3 Charming Christmas Tales Set in Victorian England Read online

  The cab halted, and when her feet touched ground, she stared up at a magnificent, three-story building. It was hard to tell if the bricks were brown or deep red in the darkness, but regardless, the proud structure stood like a soldier on parade. Candles burned in every window, and merry gas lamps flickered on each side of a grand front door. It was a jolly sight. Like a new friend bright eyed at the prospect of meeting her. She followed Will up the stairs and onto the landing, where he rapped a lion-headed knocker against the door.

  Moments later, golden light poured out the opening, draping a luminous mantle on the shoulders of a butler in a black suit. He bowed his head and swept out his arm in invitation. “Good evening, Mr. Barlow. If you and your lady would step this way.”

  Leaving behind the chill November night, Mina stepped into a June morning—or so it seemed. Brilliant light bathed the large foyer, and long-fronded ferns and other plants sat on pedestals of varying heights around the perimeter. How magical! She might almost imagine herself at the center of an enchanted garden.

  Will helped her from her coat and handed it over to another servant, then doffed his as well. The butler led them to a sitting room, where Uncle Barlow rose from his seat the moment she met his gaze. Beside him, perched on the edge of a settee, Percy and Alice pouted, or maybe frowned. It was hard to tell. A surprising twinge of pity squeezed Mina’s heart. How awful to go through life with a perpetual sourness festering inside.

  Uncle Barlow clapped William on the back with a “Happy you made it, my boy.” Then he stopped in front of her. His big hand gathered her fingers, and he pressed a light kiss atop them. “‘The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.’”

  She grinned at his Dickens quote. How sweet that he’d remembered her love for Nicholas Nickleby. “Thank you, sir, but the pleasure is mine.”

  He released her and chuckled. “I didn’t think it possible, William, but your wife’s charm outshines yours.”

  Will’s gaze sought hers, and a strange gleam deepened the blue in his eyes—a look she’d never before seen from him.

  Will cleared his throat, and in a flash, the look disappeared, replaced by a familiar playful twinkle. “She is rather brilliant, is she not?”

  Across the room, Percy rose like a black cloud of doom, pulling Alice up along with him. “We are here for dinner, I believe. And I, for one, am famished, Uncle.”

  “Well then.” Uncle Barlow rubbed his hands together. “I suppose we shall have to remedy that, eh?”

  He led their entourage out of the sitting room and into a corridor lined with oil paintings and crystal wall sconces. Mina soaked it all in as she walked at Will’s side, memorizing the way light played off the gilded frames and the softness of the thick Persian runner beneath her feet. She blinked, praying the dream would not fade. This was a storybook palace, and she was a princess strolling next to her prince.

  “Look at that gown.” Behind her, Alice’s ugly whisper stabbed her in the back. “Puffed sleeves went out of fashion at least three seasons ago. And not a glimmer of jewels, not even some simple earbobs.”

  “Knowing my cousin,” Percy rumbled in a low voice, “it’s the best they can afford. Elizabeth Hill did right when she cut him loose, for he’s likely neck deep in debt. Obviously this woman was too dull witted to credit his faults and pull out before it was too late.”

  “I’d say she is a drab.”

  The venom in their remarks worked a slow burn up her neck, dimming some of the grandeur of Uncle Barlow’s fine home … and who was Elizabeth Hill?

  Will leaned close, his breath warm against her ear, making her forget about his cousins’ jabs and a woman named Elizabeth—especially when he whispered for her alone, “Ignore them, Mina. You look lovely and would even had you worn your taproom apron.”

  Oh, dear. Now heat flooded beyond her neck and spread in a flame across her cheeks. She dipped her head as they entered the dining room, lest he see the effect.

  Uncle Barlow stopped in front of a large table draped with white linen and sporting silver-edged place settings. “I’ve taken the liberty to arrange seating. Percy and Mina on this side.” He lifted his right hand. “Alice and William, opposite, if you please.”

  Percy skirted past her to grab the chair nearest Uncle Barlow’s, then backed off at the grim shake of Uncle’s head. Uncle Barlow advanced and held the chair out for Mina. Across from her, William did the same for Alice.

  As soon as all were seated, servants entered, placing domed platters atop the table. When they lifted the lids, Alice and Percy leaned forward, eyes narrowed at the food.

