Page 38 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Philip!” she cried, jumping into his arms as her neighbors watched, smiles lighting their faces. It was so exceedingly rare to see Rose in such high spirits when her husband was away with such frequency.
“How have you made it home for Christmas!”
“You must not expect too much,” he warned, embracing her with strong arms. “I must return at dawn on Boxing Day.”
Rose tried to swallow her disappointment, not wanting to ruin a single fleeting moment.
It is only one Christmas. There will be many more to come,she told herself. How could she have known then? There had been no warning, no indication that she should have begged him to stay where he would not be touched by the perils of war, aboard the ship of death.
“Miss Rose, are you well? You have taken on a shade of pale that I find alarming!” Duchess Buford called out and Rose was abruptly brought back to the present.
Philip is gone now, Rose. You must accept your loss and embrace the gifts you have been given here in Buford. Look about you. You are surrounded by good breeding and you want for nothing. You have been showered with friendship and a new beginning. Tis time to let go. Philip would want you to live, not pine for him.
Rose knew she would always have love for her husband. It was not something which she could simply vanquish but as her eyes fell on Nicholas’ face, his brow knit in concern, she realized that with the proper help, the pain would eventually diminish.
“Miss Rose?”
“Pardon me!” she sighed, forcing a sheepish smile upon her face as she stepped across the threshold toward them. “I do believe I was lost in thought.”
“Tonight is for family and celebration of our savior, not thoughts of the past,” Nicholas told her a small smile on his lips.
Does he seem curt or do I imagine it?She thought, perching on the edge of a settee. Theodore hurried forward to place a warm cup of cider in her hands, and she thanked him before turning her attention back to the family who continued to sit upon the freshly cut yule log.
The men had gone into the woods for a tree and log earlier in the day while the women continued to decorate the household. Rose was surprised to see that the duchess herself got to work, unbothered to get her hands prickled with pine needles as they strung the greenery throughout the manor house.
They do not seem like noblemen in this moment,she thought, sipping her drink appreciatively.If not for the lavishness of our surroundings and finery, I would not have known them to be any different than the commoners doing this very thing tonight in all parts of England.
“You must come and sit on the log, Miss Rose,” Harry told her. “It is bad luck if all in the family do not touch it before it is burned.”
“Oh, I could not!” she protested, her eyes darting uncertainly, but the duke, duchess and marquess all nodded in agreement.
“Indeed, you must,” Duke Buford announced, his booming voice filled with insistence. “You should not wish to bring a plague upon this house, would you?”
Rose was aghast by the idea but the twinkle in his emerald eyes told her he merely jested.
“I dare not,” she replied, rising to join them and the children scooted aside to permit her room to sit.
“Mother, you must remember to find the coal from last year’s log,” Nicholas reminded the duchess.
“I needn’t be reminded, Nicholas. I have it here,” she replied, raising a sack in her hand.
“Your Grace, do give that to me!” Rose called, reaching for the satchel. “You will soil your beautiful gown!”
“Nonsense, my dear. A gown is replaceable. Traditions are not.”
Rose stared at the duchess appreciatively, seeing something she had never before noticed.
For all her seemingly icy exterior, she is kind and the duke is also.
“Off you go now,” Duchess Buford announced, shooing them from the log. “We must light it now. Theodore, please bring forth the cards. After the log is in the fire, we shall play a game of commerce, yes?”
There was a murmur of consensus, but Rose’s eyes were drawn to Nicholas who seemed to be avoiding her gaze. She stood as Duke Buford and the marquess wrested the yule log into the hearth.
For several days, it seemed to Rose, she had found Nicholas unavailable for the outings. She realized just how accustomed she had grown to taking long walks with him and their conversations.
It was not that the children made for poor company; on the contrary. Each day, she learned more about the inquisitive soul who was Lord Harry Arlington and his sweet but impish sister. She had come to see that Harry was not the backward boy she had been expecting and that Betsey was as caring as she was mischievous. The siblings cared deeply for one another, depending on the other’s strength in the wake of such terrible loss.
She saw much of herself in the Arlington siblings, relating to them in ways which only orphans could know. Rose was certain, if not for their constant companionship, she would have been far more desolate than she was. But each day was bright with promise, despite Nicholas’ sudden unavailability.
