The Ghost of Christmas Past

by Sally Quilford

  “Miss Dearheart!” Miss Graves was calling from the sisters' front door. For a moment Elizabeth felt sad that the spell between her and Liam had been broken. “We have been awaiting your visit. Isn't it wonderful?”

  “Isn't what wonderful?” Miss Graves' words hardly seemed appropriate with two children having been harmed.

  “Why your aunt's invitation to her Christmas ball.”

  “I have heard of no such occasion,” said Elizabeth.

  “I daresay her footman called at your house whilst you were on your way here,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks, pushing past her sister. “It is on Christmas Eve. The footman said that most of the townsfolk have been invited. Well those from good families, that is.”

  When Elizabeth reached home, she found out that was indeed the case. Her aunt, with uncharacteristic generosity, had decided to hold a Christmas ball at Bedlington Hall for the first time in many years.

  Liam had walked her home, so that he could take a proper look at Samuel. They need not have worried. Her brother was sitting up, eating toast with damson jam, and telling the Reverend excitedly about his and Johnny Fletcher's adventure on the pond.

  “Johnny said he saw a man in rags near to the snowman on the day we found Mr. Sanderson,” Samuel was telling his father. “So we went out looking for him.”

  “Was it the same man in rags?” asked the Reverend. “The one who chased you, I mean.”

  Elizabeth and Liam each took a seat to listen to Samuel’s story.

  “I don't know, Father. Like I told Lizzie, he had his face covered in a hood,” said Samuel. “If Doctor Doubleday had not been at the other side of the pond...”

  “What?” said Elizabeth, her heart lightening for the first time since Samuel had been brought home.

  “I saw Doctor Doubleday on the other side of the pond, didn't I, sir?”

  “Yes, that's right,” said Liam. Elizabeth could tell by his expression that he knew exactly what she had thought. She cast her eyes to the floor in shame.

  “And I said to Johnny, 'come on, let's go to the doctor. He will help'. And he did.” Samuel looked up at Liam as if he were a hero of immense proportions.

  “So did you see the man clearly?” Elizabeth asked Liam, wondering why he had not mentioned it before.

  “No. As Sam said, he wore a hood. And I was standing much further away and only looked up when Sam shouted. I did not even see Johnny. Only Sam. I had gone there to...” Liam stopped, and Elizabeth immediately sensed he was hiding something. It gave her a sinking feeling. Even if he had not harmed the boys, he still had secrets. “To take in the fresh air. Of course as soon as Samuel fell in, my attention was taken up with pulling him out.”

  “For which we are most grateful,” said the Reverend. “If there is any way we could repay you.”

  Liam smiled. “If you would do me the honour of allowing me to accompany Miss Dearheart to the Christmas ball, I would consider all debts repaid.”

  Chapter Seven

  The night of the Christmas ball was made somewhat merrier by the news that Johnny Fletcher had regained consciousness, and whilst he was still weak, Doctor Wheston expected him to make a full recovery. Samuel elected to spend the evening keeping Johnny company at the magistrate’s home whilst others attended the ball. Mrs. Fletcher stayed home with the boys, but Mr. Fletcher put in an appearance for half an hour.

  Elizabeth hardly recognised Bedlington Hall. For many years it had been a dark, sterile place, kept clean by the servants, but showing little signs of habitation beyond Lady Bedlington's boudoir, and occasionally the dining room. The halls had been decked with sparkling Christmas decorations, and warm fires burned in every grate, whilst hundreds of candles illuminated the dark corners of every room.

  Minstrels played in a gallery above the ballroom, and the dancing had already begun when Elizabeth arrived, escorted by Liam. Her father escorted the sisters, who though dressed in the same black lace, had attempted to brighten up their appearance with sprigs of holly, replete with red berries, attached to their shoulders. The effect was of two rather prickly shrubs. Doctor Wheston and Mrs. Wheston, who looked very pretty in a pale blue silk gown, arrived soon after.

  Liam helped Elizabeth out of her cloak to reveal she wore a white off the shoulder gown of silk, with a large red sash around the centre. Her hair was pinned up with red ribbons. The dress was her mother's, as many of Elizabeth’s clothes were, and her expert hands had brought the fashion up to date.

