3 Charming Christmas Tales Set in Victorian England Read online

  He set off at a good clip. As he passed the Old Lace Shop, the golden glow in the windows and merry laughter from inside turned his head. A cluster of smiling old women bent their heads together near a table laden with the remnants of a Christmas feast. A girl—roughly his age—sat on the lap of another white-haired lady, cracking nuts. Off in a corner, a tall man and a pretty lady gazed into each other’s eyes beneath a sprig of mistletoe. Gaff! But they looked a kind sort. The way she smiled at the man. How he slowly brushed his fingers along her cheek, almost as if he were afraid he might break her. He pulled the lady into his arms and kissed her a good one right on the lips.

  Smirking, Billy turned from the sight and upped his pace. That’s what Mimi deserved. Not the kissing part, but the gentleness of it all. Tender folk to care for her. A warm home. Lots of love and plenty of food. Slab-nabbity! But she would have it!

  Cold seeped through the threadbare fabric of his coat as he rushed along. Slushy snow dampened his socks, seeping in from the holes in his shoes. He shivered, but through it all, he set his jaw and trudged onward, past the lace market, through the winding streets of Hoxley Green, and finally up to Broxtowe.

  Hours later, he stopped in front of a church. The stained glass was dark by now; any worshippers that had been inside had long since left. Had midnight already come and gone? Was he too late? Panic tasted sour at the back of his throat. No! Not when he was so close. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

  Pivoting, he skirted the church’s stone walls and slipped around to the side yard. A tiny vicarage sat toward the back of the lot. One candle flickered in the window, lessening some of his unease. Perhaps the vicar was still awake.

  Oh, God, make it so. For Mimi.

  On quiet feet, Billy crept to the front door and set down his sister’s basket; then he retrieved the coin and laid it on top of the rags. Surely with such a fortune accompanying her, Mimi would be welcomed. He brushed a parting kiss against his sister’s brow, her skin soft and warm.

  The baby’s eyes shot open as he pulled away. Her mouth opened into a big O.

  And that was it. No more time.

  Billy scrambled away, taking cover behind the shadow of an upturned wheelbarrow just as his sister let out a frightful cry.

  The front door of the vicarage opened.

  “What’s this?” Vicar Joseph Grammelby’s voice, honed by countless Sundays of exhortations, pealed out into the night.

  Billy bit his lip, hoping and praying he’d not be spotted. He’d be trundled off to an orphanage for sure, or worse, the workhouse. Kipes! More like the dead-house, if you asked him. Why, he’d rather move in with Moffit Scruggs than go to that carpin’ place.

  Thankfully, his sister’s next cry drew the vicar’s gaze. Stooping, the man gathered Mimi into his arms, shushing her with steady murmurings while patting her back.

  Even so, Billy didn’t dare breathe. Not yet. Not until Mimi was safe inside the vicarage.

  When she quieted, once again Vicar Grammelby scanned the darkness. “Who brings this child?”

  Billy squeezed his eyes shut.

  Please, God. A Christmas miracle for Mimi? Just like Mother said before she died? Can You do that even if I got my sister here a little late?

  He listened hard for an answer, but how would he know what God sounded like? He’d never heard from Him before.

  “Secundus casus.”

  Billy stiffened. God spoke a different language? How was he to understand that?

  “Second chance.”

  His eyes shot open. That baritone voice came from the open door of the vicarage, not from heaven.

  Sure enough, Vicar Grammelby secured Mimi against his shoulder with one hand, and with the other, held the coin up to his eyes. Did the piece of gold have writing on it? Billy frowned. He’d not taken the time to notice.

  The vicar’s arm dropped, and he lifted his face to the sky. “Truly, God? Can it be? After so many little ones lost to us?” His voice broke, and for a moment his head dipped; then stronger and purer his words rang. “Christmas or not, Lord, Your grace knows no bounds.”

  He turned then, taking Mimi with him into the vicarage. “Wife? Mary! Come see what miracle God has wrought.”

  The door shut.

  The night stilled.

  Billy smiled. Satisfied, he crept from his hiding spot. God had done it! He truly had, even if it was past midnight. Mimi would have a good home with Vicar Grammelby and his wife. He was sure of it.

  Leaving the church behind, he cut onto Boxford Lane and shoved his hands into his pockets. Perhaps tomorrow he’d stop by the Old Lace Shop and see if that kind-looking lady and man would hire him on.

  Who knew? Maybe miracles didn’t happen only on Christmas.

  HISTORICAL NOTES

  Richard Birkin & Thomas Adams

  Birkin and Adams are the real movers and shakers of the Victorian lace industry. They were the risk-taking innovators who caused the trade to flourish. By casting aside tradition, they dared to transfer lacemaking from residences to factories and warehouses.

  The Lace Market in Nottingham

  The Industrial Revolution put an end to cottage industries where lace was made in homes by hand. Steam engines made it possible to power machinery that increased production dramatically. By 1870, nearly all types of handmade lace had machine-made copies available at a cheaper price—and there was no greater emporium of lace and hosiery manufacturers than in Nottingham.

