Love and Christmas Wishes: Three Regency Romance Novellas

by Rose Pearson

  “Mother!” Jane exclaimed.

  “No, Jane, I do not mind what she says because I have something to say, something I have wished to say for a very long time. Jane, Katie, Henry, you have all been so good to me, I shall never forget your generosity, sincere and heartfelt as it was given. Henry, tell your friend Mr. Langford I am sorry for how everything ended. I should have chosen to remain at his side. As for you, dear aunt,” Sarah faced her aunt, “I was going to give you my notice after Christmas, but I have made a decision. I would rather spend it in the company of my mother in a two-room cottage in Hemford than spend another day here at Cheltham. I wish you cheer this Christmas, and I shall be leaving in the morning.”

  “Sarah, don’t go!” Katie threw herself at Sarah.

  “Sarah, please,” Jane said as she sighed.

  “Mother, this is intolerable,” Henry replied.

  “Thank you all, I apologize if my actions have besmirched your name in any way. I will remove myself from your presence.”

  “Go, go if you must but I will not give you a character. Oh, not me, you ungrateful girl!” Mrs. Brookes calked out, “You are just like your father, you will not become anything.”

  “Mother, how heartless,” Jane said as she rushed from the room.

  Jane and Sarah stood in the hall outside the sitting room, their voices low in whispers, “Jane, you have been wonderful, but I must go.”

  “I understand, one day I hope to be free myself. But until then you may use me as a reference, I will give you an excellent character.”

  “Thank you, I will have need of it, I am certain.”

  “Then you may have it, Henry and Katie will give you one as well. I am sorry for how it all ended at Hatherley. I did not wish to separate you from Mr. Langford, but Mother said it was to your benefit.”

  “I know, I forgive you. Have a good Christmas, when it comes, dear cousin.”

  “Hemford is not very far from here, I shall come see you whenever I can.”

  “That cheers me exceedingly.”

  Jane’s demeanor changed, becoming serious as she said, “You know that Lady Harrington is a notorious gossip. Nothing she said was true.”

  “I know.”

  “Especially about Mr. Langford and his part in any unfortunate circumstances regarding other women.”

  “I am sure he is innocent, but that does not matter anymore. I will be leaving tomorrow. I do not know where I will be in the new year, but it will undoubtedly be far away from here and from Mr. Langford,” Sarah replied.

  “We will pray that you will not be so far away. I will miss you.”

  Jane embraced Sarah as she felt deeply that she would miss her cousin, but she must strike out for herself. In the back of her mind, she wondered what Mr. Langford was going to ask that night and she knew she would never know. That thought haunted her even more than never seeing him again. As she left Jane, she wiped away a tear when she thought of Mr. Langford. How would she ever forget him?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The tiny cottage in Hemford was plain and austere in every way, except one. It was filled with love and kindness that emanated from Mrs. Powell. Sarah’s mother was still a beautiful woman despite the years of hardship after the untimely death of her husband. Her blond hair had a few gray hairs mixed in. Lines wrinkled at the corners of her eyes when she smiled but she accepted her fate with grace. She made a modest living sewing for the villagers of Hemford and nearby Cheltham. She used nearly every penny to send her daughter to a charitable school for her education. That education was all that Sarah had to recommend her. She was grateful to have it as she would surely have use of it in the future. But today was Christmas Eve. She did not want to think about any matters more pressing than how to decorate her mother’s cozy cottage.

  “Hang the holly above the picture, yes, that is pleasing,” Mrs. Powell said as Sarah tucked the holly above the one framed picture in the sitting room. Holly and boughs of evergreen were tucked around the mantle, red berries from the holly and a thin red ribbon tied around the bottom of the heavy candlesticks gave the room a merry touch of the season. This cottage may not be grand, but Sarah was glad to be inside its small rooms. The warmth and coziness of the small dwelling was comforting after the coldness of her aunt’s house.

