“What should I wear?” she asked. She longed to wear one of her new, fine dresses, but didn’t want to be out of place.
As if in answer to another prayer, Thalia said, “Dress finely, dear. Today will be one grand entertainment!”
Genova chose her favorite of her new gowns, a dusky pink silk figured with silver and trimmed with silk lace. It was certainly not her warmest, but she couldn’t resist.
The gown had a sacque fall at the back in the latest style and required wide hoops. She would wear it overa silk shift, trimmed at the elbows with a deep fall of fine lace.
As they started to dress, a maid arrived with a chocolate tray, including sweet rolls, and with the news that Sunday service would take place in the chapel at ten and that everyone would dine at one.
“Oh, it’s both Sunday and Christmas!” Thalia exclaimed. “How lovely. Warm shawl, Genova. Perhaps two!”
Genova chuckled. Despite ruffles and bows, Thalia was as sharp as a new needle.
When they were dressed, Thalia took something out of her jewelry box and said, “Close your eyes and hold out your hand!”
Genova obeyed, knowing the sweet lady was going to give her a trinket to wear. Her own jewelry was modest. She was wearing only pearl earrings and a silver cross on a ribbon around her neck.
She felt beads and opened her eyes to see…a string of pearls. “Oh, Thalia. Thank you! I’ll take good care of them.”
Thalia closed her hand over them. “They’re your Christmas birthday gift, dear.”
“I can’t, Thalia. They’re far too valuable.”
“I shall sulk if you don’t take them! It’s quite a simple string and perhaps a little girlish for me now. But they will go perfectly with that gown. I know Ashart will admire them.”
Ash would probably think they should go to him when Thalia died, but Genova clasped them around her neck, loving the way they glowed against her skin. Surely she now looked like a candidate for marchioness.
Unsteady with hope, she left the room with Thalia.
The double shawls were certainly welcome as the route to the chapel took them into an old part of the house which might even date from the original abbey. It was as if the new house had grown around it like barnacles around a wrecked ship.
Eventually they entered a stone chapel that wasdefinitely centuries old. It was of modest size and would surely not hold all the guests if they chose to attend. Not seated, at least. The gentlemen, as colorful and bright as the ladies, were obviously going to have to stand.
As she and Thalia waited for a line of ladies to settle into chairs, Genova looked around for Ash. He hadn’t arrived yet. Surely he would come. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
The musicians who had played for dancing the night before began to play for worship on wind instruments and drum. It was an old, haunting tune that suggested ancient times, and the altar was backed by a medieval triptych in which gilded angels prayed around Christ in the manger.
Genova felt as if she’d stepped back in time, as if she might look around and see men in long, furred gowns and ladies in strange headdresses. A brilliance caught her eye like a flame. She turned, and there was Ash, entering the chapel.
She almost laughed aloud, even as her hopes crumbled.
He shone like an angel made of ivory and gold. She blinked away that strange vision, but his pale suit was still lushly embroidered in brilliant colors and golden threads, and his buttons on coat and waistcoat flashed fire like diamonds.
They probably were diamonds.
His possessions had clearly arrived, revealing the truth. This must be the sort of clothing he wore at court, and she was sure he’d chosen his most splendid outfit as a statement to his cousin.
She glanced around and found Lord Rothgar near the altar. His was a quieter magnificence, but it was of crimson and gold. Lady Arradale stood beside him in matching crimson, large rubies around her neck.
How could she find humor in loss of hope? And yet she did. She and these people lived on different scales.
She looked back—how could she not?—and Ash’s eyes met hers as if he had been watching her. A slightsmile flickered. She couldn’t help but return it. Her love hadn’t altered.
He began to come to her, but then they were all asked to settle for the service. She took her seat and opened her prayer book.
Dr. Egan led the lovely, traditional Christmas prayers and readings. Genova sank into them, praying for peace. In the night she had regretted her spilled words on war, but no longer. They might have helped move Ash’s mind toward reconciliation, and that was the truly important thing.
Mr. Stackenhull, the music master, led the hymns, but Genova was more aware of Ash’s voice. She sang quietly, as she always did, but hearing afresh the words.