  Mina settled her napkin in her lap. Whatever Will’s cousins were concerned about now, at least they weren’t scrutinizing her, and she could go back to reveling in her fairy-tale night. Uncle Barlow slid a browned piece of roasted fowl from a serving platter onto her plate, then spooned an accompanying gravy atop it. The savory scent rained drops at the back of her throat. If she could remember everything about this dish, perhaps Martha might be able to copy it.

  Across from her, Alice sniffed and stared at Uncle Barlow. “Is something the matter with your cook?”

  “No, nothing at all.” Uncle speared a large bite of his meat and chewed with such gusto, the tufts of hair near his ears jittered. “Why do you ask?”

  “No soup? No fish course? We begin with naught but a main dish?”

  “Do you object to fowl?”

  Alice’s lips puckered for a moment. “No.”

  “Then why not enjoy what has been served?” Uncle Barlow chuckled. “I assure you, it is by no mistake I have chosen to reduce the courses. A year ago now, my physician suggested my gout might improve should I lose a stone or two. It has, and so I continue to eat a lighter fare.”

  A rumble sounded deep in his chest, and he pulled out his handkerchief. His cough wasn’t as hacking this time though, and for his sake, Mina hoped he was truly on the mend.

  “Humph,” Alice grumbled, then looked down her nose at Mina. “I suppose this is a feast for you.”

  She smiled, ignoring that somehow Alice meant her words as a cut. But how could they be? This was a feast, for she’d never sampled anything like it. The rich aftertaste of her first bite yet lingered in her mouth. “It is quite delicious.”

  “I agree.” Across the table, William winked at her.

  From the corner of her eye, she noted that Percy didn’t eat his meal. Odd, for was he not the one who’d declared himself famished? He pulled out a slip of paper and a pencil from his pocket then scribbled down some sort of note, all beneath the cover of the table. The others couldn’t see, but she did. Why would he be writing instead of eating?

  “Mina.” Uncle Barlow tapped a finger on the table, drawing her attention. “Do you remember the scenes in Bleak House when old Smallweed demands Judy to ‘shake him up’?”

  “I do.” She set down her fork, a grin spreading. “I own that we are supposed to loathe the man, but secretly”—she inclined her face toward Will’s uncle and lowered her voice—“I rather liked him.”

  “Ha ha! So did I.” Uncle Barlow raised a fist in the air and gruffed out in his best Smallweed imitation, “‘Shake me up, Judy. You brimstone beast!’”

  Mina laughed, not just from the man’s antics, but also from the raised brows on both Will and Alice.

  Percy turned slightly away from them all, scribbling furiously. Mina’s laughter faded. Whatever Percy was taking notes on couldn’t be good, not if he must hide the contents.

  “Tell me, William,” Uncle Barlow’s voice rumbled. “Has your wife made a reader of you yet?”

  Her face shot to Will’s. The reminder that Uncle Barlow thought them married was an unpleasant jolt, and worse, that it was their deception alone that had earned her a seat at his table.

  The tips of Will’s ears reddened. “Not yet, sir.”

  “Well I,” Alice interrupted, “find reading tiresome. Tell me, Mina.” She dabbed her lips with a napkin, as if speaking her name was
a stain to be rubbed off. “Do you not find it hard to distinguish fact from reality after immersing yourself in falsehoods? For that is what novels are, are they not? A great collection of fabrications and imaginary people?”

  Falsehoods! She ground her teeth so hard, her jaw crackled. Even if she had thought to bring along Effie’s second-chance coin, the anger simmering in her belly would’ve made it impossible to extend Alice such a charity.

  Uncle Barlow leaned sideways and patted Mina’s arm. “Pay her no mind, my dear. I should much rather live in a world of unicorns and fairies.”

  Next to Mina, Percy’s small pencil flew with a life of its own. She opened her mouth to call him out, but then servants descended, removing their plates and setting before each of them a steamed pudding decorated with laurel leaves. Clove and cinnamon wafted up in a heavenly cloud, and she couldn’t help but bend and inhale a great, spicy breath. Ignoring Percy, she took a bite. Sweet apples in a thick sauce had been baked within sponge cake, all soaked in some kind of mulled liqueur and lightened with dollops of cream. Absolute perfection filled her mouth. Martha would never be able to re-create this.

