She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I think we both learned a lesson, hmm?”
Without thinking, he covered her glove with his own, sandwiching her hand between his. How small, yet how strong. How would it feel to gather her in his arms and—
The carriage jolted and his leg bumped against hers. Red bloomed on her cheeks, and the thin space between them charged like the air before a lightning strike. He sucked in a breath. So did she. Their gazes met—and held.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Miss Whymsy slammed her book shut. “Now would be the time, Mr. Barlow.”
“The time for what?” he asked without shifting his gaze.
“Love is surely wasted on youth. There is no better time to ask Miss Scott to marry you than now.”
Choking on the suggestion, he released Mina’s hand and brought his fist to his mouth to keep from spluttering.
Mina’s jaw dropped—and a strange light of hope kindled in her eyes.
Lowering his hand, he tugged at his collar. Air. He needed air, and lots of it. As much as he wanted to make Mina his own, how could he possibly take on a wife and care for his mother on a law clerk’s salary?
He slipped a sideways glance at the older lady. “You overstep, madam.”
“I think not. Clearly the two of you are in love. Do you deny it?”
Heat burned a trail from his gut to his heart—especially when he shifted his gaze back to Mina.
“Your answer, Mr. Barlow?” Miss Whymsy prodded.
Gads! Had the woman been a lion tamer before she’d retired?
“No,” he said, staring deep into Mina’s eyes. “I do not deny it.”
Mina lifted her chin. “Nor do I.”
His breath hitched, and for a moment he dared imagine a future of love and life and joy. Of whispers in the dark of night and blue-eyed babies with copper-streaked hair.
But then the carriage wheels dipped into a rut, jolting him to reality. Love, no matter how pure, did not put food on the table or a roof overhead. “Mina, I—” his voice broke, and he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have nothing to offer you. Once I move my mother here, I’ll be sharing a one-room flat with her, and there will still be doctor bills to pay. I cannot ask you to endure such a hardship.”
“Of course you can,” she murmured.
He leaned closer. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. “What?”
“You can ask me. One room or ten, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re in the room with me. I’m done with playing the part of a lady. I’ve had my tea at Purcell’s. My dinner in a London town house. Even a holiday of sorts at a country estate. The only kind of lady I want to be is yours. Truly, that’s all I’ve ever wanted from the minute you first asked me to be your pretend bride.”
He gaped. “Do you mean that, knowing all you do about me?”
She beamed. “I do.”
Was this real? Had she just agreed to be his wife? As the carriage wheels rattled along, so did a hundred more questions turn round and round in his head.
“For pity’s sake, lad,” Miss Whymsy scolded. “Kiss the woman!”
Oh, hang it all. Without a clue as to how he’d manage providing for a new wife and an ailing mother, he pulled Mina into his arms and kissed her soundly.
CHAPTER THIRTY
For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.
A Christmas Carol
Snugging the bow tight on the small package, Mina lifted Father’s gift for inspection as the mantel clock struck six. She jumped to her feet. No time to waste! Guests were likely already arriving, maybe even Will. The thought sent her heart tripping and her feet moving. She dashed over to her chamber door and slipped out.
She’d been right. Merry chatter and laughter wafted up the stairs from the taproom, the sound of “Happy Christmas!” being bantered about. The savory scent of oyster stew filled the entire inn. Upping her pace, she raced along the corridor to Father’s room.
She rapped her knuckles against the wood and hid the gift behind her back with her other hand. “Father? It’s time.”
“Coming, girl.”
The door swung open. Father stood with one hand behind his back, dressed in his finest grey serge suit. His hazel eyes twinkled. “I’ve got something for ye, Daughter.”
She grinned. “And I for you.”
“Ye ready?” He fairly bounced on his toes, as giddy as a young lad.
Her grin grew. Ahh, but she’d miss this tradition, the private exchange of gifts between her and Father before celebrating with friends. Yet just because she would be married next Christmas, surely that didn’t have to mean an end to all her traditions with Father, and in fact, she determined, it would not.
“Ready.” She met her father’s gaze, and they counted down in unison. “Three. Two. One.”
She held out her gift. So did Father—and they both tore into the wrappings, bits of paper flying and falling to the floor like snow.
“Oh, my girl. How thoughtful!” Emotion roughened his voice. “Ye could’ve bought a fob and yet ye took the time to make me one?” He yanked out his pocket watch and wound the braided twist through the loop. “It’s perfect.”
Forgetting her own gift, she grinned, wide and carefree. “I am happy you think so. I know Mother always intended to purchase you a gold chain, and I still hope to someday carry out that wish.”
“No, child. This is dearer to me than a bit of shiny metal, especially now that ye’ll be leaving me.” He ran a gnarled knuckle along her cheek. “Now go on. Finish opening yours.”
Pulling off the last of the brown wrapper, she sucked in a breath. “Oh, Father!” she whispered.
Fingers trembling, she flipped open the cover of a somewhat frayed copy of David Copperfield and caressed the title page. In all her twenty-three years, Father had never once given her a book, and she hugged it to her chest. “I shall cherish this always.”
Father’s big arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her close. “Just as I cherish you, my girl. Happy Christmas, now and always.”
