He would remember this day, though, as some sort of turning point in his life. A turn surely for the better, even if…Well,even if. He was not going to close his heart to love again. Sixteen years was quite a long enough spell.
Remember that day.He heard the echo of the advice he had given Winifred when he came across her as she was watching her deaf brother run down a slope, pretending to be a bird, and Nicholas realized he had surprised her in a moment of uncharacteristic despondency.
He still thought it had been decent advice. He would apply it to himself. He would remember today.
Though tonight’s ball was still an unknown.
For the moment he was content to leave it that way.
One moment at a time.
Chapter Nineteen
As she dressed for the ball, Winifred tried to decide what had been her favorite part of the day so far. It was almost impossible. Every part had been her favorite.
A main contender, though, must be the moment when they had learned that Andrew had won the carving contest with his stone sheep and lamb. Mama had squealed as the card markedFirst Placehad been set beside it and she jumped up and down like a girl. Papa, unable to hold back his tears, had hugged Andrew tightly while Winifred explained to her brother in sign language what had happened. Robbie, quite forgetting to look sullen, had smiled broadly as he thumped Andrew on the back, and the other children joined Mama in jumping up and down, cheering. Susan and Emma hugged Andrew’s legs, almost tipping him over. He was laughing in his ungainly fashion.
Oh, yes, that had definitely been a highlight of the day. Perhapsthehighlight. Winifred could feel tears well in her eyes just at the thought of that scene and Andrew’s excitement as Papa led himforward a short while later to receive his winner’s red ribbon from the Earl of Stratton.
Oh, but there had been other highlights too—browsing with the little girls at the stall with all the purses and bags; watching the maypole dancing and then actually participating herself; listening to Stephanie and the choir and the organ in the cool dimness of the church; watching the archery and the log-hewing contests; sitting on the grass during the picnic tea, listening to Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield and Miss Delmont reminisce about days long gone; and…Oh, and being asked to reserve a waltz for Colonel Ware at the ball tonight. Apparently, no oneeverreserved dances ahead of time for that event. It was not a formal affair, after all. But Colonel Ware, who must have known that, had reserved the waltz with her anyway.
Winifred dared not ask herself what it meant beyond the fact that she was going to dance at least one waltz tonight—and not with General Haviland this time.
Suddenly, looking herself over in the pier glass in her small dressing room—she was wearing her longtime favorite muslin dress, which wafted about her when she moved and made her feel very feminine—she squeaked and made a dash for the bedchamber and the daisy brooch she had set down on the dressing table for safekeeping before taking off the dress she had worn all day. She had almost forgotten it. She took it back into the dressing room and pinned it carefully to the bosom of her dress. It was her only piece of jewelry. The gold Papa had given her for Aunt Anna’s ball would not suit the muslin.
She smoothed her fingertips over the brooch and smiled at her image. Another definite highlight of the day. She knew it was cheap and not even close to being real silver, but to her it was priceless.
She turned her head from side to side. She liked what she had done with her hair. It was pretty much in its usual style, but she hadmanaged to get the knot high on the back of her head without leaving behind long strands of hair to dangle untidily over her neck. Her neck somehow looked longer with her hair this way.
And since when had her appearance really mattered to her? She had decided long ago that she was not pretty and there was no point in lamenting the fact. Being neat and tidy was good enough. She only ever looked in a mirror for practical purposes. She very rarely lookedatherself.
She looked now and was pleased with what she saw. She was a young woman, eager to proceed with her life—and all the rest of her life stretched before her, filled to the brim with possibility. She could do and be whatever she wished. She was neither pretty nor shapely, but she was not an antidote either. Tonight there was even color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. And her smile, she decided, trying it out, was…nice.
She did not know how much she would dance tonight. This was not her come-out ball, after all, with Aunt Anna to make sure she had a partner for each set. But she would not mind if no one else asked except Colonel Ware—though surelysomeonewould. She was now acquainted with a largish number of people here, and she felt comfortable with them. She would dance a waltz at least. Oh, she wished she could slow time when it began and waltz forever.
She laughed at the silly thought.
There was a knock on the door of her bedchamber, and she poked her head out of the dressing room to call to whoever it was to enter. Sarah, dressed all in pale pink, looked impossibly pretty. She was fairly bursting with excitement.
“I cannotbelieve,” she said, “that I am allowed to dance. Is this not the most exciting nightever, Winnie? Oh, you do look nice. I like your hair that way. You look…elegant. And pretty.”
“And you look extremely pretty,” Winifred said. “Shall we go down to the ballroom?”
“Oh yes,” Sarah said. “Do you think any of the boys I met today will ask me to dance?”
“If they can find the courage,” Winifred said, laughing. “But you know how self-conscious and unsure of themselves boys can be, especially with pretty girls.”
Sarah had attracted a following of them during the day, blushing boys who had gazed worshipfully at her and bolder boys who had acted tough and shown off for her. They had tended to cluster in groups to give one another courage.
Ah, courage!
But she did not need to find it, Winifred told herself. She had already been asked for a waltz. Her heart was beating almost painfully in her chest anyway as she left the room with her sister and closed the door behind her.
She wondered if she would remember today as one of the happiest of her life, as she remembered that other day when she was nine years old.
—
Nicholas had been to other summer fetes since the one that had ended so disastrously sixteen years ago. He had always shut his mind to the memories and enjoyed himself anyway. All day this year he had been unable to forget. Tonight, memory pressed on him, and he no longer tried to block it.
