No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 (28 page)

Andre shivered as he watched Ali fly around the frozen lake on her ice skates, laughing with sheer enjoyment, two of Ghislane’s grandchildren holding her gloved hands and squealing with pleasure, Sherifay leaping about on the bank, barking insanely.

He laughed himself as all three took a tumble and Matthew and Hattie, who had been holding hands and watching nothing but each other tumbled over on top of them. Cold, he decided to let them sort themselves out and started back to the house where Nicholas and Georgia and Charlie and his wife had sensibly retired to the warmth of the fireplace.

Christmas Day. It was the first he’d celebrated in nine years. Well, he amended as he approached the house, he wasn’t exactly celebrating it as such, but he had to admit that much to his surprise, he was enjoying himself.

It wasn’t easy having the ghost of Christmas at Saint-Simon hanging over him, but since Ali busily filled every moment with one activity or another, there wasn’t much time to think about it. And that was fortunate, since in moments when he wasn’t paying strict attention, memory came flooding back. It hurt. God how it hurt. Yet Ali unconsciously assuaged the pain that he kept closely guarded, just by being her sweet, funny self. She made it damnably hard for him to keep himself guarded, period. But he managed. Not entirely successfully, but he managed.

Ali also had turned Sutherby into a place of laughter, a feat he would have thought impossible only a month ago, and yet it was now filled with not only laughter but with nearly the entire Daventry family, who had arrived the week before to spend the Christmas holidays. Oddly, although he had only agreed to the house party to make Ali happy, he didn’t really mind that either. He loved to see Ali happy, loved to see the happiness she created in others.

“A chilly afternoon, Your Grace,” Pennyswell said, taking his overcoat in the hall, which sported a large Christmas tree complete with all the decorations. Ali and the others had spent all of the last week strewing holly and evergreens and mistletoe in every conceivable location.

“It is indeed, Pennyswell. I hope the fire is roaring. The duchess refuses to come in until the last possible moment, but I’m not so brave a soul.”

“Your wife does not feel the cold as you do, Your Grace. Hot punch is coming out of the kitchen right now.”

Andre smiled. “Thank God for small mercies. I’m about frozen through.”

He walked down the hall to the sitting room, relieved that the chilly reception he’d first been given by various members of the family had thawed, largely again thanks to Ali’s warmth and the family’s desire to see her first Christmas as his wife be a happy one.

He was absolutely certain that was the only reason they’d decided to come. Mercifully though, no one had brought the past up, and for that he could only be grateful. But then, they were all bending over backward to be careful anyway, so that no slip was made in front of Hattie or the staff regarding his and Ali’s shared time in Turkey.

“You too?” Charlie asked as Andre marched over to the fireplace and practically climbed inside. “India has thinned my blood. I suppose Asia Minor has done the same to you.”

Andre held his hands out, rubbing them together to encourage the circulation. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I managed to spend time in some incredibly cold locations. But yes, I suppose my blood must have thinned in the eight years away.”

Charlie looked at him sideways. “You were never homesick in all that time?”

Andre went very still. “No. I was never homesick,” he said, knowing his luck had just run out. Charlie was gifted at prying things out of people and doing it with extraordinary insouciance.

“Liar,” Charlie said succinctly. “I may only be your nominal uncle, but I know you better than that, my boy. Saint-Simon is a part of you every bit as much as it’s a part of your father.”

Andre turned to face him, doing his level best to remain civil. “Charlie, as pleasant as it is to see you, I am going to find your company extremely unwelcome if you pursue this particular subject.”

“You know, the first time I met your mother, she had the same prickly skin.” He scratched his head. “Of course, growing up here at Sutherby with no one but her half brother and misguided father and that blasted priest didn’t help, but it was a good thing that your father managed to bring her out of it. Too bad he wasn’t as successful with you.” He gave Andre the characteristic grin he was rarely without. “It’s a good thing you have Ali to do it for you.”

Andre fixed Charlie with a chilly eye. “Back off, Charlie.”

“Me?” Charlie said innocently, raising his winged eyebrows. “I was just giving you my blessing. After all, you did steal Ali right from under my son’s nose, poor boy.”

“Poor boy?” Andre said, having to admire Charlie for his ability to wiggle out of a tight corner. “Trust me, Matthew can look after himself. And given what he’s been doing under the mistletoe and God knows where else every chance he has, I expect an announcement soon.”

