Chapter Seven
Julianna stood to one side of the drawing room awaiting instruction. List in hand, Lady Renford, directed the house servants where to hang the fresh greenery they had brought inside for the New Year celebration. Julianna couldn't understand what was wrong with the garlands put up before Christmas, but it wasn't her place to question the countess.
"Now, you girls come." Lady Renford waved a hand urging Julianna and the other three young women to attend her.
Marianne sat beside her mother on the chaise. "I thought only the family would be in attendance tonight, Mama. You are putting as much attention into this as you do for Twelfth Night."
"This night is just as important to me. Your father offered for my hand forty years past on New Year's Eve. We shall have a celebration and the room must look exactly the way I wish it." She continued to detail the dinner and entertainments they would enjoy.
While the sentiment was sweet, it couldn't distract Julianna from her own thoughts. Her feelings for Mr. Sinclair were changing so quickly, she feared she should leave Renford Abbey as soon as possible. No longer did she believe she might fall in love with him. There was no might in question. With each day and each moment spent in conversation, he proved he was exactly the sort of man with whom she could happily spend her days. His fine wit and intelligence made time with him pass so quickly.
How pleasant life would be laughing beside him, teaching their children to see joy in every moment. She would never have imagined spending her days in such a manner.
Which only proved why she must leave before he spoke to her.
She was not suited to a life answering to her husband's demands—no, that was too harsh. Mr. Sinclair would never make demands. But a man of his sort should have expectations of a wife, and she knew herself incapable of meeting them.
All her life, she had thought primarily of herself. Her needs, her wishes. Her very inability to consider others wants before her own had told her she shouldn't marry. Although, in a sense, she was putting the sensibilities of her beaux first in not marrying them. She simply would not make a good wife, whereas Mr. Sinclair deserved the best wife he could find. A woman always aiming to please her husband. He possessed such a good heart. He should have a marriage like his father, to a woman who'd celebrate the anniversary of their betrothal.
Clemmie's voice in Julianna's ear pulled her back into the activity around her. "What occupies your thoughts so deeply?"
"Oh, nothing of great import. I'm merely wondering how Aunt Phillips is faring. I think two months is too long for me to be away."
Clemmie took her arm and led her from the others. "Somehow, I imagine our aunt is not foremost in your mind."
"Perhaps it is all the activity here. We live such a simple life in Lyminster."
"You went to balls and assemblies every night for weeks on end during the Season not three years past. You cannot insist you've become a retiring spinster so quickly."
No, she couldn't, even though she didn't miss the parties and people and gaiety. "I find I've grown quite content with the quiet company of our aunt's friends. And I've a few friends of my own among the young ladies there."
"You've had a touch of the blue devils ever since Edward was born. Have you changed your thoughts about your future?"
Julianna sighed. "No, I am still resolute to remain single. It's for the best."
"The best for whom? Surely Aunt Phillips is the only one benefitting from this choice. I don't see you traveling or writing your novels." Clemmie picked up some paper snowflakes and ribbons and handed a few to Julianna. They began to string them for hanging.
Keeping her voice low, Julianna asked, "Is it silly to wish for such things, sister?"
"I don't think so. No sillier than any of the things we dreamed of as young ladies. What makes you ask?"
"I've had the oddest notions these past weeks. Before Edward was born, the idea of heirs and estates was as foreign to me as manufacturing woolens or sitting in the House of Lords. Important and necessary, but not my concern."
Clemmie grinned. "I'm relieved you didn't relate them to emptying chamber pots."
The sisters laughed, then made certain the other women weren't listening. "I'd hoped the making of an heir was a more pleasant process."
Clemmie blushed and glanced away. "Enough so to make me suggest you should reconsider remaining unmarried."
"Should I? I'm not sure I agree. If I were to discover I'm not suited to traveling abroad, I can simply return home. But what if I found I'm not suited to being a wife?"
