3 Charming Christmas Tales Set in Victorian England Read online

  “Oh, Will …” Mina’s words shivered on the air. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He shrugged. “Well, there is somewhat of a happy ending. I hope, at any rate. When my mother recently fell ill, hanging on to life by a thread, she sent a solicitor to find me, which he did, thank God. I have been to see her, and I hope—and pray—that by moving her here, I can care for her, and she’ll soon recover.”

  “I pray so too.” Her blue gaze met his. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Nodding, he swept his hand toward the door. “It is getting late. I should see you up to your room.”

  He pivoted and strode past the threshold—and came face-to-face with Percy.

  Blast! If his cousin had heard any of his tale … His hands curled into fists. “How long have you been standing there?” he ground out.

  A slow smile spread across Percy’s face. “Long enough. Good night, Cousin.”

  Percy wheeled about and stalked down the corridor.

  “Oh, dear.” Coming up from behind, Mina rested her hand on his sleeve. “He’ll tell your uncle, won’t he?”

  His shoulders sagged, but a steely determination shored up his soul. Though his mother had asked him otherwise, there was nothing to be done for it now. “Not if I tell him first.”

  And he would. He’d seek out Uncle Barlow first thing on the morrow and tell him everything or die in the trying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth.

  Charles Dickens

  He’d meant to talk to his uncle, truly he had, but the next day passed in a blur of festive activities—and never once had Uncle been without Miss Whymsy at his side. Morning. Afternoon. Evening. All the events had chafed like a damp woolen muffler, rubbing Will’s conscience so raw that by the time he escorted Mina up the stairway to her chamber well after nightfall, he could hardly stand himself. Now that he was finally ready to divulge everything to his uncle, it seemed as if the powers of hell conspired against his bringing the truth to light.

  At the top of the stairs, Mina leaned close to him and lowered her voice. “Have you spoken to your uncle?”

  “Trust me, I tried, but not yet. It seems your Miss Whymsy is a particular favorite of his. The two were inseparable all day.”

  “I noticed. I’ve never seen her so happy, so … animated, I suppose.” A brief smile flickered on her lips, then just as soon faded. “Though I am sorry you weren’t able to corner Uncle Barlow because of her.”

  “Well, the good news is that Percy wasn’t able to either.” He offered his arm, and they continued down the corridor toward the blue room. “As near as I can tell, that is.”

  “Which is a bit strange, I think. Your cousin seems the type to relish a good tattling, no matter if your uncle were occupied or not.”

  “I know. That does have me concerned.” He scrubbed his face with his free hand. Percy had never been able to keep a secret—especially one as tantalizing as this. So why now?

  “I pray you’ll have better luck tomorrow.” Mina smiled up at him. “And I’ll try to detain Miss Whymsy for you.”

  “Actually, I still have a chance to speak with my uncle tonight. It’s his habit to record the day’s activities in a journal he keeps in his study. I’m not sure if it’s the writing he enjoys more or the cherry tobacco he uses in his pipe while composing.” He winked down at her—and was rewarded with a blush that pinked Mina’s cheeks to a most becoming shade.

  “Well, despite everything, it was a lovely day. The sleigh ride. Meeting some of the tenants. Oh, and the drinking chocolate afterwards. Sublime!” Her eyes closed and her mouth moved as if she were savoring it all over again.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. Such innocence. Such beauty. A sweet combination of all that was lovely and right. His mirth fled, replaced with a sobering revelation. Not only would he never tire of spending time with Mina—he didn’t want his time with her to end.

  Her eyes popped open, and she arched a brow. “If you don’t mind, I shall have to steal that recipe and bring it home to Martha. What an addition it would be to Father’s Christmas celebration. It might even outshine his oyster stew.”

  He stopped at her chamber door and tapped her on the nose. “No thievery involved. You have my blessing to ask Cook for it.”

