So Hollis did. About how strange she’d thought him. Aloof. But then discovered he was deaf in one ear. She told them he’d studied Shakespeare, like her. And that they had a great deal in common—they were two people standing in the world alone. She even told them about his farm, and how she’d imagined herself there.
She didn’t tell them about the things she and Marek had discovered. She didn’t mention Wesloria or Alucia at all. That was very much beside the point. The point was, he was perfect for her.
Caroline and Eliza listened intently. They were silent for a moment when she finished.
“Well, you best be prepared if he does come, darling,” Caroline finally said. “There is nothing more satisfying than being dressed like a queen when the object of your desire looks in your direction. Shall we try on the dress?”
Hollis sniffled. The dress really was beautiful. So beautiful that she felt a little cheered by it. “Yes.”
Eliza downed her whiskey and clapped with delight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Christmas is upon us! We wish you good cheer and peace be with you.
Ladies, remember that Madeira wine is a good substitute for sherry in your eggnog.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
CHRISTMASDAYDAWNEDwith a dusting of snow beneath gray skies. Hollis and her household walked a well-worn path to her father’s house. As they passed rows of houses, the air filled with the scent of roasted chestnuts and wood. It smelled as if all of London was gathered around a bonfire.
At Bedford Square, Hollis was pleased to see that Poppy had done a fine job of decorating. A very large wreath graced the front door—Donovan had come earlier in the day to help Ben hang it. The wreath was bursting with apples and berries and red ribbons, and really, it was the first thing to catch one’s eye when they entered the street.
“That’s lovely, isn’t it,” Mr. Brimble said. “Makes one long for Christmas.”
“Aye, it does,” Ruth said, and looped her arm through Mr. Brimble’s.
They walked up the steps to the door but hadn’t even knocked when they were greeted with the frenzied barking on the other side. “It’s me, you mutts!” Hollis shouted gaily at the door. Moments later, Ben opened it, stepping over the dogs. “Merry Christmas,” he said joyously. And to the dogs he commanded, “Walk on, you beasts, walk on!” with his arm pointing away from the door as Hollis, Ruth, Donovan, and Mr. Brimble crowded in to remove their cloaks and hats. Mrs. Plum had not joined them, as she has a rather large family of her own.
“They’re all in the drawing room, madam,” Ben said. “I’m to help Margaret in the kitchen with the goose. It’s the size of a pig, it is.”
The house smelled like roasted goose and holly, and Hollis and her household entered a transformed drawing room. She gasped with wonder—it looked nothing like it had before. Poppy had outdone herself. She’d draped boughs of holly around the broken clocks Eliza had left on the mantel and hung what looked like silver bells in them. She’d used some of the many books that were stacked around the room as a base for the Christmas tree, which she’d proudly placed in the bay window. She’d even hung an enormous cluster of mistletoe from a chandelier near the hearth.
Everyone shouted a Christmas greeting at them, and Hollis went around the room, greeting all of her family.
“This is lovely!” Hollis exclaimed. “Where is Poppy?” she asked when she reached her father. His knitting had been put away for the day, she noticed. Pris was in his lap. So was a goose feather.
“She said there is much to be done for the meal,” her father said.
“I’ll lend a hand, shall I?” Ruth asked, but she was already headed out of the drawing room.
Hollis scooped up Pris from her father’s lap and handed the cat to Mr. Brimble. “Ah, here is Marcus,” he said, stroking the cat’s head.
Beck was on the settee, sitting so languidly that he took up half of it until Caroline made him move over. Then she took up the rest of the settee.
Leopold and Sebastian had moved to the hearth. They were talking in low tones, probably discussing the growing reports of unrest in the Astasian region. Eliza had confided yesterday that her husband had been obsessed with the news from home and was eager to return.
Eliza and Cecelia were on the floor. Eliza had dressed Cecelia in a white gown trimmed in Belgian lace. She reported that as soon as they arrived, her daughter had spit up her cereal, and the stain of it trailed down her front.
Hollis realized, as she looked around her, that it was the last time they would all gather like this in her childhood home. The realization prompted a swell of sadness in her.
Eliza, Sebastian, and Cecelia would all be gone soon, sailing back to Alucia, and really, Hollis couldn’t say when she might see her beloved sister again. Caroline and Leopold would return to Bibury and her saplings and her trousers, and occasionally, she would come to London to check on Beck. But only occasionally.
Beck, well...he would always be in London, Hollis suspected, complaining about this or that.
Her father, who was smiling at the sounds around him, his sightless gaze on the wall, was moving to Sussex with his entire household, including Jack and John and Pris.
And where would she be? Eating her meals alone? Stuffing her body full of loneliness and restlessness? Where would Marek be? On his farm with his dogs and chickens? She thought where she would want to be next year at Christmas, with everyone scattered. In Sussex, with her father? No—she would rather be on a little farm in Wesloria. With Marek.
