A Christmas Promise

by Anne Perry

  Stan was shaking, but he kept his eyes on the toff, never once turning to look at Balthasar behind him. “An’ ’e’ll kill me if I do,” he said. “’e di’n’t never want ter be seen. I ’ave ter leave it where ’e can watch me put it, then go, so ’e can creep out an’ get it in private, like. Only that damn’ Alf did Jimmy Quick’s route all arse about-face, an’ took it before ’e could come out.”

  “Yes, I had deduced that,” Balthasar answered.

  A slight wind blew through the open doors, and the lantern light wavered again.

  “Give it to me, or I’ll kill the girl!” the toff said more sharply. His patience was paper-thin, the pain of need twisting inside him.

  “Then you will have nothing to bargain with!” Balthasar snapped, his voice the crack of a whip. “Stanley has the box, and he will give it to you.”

  The toff’s eyes shifted from one man to the other, hope and desperation equally balanced.

  The silence was so intense that Gracie could hear the horses moving restlessly in the stalls at the far side of the partition, and somewhere up in the loft there was the scrabble of clawed feet.

  They waited.

  Gracie stared at Minnie Maude, willing her to trust, and stay still.

  Stan’s eyes were fixed on the toff. “If I give it yer, ’ow do I know yer’ll let ’er go?”

  “You know I’ll kill her if you don’t,” the toff replied.

  “Then yer’ll never get it, an’ yer can’t live without it, can yer!” Stan was jeering now, had become ugly, derisive, as if that knowledge gave him some kind of mastery.

  The toff’s body was shaking, the skin of his face gray and sheened with sweat where the lantern light caught him. He took a step forward.

  Stan wavered, then stood his ground.

  Minnie Maude whimpered in terror. She knew the toff was mad with need, and she had no doubt he would kill her, perhaps by accident if not intentionally.

  “Give it to him,” Balthasar ordered. “It is of no use to you, except to sell. There is your market standing in front of you. If he kills Minnie Maude, you can never go home! Have you thought of that? You will be a fugitive for the rest of your life. Believe me, I will see to it.”

  Something in his tone drove into Stan’s mind like a needle to the bone. His shoulders relaxed as if he had surrendered, and he turned away from the toff toward the nearest bale of straw. He pushed his hand into it in a hole no one else could see, and pulled out a metal box about eight inches long and four inches deep. Even in the dim and wavering light the gold gleamed on the finely wrought scrollwork, the small fretted inlays, and the elaborate clasp. Gracie had never seen anything so beautiful. If it wasn’t a gift for the Christ child, it should have been.

  The toff’s eyes widened. Then he hurled himself at it, his hands out like claws, tearing at Stan, kicking, gouging, and butting at him with his head, top hat rolling away on the floor.

  Stan let out a cry of fury, and his heavy arms circled the man, bright blood spurting from Stan’s nose onto the man’s pale hair. They rocked back and forth, gasping and grunting, both locked onto the golden casket.

  Then with a bellow of rage Stan arched his back, lifted the toff right off his feet, whirled him sideways, and slammed him down again as hard as he could. There was a crack, like dry wood, and the toff lay perfectly still.

  Very slowly Stan straightened up and turned not to Minnie Maude but to Balthasar. “I ’ad ter do it! You saw that, di’n’t yer.” It was a demand, not a question. “’e were gonna kill us all.” When Balthasar did not answer, Stan turned to Minnie Maude. “’e’d a killed you, an’ all, fer sure.”

  Minnie Maude ran past him, evading his outstretched arms, and threw herself at Gracie, clinging on to her so hard it hurt.

  It was a pain Gracie welcomed. If it had not hurt, it might not have been real.

  “Yer stupid little article!” she said to her savagely. “Why di’n’t yer wait fer me?”

  “Just wanted to find Charlie,” Minnie Maude whispered.

  “I ’ad ter!” Stan shouted.

  “Possibly,” Balthasar replied with chill. “Possibly not.” He held out his hand. “You will give me the casket.”

  Stan’s face hardened with suspicion. He looked at Balthasar, then at Gracie and Minnie Maude standing holding on to each other.

  “Like that, is it? Give it ter you, or you’ll kill both of ’em, eh? Or worse? Do wot yer bleedin’ want ter. I don’ need two little girls. Blood’s on yer ’ands.” There was almost a leer on his face. “I should a known that’s wot you were. Thought for a moment you was after saving Minnie Maude. More fool me.”

  Could that really be what Balthasar had wanted all the time—the gold casket, and the poisonous dreams inside it?

  Balthasar looked at Stan as if he had oozed up out of the gutter. “I will give the opium back to those who gave it to you,” he replied icily. “To save your life—not because you deserve it, but it is still a life. I will tell them it was not your fault, you are incompetent, not dishonest. You would be well advised not to seek them out again. In fact, it would be to your advantage if they did not remember your name, or the place where you live.”