  He opened her door and stood aside, but she hesitated on the threshold, apparently lost in thought. Fine little creases marred her brow.

  “A farthing for your thoughts?” he asked.

  “I … well …” She sighed as if the weight of the world were hers to carry.

  He stepped closer, alarmed yet instantly ready to fight whatever dragon tormented her so. “Tell me.”

  She peered up at him, her blue eyes almost greenish, so pure was her anguish. “I am concerned about the Christmas party, what with your uncle and cousins planning on attending. Father doesn’t know we’ve been playing the part of being married, and were they to hint at anything, well … if my father finds out, I—”

  He laid a finger against her lips, and his knees nearly buckled from the softness that met his touch. “Stop right there. If the rest of the evening goes as promised, I shall have the matter taken care of by morning. You are not to lose one bit of sleep over this. Promise?”

  For a moment she wavered, then her gaze brightened back to normal and the trust shining in those blue ponds did strange things to his gut. He lowered his hand to keep from pulling her into his arms.

  “I promise.” A small smile curved her mouth.

  “Right then, off with you. See you at breakfast.”

  She nodded and crossed into her chamber, then turned with her hand on the door. “Good night, Will.”

  Ahh, but she was a picture, standing there with lamplight bathing her in an angelic glow. It took him several tries just to get out a simple goodbye. “Good night.”

  Turning on his heel, he fled down the corridor. It was either that or give in to the urge to kiss her senseless. He upped his pace as he descended the stairs, then swung around the staircase and strode toward Uncle’s study. The sooner he got this over with, the better. Bracing himself for a long night of explaining, he stepped through the open door. “Uncle Barlow, sorry to disturb you, but there’s something important I need to …”

  His words stumbled to a halt as two grey heads turned to look at him from across the room. A lively blaze in the hearth cast light on the figures seated on the sofa—his uncle and Miss Whymsy. He shoved down a groan. Ought not a woman of Miss Whymsy’s age be abed? What on earth could they possibly be talking about now when they’d been locked in conversation all the blessed day?

  Uncle Barlow beckoned with one hand. “Come and join us William. Miss Whymsy here is just telling me about her volunteer work at an institute I’d never heard of. Quite interesting. You may learn a thing or two.”

  “I … uh …” Clamping his mouth shut, he gritted his teeth. What to do? Stay and listen, wait out whatever the older lady had to say—which could take hours, as elders generally got sidetracked frequently and for long periods? Or leave now and have a go at Uncle first thing in the morning?

  “Yes, do come join us, Mr. Barlow. If you’re half as enthralled as your uncle at my stories, I daresay I could regale you until daybreak.” Laughter warbled past the lady’s lips.

  Just as he’d thought. The two of them had settled in and would make a very long night of it, and by the time it wrapped up, no doubt Uncle would be too weary for the weight of the sordid truth Will must tell him.

  “I thank you, but—” He forced a small yawn. “I didn’t realize the hour. Perhaps, Uncle, I might speak with you straight off in the morning?”

  “Of course. Any time, my boy. And a hearty good night to you.”

  The two grey heads turned to once again face each other. Defeated, Will shuffled out of the room. Apparently the truth battle was one he’d have to wage the following day.

  He retraced his ste
ps up to the first floor, then stalked down the dimly lit corridor. A light still glowed beneath Mina’s door, and he couldn’t help but grin as he imagined her taking down her hair and brushing it until the reddish glints shone like fire.

  Passing on, he took care to edge toward the far side of the wall as he drew close to his cousins’ door. No light glowed in the crack near their threshold. Good. Then neither Percy nor Alice would hear his footsteps as he stole down to the empty chamber at the end of the passageway.

  But just as he padded by, the door swung open.

  Will froze, praying he’d blend in with the shadows. As long as whoever it was didn’t look his way—

  “What are you doing roaming the corridor?” Percy’s voice stabbed him in the back.

