Golden Christmas (7 page)

He counted his steps, checked his direction
with his cane, noting when the thick, newly laid carpet in the
guest-bedroom corridor gave way to the thin, much older carpet at
the top of the stairs. He slowed, touched a hand to the carved
wooden paneling at the top of the landing, and stopped when his
foot met wooden floorboards.

"This carved wood paneling is three hundred
years old and depicts angels keeping watch over the house."

Vicky laughed, and a little of the tension
inside Jonathan eased. Maybe she was feeling better. "It's great to
hear you laughing, but I don't remember it being funny."

"I can't see anything, Jon. It's dark
here."

"Oh." He smacked his forehead with the heel
of his hand. "Sorry. I didn't think. The light switch is a little
way back on the right by the last painting."

"I'll get it." Vicky let go of his hand for a
few moments, then returned. "That's better. I can see it now.
Amazing."

He told her the history of the angelic carved
panel that was one of the house's treasures, before he led her on a
few steps to the top of the stairs. This time he remembered to
switch on the next set of lights. Hand in hand, they walked down
the magnificent wide staircase. Vicky's sudden indrawn breath told
him the exact moment they reached the point where the great hall
came into view.

"Oh my goodness. This is spectacular. The
fireplace is simply wonderful, and the carved angels at the bottom
of the stairs are amazing."

In his mind's eye, Jonathan pictured the high
ceiling with its geometric plaster design, the massive central oak
roof beam, the row of narrow leaded windows with stained glass
sections at the top, and the huge carved wooden fireplace surround
that framed the blaze that had always been the welcoming heart of
the house when he was a boy.

He gave his tour guide spiel, peppering it
with more personal memories than he normally did. Remembering the
times he slid down the banisters, and the priceless vase—brought
back from some exotic locale by a forebear—that he'd shattered with
a soccer ball.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, he
halted and reached up to touch one of the carved angels that topped
the newel posts. They were reputed to bless those who were in love,
and he wanted their blessing for his budding relationship with
Vicky.

In his mind's eye, the great hall was forever
arranged how it had been the day he left home to join the army,
with comfortable chairs set around the blazing fire and an
arrangement of fresh flowers on a table. Yet it hadn't been like
that for years.

Sometimes he concentrated very hard and tried
to sense what was around him, but it was a waste of time. However
much he wanted it, he did not have a psychic sense of his
surroundings.

"How's the room set up?" he asked.

"It's empty. There are some conference-style
chairs stacked against the outside wall."

He imagined the room full of rows of chairs
for a business conference or a wedding. That was the norm since his
brother inherited the house. When their parents died, he and Marcus
had discussed ways to pay the crippling inheritance tax bill and
still manage to keep Rosemoor Hall in the family. They'd both
agreed the only way was to open to the public.

"So the floor area is clear?"

"Yes, just a large expanse of ancient
floorboards."

Jonathan collapsed his telescopic cane and
hung it on his arm by the loop on the top. He led Vicky into the
center of the room and slipped his arm around her back. "Let's
dance." Feeling her hesitation, he gave her a moment to relax
before he drew her closer, his mind racing with memories of their
kiss yesterday.

"My parents had grand social events here when
I was a boy. I would creep out of bed and watch through the panel
above the tapestry of the Roman scene." He felt her head turn as
she looked for the tapestry and the peephole pattern in the wall
above. "That seems like a different world now, the ladies in their
glittering jewels and the men in evening dress."

"Have you danced here with anyone
before?"

He laughed, his mind retrieving a jumble of
memories from long ago. "I messed around with my friends in here.
Sometimes there were girls and we danced. I was away at school most
of the time."

Dancing like this with Vicky held close,
Jonathan almost felt as though the last few years of seismic change
in his life hadn't happened. He remembered the way his parents
pushed the chairs and tables aside when they had a party, how
people gathered, laughing and sipping their drinks, the dancing
firelight and glittering chandelier casting a magical light over
the people.

