“Well, the symbolism is a little different,” she began. He started to laugh. “What?” she demanded a little crossly, going to choose some holly from a big pile on the floor.
“You are a mine of information,” the duke said, smiling at her with real warmth. “But pray, enlighten me. What are the red and white ribbons for?” He leaned back against the wall as if waiting for her to answer him.
“Well,” Rosalyn continued, choosing a red ribbon and a white ribbon from the table. “The red are, of course, representing the blood of Christ. His suffering on the cross.” She wound the red ribbon around the bundle. “And the white is purity and innocence.” She wrapped the white ribbon and tied it in a bow.
“That is beautiful,” the duke murmured. He coughed, seeming genuinely affected by her words. She frowned. She wondered what he was remembering. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“I remember our father taking us to the chapel on Christmas morning to celebrate mass. We used to be so excited. We would bundle up in our coats and cloaks and walk to the chapel with him. It is here in the grounds,” he added, gesturing out of the window. “Harriet was just one or two years old, toddling along through the snow. Papa would lift her onto his shoulder.” The duke sniffed. “Mama walked behind us, with a lady’s maid carrying our muffs and scarves and other things.” He chuckled. “The chapel was lit with candles, and I remember sitting listening to the priest’s words, and then we would sing. I would often be dreaming about pudding and Christmas gifts,” he added with a guilty smile.
Rosalyn laughed. “You were a little child. Of course, you were excited.”
“Excited does not do it justice,” the duke said with a chuckle. “I was ecstatic. I could barely believe that Christmas had come and that we would have a whole day of celebration and diversion ahead of us. When the service was concluded, we would walk back to the manor and our gifts would be waiting in the drawing-room. I will never forget the year that Father gave me my first horse. I did not understand why there was no gift for me upstairs.” He laughed, and Rosalyn swallowed, her own heart aching as a tear ran down his face.
“He must have been so happy to see how excited you were.”
“I think my scream of joy must have deafened him,” the duke said with a chuckle. “Poor man.”
Rosalyn shook her head. “He must have loved to see your happiness,” she replied. She had made one bundle of holly and ivy, and reached for some fir branches to make another, different, bunch.
The duke sniffed. “I never considered it much,” he said softly. “I suppose he must have.”
Rosalyn smiled gently at him. “Of course, he did.”
The duke said nothing, and Rosalyn focused on her bunch of fir leaves. She watched as the duke made a tolerably good bunch of holly and ivy and stared after him as he went to hang it on the wall at the back of the hall. The images from his stories played through her mind. She imagined a dark-haired young boy with grey eyes and a solemn face. She completed her fir bundle, wove ribbons through it swiftly, and went to join him. He turned to face her.
“I have not thought about those things for a long time,” he said quietly. “I had forgotten them.” he paused. “I mean I had forgotten so many memories of Father.”
Rosalyn nodded. “I understand. I often think of Mama, but these happy memories are ones that I try not to think about too hard. Or I will miss her too much.” She sniffed, looking at the soaringly high ceiling as tears threatened to fall. “I cannot help thinking of her at Christmas.”
When she looked back into the room, the duke was smiling. “It does me good to remember,” he said softly. “It is good to remember the happy times.”
“Mm.” Rosalyn nodded. “It is good.”
They looked at each other without speaking. Rosalyn sniffed. The duke lifted his hand and, very gently, pressed his thumb against a tear that was running down her cheek. Rosalyn stiffened. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, her entire body rigid with the sudden, beautiful sensation of his touch on her cheek. He gazed into her eyes, and she gazed back, her awareness filled with him, with his closeness. She could think of nothing else.
A loud whoop startled her, and her head whipped around to see her two sisters, running over with a sphere made out of wire. The sphere was a little uneven in shape, but Isabel was trying to repair it, while Georgina gestured excitedly to it and then to Rosalyn.
“Look! Look, sister! Her grace said yes.”
“We are making the kissing bough for the ballroom!” Isabel said happily.
“I am sure it will be beautiful,” Rosalyn assured them, her heart filled with warmth. They were flushed and smiling, real joy making their eyes sparkle with brightness.
“Oh, you must help us!” Georgina pleaded. “You used to do such grand ribbons for the kissing boughs in our house when Papa and Mama...” she trailed off, looking down uncomfortably.
“When Papa and Mama used to kiss under them,” Rosalyn replied, completing the sentence. Georgina and Isabel were always hesitant to mention their mother, not wanting to upset Rosalyn or each other. Lately, though, Rosalyn had found herself wanting to talk about Mama. She wanted to recall all the happy memories, to talk endlessly about her. Perhaps it was because it was Christmas, or perhaps it was because her life was changing so fast and she missed her guiding presence, but she felt a need to speak and remember.
“Yes,” Isabel replied, her eyes shining. “We used to decorate them with red apples. And red and white ribbons,” she continued.
“I wanted to put rock candy on too,” Georgina said with a giggle. “It looks so pretty! But Mama said no.”
Rosalyn laughed aloud. She recalled that year very well. Georgina had been eight, she ten. The considerable quantity of rock candy had been a gift from Uncle Jack who had returned from a tour abroad.
“I think that my mother will likewise say no, sadly,” the duke quipped. They all laughed.
“We need some holly,” Georgina said, gesturing to the pile beside them, where there were only two branches left. “There is some over there.”
“We will come and ask you to tie the ribbons,” Isabel told Rosalyn. Then she hurried off after her sister.