  In her own plain afternoon dress, she felt like herself once more. She was not a lady or appeared to be anything but a woman who earned her own living, like her mother. This was who she was, not anyone else. She was the daughter of a lieutenant and a woman who sewed to make her living. Hanging the kettle on the spit in the fireplace, she settled back in a wooden rocking chair, feeling her heart turn once more to Mr. Langford.

  “Mama, did you write to your sister? Did you agree with her about the gentleman I met at Hatherley?”

  “My dear Sarah, if I wrote anything to her, it was to suggest that you not marry a man without means. I did it as a kindness, I did not wish for your life to be as hard as the one I chose.”

  “Was it so hard?”

  “Yes, it was. At times, I did not know how I would buy bread but there was always a way. I have a suspicion the other villagers here in Hemford took pity on us. I was a widow with a child. We were pitiable, I suppose.”

  “Are you glad to have chosen my father? Would you have chosen differently?”

  The woman seated on the narrow wooden chair appeared to stare into the distance as if she was recalling something half-remembered, half-forgotten as she spoke in her quiet manner, “Sarah, if you remembered your father, if you knew him as I did you would know there was no other man I would have married. He was not wealthy, but he was a gentleman. He was charitable, generous, and good. I am glad to have known him, and you should be proud of him.”

  Sarah smiled at her mother. She understood what that emotion felt like.

  “I was glad to know Mr. Langford. You would have liked him. For me, I shall never meet another man who I do not compare to him in some way. If that is to be my fate, then I accept it freely.”

  “Do not be ready to throw away all hope yet. You are young. You will find a new situation and you may find love awaits you.”

  Sarah did not want to find a new man to love. She wanted the one she adored already. She longed to see Mr. Langford. In the new year, when she found a position after she was settled, she would write to him. If he wrote back, she would rejoice. If he did not, then he would reside in her memory.

  “I think the water is boiling. Shall we have tea?” Mrs. Powell asked as she reached for the kettle.

  “Yes, we shall. I have a surprise. Jane sent it with me when I left Cheltham. I was saving it for tomorrow, but I think we will enjoy it better today.”

  Sarah retrieved the hamper that sat on her trunk in the corner of the room. Inside the basket, she pulled out jam and marmalade from the pantry of the vicarage, a loaf of fresh bread, several small mince pies and tea cake. The cake, a fruit, and sugary confection was decadent and one that would not be soon repeated in the small house in Hemford.

  “Oh, how lovely, we should invite our neighbors to enjoy it. The Wills would be delighted to have a treat such as this, and the Havershams.”

  “If you like, that would be wonderful.”

  Sarah reached for her own unadorned pelisse and bonnet from the pegs by the door. Her gloves were in the pocket of the pelisse. They were plain and undecorated but hers and not an expensive hand me down. She may look as simple as her surroundings, but she could honestly say she did not rely on charity for any of her own clothes. Tying the ribbons of the bonnet under her chin, she dashed into the snow. She made her way towards the nearby cottages set on a narrow lane. As she was leaving her own cottage yard, she saw the approach of a chaise and four, a sight that was uncommon in the village of Hemford. Standing at the gate, she waited until the chaise went by, curious as to how a person so grand and wealthy could find themselves in the hamlet of Hemford.

  The chaise slowed down as it passed her, slowing until it came to a stop. A driv
er and a footman dressed in deep blue livery glanced in her direction before the footman hopped down from his high perch. With a tip of his hat to her, he walked to the door of the chaise. The door, she noticed was emblazoned with a crest, a mark of a noble house. By now, the other villagers along the lane were out of their houses. They, like Sarah, were drawn to the sight of the chaise. It must have been seen in the windows of every home it passed, she mused.

  The door of the carriage opened. A gentleman emerged jumping down into the snow. She did not expect for the man to speak to her, but when he turned in her direction, she nearly fainted. The man, the owner of the expensive chaise with its matching dapple steeds, was none other than Mr. Langford.

  “My dear Miss Powell, forgive the intrusion,” he said as bowed.