  Uncle Barlow shoved his dish away after only a few bites. For a moment, Mina held her spoon in midair. Was it proper etiquette to continue eating if the host had clearly finished?

  But across from her, Will’s spoon dipped into his pudding, and he took another big bite, paying no mind whatsoever to his uncle’s obviously sated appetite. She’d have to ask him about it later—on the ride home, perhaps—because for now, she determined to finish every last bit of her dessert.

  Percy’s pencil flew from his hand, landing on the carpet next to his chair. He shoved his paper back into his pocket then bent to retrieve the pencil, but in his haste, he hadn’t tucked the note in deep enough. The small slip of paper fluttered out and landed near the edge of the chair, teetering on the cushion. Any minute and it would plummet to the floor.

  Without thinking, Mina snatched the thing, curious as to what he’d been documenting; but as the paper came away in her fingers, guilt churned the sweets in her stomach. Was she now a thief as well as a deceiver? What had gotten into her?

  She reached to return the slip, but just then Percy straightened. Any further movement on her part, and she’d be caught red-handed.

  She froze. What was she to do now?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  What lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day; sowing perjury, hatred, and lies among near kindred, where there should be nothing but love!

  Martin Chuzzlewit

  Will studied Mina across the table—as he had been doing all night when she wasn’t looking. Fine, white teeth worried her lower lip, and an endearing little crinkle weighted her brow. What on earth was she puzzling over?

  He looked closer. In the past year as he’d frequented the Golden Egg, why had he never noticed the sweet, tiny freckles sprinkled over the top of her nose? Or the flaming streaks of copper in her hair? When had she grown into such a beauty?

  “Now that dinner is finished,” Uncle Barlow said while folding his napkin, “I suppose we should be about our business, eh?”

  “Finally,” Alice gruffed out beneath her breath, then in a louder, more syrupy tone, “Dearest Uncle, should you like Mina and me to retire to another room so that you men may confer in private?”

  “No need.” He held up his hand, staving her off. “It is my experience that wives are an integral part in how a household is run, and it is the running of my household that I am most interested in.”

  “Even so, Uncle Barlow, if you don’t mind, I must plead a moment for myself.” Mina pushed back her chair and shot to her feet. “Will you excuse me?”

  Will cocked his head. Why the sudden need to escape?

  “Of course, my dear. The necessary room is the third door on the left.” Uncle stood.

  So did Will.

  But Percy was too busy fumbling with something in his pocket to pay Mina any such respect. Or did the scoundrel feign the preoccupation just to snub her? Oh, how he’d love to reach across the table and yank his cousin from his chair, but he forced his feet to remain still. Schoolboy theatrics probably didn’t fit the type of behaviour Uncle was looking for in an heir. Swallowing his disgust, he lowered to his seat as Mina disappeared out the door.

  Uncle Barlow planted his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, tapping them together. “I have one simple question for each of you.” His gaze swung to Percy. “I shall ask you first, Percival, being you are the eldest by several months. Should you be named heir, what do you intend to do with the estate once I am gone?”

  A shrill titter squealed out of Alice, like that of a rabbit being stepped upon. “Oh! My husband is brilliant when it comes to finance. Wait until you hear his plans. He’s going to—”

  “I believe I asked my nephew.” Uncle curbed her with a glare from beneath his shaggy brows. “If you don’t mind?”

  Her mouth puckered into a clam ripple. “No, of course not.”

  Will coughed into his hand, stifling a grin. Between Alice and Mina, there was no contest as to where Uncle’s affections lay, and increasingly, his. Bless Mina’s heart. She was a sunbeam to Alice’s heavy, dark cloud.

  Percy straightened in his seat, resettling his glasses just so on the bridge of his nose. After a quick smoothing of any wrinkles on each coat sleeve, he faced Uncle Barlow as if addressing the prime minister.

  “The fact of the matter is that my wife is correct.” Percy tilted his head in a superior manner. Gads! If he lifted his nose any higher, a nosebleed might follow.