  Stan stood with his mouth open, halfway between a gape and a sneer.

  “As for the casket,” Balthasar continued, “I shall give that to Gracie and Minnie Maude. I think they have earned it, and its owner no longer has any use for it.” He glanced down at the toff, his face gaunt, oddly vacant now, as if his tortured spirit had left it behind.

  “If you go immediately,” Balthasar went on, still speaking to Stan, “you may not be found to blame for this, and the police do not need to know that you were here. Nor do the gentlemen who deal in opium.”

  “’ow do I know I can trust yer?” Stan asked, but the belligerence was gone from his face and he spoke quietly, as though he would have liked an answer he could cling on to, one to save his pride.

  “You don’t,” Balthasar said simply. “But when the police do not trouble you, and you never see or hear from the opium dealers again, you will know then.”

  Stan gave him the casket.

  Balthasar opened it very carefully, but there was no secret catch to it, no needles to prick or poison. Inside was a fine silk bag full of powder, which he took. He put it into the pocket on the inside of his coat. Then he examined the box carefully, blew away any suggestion of powder or dust from every part of it, and wiped it with his handkerchief. He held it out to Gracie.

  “I know that all you wanted was to save Minnie Maude, but I think you have earned this. You and Minnie Maude will decide what is best to do with it. But it is very precious. Do not show it to people or they may take it, although it has nothing inside it now.”

  Gracie reached out slowly, afraid to touch it, afraid even more to hold it in her hands.

  “Take it,” he repeated.

  She shook her head, putting the tip of one finger gently on the shining surface. It was smooth, and not really cold. “It shouldn’t be fer me,” she said huskily.

  “What would you like to do with it?” he asked.

  “When I first ’eard about it, I thought it were a present—cos it’s Christmas. Yer know—like wot the Wise Men brought for Jesus.”

  “Gold for the king, because He is king of all of us,” he agreed. “Frankincense because He is priest, and myrrh because He is the sacrifice that redeems all of us from the death of the soul. Is that what you would like to do with it?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t know ’ow. An’ it’s empty.”

  “Christ will know what it cost you to get it,” he told her. “And it doesn’t matter a great deal where you go. Christmas is everywhere. But I do know of a place where some people are holding a very special Christmas Eve party, with a nativity scene. I can’t take you, because I have to get rid of this poison, back to the people who own it, before they find Stan and take their price in his blood. But I can show you the direction to go.”

  “Wot�
��s that wot you said?”

  “A nativity scene? It is people creating a little play, like the first Christmas all over again. It’s very special, very holy. Come.” He looked at Minnie Maude. “Are you able to come too? It has to be done tonight, because this is Christmas Eve. This is the night when it happened in the beginning and created a whole new age, an age of hope, and a new kind of love.”

  Minnie Maude nodded slowly, gripping on to Gracie’s hand.

  “Can you walk a little?” Balthasar asked anxiously. “I can get you a hansom cab to ride in, but you will still have to walk at the far end.”

  “I in’t got no money fer an ’ansom,” Gracie told him. “I could pay for an omnibus, if there is one, mebbe?”

  “I shall pay for it, and tell him exactly where to go. But I think you had better wrap up the casket in the edge of your shawl. We do not want to draw people’s attention to it.”

  She took the casket from him and obediently wound the end of the red shawl around it until the box was completely hidden. “I’ll bring the shawl back to yer after Christmas,” she promised.

  “If you wish,” he said solemnly. “And I shall return you your own one, clean and dry. But if you prefer this one, we can leave matters as they are.”

  It was a wonderful thought. This one was warmer, and far prettier. But it must also have been expensive. She resisted the temptation. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

  “As you wish. Now come. It is late and there is no time to spare. In less than an hour it will be Christmas Day.”

  The ride in the hansom did not seem so long this time. Minnie Maude sat very close to Gracie, and once or twice Gracie even thought she might be asleep. They rattled through the dark streets of the East End back through the heart of the city toward the West End and the nice houses. All the lamps were lit and the wind had blown away the earlier fog. Gracie could see wreaths of leaves on doors, lighted windows, carriages with patterns and writing on the doors. Horse brasses gleamed. There was a sound of jingling, laughter, and people calling out cheerfully. Somewhere voices were singing.

  “I’ll be back fer yer,” the cabby said when he stopped. “It’s that ’ouse there.” He pointed. “Yer stay there till I come fer yer, you ’ear.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gracie clasped the casket in one arm, and Minnie Maude’s skinny little hand in the other. Normally she would not have dreamed of pushing her way into a grand house like this, but she had a present to give to Jesus, and Mr. Balthasar had told her that this was the place to do it.