He imagined he'd closed his eyes for a moment
and in a few seconds he would open them and stare into the
beautiful face of this angel in his arms, and they'd laugh. But he
would never stare into Vicky's hazel eyes or see her smile.

The chill in the room penetrated his clothes,
making him shiver. When he was young, this room had been the warm
heart of the house, the huge fireplace always burning. Now it was
empty and cold like his life. Suddenly he didn't want to be in this
room anymore, with the ghosts of happier times floating around to
remind him what he'd taken for granted in the past.

"Come on. I'll show you the library, then we
can take a look at the drawing room and chapel. Those are the rooms
that haven't changed. The rest has been modernized as much as the
planning authorities allowed, so the place can be used for
functions."

• • •

Even in the dim light of a few electric lamps, Vicky
could see that the great hall was incredibly special with its
ornate ceiling, a multitude of gold-framed portraits, carved wood
panels, and tapestries. She'd have liked a more detailed
explanation of the room, yet she sensed that being in here made
Jonathan sad. His normal vitality and enthusiasm had fled, leaving
his voice flat.

She took his hand and led him to the door. As
they walked around, she made a conscious effort to focus on the
house and enjoy the experience. Thanks to Jonathan, it helped to
cheer her up.

The library was a treasure trove of books,
spines of burgundy, green, navy, and brown filled shelves in six
arched alcoves. The wood-paneled walls were painted Wedgewood blue
with a pattern of twisted vines and leaves picked out in white
along the top. Gray velvet chairs stood beside tables with ornately
carved legs and although the room was lit by electricity, the
candle-shaped lights cast a warm glow over the antiques and
patterned ceiling.

Next Jonathan took her to the drawing room
with plum velvet sofas and coordinating striped cushions.
Paintings, ceramics, and antique furniture filled the room, and the
ceiling was decorated with a plaster pattern of twisted vines and
roses.

"It must have been amazing growing up in a
place like this."

"I took it for granted. This was normal to
me."

Being with Colin had been normal for Vicky.
From the age of fifteen, her childhood sweetheart had been the most
important part of her life. Yet after he'd been snatched away, she
couldn't bear anything that reminded her of that life. "What
happened when you went away and realized this isn't normal, and
there's a harsh world out there?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I adapted to the change.
That's what life's all about, coping with the challenges, adapting,
and moving on. I believe that all life experiences are valuable and
make us who we are."

"Yes, but you never had to go through…"
anything as horrible as I did
she was about to say, but the
defensive words died in her mouth when she realized what she was
blurting. "Sorry," she whispered, mortified to be so thoughtless.
How could she be so wrapped up in herself that she'd forgotten what
happened to Jonathan? Was she really that self-absorbed?

A burning wash of guilt carried a memory of
her parents, pleading with her to visit them at Christmas. She
hated going back to the village where she'd lived with Colin half a
mile from her parents' house. Was she being selfish staying away?
She knew her parents worried about her.

They looked in on the chapel, then toured
some of the old corridors below stairs, peeping into pantries and
food prep rooms that were no longer used and frozen in Victorian
times. Finally, they circled back to the corridor that led to the
back door Jonathan used.

"Thank you," she said as they reached the top
of the wooden stairs on the way back to their rooms.

"You're welcome. Would you like to go to the
pub for dinner?"

Vicky's instinctive reaction was to say no,
but she checked herself and drew in a deep breath. It would be mean
to shut Jonathan out when he was alone at Christmas. Anyway, being
with him helped her. "Yes. That would be lovely. Thanks."

Jonathan laughed. "You'll be taking me, I'm
afraid."

"It'll be my pleasure," she said, realizing
that she really meant it.

The
next two days flew by while Vicky spent nearly every waking hour in
Jonathan's company. She gave up running alone and instead they took
long walks around the Rosemoor gardens together, throwing a ball
for Honey and laughing at her exploits as she tracked rabbits and
tried to climb a tree after a squirrel. Every day they ate lunch or
dinner at the Fat Goose, chatted with Shelly, and visited the
puppies.

