Winter Is Past (15 page)

“Very good, miss.” Giles turned to direct Harry and the coachman.

Seeing there was nothing left for her to do, she started up the wide stairs. She knocked, then peered into Rebecca's room, but it was empty. No sign of anyone—the bed made, all the dolls and books in a neat row on the shelf. Althea tried to silence any worry or disappointment. The little girl she'd thought about so much and prayed about so fervently was nowhere to be seen. Could she have stayed on with her relatives? Had she grown worse? Had Simon decided she should live with her grandparents now, and was he going to inform Althea that her services were no longer required?

Althea caught herself in the mirror. She looked pale and frightened, making the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose stand out in relief. This was ridiculous. If she was to be dismissed, she had better find out about it sooner rather than later. She marched through the sitting room into her own room. Her luggage had already been deposited on the floor.

She removed her pelisse, then rolled up the sleeves of her dress. She poured some water into her basin and bent over it to wash
her face and hands. Patting them dry with a towel she felt somewhat better. She rebuttoned her sleeves, then unpinned her hair. She quickly hunted for her hairbrush in her reticule, and gave her scalp a stiff brushing, as if doing so would rid her of some of the nonsense filling her head.

Having re-pinned her coronet, she gave herself one quick look in the glass, smoothing her skirts and readjusting the kerchief around her neck. It would have to do for the coming interview. She was wearing one of Gillian's castoffs, a dark blue wool set off by the white kerchief. With a final pat to her hair, Althea turned away from the glass.

The house was completely silent when she descended. She knocked outside the library door, feeling as if she'd gone back in time and was once more awaiting the interview with her brother's school friend. How could a mere fortnight away from Simon Aguilar put her in such a state of anxiety?

“Come in.” The deep muffled voice came through the thick wood.

 

Simon looked toward Rebecca's sparkling eyes. This time it was she who held her finger to her lips. He gestured silently with his hand for her to follow him. He took a seat at his desk and had her crouch behind it, out of sight.

“Come in.”

Althea opened the door and entered. Closing the door behind her, she stood at the entry, making no move to go farther. She spotted Simon at the other end of the room.

“You're back,” he said in a serious tone.

“Yes, sir. You asked to see me?”

“Yes, come in. Don't just stand there.”

He watched with amusement as she started at his tone then drew her shoulders back and marched toward him.

“Mr. Aguilar, where is—?”

Before she could finish the sentence, Simon gave a nudge to his daughter—and up she jumped.

“Surprise!” she shouted to Althea, as Simon stood and added, “Welcome home.”

She approached the desk, looking from one to another, her hand at her throat, her mouth agape. For a moment he thought she was about to faint. He quickly went around the desk and took her arm. “Look what we've prepared for you.” He propelled her toward the table laid for tea before the fire. The pleasant fragrance of Althea's hair reached his nostrils, and he realized he'd rarely stood this close to her, or touched her. Seeing she still looked pale, he led her to the couch by the fire.

“We wanted to welcome you with a tea party. Doesn't it look cozy?” Rebecca smiled at Althea, taking her hand.

“Oh, yes, dear, it does look cozy, indeed.” Her voice still sounded faint to Simon.

“It's just tea, not a banquet,” he teased, trying to lighten her mood. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her face and her voice until he'd seen her standing there at the door. His daughter had clamored for some kind of welcoming celebration and he'd acquiesced. How glad he was he'd heeded her.

Rebecca looked at her coyly. “It was my idea to surprise you. Were you surprised?”

Althea laughed, and Simon thought he'd never heard such a clear, sweet laugh. It sounded like unmitigated joy. He wondered whether he'd ever in his life laughed like that.

“You certainly did surprise me. When I didn't see or hear anybody about, well, you can imagine the things that started going through my mind.”

She met his gaze, and he realized how worried she must have been when they hadn't appeared.

“Did you think we were still at Ramsgate?” Rebecca asked delightedly.

Althea smiled and nodded. “Yes, I thought you'd be having too good a time and would not want to come back here,” she replied with another laugh, taking both Rebecca's hands in her own.