“Mmm. Hattie’s a fine girl, and I think they’ll be happy. I don’t believe that stuff you gave her for her sneezes is responsible for the stars in her eyes, but it might be responsible for the stars in Matthew’s. She looks an entirely different girl.”

“I think she feels like an entirely different girl. It must have been awful, suffering like that all her life. Bloody unnecessary too.”

“What did you give her, anyway? Eye of newt mixed with a little camel dung? She says it tastes foul but works as nothing else has.”

“Ma Huang,” Andre said. “Or if you prefer the genus,
Ephedra.
It comes from South China, which is probably why none of her physicians knew of it. It’s a highly effective medication.”

“Must have learned about that from your father, eh? He was always coming back from Asia with all sorts of strange and interesting things. But then Pascal is a strange and interesting person.”

Andre’s fist worked at his side. “Charlie. I realize you think you are being helpful by chasing this topic, and maybe you think Christmas has made me feel sentimental. But I assure you it hasn’t.”

“Pity,” Charlie said. “I must say, I thought you were looking particularly annoyed in church this morning. Or was that because Ali kept nudging you in the side?”

“Ali,” Andre said with exasperation, “thinks God is her best friend. She becomes offended when not everyone likes Him as much as she does. Or in my case, has no use for Him at ah.”

“Ah. Yes, I can see why she was poking you, since Ali does seem to relish Christmas. I have fond memories of one I spent with her—oh, what was it—about four years ago, when we last came over to see the family? Ali has the most interesting version of the birth of Christ I’ve ever heard.” He chuckled. “You ought to have her tell it to you.”

Andre had to laugh. “Believe me, I’ve been subjected to Ali’s stories. They are original, to say the least.”

“Yes … I particularly enjoyed hearing about the two of you, and Joseph-Jean, of course, romping about on camels and so on.” He clapped Andre on the back. “You made a good marriage, Andre, and I wish you great happiness. It’s long past time for that, although thinking about it, you’re about the same age as your father was when your mother fell at his feet. Late bloomers, you Saint-Simons.”

Andre was stunned by that piece of effrontery. Charlie knew perfectly damn well that he had fallen in love with Genevieve at the tender age of fourteen and had never looked at anyone else before or since. “I don’t think you can say that,” he snapped.

“Can’t I?” Charlie said, not the least perturbed. “Oh, well. Too late. I’m forever putting my foot in my mouth, aren’t I?” He grinned. “Never mind, Andre. It’s part of my job.”

Charlie wandered over to his wife, leaving Andre by the fire, trying to work out what Charlie had really been getting at.

“It was a lovely day, wasn’t it?” Ali said as they prepared for bed. “Did you see the children’s glowing faces when the dining-room door was opened?”

“Yes. And did you see Hattie’s face when Matthew found the lucky silver sixpence in his Christmas pudding?”

Ali nodded. “I thought she was going to burst into tears of happiness. Now they both have one, which bodes well. She told me just this afternoon that Matthew hinted he was going to apply to her father for her hand.”

“Well, thank God for that. At least he’s not staring you down like a lovesick calf anymore.”

“Jealous?” Ali asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

Andre came over to her and delivered a kiss on the top of her head. “Insanely,” he said. “Thank you, by the way, for my new dressing gown.”

“Did you like the camel I embroidered?” she asked, looking at him.

“Very much so, and the tents in the background as well. I can’t help but wonder what Handray will make of it.”

“Handray already thinks you eccentric, so I doubt he’ll think much of anything. And thank you again for my bracelet. The emeralds are very beautiful, although I’m sure you spent far too much money.”

“I’m delighted you like it, and let me worry about how much money I spend.”

“Well, I hope you bargained with the jeweler,” she said and picked up her hairbrush again.

Andre took it out of her hand and began to brush her hair in long smooth strokes.

“Mmmm” Ali said, tilting her head back. “I particularly liked the carolers coming into the front hall, and Pennyswell’s proud face when he handed around punch to them. It was the first time ever at Sutherby, he said.”

“Oh?” Andre asked absently, more interested in Ali’s long shining hair.