Jessie was an adorable, mischievous bundle of
golden fur. She had worked her way into Vicky's heart, and she
couldn't wait to take her baby girl home. Jessie already seemed to
know who her new mum was. When Vicky walked into the kitchen at
Holly Cottage, her puppy would scramble out of the big dog bed and
scamper across the flagstones to be scooped into Vicky's arms,
eager for kisses and cuddles.

On Christmas Eve, Vicky and Jonathan went to
the supermarket together and bought ingredients for a special
dinner of Moroccan lamb. Vicky had seen the recipe in a magazine
and read it out loud to Jonathan. When he said he'd like to try it,
she decided to prepare a romantic meal, with candles on the table
and soft music playing—something she hadn't done for years, not
since before she had Josh.

She scored the shoulder of lamb, coated it in
a mix of olive oil, garlic paste, lemon juice, and
ras el
hanout
, a fragrant mix of Moroccan spices, and put the joint in
the fridge to marinate while they walked. Later she put it in the
oven on a low heat to cook slowly.

Jonathan wanted to help, but she banished him
to his study to write the book about the history of Rosemoor Hall
he was working on, so she could make the meal herself as a treat
for him. She put tea lights in pretty glass holders she bought
specially, ones that were difficult to knock over and wouldn't burn
Jonathan if he accidentally touched them. Then she fitted her MP3
player in his dock and chose romantic music to play.

Once she had taken the lamb out of the oven
and served, she went to Jonathan's study to fetch him.

"It smells delicious," he said as she led him
through by the hand.

"We're eating by candlelight. There are two
candleholders about three inches tall in the middle of the table.
One is purple and the other is yellow, and the flames on the tea
lights are glowing inside the glass. They're really pretty."

As they shared dinner, Vicky confided how she
felt terrible about being so distant with her mum and dad. Jonathan
reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"I would go to see them more often, but they
have so many photos up that I can't bear to see, tons of Josh, and
some of me with Colin and Josh. They even have my wedding photo at
the top of the stairs."

"Have you told them how you feel?"

"I did mention the photos to Dad. He said
he'd speak to Mum, but it's not just that. Mum and Dad still live
in the house where I grew up. I started dating Colin when I was
fifteen. Part of our history together is in that house, and when we
got married we lived in the village. When I go there, I'm
overwhelmed by memories."

"Maybe you can invite them to visit you,
then?"

"There's no room in the tiny place I rent. I
don't really want them to see it, anyway." Vicky had sunk so low,
consumed by grief and a sense she should deprive herself of comfort
and happiness because Colin and Josh would never have it. She'd
pushed her parents away, knowing they would be shocked by her life
now.

"You could ask them to meet you here after
Christmas. You could take them to lunch at the Fat Goose."

Heat warmed Vicky's cheeks as she imagined
inviting her parents here. It was a nice idea, but this wasn't her
home. It would be like lying to them if she let them think this was
her life.

"You cooked dinner, so I'll load the
dishwasher and make the coffee." Jonathan shooed her out of the
room, and she snuggled on the sofa with Honey's head on her lap.
She closed her eyes and stroked the dog's velvet ears as she mulled
over what to do.

Jonathan carried in a tray and set it on the
side table. Vicky pushed Honey down and moved along to give
Jonathan room to sit.

He pressed a hand to his belly. "I ate too
much. That was delicious, thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll have to keep that
recipe and make it again." While she was married, she'd kept a
folder of favorite recipes from magazines and printed from the
Internet. She'd thrown it away when she moved as it held too many
memories. Maybe it was time to start a new folder.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while,
sipping their coffee while Honey snored softly on the rug at their
feet.

After a time, Jonathan hauled in a breath and
released it. "There's something I've been putting off for a long
time. Will you help me with it?"