For some reason Simon hadn't been able to take his eyes off
her since she'd entered the room. She was looking very fetching. The midnight blue transformed her gray eyes to blue and emphasized the gold of her hair and fairness of her complexion. He imagined it was how she must have looked during her London Seasons before she'd got it into her head that she must remove herself from society and hide herself in the slums of London. He approached the low rosewood table before the couch.

“Here, will you do the honors?” He held up the teapot.

Althea looked at him over the silver pot, and suddenly he knew she was thinking about the night of the dinner party and how Lady Eugenia had usurped her place. The intimacy of their present tea party hadn't occurred to him until that moment. What would the grand lady say if she could see the private tableau now? He realized he didn't really care. What she didn't see was no concern of hers.

Althea began to pour the tea. “Cream, sugar?” she asked him.

“Just a touch of sugar, please,” he replied, taking a seat in a leather chair closest to the couch.

“Rebecca, could you take this to your father, please?” She watched his daughter bring him his tea. “You are looking so well. The sea air must have agreed with you.”

Rebecca came back to her with a smile. “It did. I think God heard your prayers, Miss Althea. I feel lots better.”

“I'm so thankful.” She looked at the plateful of cake and tarts on the table. “These look delicious. Did you help make them?”

Rebecca nodded. “This afternoon.”

Althea arranged a plate for Simon and handed it to his daughter.

“How was your stay in Hertfordshire?” Simon asked when they were all settled with their tea.

“Very pleasant, thank you,” she answered, stirring her tea.

“How is the newborn?”

“Lovely, surrounded by doting parents and grandfather.”

“What's her name?” Rebecca asked.

“Judith Elizabeth.”

“That's pretty. When was she born?”

“Only three days after I arrived at Pembroke Park.” Althea looked at Simon. “I must thank you for allowing me to go.”

He shrugged, though he felt pleasure that he had been able to do something for her. It struck him suddenly that she wasn't a person who really needed anything. “I'm glad it all worked out. How is Tertius?”

Althea smiled. “Very happy. I don't think we shall see him in London anytime soon.”

“No, I should imagine not.”

“We have some big news, too, Miss Althea,” piped up Rebecca from her chair.

“Yes?” She put her cup down, her smile fading.

“Auntie Tirzah is getting married next month. We are all invited to the wedding.”

“You remember my youngest sister?” Simon asked.

“Oh, yes. She sang beautifully. The young gentleman with her at your family's house—that was her intended, was it not?”

“Yes, Solomon Cardoso. Nice chap.”

“Yes, he seemed so,” she said quietly.

“He'll be my uncle when they're married,” Rebecca explained.

“He will, indeed. Your Uncle Solomon.”

“Where is the wedding to be held, in Ramsgate?” she asked, directing her question to Rebecca.

Simon replied for his daughter. “Oh, no. It will be here in town. My sister has invited you.”

“She has?” She looked surprised, her hand going again to her chest. “That was nice of her.”

Simon frowned at her tone, which merely sounded perfunctory. He had expected her to be pleased. Did she feel uncomfortable with his family?

“Miss Althea, we want to take you to Ramsgate with us the next time we go. We had such a lovely time by the seashore.
Abba
promised me if I'm as good as I am now in May, we shall all go. Would you like to come with us?”

She seemed at a loss for words. “Let us wait until then, shall we?” She looked down, taking a sip of tea, as if afraid of saying more.

“I'm so glad you're back, Miss Althea. I've been missing you so.”

“Have you? I've missed you, too. What have you been doing with your time?”

Simon continued to watch Althea as Rebecca chattered away. He was glad his daughter had formed a bond of affection with her nurse. It was important that she have a mother figure to look up to. It was true she had lots of family, and they visited her frequently, but it was not the same as having someone under her roof, there for her all the time. He was grateful to Tertius for having recommended his sister. Simon watched Althea push a wayward curl away from her forehead. She was a woman who cared deeply about those entrusted to her.

He could never live up to her ideals, but that was not to say he could not admire them from a distance.

“I'm starting a book,” Simon said, when his daughter had turned her attention to her tart. He didn't know why he was telling her. For reasons he didn't care to analyze, he wanted her to know.

Althea turned her eyes on him, a look of expectancy in their gray-blue depths. “You are? Tell me about it.”