  “The intrusion is forgiven! What are you doing in Hemford?” she cried as she rushed towards him.

  “What indeed, you have to ask. I came here to see you.”

  “How did you find me?” she asked, as he walked closer to her.

  “Henry has returned to stay with the Baron and insisted on telling me everything about what has occurred. There is another guest coming to stay very soon, I believe, but I did not want to wait and meet him, even though he may be a viscount!” His eyes lingered on hers. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you.”

  “Come in. This is my house,” she said unembarrassed of her modest cottage, “My mother is inside. We have a fire and tea is ready.”

  “I would enjoy that if you would have me. Henry wrote to me of Lady Harrington’s slander. I pray you did not believe her.”

  “Not a word! Please come inside, but what of your horses and your men?”

  “If there is an inn, I will send them on.”

  “At the crossroads, a mile hence.”

  “Very well,” he said as he sent his men to the inn, with instructions to look after his horses and secure a room.

  He returned to the cottage, a smile on his face as large and as friendly as she remembered. Sarah was overwhelmed with happiness. Her mother was gracious as they welcomed this fashionably dressed, obviously wealthy man into their small cottage. Sitting on a narrow bench by the fireside, he did not appear out of place. He laughed as he enjoyed the tea, cake, and company. With the decorations of greenery, the ribbons tucked into the boughs and the fire blazing, the cottage was decorated for a jovial Christmas Eve. The addition of Mr. Langford made the evening even merrier. It was not until Mrs. Powell retired for the night that he explained the reason for his visit.

  “Sarah, I should have waited until the new year to find you, to make things rights but I could not bear to wait any longer. I have come to ask you the question I wanted to ask that night at Hatherley.”

  “There are many questions I want to ask you. Now that we are alone, maybe I can discover the truth about you. Who are you? I thought you were a penniless student, a friend of Henry’s.”

  “I am a friend of Henry’s but I’m not quite penniless despite where I was seated at the dinner table.”

  “Oh? Who are you? Are you a duke in disguise?”

  “No, I am not. I am without a title, but not entirely without means. I have a secret, one you must not tell anyone. Can I trust your word?”

  “You know that you may.”

  “I am not often seated in a place of prominence or received as I might be because of my background which is not entirely accepted by society. My father occupies a very high position at court. My mother was a famous actress on the boards in London. I am received by many fashionable people in London and shunned by others. You must understand my father and my mother were never married which makes my position precarious.”

  “Your father? He’s not His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, is he?”

  Mr. Langford laughed as he replied, “Certainly not, but he is a close relation of his highness. I can say no more. Not until after I have asked you a question.”

  She was trembling once again as he held her hand in his. Sliding from the narrow bench, he bent down on his knee in front of her. His handsome face peered up at hers as he asked, “Miss Powell, Sarah, I have wanted to ask you this question since we met. I knew you were the woman for me the first night I met you. You have proved it ever since. I humbly ask for your forgiveness the night I left you in the music room. I feared that you would not wish to have me with no family connections or background, but you proved that you did not care if I was a pauper or a Duke. Now I am here, in front of you to ask the one thing I desire more than anything else. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Sarah could barely breath as she felt warm tears of joy slid down her face, “Yes, Mr. Langford, I will marry you but how can you wish for me to be your wife? I have no dowry, no title.”

  “None of that matters, I have money enough for us both and titles are of little consequence when there is love. Will you have me, will you be my wife?”

  “Yes, I have wished for nothing more,” Sarah said, as she looked into his blue, tears coming to her eyes. She had someone to care for and care about in her life. What a joy she thought may never happen! In such a tender moment, she could not look away, despite the tears.

  He stood quickly pulling her into her arms. His hand was on her face. He caressed her gently as he brushed away her tears, leaning down to kiss her cheeks. Then slowly, sweetly, he kissed her lips. Pressing his lips to hers, he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes, melting into the moment as she wished that it would last forever. Holding her to him, he whispered, “I love you, now and for every day of our lives.”

