Beauty & the Beast: Christmas Regency Romance (A Regency Christmas Book 1)

by Charity McColl

  Then as she drew even closer to the manor, she noticed something strange. The large front door wasn’t completely shut. Who lived in this deserted manor? she asked herself as her feet seemed to have a mind of their own and led her right up the ten steps to the door. She tried to peer through the slight gap in the door and then hastily jumped backwards when she heard something like a deep groan coming from within. It sounded like a wounded animal and judging from the deserted look around the house, she wouldn’t be surprised if some wild animal crept out of the house. Taking a firm grip on the stick she always carried with her, she once again approached the open door.

  The groan sounded again, and she forced herself not to flee even though she was really terrified. Not one to let challenges deter her, Ariel pushed the door open, and its well-oiled hinges made her realize that perhaps this home might not be deserted after all.

  The bright and wide foyer was empty, and she stood there for a moment, thinking of how lovely the house looked like inside. The wooden tiles on the floor were in perfect condition even if they didn’t seem to have been polished for a while. This was a beautiful house that she longed to explore.

  There were three doors leading off the foyer and all stood wide open. A large stairway led to the first floor and she wondered what was up there. She gripped her stick firmly and decided to find out the source of the groaning. The first door she walked through seemed to be the living room and it was large. Most of the furniture was covered with white sheets like it hadn’t been used for a while.

  As her eyes went around the room, they lighted with shock on the large man who was kneeling with his back towards her. She must have made a sound for he turned, and their eyes met.

  Trevor was both shocked and surprised to see a very pretty young woman standing in his living room. For a moment he thought he must have conjured her image and blinked rapidly, even turning away and then back. But she was still there and the look in her eyes was one of curiosity, not revulsion at the scars on his face.

  “Sir,” she drew even closer, “Are you alright?”

  Trevor grunted and slowly rose to his feet. He saw her eyes widen at his large frame.

  “The front door was open,” she said by way of explanation. “Are you crying?” Trevor was surprised when the lady came even closer to him instead of running away after taking a really good look at his face. “Your eyes are so sad like you’re in so much pain,” she sat down on one of the few uncovered seats. “Sir, why are you so sad?”

  He noticed the stick in her hand and the satchel bag across one arm. Her dressing told him that she was from the village beyond his wall and he wondered how she had managed to enter his estate. Had she come down the driveway, he would have seen her for he’d been standing at the window for a long time.

  3

  The Unexpected Guest

  “Who are you and how did you get in here?” Trevor heard the rough rasp in his own voice, signs of long disuse. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had any conversation with anyone. The only person he still communicated with was his solicitor, but through mail and never face to face.

  By arrangement with his solicitor, the village grocer dropped supplies for him at the front door on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and he would find his payment under the large rock on the lawn. Trevor always put it there to avoid coming into contact with the man.

  From the moment he’d arrived back in his country seat, he’d terminated the services of all the servants, including his personal valet. He didn’t want anyone to look at his scarred face and recoil in revulsion. He’d had enough of that with his servants up in London. After the accident, he’d closed up his London house for repairs and even though his solicitor had assured him that it was once again ready for occupation, he’d ignored the man. That was many months ago, and he had no idea if there were any servants left, for he’d asked his solicitor to settle them and then send them all away.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Ariel Dixon and like I said, the front door was open”

  “So, Miss Ariel Dixon, do you have the habit of walking through all doors that you find standing open?”

  Ariel shrugged, ignoring the growl in his voice. “I heard you groaning and thought that you might be in some kind of trouble, so I came in to check. At first I thought it might be a wild animal but those can’t open doors and the hinges were well oiled, so I deduced that it must have been done by a person.”

  Trevor was speechless for a moment then shook his head. “Did it occur to you that you might be walking into dangerous territory? I could be a bandit hiding in a deserted house.”

  “Well, are you a bandit hiding in a deserted house?” Ariel demanded and then was surprised to see a smile tagging at the man’s lips.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “I live,” she pointed in the direction of the door, “Over the wall, on Lord Charles Fenton’s estate. Mama used to make clothes for his servants, so he allowed us to have one of the cottages,” she turned red when he raised his eyebrows at her. “I was walking through the woods when I saw the wall. But I didn’t see a gate, so I had to climb over it to get here.”

  “When you see a wall that has no open gate, it means the occupants of that particular compound or estate don’t want any intruders or uninvited visitors. That’s why people build walls,” he said.

  Ariel had to tilt her head far back to look up into his face. She observed him through her clear grey eyes, “Are you talking about walls made of bricks and mortar or those imaginary ones around your heart?” Her gaze was unwavering.