He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, the usual, the need for parliamentary reform.”

“That's wonderful! I'm sure it will get people to understand.”

“I shall be working on it over the next several months. I thought I'd tell you so if you see me closeted in this library for hours on end, you'll understand why.”

“I'm sure it will be a very valuable work.”

Simon rose, suddenly uncomfortable with the coziness of the arrangement. The three of them could be a family sitting around the fire drinking tea like this. “Well, I must go and change. I shall be dining out this evening. I leave you in good hands, Rebecca.”

“Oh,
Abba,
can't you stay?” Rebecca pouted. “Are you going to visit the baron again?”

“Yes, how do you know that?”

Her eyes twinkled, her disappointment forgotten. “I saw the invitation on the front table.”

“Invitations to Lady Stanton-Lewis's salon have become quite coveted. All the most sought-after artists, poets and politicians gather there.” He found himself addressing Althea more than his daughter, and that irritated him. It was almost as if he were offering her explanations, yet he had reached his majority long ago.

L
ate that evening Althea sat reading her Bible in her sitting room. It was growing late, but she was almost too tired to move. The fire was warm and snug. She felt a deliciously drowsy feeling steal over her. Her bedroom would be cold. She shouldn't have stayed up so long after a full day of travel.

She had thought she would be in bed by nine, but it had taken a while to settle Rebecca. The girl had been too excited by Althea's return and had wanted to tell her everything about her stay at the seashore. She had also wanted to hear more details about Althea's time at her brother's and had not been satisfied until Althea filled her in at length.

Althea sat back against the chair, contemplating the glowing coals. It had been a good day, all in all. There had been nothing to dread. Her first fright at not seeing Rebecca had been ridiculously unfounded. She could smile now at her worries. Rebecca had told her how it had been her idea to plan the surprise welcome.

Everything had gone well with Simon, as well. She was glad
about his writing. He seemed rested from his holiday at the seashore. She was concerned about his continued friendship with Lady Stanton-Lewis, but there was little she could do about it. He was a grown man who ought to know what he was about. At least she knew where his affections lay, and she would bury any personal feelings she'd harbored, even the recollection of them. They would be as deeply obliterated as if they were under that pile of red coals before her.

By the time she had said her last good-night to Rebecca, Althea had felt the need to sit down with her Bible. Only God's word could settle her, bringing peace and quietness to her soul. For the past few hours she had been reading and meditating in turn over the Word. The peace had come, as she had known it would, and now she felt she would sleep like a baby.

She started at a knock on her sitting room door, which as usual she had left ajar to Rebecca's room.

“Hello. Did I startle you? Were you asleep?” Simon pushed open the door and peered in.

She took a deep breath, shaking herself fully awake. “No, not at all, though if you had come a few minutes later, you might have found me so.”

He smiled, entering the rest of the way. “I thought you'd have retired long before now, but I saw the light still burning.”

“Yes, I thought I would have, too. I must have slept more than I realized in the coach today.”

“How was your journey?”

“It was fine.”

“May I sit down?”

“Yes, of course.” She would tell him about Rebecca and then bid him good-night.

He stretched his legs in front of the fire. “This feels good. It's still quite cold outside, for all that spring is here.”

“Yes.” He had on evening clothes, but he looked slightly disheveled, like a gentleman who has come from making all the social rounds. “The London parks looked beautiful as I rode by
today, with all the narcissus in bloom,” she said in an attempt at polite conversation.

He didn't answer right away. Althea fingered her Bible, wondering whether to continue reading. Perhaps he was just relaxing a little before turning in for the night and didn't want a chattering female beside him. He had probably just come from hours of stimulating conversation at the salon.

As if reading her mind, he spoke up. “People from all over the Continent come to the Stanton-Lewis house to look at the collection of books and folios, and here you sit night after night with the same book. Tell me, Miss Breton, don't you get tired of reading the same words? How many times have you read them by now? Ten, twenty?”

She smiled slightly. “I've lost track.”

“You remind me of a great-uncle of mine. He spent his whole life pouring over the Talmud. Didn't do him much good. I heard from those who were at his bedside at the end that he was as terrified of the fires of Gehenna as any reprobate.”