A sob caught in her throat, and she nuzzled her face against his waistcoat. As thrilled as she was to become Will’s wife, she would be hesitant to leave her day-to-day life with this man. “Happy Christmas, Father,” she murmured.
He gave her a little squeeze, then released her. “Our company awaits. Shall we?”
Sniffling back tears, she looped her arm through his and gave him a wavering smile. “We shall.”
Her steps faltered only once as they descended the stairs—when the blue of William’s eyes met hers from across the room.
But Father halted her two steps from the taproom floor, so that they looked out over the patrons filling the Golden Egg. A more merry sight she couldn’t imagine. The room was draped with holly bunting. Strings of cranberries and nuts and raisins swagged back and forth across the ceiling. Everyone smiled and chattered, and best of all, Will shouldered his way through the crowd toward her, the gleam of love in his eyes stealing her breath.
“Friends!” Father bellowed.
All turned his way, and the din lowered to a muted hum.
“Welcome one and all to the annual Golden Egg Christmas Eve celebration, but before I serve what I know yer all waitin’ on—”
“Bring out the stew! Bring out the stew!” The chant started low then grew in intensity.
Releasing his hold on her arm, Father lifted his hands. “Aye! Stew ye shall have. But first, an announcement. Mr. Barlow, if you wouldn’t mind joining us.”
With a grin and a wink, Will hopped up on the bottom stair and entwined his fingers with hers.
“It is with great pleasure that I should like to announce—”
Just then, the front door burst open, and along with a blast of chill air and a flurry of snowflakes, in bustled a surprising collection of new arrivals. Uncle Barlow’s grey hair tufted out from the brim of his hat. Next to him was Miss Whymsy, who walked next to a tall
lady with an assured step.
And behind them marched Percy and Alice.
“An announcement, you say?” Uncle Barlow doffed his hat. “Then we’ve arrived just in time. I should like to make an announcement.”
Mina tensed, and Will’s hand squeezed hers.
Father leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Who is that?”
“Will’s uncle,” she whispered back.
“Ahh. Fitting that his family join us.” Straightening, Father motioned for the newcomers to work their way to the stairs. “Come, come. We will do this together.”
But she couldn’t quite work up the same amount of excitement that boomed in Father’s voice. What would Uncle Barlow say? Had he forgiven Will? Or her?
Will pulled her close. “Have faith, Mina. We’ve done all we could. Let us leave this in God’s hands, as we should have from the start.”
The crowd cleared a space for the entourage, and Uncle Barlow dipped his head toward Father. “Thank you, sir.” Then he faced the crowd. “In this season of giving, there can be no better time than to announce to whom I shall give my estate. And so, tonight, amongst family and friends—” he beamed down at Miss Whymsy—“I should like to name the heir of the Barlow lands.”
Percy and Alice leaned closer.
Miss Whymsy smiled broadly at the lady next to her.
Mina held her breath. Please, God, have mercy.
“I shall place my holdings in a trust, to be used exclusively for the Institute for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen, which is directed by my new friend here, Miss Florence Nightingale.”
The lady next to Miss Whymsy clapped her hands with a “Hear, hear!” that would’ve made Miss Minton proud.
The institute? But how had the old fellow … of course. Miss Whymsy must’ve spoken of it. Mina couldn’t help but smile. What a perfectly fitting solution for Uncle Barlow and the institute.
“Yet,” Uncle Barlow continued, “I shall need an administrator to live at the estate to manage the funding and all other details. A trustworthy administrator. One who knows the house and lands like none other, and who of course shall be well compensated.”
Percy stepped forward.
But Uncle Barlow extended his hand toward Will; the old, worn, second-chance coin resting on his upturned palm. “What say you, my boy?”
Without letting go of her hand, Will reached for the coin with his other. “Only if I may bring my wife along.”
Uncle Barlow’s gaze swung toward her. “In truth?”
“Aye!” Father belted. “And that’s my announcement. Lift yer mugs in toast and honour to the happy new couple. We make merry tonight, and in four weeks’ time, shall make merry again with the marriage of my daughter to Mr. William Barlow.”
A roar shook to the rafters, followed by a hearty “Bring out the stew!”
Which prodded Father into action. He trotted down the last few stairs then disappeared into the kitchen, where Martha had been the sole keeper of the big bubbling pot for the past hour.
Will tugged Mina down the rest of the stairs and shepherded her over to his uncle. “Thank you, sir. This is no small honour—” Will’s voice choked.
And she didn’t blame him. What a marvel, how things had turned out.
Uncle Barlow clapped him on the back. “I think we can all thank Miss Whymsy. The whole idea was hers. Oh, except for this …” His face sobered. “I have arranged for your mother to be moved to the institute as soon as she is well enough to travel. I hope to make things right by her. No one should have to fear their own family.”
The world turned watery, and Mina blinked back happy tears. Thank You, God, for taking such a twisted situation and straightening it out.
Will’s throat bobbed several times before he answered. “You are more than gracious, sir. I can only hope to someday become the man that you are.”
“I’d say you’re well on your way, but remember these words, my boy. ‘Whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; … whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest.’” Uncle turned his smile toward her. “Can you name that one?”