  Trevor gave a start. This young lady seemed to be seeing right into his soul.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look really sad,” her eyes wandered around the room. Ariel saw that despite the obvious disrepair, there was evidence that someone had once taken good care of this house. “And yet you have so much,” her eyes returned to his. “You have a permanent roof over your head, and I know that your pantry has enough food to feed a whole family. Me,” she slowly rose to her feet. “I worry about my Papa all the time. I worry that we won’t have rent for the next month. I also worry about what we will eat and the leaking roof on our cottage.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Dixon.” Trevor sat down, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

  Ariel noticed that he was looking rather pale. “Sir, can I get you a glass of water?”

  “No, I’m alright. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

  “Have you been ill?”

  “Not at all, I’ve always enjoyed good health.”

  “And that’s the reason why you don’t have to be sad. Thousands of people would do anything to have what you own right now. It may not look like much, but you need to learn to count your blessings every day. No matter how small the blessing is, just count it and be thankful.”

  “You make me sound like a total ingrate.”

  “I didn’t say that, but all I mean is that though it’s all right to grieve about whatever we’ve lost, we also have to consider the blessings that God has bestowed upon us,” she waved a hand at him. “What is your name?”

  A faint smile covered his lips. “Trevor Welsh,” he said simply.

  The name didn’t immediately register in her mind, and then her eyes widened. “The Duke of Berkeley? Are you the duke?”

  He chuckled, “I see that you’ve heard of me.”

  “Of course, I have. Everyone in Berkeley knows about the duke, but I didn’t think you were so young,” she took another look at him. “But we all know that the duke lives in London and never comes to Berkeley.”

  “Well, you’re all wrong. This is my country seat, and I live here now. I’ve been living here for the past three years now.”

  “But how is it that no one knew you’re here? And I thought that a duke’s manor would have servants to take care of the house and the garden as well. Don’t you have tenants living on your land and how is it that they don’t know that you, their master, is i
n residence at the manor? You seem to live here all alone. If I hadn’t seen the door standing slightly ajar, I would never have come in.”

  “My being here is a long story,” Trevor said sadly. “A very long story.”

  “Why do you choose to live like a recluse? This is a beautiful house and yet you’ve barred all the windows to keep the light out.”

  “For a young woman, you sure ask a lot of questions.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ariel blushed. “My Mama used to say that I am like a woodpecker pecking away at things.”

  “Your mother sounds like a fine woman.”

  Trevor saw the sadness descending on Ariel’s face. “She was a very fine woman, but we lost her last spring. After her death, Papa went to pieces and drinks himself to a stupor every day because of the pain of missing her.”

  Trevor empathized with the other man. After Chloe had left him, he’d also gone to pieces for a while. First because of the agony of betrayal and then also the physical pain he’d been in after the fire accident.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he managed to say. “It must be very tough for you to have to deal with double loss.”

  “What do you mean by double loss? I only lost my Mama. Papa is still alive.”

  “That may be true but he’s absent from you emotionally,” then something occurred to him. “How old are you, Miss Dixon.”

  “I’m seventeen but will turn eighteen in the spring. Why?”

  Trevor smiled, “You’re still a child even though you have so much to deal with. That has given you a maturity beyond your years. Still, you need to be allowed to enjoy your youthful years.”

  Ariel shrugged, “My mates, at least some of them, are already married, and some even have little babies now.”

  “I know that, but it somehow feels all wrong. Why, you and your age mates are barely out of the school room.”

  Ariel smiled and rose to her feet. “Have you had anything to eat?”

  He looked at her in surprise, “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m hungry and I know that you must be too. I could quickly prepare something for you before I leave.”

  4

  Through the Wall

  “Don’t try to climb over the wall this time, you might fall and hurt yourself,” Trevor told Ariel when she was ready to leave. She’d made some eggs, cut them each a thick slice of fresh bread and a cup of tea. It was a simple meal but eating with someone else for a change had made all the difference and Trevor admitted that he’d enjoyed the meal.

  “But your gate is too far away for me to use. It will mean practically going to the other side of the village before I can get home.”

  “Well, this is my estate and I happen to know the small gates that are situated at different points along the wall. They were put there for the servants to use, and when I was young, it was a game of mine to touch all the gates within minutes. Come,” he held out a hand and she placed hers in it, trusting him and wondering why she felt so much at ease with this strange man. Well, he wasn’t really a stranger because he was the Duke of Berkeley.

  It felt so right, and Ariel giggled.

  “What now?”

  “I can’t believe that you’ve been living out here for nearly three years and no one found out about it. We should have at least seen you when you went down to the village square for groceries.”

  “That’s because I never go to the village square, Miss Dixon. Twice a week, Mr. Lark brings me whatever I need from his store.”

  “I know that Mrs. Lark, bless her soul, is a good woman but she’s also quite the tattle tale. I’m surprised that she’s never broadcast your presence in the county to all and sundry abroad.”

  “That’s because her husband was sworn to secrecy,” Trevor gave Ariel a sheepish look. “Of course, a few subtle threats were also made, and he hasn’t even told his wife about it. He has kept his mouth shut all this while.”