  “You look very beautiful,” said Liam. He wore a long black jacket, with a grey waistcoat, over a crisp white shirt, with a white cravat, and dark grey trousers.

  “Thank you,” said Elizabeth, telling herself that it was the heat from all the candles making her cheeks feel so warm.

  “What a spectacle!” said Mrs. Chatterbucks. The three men had gone to fetch drinks for the ladies.

  “It is most exciting,” said Miss Graves. “It is a long time since I have been to a ball.”

  “I hope you will also enjoy yourself, Mrs. Wheston,” said Elizabeth.

  “I am sure I shall.” Amelia Wheston smiled. Not for the first time, Elizabeth thought the lady very pretty. She could not blame Liam if he was in love with her, but following Amelia's eyes, it became clear to Elizabeth that she loved no man but her husband. She took in the information with immense relief. Yes, there was a definite affection between Mrs. Wheston and Liam, but it was of a purely platonic nature.

  “Mr. Doubleday tells me that he brought good news of your brother,” said Elizabeth. “I hope he is well and that we may meet him one day.”

  Amelia Wheston turned to Elizabeth and looked at her for what seemed a long time. “I am sure you will,” said Amelia, eventually. “When you do, remember that Liam does enjoy his little jokes.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind.” Amelia smiled kindly. “Liam tells me that you have received an offer of marriage.”

  “Really?” said Mrs. Chatterbucks.

  “Well, I never,” said Miss Graves.

  Elizabeth looked from one to the other, and was only saved from answering by the return of the men.

  “I hope I did not speak out of turn,” said Amelia, quietly, when they all had their drinks.

  “Not at all,” said Elizabeth. “No more than I did about your brother, I am sure.” Elizabeth felt certain that Amelia had brought up the subject of marriage to prevent any further conversation about her brother. She only had a moment to wonder why, because the festivities began soon after.

  After ten minutes, and with all the guests assembled in the Great Hall, Lady Bedlington's arrival was announced. The whole room gasped when they saw that she descended the stairs accompanied by her step-daughter, Lady Clarissa. Lady Bedlington, as before was dressed in black lace, befitting her age and sation. But it was Lady Clarissa who caught everyone's attention. She wore a gown of the deepest, darkest red velvet, with a black sash, and a red velvet ribbon in her hair.

  Elizabeth found herself looking at Liam, to gauge his reaction. How could he fail to be enchanted? But it was clear from his face, and from Lady Clarissa's as she passed them by with her step-mother, that they had never set eyes on each other until that moment.

  “She is very lovely, is she not?” said Elizabeth, when the two ladies had passed by.

  “She is certainly that,” said Liam. “But sad, I think.”

  “She has known sadness.”

  “Yes, she was in love with the younger Sanderson brother, was she not?” Liam turned to her, and it was as if Lady Clarissa and her concerns had immediately been forgotten. “Will you dance, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth agreed, and lost herself in the music for the next twenty minutes as they joined in with the dancing. It was as if the recent murder had been forgotten, as everyone threw themselves into the Christmas spirit. Elizabeth had seldom known such joy in her aunt’s house, which was usually austere. It was helped, she suspected, by the new found closeness between Lady Bedlington and Lady Clarissa.
She was curious to know what had happened to bring about such a rapprochement. Then she felt Liam’s strong hand grip her waist and all other thoughts dissipated in the pleasure of his touch.

  It was on the second, slower, measure that she noticed the man in the minstrels' gallery. He was not one of the band, of that she was sure, and neither did he seem to be a guest. He merely sat there, watching the dancing, with his eyes moving amongst the crowds of people, from the dancers to those taking a rest, then back again. He wore a new suit, and was clean enough, but gave the impression he was not used to wearing such fine clothes. He kept pulling at the collar of his shirt, and tugging at the sleeves, as if the clothes on his back imprisoned him.

  “I wonder...” said Elizabeth, as Liam held her in his arms, “who that strange man is.”

  “I have no idea,” said Liam. “I noticed him a short while ago. Perhaps he came with the band.”

  “He is not playing an instrument.”