Nash stood behind Evie's chair in the parlor with the family gathered around. Everyone's attention was on the clock, watching as the stroke of midnight neared. His father held a tankard of wassail, although the others held more respectable drinking vessels of the liquid.
When the clock began to strike, Father called out to the footman stationed at the entry. "Throw open the doors!" And thus they welcomed in the New Year.
Father raised his tankard. "To new beginnings, a clean slate."
Nash raised his glass and smiled at Lady Julianna as he did. To new beginnings. The best part about cracking open a new novel was getting to know the characters within. He felt the same about Lady Julianna. Discovering her quirks, her likes and passions was a grand adventure. He only hoped they ended up on the same page when the adventure was done.
At Mother's suggestion, Evie went to the pianoforte to play. Nash turned the pages for her and sang in harmony. Their voices suited so well, he wished he'd had more time to visit as she grew up. The wars had stolen much of his life, or made it drastically different from that shared by the rest of his family.
But that was behind him, and a new year stretched out before him. A blank slate ready for new adventures.
When another voice joined them in The Last Rose of Summer, Nash realized Lady Julianna had come to stand on the other side of Evie. Lady Julianna's soprano was clearer than his sister's, and blended perfectly with his own tenor. She smiled when her eyes met his. He stumbled over the words for a moment, then quickly turned the page for Evie.
When the song was finished, Marianne came to play a duet with Evie. Nash offered Lady Julianna his arm and walked casually away from the others. "Happy New Year."
"And to you."
"When we were young, we used to make a wish for a goal we hoped to reach in the next year."
"Did they often come true?"
"Geoff's did, because he usually wished for something he could obtain. Marianne's tended towards a more magical, lofty dream she'd no hope of reaching, such as being able to fly."
"And you, Mr. Sinclair? What types of goals did you wish upon yourself?"
"I was a dullard. I wished to master Latin, or finally shoot Keith, the old buck in the woods."
"Keith. You called a buck Keith?"
Nash debated walking to the fire, but instead came to a stop not too far from where his brother and a few others played cards. "The gamekeeper called him that. I never asked why. We just called what we heard."
"I see. And did you ever shoot this buck? I cannot call him by name when I ask, for it sounds too much like killing a friend."
"You'll be pleased to know he lived to a ripe old age. The gamekeeper found him dead one winter. The rack of antlers hangs over the hearth in the hunting lodge in honor of the buck who outwitted us for so long."
"Well, then." Lady Julianna dropped his arm and faced him. "Did you wish for something tonight?"
"I did." He took a deep breath and carefully considered his words. "I wished I may be happily married before the end of the year."
Her eyelids lowered for a moment, then she again met his gaze. "And is this a goal you feel is obtainable?"
Nash wanted to take her hand in his, but was afraid she'd flee like a deer with any sudden movement. He was fully aware of how skittish Lady Julianna was about the subject at hand. He had six more days in which to show her how perfectly they suited. Six more days to convince her she could eas
ily love him as he was beginning to love her. Best to play this coyly. "The married part is quite easily achieved, even for a younger son. It's the 'happily' part that will take some work."
Tilting her head in that way of hers, she asked, "You believe it takes work to be happy? Shouldn't it simply arise naturally from the situation?"
"It should, exactly. Thus the need for work—I must work to assure I marry a woman with whom I'm capable of being happy."
She nodded.
He withdrew the small scroll he'd secreted in his pocket and held it out. Lady Julianna took it, looking at him questioningly. "Open it," he said.
She loosened the ribbon and opened the scroll, then gasped. "How lovely."
Nash leaned over to view it again. "It's a Chinese dragon. They often have dragons in their New Year's celebrations, although their year begins on a different day. The dragon symbolizes good luck. I wish you have nothing but good luck in your life."
Lady Julianna smiled. "Thank you. I'm certain your dragon shall bring me the best of luck."
Realizing his family was probably placing bets at the direction of their private conversation, Nash offered his arm again and they continued to circle the room.
He had a strong feeling this would be the luckiest of years for both of them.