  “You see, Uncle Barlow, there are not many men more well versed in finance than I. That being said, I believe that the future lies in rails. With the innovation of the steam engine, and the largest station in all of Europe recently opened right here in London, it’s obvious that railroad investment is the way to go.”

  Uncle Barlow grunted. “Perhaps.”

  Will folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Judging by the rise of Percy’s chest, the man was about to launch into one of his unending soliloquies.

  “There is no perhaps about it.” Reaching inside his suit coat, Percy pulled out a sheaf of papers.

  Will gaped. How had the man concealed such a thick wad of documents?

  “I have taken the liberty of running up the numbers. If you’ll just look here.” Shoving aside the dishes, Percy spread the papers onto the table and stabbed one in particular with his index finger. “This graph shows that railroads are soon to be the lifeblood of commerce. According to a recent tabulation comparing canals to roads to rails, the upswing is soon to be steam engines. In fact, out-of-pocket expenses pale in comparison to …”

  His cousin droned on, but Will was more interested in what his uncle might think of the presentation. Was he wearied with Percy’s statistics or eager to find out more? He slipped a covert glance at the old fellow, but his uncle’s grey eyes neither drooped with boredom nor shone with interest. Only once did Uncle reach for his handkerchief to accommodate a short coughing spell.

  Beyond Uncle Barlow, a shadow appeared on the threshold. Will leaned back farther in his chair for a better look. Mina hovered like a spectre, neither entering nor retreating. She lingered, her eyes wide and beseeching his. In ghostlike fashion, she crooked her finger and beckoned him. What the deuce?

  “—William?”

  He jerked his gaze back to Uncle Barlow, who stared at him in expectation.

  “S–sorry?” he stammered.

  “I said I’ve gathered enough information from your cousin. It is your turn, my boy, to make clear your position. What are your intentions should you inherit my estate?”

  In the doorway, Mina swept her entire hand toward the corridor, pulling his attention once more back to her. Clearly, she signaled him to join her, but why now? Did she not realize—

  “Well William?”

  He jerked his face back to Uncle. “Nothing,” he answered.

  Alic
e and Percy gasped in unison.

  “Nothing?” Uncle Barlow repeated.

  Behind his uncle, Mina upped her frantic gesturing.

  Sweet heavens! What was he to do? Whatever Mina had to say was clearly urgent, but this was his chance—perhaps his only one—to persuade Uncle and thwart Percy’s wicked scheme. He straightened his shoulders. Mina would have to wait. “What I mean to say is that I intend to move into your country estate and run things as you always have. Your tenants rely upon the land for their livelihood, and I can’t see putting them out of their homes.” He narrowed his eyes at Percy. “Not even for the sake of investment.”

  Red crept up his cousin’s neck. “If the master prospers, so do the servants.”

  “Yet if the master is ruined, so are the tenants,” he shot back.

  “If one does not risk,” Alice’s shrewish voice cut in, “one does not gain.”

  He frowned at her. “But gains are not always positive. Unwarranted risk often reaps ills such as sorrow, debt, prison, or worse.”

  “Which you know firsthand.” Percy leveled the words at him like a loaded rifle. “But I wonder, Cousin, if you have learned your gambling lessons, or would you even now wile away Uncle’s money at a gaming table without a second thought?”

  Uncle Barlow shifted in his chair, and Will clenched his jaw. Blast his cousin for reminding the old man of his ignoble past.

  Mina yet bobbed in the doorway, but he couldn’t very well join her now and leave Percy to fill Uncle’s head with more reminders of his questionable history. If Uncle Barlow based his decision on the exploits of his younger years, he’d never be named heir. But how could he prove he wasn’t that man anymore and that his pompous cousin didn’t deserve to—Pompous? That may be the key. Were he to humble himself, perhaps Uncle Barlow might extend some grace, for the man did have a merciful side to him.

  Disregarding the sneer twisting Percy’s lips, Will turned to Uncle. “Percy is right. As you well know, I have experienced the degradation caused by my own poor choices. I offer you no excuse whatsoever for my reckless past and am, in fact, shamed by it. Yet I am not the man I once was, thanks to you—and God—for giving me a second chance when I was at my lowest point. I assure you, Uncle, that I have mended my ways. Whether or not you choose to believe such I leave in your hands, for I trust you to make a sound decision.”