Mama glanced at me but said nothing. We were now in the church and must not speak again. We stopped at our box, and Mama followed the girls and me inside. We rented the box,with its white wooden panels and red velvet seats. It was in the center of the church, in a respectable location with a good view of the pulpit. I let my eyes roam over the church and met Sophia’s gaze. She watched me from across the aisle, her face sad. Her father whispered something to her, and she turned to look at the front of the church.
The little resolve I had left to be in a good mood completely fled, and I could not force myself to pretend I was happy. Mama gently placed her hand over mine and gave it a tender squeeze. When I looked at her, she offered me an understanding smile, and my heart warmed. She did understand—more than anyone ever could.
As more people entered the church, the choir began to sing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” A familiar figure appeared in the aisle outside our box, and my heart leapt at the sight of him.
Henry.
He was so tall and elegant, his dark hair clubbed at the back. He held his tricorne under his arm and stood with confidence in his broad shoulders. When he met my gaze, his blue eyes were just as stormy as they had been last night at the ball, but this time they were not filled with anger, only remorse. I knew him well enough to know he was disappointed in himself.
I longed for him to know I was also upset with my actions, but there was no way we could speak here.
The exchange took place in a matter of seconds, and then he continued down the aisle toward the front, where his family occupied one of the more prestigious boxes in the church. His father and mother were with him, and they sat across the aisle from the governor’s box. Governor and Lady Dunmore were there with several of their children, including Lady Catherine, who didn’t hide her obvious admiration when Henry appeared.
I tried to focus on Mister Price’s homily as I forced the images of the night before in Cumberland Hall from my mind. I was determined to feign illness for the rest of Reggie’s visit,regardless of his wishes or his hopes for a bright Christmas in his childhood home. It would not be hard to complain of an ailment when I felt sick just thinking about his actions.
When the service finally ended, we were ushered out of the church to find a world covered in snow. It was coming down faster now, lining the dark branches of the trees, the rooftops of the houses, and the edges of the fence railings. Laughter and conversation filled the winter air. Children played in the snow, throwing snowballs and rolling snowmen. The world was filled with the cold scent of wet earth.
Mister Goodman, a widowed cobbler, stopped our family to inquire after our health. He was a kind man who had been alone for a decade or more since his wife passed away in childbirth with their first child. The infant had also died, and Mister Goodman had spent a long time in mourning. As he spoke to Mama, I watched for Henry.
The governor’s family exited the church with Lord and Lady Ashbury. Behind them, Henry emerged at Lady Catherine’s side. She was looking up at him from under the brim of her pretty bonnet, and her eyes were shining.
Jealousy twisted in my stomach, and I had to look away. I hated feeling jealous. It was such a hopeless, mean-spirited emotion that made me want to lash out. It was the very emotion that had caused me to say those horrible things to Henry.
“Rebecca, Hannah,” I called to my sisters as they stood with their friends in the snowy churchyard. “Let us be on our way.”
Their disappointment was evident, but the lure of treats and presents at home overcame it.
Mama was still speaking to Mister Goodman, and I tried to gain her attention so she would know we were leaving. She finally saw me and then smiled up at Mister Goodman, who was quite tall. “Please,” she said to him, “come by this evening to celebrate with us. Christmastide is a time for friends to gather.”
He nodded, his face filling with joy. “I will, indeed.”
“Good.” Mama smiled again and then joined me and the girls.
I glanced back at Mister Goodman, and he tipped his hat in my direction.
“Now, don’t start thinking there’s anything to this,” Mama said as she caught my gaze. “Mister Goodman is a kind man in need of companionship. I’ve simply invited him to join us so he’s not alone.”
“You’ve been widowed for over a year,” I told her. “I’m surprised he hasn’t sought you out sooner.”
“Hush.” Mama nodded at the girls ahead of us, close enough to hear. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
We were halfway home when someone came up behind us. I turned, expecting to find a merrymaker, and found Henry instead. I paused, my heavy skirts swaying around my legs.
“Merry Christmas, Henry,” Mama said, stopping as well.
“Merry Christmas, Mistress Conant.” He removed his tricorne and looked at me, speaking a little softer. “Merry Christmas, Libby.”
“Merry Christmas, Henry.”
Mama looked between us and said, “I will leave you. I have much to prepare for our Christmas supper. Henry, you must stop by this evening to celebrate with us. Please say you’ll come.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I will try.”
Mama placed her hand on my arm, then continued down the street toward home with the girls.
I stood facing Henry as snow fell around us. My heart was heavy, not only because of what had transpired between us at the ball, but because of everything I had endured at Cumberland Hall. I tried to smile for him, but I could not.
“I did not want to speak to you on the street,” he said, “but I cannot let one more hour pass before I apologize for my behavior last night.”
