Portia raised her upper skirt to make a sling. “If we carry the figures like this, I think they’ll be safe. We’ll be careful.” She picked up the nearest animal and put it in the cloth.
Lady Arradale did the same. It was the sort of thing a countrywoman would do, gathering rosehips from a hedge, and their underpetticoats reached almost as low as their skirts. Even so, Genova was astonished that great ladies would do such a thing.
As she helped to collect the figures, she considered that her companions were countrywomen. Portia had described her home as a simple country manor. Lady Arradale’s Yorkshire home could hardly be simple, but various comments had made it clear that she involved herself in the affairs of her tenants and other local people.
Real people. In many ways like her.
The figures were all safely stowed, so she took the baby Jesus and the Mother Mary and put one in each pocket. Then she picked up the stable and cloth and led the way out of the room.
When they arrived back in the hall, Lord Rothgar gestured toward a table set not far from the fire. “I gather the mantle would be more traditional, but itshould be low enough for the children to see. I’ll station a servant to make sure it isn’t harmed.”
Genova saw that some of the older children were still up, fidgety, but expectant. She went to the table and Ash stepped beside her. “Can I help?”
Another pearl.
“My hands are full, so could you spread the cloth?”
He took it and did so, smoothing it. Genova tried not to remember the fall that had broken her embroidery frame. It was hard, especially with her attention drawn to his beautiful hands, which made her think of his touch, his taste, his…
He stood back and she placed the stable on top, centering it carefully, blinking back tears. If only her mother were here.
She stepped back then, giving Thalia the pleasure of taking figures from the ladies’ skirts and placing them in their places. It didn’t matter if some were not quite where they normally went. It was time to let go of the past.
Someone took her hand. She knew without looking that it was Ash. Though her throat ached, she curled her fingers around his. Another pearl to be with him at this moment.
Thalia had half the figures in place when she said, “Each one has a story! Genova, what did you say this one was?”
Genova had to swallow to clear her throat. “A llama, from South America.”
“Ah, yes, and here’s the lovely dragon!” Then she paused and looked at Genova. “We must sing the song.”
“Oh, no…”
Ash squeezed her hand. “Teach us the song.”
She looked at him. “But my voice isn’t very good.”
“You clearly taught Thalia. Sing. I’ll help.”
Genova bit her lip, but she began to sing. She hated to raise her voice in this great chamber, but the acoustics helped and Thalia joined in with the second part.Then Ash picked it up, but not to sing the third round. He added his voice to Genova’s, carrying her to places she’d never reached in song.
The third round wove in, and she realized that Damaris Myddleton was leading that with her strong, trained voice. Then everyone was singing, and the simple tune became a grand chorale.
In the stable, in the wild,
Came the mother, Mary mild,
Came the star as bright as day,
Came the angels, lutes to play.
Lutes to play, joy a-ringing,
At the sound of angels singing.
Joy, joy, joy, joy,
Joy, joy, joy, joy,