  She kissed him again, savoring the taste of his mouth. She was lost in the scent of his clothes, the feel of his body next to hers. In his arms, she felt safe, content and happy as she said, “Tell me your secret. Tell me the truth, who are you?”

  “My secret? Well, Sarah Powell, that is something I cannot tell you, not until you are wed to me.”

  “What should I call you until then? Charles, Mr. Langford?”

  “Your Highness would do. No, I am teasing,” he said as he kissed her again.

  As she sank into his arms, her knees weakening at the passion he aroused inside her, she wondered faintly if he was teasing. She decided that who he was did not change her feelings for him. She loved him, and he loved her and that was all that mattered. In the warmth of his embrace, Sarah was happy. Mr. Langford, this mysterious handsome gentleman, had given her the most wonderful Christmas she had ever known. Smiling in delight, she closed her eyes, dreaming of many more merry holidays they would share in the years to come.

  Katie’s Christmas Wish

  ‘s

  Chapter One

  “Really, Katie. You must do better.”

  Katie Brookes, the youngest daughter of Vicar Brookes, forced herself not to sigh aloud and, instead, put a gracious and understanding smile on her face. “Yes, Mama,” she murmured, softly. “I will.”

  “It is simply not good enough that you have not yet caught the eye of the viscount,” her mother continued, walking back and forth in front of Katie, as though she were instructing her on what one must do in order to capture the heart of a gentleman. “He has not shown any particular interest in courting you and I lay that responsibility entirely upon your shoulders.”

  Katie bit her lip hard, forcing herself not to respond. Having met the viscount the previous year, she had come across him during one of her early morning walks with her mother, where he had conversed amicably and stated that he looked forward to seeing the family again soon. This had not been good enough for her mother, who thought that Katie ought to have engaged the viscount in conversation for longer or had somehow managed to garner his full attention in what had only been a brief few minutes of conversation. Perhaps it was because her cousin, Sarah, had found such happiness so quickly, that her mother now expected the very same from her. It had been this time last year that Sarah had found her happiness with Mr. Langford, although he was not a titled gentleman by any means, as her mother
liked to remind her. For herself, Katie had her own feelings on the matter, of course, but those would not matter one jot to her dear mother. Coming from wealthy family had quite convinced Katie’s mother, Mrs. Brookes, that the only possible outcome for her youngest – and prettiest daughter, was to marry into wealth and title. She would thereby improve herself, her parents and her siblings by the connection. It was, it seemed to Katie, to be her mother’s only desire.

  It was unfortunate, therefore, that she herself did not share it.

  “We are to dine with the baron and his family this evening,” her mother continued, referencing the Baron Carmody and his sons, who lived a few miles from the vicarage. The baron’s estate was on the edge of the town of Abbeford Hill and a rather majestic house bearing the name of ‘Hatherley Hall’. It was quite a grand place, Katie had to admit. “And, therefore, you will have another opportunity to improve your acquaintance with the viscount. I expect to see you engaging him in conversation as often as you can, Katie. I will be most displeased if you do not.”

  So saying, her mother placed both hands on her hips and turned to face Katie, her sharp eyes a little narrowed.

  “Yes, Mama,” Katie replied, meekly. “I will do my best to do as you have asked.”

  Her mother remained in such a position for a moment longer, making Katie grow a little uncomfortable under such scrutiny, only to nod and, with a lift of her chin, walk back towards her seat at the fireplace. “You may go,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “You will soon need to begin your preparations for this evening, given that you must look your very best for the viscount.”

  Katie remained silent but rolled her eyes as she walked out of the drawing room and towards her bedchamber, thinking that her mother was being quite ridiculous to suggest such a thing since she had at least seven hours until they would have to depart. It was not as though the viscount would suddenly take notice of her if she had her hair crimped and curled in a particular fashion, not when she was quite sure that he had no particular interest in her whatsoever.