe Sir Farren had proudly discovered, she passed it to Paul. Who looked at it, then at her with a raised eyebrow. “Here?”
She blushed delightfully. “Of course not. Hang this near the fireplace, please.”
He sighed. “I can wait.”
That was a lie, of course, since as the afternoon drew on, Paul’s impatience was rising. As were other, more physical parts of him.
He forced his thoughts into more prudent areas; he did not want to encourage any more friendly or intimate touches from Sir Geoffrey. An extended bulge in his breeches would probablynotgo unnoticed.
The night could not come fast enough.
To his surprise, Sir Geoffrey had joined the decorating, but after pricking himself on a holly sprig, retired to the stair case where he seated himself casually half-way up, and directed the operation.
Then, having discovered that his voice brought him many compliments, Sir Geoffrey began to sing once again, choosingGod Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen, which they all knew. His voice was most pleasing and echoed up the stairs and back down into the large hall with its high ceilings.
Moments later, he was joined by two housemaids, happy singing soprano, and shortly thereafter, the entire household rang with the beloved carol.
After a round of applause and laughter, someone else beganHark the Herald Angels Sing,another favorite.
Paul saw Harriet smiling and singing along, and realized that everyone was happily participating in this informal concert. Lady Aphrodite was standing on the landing, next to the Earl; both having apparently been summoned from their rooms by the music. The Tisdale girls perched on the top step, adding their voices to the chorus.
In this way, with laughter and song, Christmas Eve became brighter somehow. Paul knew he would always remember this moment—passing a holly bough to Harriet and seeing the warmth in her eyes as she looked at him and took it. Did it matter that some verses of the carols were skipped? Of course not. Neither did it matter that some of the Latin choruses were a bit mangled. The hearts of this eclectic gathering had joined as one to celebrate a special day. And Harriet was at his side to share it.
It was all he could have ever asked for.
The candles were lit as the skies darkened with the onset of twilight, and at last the party declared the decorations to be complete.
After a final rousing version ofAdeste Fidelis,complete with four-part harmony, the applause was deafening, only fading away as Cook and a maid wheeled in the tea tray.
“It would seem a very merry way to pass an afternoon,” said the Earl, walking slowly down stairs. “I thank you all, for a better concert could not possibly be had anywhere.”
“We’re glad you’re here, my Lord,” bowed Paul. “And since you are, may we ask that you further honor us by lighting our Yule log? ’Tis time…”
A ripple of excitement ran through the hall.
“I’d be delighted.” The Earl grinned. “What must I do?”
“Well, if you’ll give us just a moment…” Paul beckoned to a couple of the footmen, and together they emptied the baskets of kindling onto and around the massive log. With a final check of the damper and a prayer that nothing had taken up residence in the chimney or chimney pots, he declared them ready.
The Earl stepped forward as Paul lit a taper from a nearby candle. “There, my Lord. Simply hold this to one of the pieces of kindling and after it catches, step back.”
Taking the taper, the Earl nodded. “I believe I can manage that.” He stepped forward as Paul stepped back. “Now this piece should do it.”
Everyone watched, holding their breaths, as the Earl touched fire to wood.
And waited.