  “No, but he may well help the band to carry theirs. I hear there are such men employed by the more successful musical troupes.”

  “Oh yes, I should have thought of that.” But the answer did not satisfy her. The man was too interested in his surroundings. That might be the case had he never visited a grand house before, but it did not strike Elizabeth that the surroundings were particularly new to the man. If that were so, he would be taking in the furnishings and the architecture. What's more, she began to notice that his eyes often hesitated over Lady Clarissa, softening for a moment, before becoming hard again and resuming what appeared to be some sort of search.

  At one point, Lady Clarissa looked up to the man, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Elizabeth looked around at the other guests. Only then did it strike her exactly how odd it was that her aunt, who had been a virtual recluse, should suddenly invite the whole town to a ball. And it was the whole town. Apart from Mr. and Miss Hardacre.

  “I wonder where the Hardacres are,” said Elizabeth, whilst she and Liam took a rest from dancing and sipped eggnog.

  “Are you wishing for more exciting company, Elizabeth?” asked Liam.

  “Oh no, not at all. I'm having a wonderful time with you.” Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut. What was it about this man that made her speak so openly? “What I mean is...”

  “I am quite happy with your first answer,” he said. “Come, waltz with me.”

  “Do you think that perhaps you should give some of the other young men a chance to dance with Miss Dearheart?” said Amelia Wheston

  “I think that's a dreadful idea,” said Liam, leading Elizabeth to the dance floor once more. “You don't mind, do you? That I monopolise your time.

  “I don't mind,” said Elizabeth, feeling heady and warm because of the punch and eggnog she had drunk. Supper had not been served yet, and she had been too excited to eat anything before leaving the house. At least that was what she told herself. She was sure it had nothing to do with Liam's strong arm around her waist, and the way he held her small gloved hand in his hand.

  She also felt more light-hearted than she had been of late. Liam was definitely not Albert Sanderson, because he and Lady Clarissa were strangers. And it was also certain that Liam and Amelia Wheston were not in love either. Amelia had danced with John Wheston most of the night, only taking a break to dance with Elizabeth's father. Despite Amelia's teasing words, Liam had danced with each of the sisters, as had the Reverend. It threw Mrs. Chatterbucks and Miss Graves into flurries of excitement to be chosen by such handsome men. The memory of this night, thought Elizabeth, would be something to keep them warm in the cold winter nights that followed, and she had no doubt they would be talking about it for many years after that.

  But the night seemed to belong to her and Liam. The music felt as though it had been written especially for them, the dances designed for the movement of their bodies. For the first time in many months Elizabeth felt as though she was where she belonged. How could she ever have thought about leaving Midchester when so much happiness could be found within its boundaries?

  “I'm glad we had this time together,” said Liam, as the tempo changed and the music became slower still.

  “It sounds as though you're going away,” said Elizabeth.

  “That may happen soon,” he said. “If it is not too forward of me, could I speak to you alone for a moment?”

  Elizabeth followed him out of the warm ballroom and to the cooler atmosphere of the study. Though a fire burned in the grate, it was not so overwhelmingly warm as it had been amongst the heat of over fifty bodies in the ballroom. She pressed her gloves to her cheeks, which were slightly damp with perspiration.

  “Elizabeth...” Liam had walked to the fireplace and stood with his back to her, gazing into its depths.

  “What is it?”

  “I ... I don’t want you to think I’ve misled you in any way about my feelings. You are...” he paused, as if the words wouldn’t come. “I never thought I would find a woman who was so gentle and kind, and without artifice. You are all those things, and more. You’re beautiful, you’re intelligent...”

  “But...” Elizabeth croaked, sensing the next word. He would tell her that he only thought of her as a sister. It would not be the first time. Apart from Mr. Hardacre, most of the men – not that there had been many – that Elizabeth had liked had told her the same thing.

  Liam spun around. “But nothing. I adore you. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. Only ... I’m not free to love you, and I hold you in too much esteem to offer you any other option.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Had she got it so wrong? Was there a connection between Liam and Lady Clarissa? Something they had hidden from everyone else? But then Lady Bedlington would have to be involved, and Elizabeth doubted her aunt’s ability at such dissimulation.