  He turned, heart pounding—then angled his head. Why the deuce would his cousin be dressed head to toe in black, from the tips of his shoes, to his overcoat, to the dark hat clapped atop his head? “I could ask the same of you, Cousin. By the looks of it, you’re in deep mourning and are about to go out to haunt the night.”

  Percy scowled. “Isn’t your room there?” He lifted a finger and pointed back toward the blue room. “Why are you going in the opposite direction of your chamber?”

  He stared down his nose, challenging Percy with a glower. “Just stretching my legs.”

  “As am I.”

  Will narrowed his eyes. Should he call the man on it? Clearly his cousin was up to no good … but then again, neither was he. He swept out his hand and gave Percy a little bow. “Enjoy your walk then.”

  “You as well.” The sentiment was completely devoid of warmth, and in fact shivered in the space between them.

  Percy turned, defiance hanging as thick and dark in the air as the shadows. Which one of them would discover the other’s business first?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The beating of my heart was so violent and wild that I felt as if my life were breaking from me.

  Bleak House

  Some days were the stuff made of dreams. This had been one, despite the slight shadow that it seemed Uncle Barlow purposely avoided a private conversation with either her or Will. But even so, Mina had still relished her morning stroll outside in an enchanted world of snow, dazzling like a thousand candlelit crystals. The afternoon was equally as magical, spent in a library nook in a greatly overstuffed chair with the time to untether her imagination. And most especially enthralling was catching the man she loved in the act of gazing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Mina hid a smile, but she couldn’t conceal the pink that surely coloured her heated cheeks. Though Will stood on the other side of the drawing room in conversation with Percy, he always seemed to be aware of her—and that was the best dream of all.

  On the settee, Uncle Barlow entertained Miss Whymsy with a botanical book and a magnifying glass—or did Miss Whymsy entertain him? Hard to tell, judging by the way their heads bowed together, sharing a secret laugh. Ahh, but this was a good respite for her older friend, for Mina suspected Miss Whymsy laboured far too hard at the institute. The woman never did things by half measure.

  Alice played a haunting tune on the piano, the last minor chords hovering on the air like an omen. Then she looked up and pinned Mina in place with the lift of her brow. “Mina, do come over here, would you? I think I’ve provided my fair portion of music for the evening. It is only right you share your talents, for I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing your abilities.”

  She froze. The only thing she knew how to play was a short hand of whist, and even at that, her card skills were lacking. But music? Despite the many times she’d begged her father for lessons, there’d never been time or money. “I am sorry …” She paused, searching for the right combination of words. “But I … I haven’t played in years.”

  Immediately she bit the inside of her cheek. Was it a lie if she’d honestly not played in any of her years?

  “A shame. I suppose William hasn’t been able to afford a proper pianoforte for you. Even so, I have a remedy.” Shuffling through papers, Alice pulled one out and held it up. “Ahh, here it is. I shall play, and you shall sing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know …”

  Uncle Barlow set down his magnifying glass and closed the book. “There’s no need for such modesty here. Amongst friends, one should be able to share anything, especially one’s voice.”

  Had ever a fox in a trap felt so ensnared? There was no possible way to get out of this short of feigning a sudden death.

  Straightening her shoulders, she desperately hoped to find courage in good posture, then crossed over to Alice. Unless the woman had chosen a hymn or a pub song, it wasn’t likely she’d be able to sing a word. She stopped at the end of the piano as the first chords rang out, each one unfamiliar. The expectancy in Uncle Barlow’s eyes gleamed brilliant. Her corset bit into her ribs as she tried to control her frantic breathing. How to salvage this farce? Think. Think!

  But nothing came to mind, least of all any lyrics. And why should they? She’d only read of ladies and high society. She surely didn’t know what they’d sing, which only served to drive home the fact that no matter how much she’d like to, she didn’t belong here. Sneaking a glance over her shoulder, she eyed Alice, and a niggling thought crept out like a spider … did she really want to belong here, or would it turn her into a callous, hurtful woman such as Will’s cousin? Apparently wealth alone didn’t guarantee her life would have any more meaning than Alice’s spiteful existence. Why had she wasted so many years thinking otherwise?