  She and Minnie Maude walked over the cobbles and into the stables at the back of the big houses. There were lots of people around, all wearing smart clothes, ladies with fur muffs and woolen cloaks, and gentlemen with curly fur collars on their coats. No one seemed to mind them coming in.

  “Wot are they all doin’ ’ere?” Minnie Maude whispered. “They’re just standin’ around out ’ere in the stable.”

  “I dunno,” Gracie replied. “But Mr. Balthasar said it were ’ere, so it must be.”

  There was a slight noise behind them and a ripple of excitement. The group nearest the entrance moved apart to allow passage through, and in the next moment a man in a long robe appeared. It was very plain, like pictures Gracie had seen from the Bible. The man had curly hair all over the place, as if he had forgotten to comb it. He was smiling, and he had a brownish-gray donkey by the halter. It had long ears and a pale nose, and on its back rode a young woman with hair like polished chestnuts. She was smiling too, as if she knew something so wonderful she could hardly contain the happiness of it.

  The people standing in the stable yard held up their lanterns, and they all cheered. The donkey stopped by the open stable door, and the man helped the young woman down. She was clearly with child and she moved a little awkwardly, but she turned to touch the donkey gently and thank it for carrying her.

  Gracie watched as if seeing a miracle. She knew what was going to happen next, as though she had already seen it before. In a few minutes the bells would ring for midnight, and it would be Christmas. Then Jesus would be born. There would be angels in the sky, shepherds coming to worship, and Wise Men to bring gifts. Would it still be all right to give hers?

  She gripped Minnie Maude’s hand more tightly and felt her fingers respond.

  Then the bells started, peal after peal, wild and joyous, the sound swirling out over the rooftops everywhere.

  The stable doors opened, and the young woman sat in the straw with a baby in her arms, the man behind her. There were a couple of horses, who probably lived there, and the donkey.

  Three men came from the back of the scullery doorway, dressed up like shepherds, carrying big staffs with curly tops. The bystanders were quiet, but they were all smiling and holding one anothers’ hands.

  Next came the three Wise Men, each dressed more gorgeously than the one before. They had robes of reds and blues and purples. One had a turban wound around his head, another a gold crown. They all knelt before the baby and laid gifts on the ground.

  Minnie Maude poked Gracie in the side. “Yer gotter give ours!” she urged. “Quick, or it’ll be too late.”

  “Ye’re comin’ too!” Gracie dragged her forward, unwrapping the gold casket as she went and holding it out in front of her. Even here, among all this wealth and splendor, it shone with a beauty unsurpassed.

  Gracie stopped in front of the young woman. “Please, miss, we’d like ter give this to the Baby Jesus. It oughter be ’is.” Without waiting for permission, she put it down on the straw in front of her, then looked up. “It in’t got nuffink in it,” she explained. “We in’t got nothing good enough.”

  “It is perfect as it is,” the young woman replied. She looked Gracie up and down, then looked at Minnie Maude, and her eyes filled with tears. “Nothing could be more precious.” She was about to add something more when the donkey came forward through the straw and pushed his nose against Minnie Maude, almost knocking her off balance.

  She turned and stared at him, then flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

  “Charlie!” she sobbed. “Where yer bin, yer stupid thing? I ’unted all over fer yer! Don’t yer never do that again!”

  “I’m sorry,” Gracie said to the young woman. “She thought ’e were lorst.”

  “Well, he’s found again,” the young woman replied gently. “Tonight we are all found again.” She turned to the man. “Thomas, I think we should see that these two girls have something hot to eat, and to drink.” Then she looked at the donkey and smiled. “Happy Christmas, Charlie.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ANNE PERRY is the bestselling author of two acclaimed series set in Victorian England: the William Monk novels, including Execution Dock and Dark Assassin, and the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt novels, including Buckingham Palace Gardens and Long Spoon Lane. She is also the author of the World War I novels No Graves As Yet, Shoulder the Sky, Angels in the Gloom, At Some Disputed Barricade, and We Shall Not Sleep, as well as seven holiday novels, most recently A Christmas Promise. Anne Perry lives in Scotland. Visit her website at www.anneperry.net.

  A Christmas Promise is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2009 by Anne Perry

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Perry, Anne.

  A Christmas promise : a novel / Anne Perry.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-51667-1

  1. Poor children—England—London—Fiction. 2. City and

  town life—England—London—Fiction. 3. East End
(London,

  England)—Fiction. 4. Christmas stories. I. Title.

  PR6066.E693C473 2009b

  823′.914—dc22 2009035431

  www.ballantinebooks.com

  v3.0

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Other Books By This Author

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Copyright