  She stopped walking forcing him to do the same, “Your grace, why don’t you want people to know that you’re in the county?”

  He touched the tip of her nose with his right index finger. “Your mother was right, you’re like a woodpecker, chipping away until you get to the centre of the issue.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ariel thought she had offended her new friend. “I won’t ask any more questions.” The duke was really nice, and she had enjoyed spending time with him. She’d always been very cautious around strangers and especially men, but Trevor made her feel safe. He made her feel like she was at home and that nothing bad could happen to her while she was with him.

  “Ariel, don’t look so crestfallen. You’ve done nothing wrong, and I actually find that curiosity trait that you have quite appealing. But now,” he resumed walking. “You need to get home before your father becomes worried about you.”

  “Pa never worries about me because he is drunk most of the time. But like you say, I need to get home before dark. The woods are eerie in the night and I wouldn’t like to get into any kind of trouble.”

  “I’ll walk you part of the way,” he said. “Hand me that sack so I can carry it for you.”

  “It’s not that heavy,” she protested, thinking about the joint of smoked ham, flour, and half a pound of lard that Trevor had insisted that she take home with her. She was going to prepare a delicious pie for her father. He might not even notice whatever was set before him, but she still had to feed him.

  “Well, my grandmother raised me to be a gentleman and not let a lady carry anything while she’s in my company.” He held out his hand for the sack, and Ariel handed it over. She didn’t want to get into any kind of argument with her new friend. “Come, we need to get you home.”

  Ariel could barely sleep that night. Everything felt like a dream. She’d met the Duke of Berkeley and lived! Then she chuckled softly in the darkness.

  While it was true that she’d often speculated about the duke, it had always been more out of a sense of curiosity than anything else. Ariel had long accepted that she was from a lower-class family and her kind didn’t mix with nobility.

  Nevertheless, whenever she met with her friends, the conversation always turned to the duke and how handsome he was, even though none of them could say for certain that they’d met the man up close. They would talk about how charming the duke was. And like all other starry-eyed teenage girls, each would dream of being asked to a special ball at the large manor, where the duke would fall in love at first sight with one of them, and then together, they would ride off into the sunset. Ariel was no exception, but she’d always thought of the duke as being in his forties. The man who lived in isolation on the walled estate was young, and she guessed that he might be just about thirty or so years old.

  Ariel missed her few friends and wished she could find them and share her adventure with them. But she also knew that she must respect Trevor’s privacy.

  Something had happened to that fine man, and the sadness she’d seen in his blue eyes spoke volumes. What was his story? How had he gotten those terrible scars that marred his otherwise handsome face? And she’d noticed that one of his eyes was funny, like it couldn’t see. Even though she’d longed to ask him what had happened to him, she knew it was an invasion of his privacy. Trevor didn’t need a busybody trying to dig up painful memories. She would leave matters as they were and not ask about his face or eye. Still, she wished she knew something more about the man.

  No one, not even her father knew much about Lord Trevor Welsh because the old duke and duchess had spent ten months of the year in London and only came down to Berkeley during early spring.

  They would, of course, hold balls and entertain a lot while they were in the countryside, but only nobles like themselves were invited to such banquets.

  Then there was also talk of the duke taking a wife, but again, that would be an affair for the nobility. They all waited for the wedding that never took place, and everyone then assumed that the duke had decided to keep it small and private. Yet all this while, the man
had been living in their backyard.

  “What happened to you, Trevor?” She murmured, allowing sleep to take over.

  On the other side of the county, Lord Welsh was also restless, and he knew that it all had to do with his unexpected visitor that day. He’d never met a woman who was so easy to talk to. Most of those he knew would giggle incessantly and get on his nerves, while fanning themselves with their delicate fans.

  But Ariel was real, and he smiled. She was really pretty but still a child, nonetheless. Seventeen to his twenty-seven, and yet she carried herself with a maturity beyond her years. He knew that it all had to do with the cruel hand she’d been dealt.

  Had she been the daughter of a nobleman or gentry, she would be getting ready for her coming out season in the spring after she turned eighteen. But Ariel was a little huntress, and he’d chuckled when he noticed the slingshot she had tried so hard to conceal beneath her frayed coat.

  She intrigued him, and he made a decision. The village only had one tavern and he was sure that it would be the one place where her father could be found. Donning a thick coat and scarf that concealed most of his face, he left the house on a mission.

  He only kept one horse for his personal use, and as he saddled it, thought about the kind of life that he’d created for himself for the past three years. It was lonely and his horse was the only thing he could talk to.

  “Well Gus,” he murmured, “Let’s go out and see the world beyond our high walls.” The horse merely snorted.

  The tavern was still open even though it was really cold outside. The few candles flickered in the breeze and there were only two patrons seated at separate tables. The tavern owner was dozing at the counter, clearly waiting for his customers to finish their drinks and go home so he could lock up.

  “Tell me,” he approached the man, “Who are these two men and why are they here so late?”