  Blind Ladies of Nottingham

  Lacemaking is an exacting craft that requires hours spent working tiny threads into delicate patterns. Women often went blind perhaps because of the strain on the eyes while working in very dim lighting or, more likely, from repeated and chronic eye infections due to the irritation from the cotton fluff in the air. I took artistic license with the number of blind women in Nottingham, for there are no hard-and-fast statistics from that era.

  Death Ornaments

  Mourning the death of a loved one, especially in Victorian times, was an elaborate affair that often lasted for at least a year, and in the case of Queen Victoria, for her whole life. One of the ways in which the deceased were remembered by the living was to have their hair woven into ornaments such as brooches, framed artwork, earrings, or even elaborate centerpieces kept under glass.

  Mistletoe

  Victorians used mistletoe for the same reason we use it today: to steal a kiss from someone passing under it. But the tradition of kissing beneath the mistletoe goes way back to ancient Greece, when they used the ornament during the festival of Saturnalia and in marriage ceremonies because of the plant’s association with fertility.

  Orange Pomander Balls

  Pomanders—or “scent balls”—date back to medieval times, when sanitation was lacking and odours were rampant. It was believed that the pleasant scent of a pomander could actually fight disease. Victorians not only used them for decoration and fragrance at Christmas but also commonly hung them in their wardrobes to make their clothes smell nice. You can make your own by poking whole cloves into an orange.

  DEDICATION

  To Chawna Schroeder

  A godly young woman in all her ways,

  especially the way she puts the fear of God into me

  with each and every critique …

  I couldn’t do this without you, my friend.

  And as always

  to the One who gives us all a second chance,

  Jesus.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A hearty thank-you to a few teams that made The Old Lace Shop possible …

  My team of intrepid and lovely critique buddies who so faithfully take time out of their busy schedules to help make my writing shine: Julie Klassen, Kelly Klepfer, Lisa Ludwig, Ane Mulligan, Shannon McNear, Chawna Schroeder, Patti Hall Smith, MaryLu Tyndall, and Linda Yezak.

  My brilliant and awesome publishing team at Barbour: Annie Tipton, Liesl Davenport, Shalyn Sattler, Faith Nordine, Bill Westfall, Nola Haney, and editor Becky Fish.

/>   My teammate of thirty-five years and my real-life hero: Mark Griep.

  And as always, my dedicated team of wonderful readers who make this writing gig all worthwhile!

  More than likely I’ve inadvertently left off someone important to mention, so if that’s you, consider yourself heartily thanked because to one and all, I am grateful.

  And hey! Guess what? I love to hear from readers. Follow my adventures and share yours with me at www.michellegriep.com.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michelle Griep has been writing since she first discovered blank wall space and Crayolas. She is the Christy Award–winning author of historical romances: The Noble Guardian, The Captured Bride, The Innkeeper’s Daughter, The Captive Heart, Brentwood’s Ward, A Heart Deceived, and Gallimore, but also leaped the historical fence into the realm of contemporary with the zany romantic mystery Out of the Frying Pan. If you’d like to keep up with her escapades, find her at www.michellegriep.com or stalk her on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

  And guess what? She loves to hear from readers! Feel free to drop her a note at [email protected].

  DON’T MISS THESE BEAUTIFUL STORIES PENNED

  BY MICHELLE GRIEP

  Brentwood’s Ward

  Place an unpolished lawman as guardian over a spoiled, pompous beauty and what do you get? More trouble than Bow Street Runner Nicholas Brentwood bargains for.

  Available as an eBook

  The Innkeeper’s Daughter

  Officer Alexander Moore goes undercover to expose a plot against the king. And he’s a master of disguise, for Johanna Langley believes him to be quite the rogue … until she can no longer fight against his unrelenting charm.

  Paperback / 978-1-68322-435-8 / $14.99

  The Noble Guardian

  Cynical lawman Samuel Thatcher arrives just in time to save starry-eyed Abigail Gilbert from highwaymen. Against his better judgment, he agrees to escort her to her fiancé in northern England. Each will be indelibly changed if they don’t kill one another … or fall in love.

  Paperback / 978-1-68322-749-6 / $14.99

  MORE FROM MICHELLE

  The Captive Heart

  Proper English governess Eleanor Morgan flees to the colonies and is forced to marry a man she’s never met. Trapper and tracker Samuel Heath is determined to find a mother for his young daughter. But finding a wife proves to be impossible. No upstanding woman wants to marry a murderer.

  Paperback / 978-1-63409-783-3 / $14.99

  The Captured Bride

  In the war-torn colony of New York, Mercy Lytton and Elias Dubois must work together to get a shipment of gold safely into British hands.

  Paperback / 978-1-68322-474-7 / $12.99

  Ladies of Intrigue

  Michelle Griep pens the stories of three nineteenth-century ladies of intrigue who seek true love in the midst of secrets and seemingly impossible circumstances.

  Paperback / 978-1-68322-826-4 / $12.99

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