Joy swelled in her heart and spilled over into a large grin, for in the speaking of a single quote, she knew she’d been well and truly forgiven by Uncle Barlow. “From David Copperfield, sir.” She hugged the book tucked beneath her arm all the tighter.
He chuckled. “Spot on. I shall have to work harder in the future to baffle you, hmm?”
“Oh, Mr. Barlow.” Miss Whymsy crooked a finger at Will’s uncle, beckoning him to her side. “If you wouldn’t mind, a moment please?”
“Of course,” he answered, then bent his head closer to Will and Mina, speaking for their ears alone. “Mum’s the word for now, but don’t be surprised if another wedding follows shortly after yours.”
The old fellow turned on his heel and darted off before either of them could reply—and a good thing too, for Mina was speechless. How amazing. How happy. How kind of God to have worked out such a perfect ending.
She peered up at Will, memorizing the joy on his face. Who knew what hardships the new year would bring, but for now, she’d live in this moment—in his gaze of love. “Oh, Will. How happy I am—”
“Congratulations, Cousin.” Percy brushed past her and stopped in front of Will. “I guess you got what you wanted.”
“No, not quite.”
Will’s words jolted through her. What more could he possibly want?
“There is one more thing that I desire.” He held out the second-chance coin. “To give you this.”
Percy snatched away the bit of gold in a trice. “What is it?”
“I am the man I am today because Uncle Barlow—and God—gave me a second chance. I’d like to do the same for you. I will speak to Uncle about seeing to your creditors, if you promise to stop your wild moneymaking schemes and get yourself an honest job. In fact, I happen to know of a law clerk position that will be opening up shortly.”
Her heart swelled. William Barlow was a hero after all … her hero.
Percy narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“There is none.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Surely you expect something out of me for such a save.” Percy cocked his head like a curious tot. “What is it?”
“I neither expect nor require anything. Don’t you see? This is your chance to earn an honest living. Granted, it’s not much, but there’s opportunity for you to work your way up. Of course you don’t deserve it, but neither did I when Uncle first offered me the position. And God knows none of us deserve His mercy—yet it is freely given. I cannot do otherwise. So, what do you say?”
Percy blinked. Then blinked some more. “Well. I … I don’t quite know what to say.”
Grabbing two mugs off a passing tray, Will handed one to his cousin and held up the other. “How about you say Happy Christmas and leave it at that?”
“What’s this about?” Alice asked as she joined Percy’s side.
For a moment, Percy frowned, then slowly reached with his free hand and pulled Alice close. “Happy Christmas, to our cousins.” He clinked his mug against Will’s and took a big draw.
With a laugh, Will swigged a drink, set the mug down, and gathered Mina into his arms.
She smiled up at him. “You really are a hero, you know.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He kissed the top of her head. “But it seems this has turned out to be the best Christmas ever.”
“It is, my love.” She nuzzled her face against his shoulder. “That it is. And may we have many more.”
HISTORICAL NOTES
Christmas Pudding
Christmas pudding is quite a production, one that begins well before Christmas Day. In fact, it begins on Stir-Up Sunday, the last Sunday before Advent (or five weeks before Christmas). This is why when Mina returns home from dinner at Uncle Barlow’s, she sees the pudding moul
ds on the kitchen table even though it’s not yet Christmas.
Victorian Oyster Stew
Oysters have been savored in Britain since the days of the Romans. By Victorian times, industrialization cheapened oysters to the point of them becoming a staple of the poor man’s diet, and they were a common fare served in public houses. This, however, depleted their abundance, and by the mid-1800s, the natural oyster beds became exhausted, making it harder to find good oysters. While other foods were served as well on Christmas Eve, oyster stew was as common as goose or turkey.
“God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen”
The origins of this song are controversial, with some claiming it dates back to the fifteenth century and others saying it didn’t appear until 1760. Regardless, Victorians knew it well. Even Charles Dickens included it in A Christmas Carol.
Drinking Chocolate
What we now call cocoa or hot chocolate was called drinking chocolate in the mid-1800s. This beverage was a favorite among Victorian ladies. You can find recipes for it even from the Regency period (early 1800s).
Florence Nightingale and the Institute for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen
Despite opposition from her family, Florence Nightingale became the superintendent at the Institution for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen in Distressed Circumstances in London. Because of her, the facility began accepting patients of all religions, not just those allegiant to the Church of England. She received no salary and was responsible for her own expenses.
Secret Societies
Victorians were intrigued by the idea of covert meetings and secret societies. Many of these “clubs” dabbled in the supernatural, but a fair amount of them pursued social justice. While the norm was fraternal fellowships, there were also sororities or “sisterhoods.”
DEDICATION
To Jan Miller—my Effie kind of friend. And as always, to the One who not only gives me second chances but oh so much more—Jesus.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many people who had a hand in bringing this story to you, but namely I’d like to thank the best critique buddies a girl could have: Yvonne Anderson, Julie Klassen, Elizabeth Ludwig, Shannon McNear, Ane Mulligan, Chawna Schroeder, and MaryLu Tyndall.
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