She touched the book in her lap. “Blessed assurance doesn't come from reading mere words on paper. It comes from having the spirit of God on the inside. He's the one who breathes life into these Scriptures.”

“So, why didn't my uncle have the spirit on the inside?”

Instead of answering, she took her Bible and opened it to the Book of John. She began reading from the first verse, “‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….'”

She kept reading through to the tenth verse. “‘He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.'” As she read the eleventh verse, she glanced toward Simon. “‘He came unto his own, and his own received him not.'”

“You are saying the Messiah came to His people, and we didn't realize it.”

“I'm not saying it. This book is.”

“A matter of opinion, some would have it.”

“It is a matter of studying the Scriptures with ‘the eyes of your understanding enlightened,' as the apostle Paul describes.” When he didn't say anything, she hastened on. “Believe me, I never would have read about Christ as the Jewish Messiah in the Scriptures if God's spirit had not revealed it to me through the Old Testament prophecies. Before that time, I thought the Bible was just for Christians. I believed Christ came to save the Gentiles. I believed the Jews were guilty of murdering our Savior, not that He had anything to do with
their
salvation.”

She placed her hands flat on the open pages in front of her and leaned forward. “When Tertius first asked me to come here, I was horrified. My first reaction was to refuse outright. I simply could not conceive of coming into the household of a Jew.

“You were perfectly right when you accused me of picturing you as some greedy, ambitious moneylender.” Althea waited to see his reaction before continuing her tale. “My brother had to practically beg me to come to that interview with you. The only thing Tertius and I could agree upon was that I would seek the Lord's counsel.” She permitted herself a slight smile. “Believe me, though I set myself to seek the Lord's will in prayer, my mind was pretty well made up in one way, and it would take a divine act to get me to change my views of the Scriptures.”

“I assume you received such an act, since you are here.”

She nodded. “It didn't take the Lord long to point out my error.” She smiled. “Perhaps the urgency of your situation moved Him to show me in a matter of days.” She looked down at her hands, knowing she was coming to the critical part. “I had been praying for only a few days, when…I had a dream.” She was afraid of looking at him, afraid she would only read disbelief or mockery. She sneaked a glance, but saw he was listening to her intently. “Jesus appeared to me in the dream. He told me to come here. He also told me to go back to the Scriptures. He even gave me one particular verse.” She riffled the thin pages, afraid of losing Simon's attention if she stopped talking for even a second.

She arrived at the second chapter of the Book of Ephesians.
Her fingers ran down the page until they reached the fourteenth verse. She kept her forefinger on the Scripture and looked up. Simon's attention was still upon her. “I woke up with Ephesians 2:14 clearly in my mind.”

Although she could have quoted it to him by heart by then, she preferred reading it to him. “‘For He is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us.'” She emphasized the parts she wanted him to understand. She risked a glance at his face to see if he had. “Don't you see he is talking about both Jew and Gentile? I went back and read and reread the entire chapter. It's Paul, a Jew, a Pharisee of Pharisees, writing to the new converts—Gentiles—at Ephesus. He's explaining how Jesus has come to reconcile the two of us. Listen.” She ran her finger farther down: “‘…to make in himself of twain one new man…that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross….'

“One new man! Jew and Gentile! In one instant, the Spirit of God opened my eyes to show me that your Messiah was also my Messiah. The promise of salvation, which had been given to the Jews through the Scriptures for centuries, had now been made available to the Gentiles.

“You can't understand how that revelation changed everything. It came to me only days before I arrived here, but I spent that time poring over the Old Testament,
your book,
looking up every Scripture I could find about salvation, about the Messiah, every prophecy, and I discovered for the first time that Jesus was your Messiah.” She looked at him marveling. “I never knew that. We Gentiles only received Jesus because you had rejected Him. But many of your people didn't reject Him. The Christian Church was full of Jews at the beginning—it was made up of Jews.” She laughed. “As you guessed, I had read the Bible, oh, perhaps dozens of times, and I had never seen that. It took the Spirit that God has planted on the inside of me to reveal it to me.”