“Yes,” she said, twisting on the chair to look at him. “There was no Christmas tree, either, no decorations, no Yule log, not even a Christmas feast.” She screwed up her face. “Your grandfather spent the whole day in prayer in the chapel. Pennyswell said that if the old man had seen the chapel last night with all the candles and the crêche, and the beautiful evergreeen boughs, he would have had apoplexy on the spot.”

“Too bad you didn’t come along to decorate sooner,” Andre said dryly. “He might have gone years ago and spared everyone.”

“But then you would have had to come home to be the duke, and we would never have met.”

Andre tried to make sense of that, then gave up. “I suppose he objected to all the decorations because of their pagan connotations.” He put the brush down and started to undress.

“What pagan connotations?” Ali asked, crawling into bed.

“Well, first of all, the Yule log, the greenery including the fir tree, the exchanging of gifts and so on, all come from much earlier traditions of celebration associated with the winter solstice.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “The Celts, Teutonic tribes, all sorts of pagan religions celebrated the same way,” he said, pulling off his shirt. “I believe the Egyptians as well as the Chinese and the Hebrews used evergreens as a symbol of eternal life, which makes perfect sense, of course.”

“Andre,” Ali said, wrapping her arms around her knees, “sometimes you are much too analytical. Why can’t you simply enjoy Christmas without picking it to death?”

“Aren’t you interested? Candles in the tree, for example, are a symbol of Christ, as well as a damned good way to burn the house down.” He yanked off his shoes and removed his trousers.

Ali glowered at him. “You were the one who had all those ugly buckets of water put in the hall? Pennyswell wouldn’t say.”

“Ever loyal Pennyswell, although to whom I’m not sure. But I didn’t want to spend the evening fighting a fire.”

“Andre, it’s Christmas—the day of the birth of Christ. Can’t you allow yourself a little whimsy?”

“Why?” he asked, sliding into bed next to her. “You provide more than enough whimsy for both of us. I’m an historian, sweetheart. It’s a natural function of my mind to be analytical.”

“Pooh,” she said. “That’s just an excuse you use. Even you can’t be immune to the story of Christ’s birth.”

“Oh?” he asked, propping his head on his hand and gazing at her with fascination. “And I suppose you’re now going to subject me to it?”

“Yes. And you’re going to listen to every last word.” She dimmed the gas lamp, then crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap, preparing to begin.

Andre saw he was in for a long one this time, and although the very last thing he wanted to hear about was the birth of Christ, Charlie had piqued his curiosity. “All right,” he said. “I’ll do my best. Just don’t expect to make a believer out of me.”

“Quiet,” Ali commanded. “Once, a long time ago in Nazareth, which is a city in Galilee—”

“I’ve been,” he said. “Filthy place.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure it was different back then. Anyway, there was a woman named Mary. She was very kind and good, and she loved a man called Joseph with all her heart.” Ali smiled softly. “Just as I love you.”

“Ali—” he said on a warning note. “You know I—”

“Shh,” she replied, putting a finger over his mouth. “Of course Mary was much, much purer than I, for the angel Gabriel came to her in her house and put a baby inside her without the usual method.” She sighed. “I wonder if it felt as nice. Anyway, Mary was amazed, of course.”

“I’m sure Joseph was as well,” Andre said wryly.“

Andre. Joseph understood perfectly. How could he not?” Ali’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure everyone else took it as well, but then, you can’t ask for everything.”

“No, I suppose you can’t,” Andre said, suppressing a smile.

“It’s a pity,” Ali said, “but there you are. Mary’s belly grew large with her baby, so they did just what we would have done in Turkey. They married her off to Joseph, since despite both their protests, the family assumed they’d slept together.”

“Ah,” Andre said. “Practical.”

“Of course. People are not so histrionic in that part of the world as they are in this part. Well. Off Mary and the unborn baby went on a donkey—Joseph walking beside—to Bethlehem, since a perfectly horrible man called Caesar Augustus was taxing everyone.” Ali tapped his arm. “Not unlike your friend Brutus.”

“I never said I approved of Brutus. That was your piece of fiction.” Andre stroked her knee, but Ali pushed his hand away.

“Not now. I’m concentrating,” she said. “Poor Mary and Joseph ended up miles and miles away in Bethlehem, all because it was the place that Joseph’s people, the people of David, had come from. They were hot, tired, and thirsty, and not a single beastly innkeeper would give them a room, even though dear Mary was about to have her sweet little baby. So what do you think happened?”