  “I never meant to mislead you, I swear. My feelings overtook me and I am afraid I acted too rashly in speaking to you as I did. Elizabeth.... remember that I told you I once had a wife and did not wish to repeat the experience?”

  “Yes...”

  “As far as I know, she is still living. I am still married.”

  “No!” She put her hands to her face in horror.

  “I wish it were different. I wish I could find my wife and divorce her then I could be with...”

  “No,” Elizabeth shook her head vehemently. “No, I would not allow that. If your vows to her are so easy to break, how could I ever trust you to be constant?” Despite her feelings for him, it horrified her to think he would be quite happy to rid himself of his wife.

  “Then I have disappointed you.”

  “No ... yes. You should not have let me think ...” Elizabeth felt tears stinging her eyes. Her head spun, trying to assimilate the new information. “And everyone else. Oh what will people think? I let you escort me to this ball. My father was deceived too.”

  “You have no idea of the hell I’ve suffered, Lizzie, married to a woman who deceived me, who would have been happy to see me die.”

  “If you are trying to come up with excuses for breaking your marriage vows, be clear that I will not accept any of them. Despite living in such a small town I am aware of the lies men tell about their wives. How she does not understand him. How she does not let him ... does not honour his conjugal rights. Please do not do me the disservice of lying in such a way. It will only make me hate you, and ...” Her voice broke. “On second thoughts, do say all that. It would be easier to hate you. Much easier than this pain I’m feeling now.” She gulped back a sob.

  “My wife framed me for murder, Lizzie. Then she left me to rot in prison.”

  “What? Then you are Albert Sanderson? Oh dear God, then it is not only me you have deceived, but Lady Clarissa.” She realised on some level that it didn’t ring true. Albert Sanderson had not gone to prison. Unless Liam were speaking figuratively. She imagined a sanatorium might feel much like a prison.

  “I am not Albert Sanderson. Though it seems he and I have much in common
.”

  She sensed rather than heard the door to the study open wider.

  “I want you to know that whatever people may tell you about me in the future, I am not the man they have made me out to be. And I am not an inconstant husband. At least no more than my wife is as inconstant wife.” Liam was looking over her shoulder at something. Elizabeth turned her head, and was vaguely aware of Constable Hounds standing at the door. He was watching them. Elizabeth felt a dart of panic in her breast.

  “What is it?”

  The constable gave an apologetic cough and came into the room. He had several other men with him, and behind him in the hall, some of the guests had stopped to see what was going on. Elizabeth recognised the other men as local farm workers, who were often deputised to help during trouble in the neighbourhood. As if on cue, the music in the ballroom stopped, and everyone stood still, awaiting the next move.

  Constable Hounds reached spoke to Liam. “Doctor William Bradbourne, I am arresting you for murder and your subsequent escape from jail. Now, be a good man and come quietly.”

  Elizabeth looked up at Liam, expecting him to say it was preposterous, but he merely nodded.

  “Liam!” Amelia shot through the crowds. “Liam, darling!”

  “Take care of her, John,” Liam said to Doctor Wheston, who had followed his wife.

  “Dearest, tell them,” said Amelia, grabbing Liam by the sleeve. “Tell them that she's still alive somewhere and that she’s the one who murdered your patient. Constable Hounds, you must believe me when I say my brother is guilty of nothing. He is a good man!”

  That was when it all became clear to Elizabeth. Of course Liam had brought good news of Amelia's brother. He had brought himself.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wheston,” said Constable Hounds. “I have to do my job, as painful as it is. I ... I like Doctor Doubleday ... Doctor Bradbourne. But he has been found guilty of murder and I must do my duty.”

  If Elizabeth’s head spun at the news of Liam being married, it was nothing compared to how it whirled with the news that he was a condemned man. But he had touched her, and looked at her with love in his eyes. He had saved her brother’s and Johnny Fletcher’s lives, when had he really been the murderer they were seeking, it would have been better to leave them both to die in the icy pond. She shivered at the thought of losing Samuel that way. But nothing she had known about Liam in the past few days pointed to him being capable of taking a life.