She fell silent, having nothing more to say. She could reason and argue, read more Scriptures, but if Simon could not understand
what she had just told him, more would not convince him. The minutes spread out, and with it, Althea's hope began to diminish, hang onto it though she would; it slowly pulverized as completely as the spent coals on the grate, falling to form a pile of white ash.

Finally Simon brought his fingertips together in a pyramid. “If Jesus gave you this grand revelation, why did He take so long about it?”

She laughed again, almost in relief. “Don't you see? Sometimes God can't show us things until we're willing to be shown.”

“How profound, Miss Breton. Unfortunately, to my ears it sounds too much as if you would have a person give up all modern learning and philosophy and turn back to something that was written centuries ago and caused more disagreement and wars than all other philosophies put together.”

She slumped in defeat. He had listened to her so intently, she had believed for a moment that he was beginning to understand. But the veil still had not been lifted from his eyes.

“I know one thing, Mr. Aguilar, I will not be terrified on my deathbed as your uncle was. I will not question whether my life was lived in vain. And I will know where I am going.”

 

One afternoon in late April before leaving for the House, Simon went in search of Althea. He hadn't seen but glimpses of her in days. Although Rebecca seemed fine, he still wanted to talk face-to-face with her nurse. He'd almost say Miss Breton was avoiding him. He missed their brief early morning chats at breakfast.

He finally located her by the muffled sound of music coming from the yellow salon. He opened the door silently and stood listening. He had never witnessed her playing. Rebecca was upstairs visiting with her grandmother.

Althea struck the last few notes of a hymn. As the last note died away, she must have sensed his presence, for she whirled around on the pianoforte bench.

“How long have you been there?”

“I didn't mean to startle you,” he reassured her. She seemed more flustered than the discovery of his presence warranted.

“I thought you had already left for the day,” she said in a more collected tone.

“I was on my way out, but remembered I needed to do something, so here I am. You play well,” he added.

Her hand went to her throat. “Th-thank you.”

He peered more closely at her. “I haven't seen much of you lately. Is everything well with you?”

She looked down at her lap, clasping her hands in it. “Yes, of course.”

He wasn't satisfied. He tried another tack. “Rebecca is doing well, is she not?”

Althea nodded vigorously, still not looking at him directly. “Oh, yes.”

“Perhaps we shall even see the day she no longer needs a nurse,” he teased.

If he thought to disconcert her, he was disappointed. She looked at him, a glow in her eyes.

“Oh, I pray for that day! I know we shall see the time when she can join all her cousins in their boisterous games.”

He considered the notion. “Well, I appreciate your prayers, for whatever they're worth. I know if there is a God, He would be a cruel God indeed if He didn't listen to your prayers, Miss Breton.”

She gazed at him as if longing to tell him something. No doubt more about that Savior of hers. Simon switched topics before she had a chance.

“Speaking of Rebecca's cousins, I stopped by to remind you that Tirzah's wedding is next week. It will be held at the bridegroom's house, as is customary, but we will start out from my parents' house. I know the celebrations will go on until late into the evening, and I've got permission for you and Rebecca to stay the night at the bridegroom's. This way, you can put Rebecca to bed early, so she won't get overtired by all the excitement.”

Althea nodded. “She talks of little else these days. The bridegroom's parents won't mind having us, will they?”

“No, not at all, it's all arranged.” He fingered a button on his coat. “I will accompany you, of course, in the coach, but I shall return here in the evening, then come and collect both of you in the morning after breakfast. Is that satisfactory to you?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever is best for you.”

“Good, it's settled, then.” He turned to go. At the door he paused, turning back to her. He said without thinking, though he realized as he spoke that he must have been considering the notion for days, “Wear the green, will you?”

She looked puzzled. “The green?”

“You know—that dress you wore to the dinner party.” He felt a warmth steal over his face, as he questioned why he cared about her apparel.

Her hand went back to her throat. “Oh—”

“You'll wear it, then?” Better she had no chance to think too much about it, or wonder why he was making such a request.

Giving her no opportunity to refuse, he nodded. “Good. I must be off. Until this evening.”

He strode down the hallway, trying to focus on the coming debate in the House, yet feeling a sense of anticipation at seeing Miss Breton once again in an evening gown at a social event.