  The music ground to a halt, pulling her from her thoughts, and she snapped her gaze to the floor, preferring to study the hem of her skirt rather than witness the disappointment in Uncle Barlow’s eyes.

  “That was your cue, Mina,” Alice taunted from the keyboard. “Yet no matter. I’ll begin again.”

  Unbearable heat churned up from her belly, and humiliation choked her. Suddenly she was eight years old again, standing amidst a circle of girls. Several pointing. Some laughing. All listening to the awful Mary Blake poke fun at her for being the daughter of a lunatic. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the world.

  “How about something more seasonal? Alice, do you mind?”

  She looked up to see Will wink at her as he strode to the piano keys. He forced Alice to yield the bench by his stare alone. Gently at first, then with more gusto, the opening chords of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” filled the room like a gathering of old friends. This she could sing, and her knees weakened when Will joined in, his bass voice adding harmony. Even Uncle Barlow and Miss Whymsy sang along.

  By the time the last note faded, Alice frowned. “That was quaint.” She looped her arm through Mina’s and pulled her away from the piano. “But I am tired of music. Let us take a turn about the room.”

  Unable to escape, Mina padded beside the tall woman, tongue lying fallow, heart fluttering. Why the sudden attention from Alice? Though she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was a tiger hiding in the weeds, waiting to spring.

  Alice didn’t speak until they passed out of ear range of where Percy had once again cornered Will. “So, Mina, you don’t sing the classics. You don’t play. Where did you say you were educated?”

  “I didn’t.” She let out a breath. That had been an easy answer.

  “You didn’t say, or you didn’t have an education? Which is it?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “Hmm.” Alice eyed her sideways, her powdered face flawless in the sconce light. Maddeningly so. Except for the woman’s cruel disposition, Alice overshadowed her in every way. “Where did you and William meet? Who introduced you? Perhaps I know the person.”

  She forced her arm to remain steady where it touched against Alice’s, though surely if God struck her down for lying, her stillness would be in vain. “We met at … an establishment, and I doubt very much if you’d know any of our acquaintances.”

  “An establishment?” Alice pecked at the word like a vulture
looking for the tastiest bits of meat. “Interesting. How long did you say you’ve been married?”

  La! What was it Will had told her? A year? Nine months? Though she tried to recall what they’d worked out, the way Alice stared at her obliterated all her thoughts. “I … em …”

  “Let me guess, you didn’t say that either. I wonder if you can. A nondescript past, a nebulous engagement, and a mysterious marriage. That is more than intriguing.” Alice stopped and turned, folding her hands in front of her as if they chatted about nothing more than ribbon colours or button sizes. “I find it interesting that a young woman so clearly in love hasn’t much to say about her courtship or her husband … unless of course, he is not her husband.”

  Cold dread washed over her. Alice knew? How in the world? Or was the woman simply fishing for a scandal? Either way, the best option—the only option—was to exit as soon as possible. Mina threw back her shoulders, hoping such a regal pose would put Alice off—leastwise for now. “This turn of conversation is absurd. I am feeling tired, and I should like to retire now. Good night, Alice. I will see you on the morrow.”

  “Good night. Oh, and I won’t bother sending William up after you, for I don’t suppose it will matter what time he frequents the empty chamber at the end of the corridor, hmm?” Half a smile lifted the woman’s lips, but it had nothing to do with mirth or amusement. “Though I must admit I am unsure if I should pity or scorn you for being such a naive little girl. At least Elizabeth knew what she’d been doing when her and Will had been together.”

  Mina whirled, praying the movement wouldn’t be as panicky on the outside as the turmoil churning inside her. Forcing an impossible calmness to her steps, she strode toward the door—fighting the urge to bolt.