“Another Christmas Alone,” She Thought — Until a Duke’s Carriage Broke Down at Her Gate
Chapter 21
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My dear Julian, I am delighted to learn that the gates of England remain safe from your carriage. Pickles has recovered from your departure, although I suspect he misses the quantity of toast you provided. Captain remains in excellent health and continues to behave as though the garden belongs entirely to him. As for your drawing rooms, I fear they cannot be held responsible for the deficiencies of their occupants.
She paused. Then, with a smile, she added:
I miss our conversations, too.
Their correspondence continued throughout January. Julian wrote twice each week; Rosamond answered every letter. They discussed books, estate management, village affairs, and the peculiar habits of people who possessed more money than common sense. Julian confessed that his mother had begun inviting eligible young ladies to dinner with alarming frequency; Rosamond replied that he ought to consider hiding beneath the dining table; Julian informed her that his mother would undoubtedly look there first; Rosamond suggested the stables; Julian declared that he had already tried them.Their letters became longer, then more personal. Rosamond told him about her parents, whom she remembered only faintly, and about the years she had spent growing up beneath Aunt Beatrice's affectionate guidance. She told him that she sometimes worried about the future of Willowmere—not because the property was failing, but because she wished to leave it in good hands when she was gone.Julian wrote about Catherine: not only her death, but her life. He described her love of music, her fondness for ridiculous hats, and the way she used to sing when she thought nobody was listening. Rosamond treasured those letters: she understood that he was trusting her with memories he had kept carefully guarded, and she did not feel threatened by them. Catherine had been part of Julian's life; Rosamond did not wish to erase her—she wished to know the man whose past had shaped him.One evening, Julian wrote:
I have begun to understand that remembering someone with love need not prevent us from loving again. I think Catherine would have understood that long before I did.
Rosamond sat with the letter in her lap for a long time. Then she wrote:
Perhaps the people who loved us best would never have wished us to spend the rest of our lives proving how deeply we missed them.
She hesitated before adding:
I believe my aunt would have been rather cross with me if she knew how many Christmases I spent refusing invitations simply because she was no longer here to enjoy them.
Julian's reply arrived three days later:
Then perhaps we ought to honor them by making better use of the days we have been given.
Rosamond pressed the letter against her heart. She was beginning to love him, and the realization no longer frightened her quite as much.Julian returned to Willowmere on the first Saturday in February. This time, his carriage arrived intact.Rosamond heard the wheels before she saw them: she was in the garden, attempting to persuade Pickles to abandon a hole he had begun digging beneath the hedge.