Dreams of Christmas

by Barbara Miller

  He had not undressed last night. As soon as it grew light he would sally forth for shaving water himself. He rather like being independent and resourceful. It took people off guard. Once he’d shaved and changed he’d canvass the town. He fancied the merchants might be more reliable about remembering Annabelle than the inn servants.

  Under normal circumstances he should try to set out for Vance Hall so that his mother did not worry. But he did not feel he could abandon Sarah’s quest until they had arrived at some resolution and he did not despair of convincing her to come with him. After all, she had no other choice than to go home and she obviously found that prospect distasteful. Then he realized that this was a situation where his money and title meant nothing since they could not get him what he needed. Sarah might very well think of a third solution and he would be helpless to aid her.

  He simply did not feel worthy of her and there was no way he could make himself worthy overnight. Just aspiring to be better wasn’t enough. Finding her sister would be ideal but what if he failed as he so often did? It occurred to him that his whole future was at stake. If he failed to win Sarah he would never try again.

  Chapter Four

  When Sarah woke up she remembered the specter she had seen the night before and she began to accept that Annabelle was dead. It was as thought she had already mourned for her sister this year she had been missing. Her dreams often came true one way or another. But why had she dreamed on the twenty-third of Annabelle being happy, then last night of her death? Why would her dreams lead her here if there was no hope? It made no sense.

  Neither did Jerome’s actions. Perhaps he burned the letter because he had finally come to grips with their sister’s death after a whole year. Perhaps he was shielding Sarah from the awful truth of her sister’s fall into the courtyard below. When she thought back he had gone on a trip over the new year. Perhaps that was when they held the funeral. But if there was a funeral then there had to be a grave. She dragged herself out of bed. At least she could find that.

  She washed up in the hot water she found on the washstand, then dressed. She was about to leave when Miss Fetters brought in tea and bread on a tray.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “The church.”

  “It’s too early. I already inquired. The Christmas service is later. Now sit and have your tea and toast. Had to make it myself. Everyone is still asleep.”

  She sat in the rocker and Miss Fetters in a straight chair with the tea tray perched on the small occasional table. Their little tea party made the inn seem almost like home, or like home was before Annabelle left. She realized they were lucky to get tea and bread and butter at this hour and was amazed she could still eat and drink for nothing had any taste and it all caught in her throat. She wanted to make an early start looking for word of Annabelle even if it meant she found out that she was dead. She would rather know the worst as soon as possible.

  Vance had forgotten that most of the shops would not be open Christmas Day so he returned to the inn at a loss and hoping Fisk could find out more. He was preparing in his mind how to break what news he had to Sarah when she came down the stairs with Miss Fetters.

  “Some good news. The cook and two serving maids remember your sister. She stayed here with her husband on their way to their new home,” he said.

  “Are you sure they are remembering the right girl?”

  “Yes but I think our only option is to repair to Vance Hall until after the holidays. Once the weather clears I can search from there.”

  She stared at him as though she could not believe he had said such a thing. “I already told you that is impractical and the whole notion bothers Miss Fetters so it cannot be the thing to do.”

  “But where will you go?”

  “I don’t know yet but not to Vance Hall. I did not escape the parsonage just to become a prisoner somewhere else.”

  “Prisoner? But I want to take care of you while I look for your sister. You should not have to be doing all this.”

  “But she is my sister. Since you don’t have a twin you cannot comprehend how incomplete I have felt for this entire year, as though Annabelle was trying to tell me something and I could not hear her. Now I know what it is and I am the one who must find her for I now believe she is dead.”

  “What? We have no evidence of that. You must not give up. Your intuition and that scrap of letter have led you this far. Name the place and I will take you there.”

  “You don’t understand, Lord Vance. This is the place, the end of the trail, I think.”

  “But I do understand. I have a twin brother and but for a turn in the womb he would be Lord Vance and I might be a Captain of Guards risking my neck on the fields of France. I dream about his death all the time and often think it is very close. That does not mean he died.”

  “Then you do understand that I cannot consider my own happiness until I know her fate.”

  He saw the grief in her face yet had to say what she could not realize about the sleigh dream. “I understand that you cannot live her life without sacrificing your own. Sarah, you are not unhappy because she left the parsonage, but because she left without you.”

  “How dare you? I am not jealous of my sister. I love her.”

  “Perhaps too much. She has tried to break the birth bond between you but you cannot let go.”

  He watched her face as she digested all this and saw her dark eyes turn even more troubled.

  “Can this be true? My quest for Annabelle is a selfish one?”

  He tried to reach for her hand but she withheld it. “You have a right to happiness for yourself even if she has found none.”

  She bit her lip. “What you say may be true, but I can feel nothing but grief at this moment.”

  “But what will you do if she is dead?”

  “I will be in mourning for a year. It can hardly be worse than a year of uncertainly. I am used to being in mourning.”

  “That sounds more like a convenient trap in which to avoid the world,” he accused.

  “How can you say such things? Now let me pass.”

  Miss Fetters had hung back he suspected because they were disagreeing and probably she was hoping that Sarah would give him his marching orders. Certainly arguing with his beloved was unseemly here in the corridor and was attracting too much attention from the tap room.

  “I will leave you then but tell me where will you go?” Vance persisted.

  Sarah brushed past him. “I don’t know yet, but not with you.”

  “I cannot lose you again.”

  “Again?” She looked back. “What do you mean?”

  “You are the one in my dreams. We were meant to be together. The Christmas spirit from my past told me so. And another spirit, a hearty man who sounds like my brother told me to marry you.”

  She looked confused. “Then why have I never dreamed of you?”

  “I don’t know. You are my quest, have been these ten years. I do not know why I am not yours, perhaps because I am not really worthy of you.”

  “And my sister is my quest, so I would say we are destined to part, not be together.”

  “At least tell me where you are going,” he pleaded.

  “Why? So you can continue to obstruct me?”

  “Because I plan to wait for you. If I cannot marry you now I will not marry anyone. I’m sure I will always dream of you even if you are unattainable. Perhaps now you will dream of me as well. Of one thing I am certain. You are the only one who can save me from my worst self.”

  She stared at him in shock. “If we are speaking plain truths then understand that I cannot make you a better person. Only your free will can do that.”

  “But aspiring to your hand makes me want to be worthy of you.”

  She shook her head and continued out the door. Miss Fetters pushed past him and followed her. He stood uncertainly in the hall for a while, then went out as well. He saw the back of her green coat and it was like in his dream. She disappeared
from view and no matter how much he wanted to run after her he knew there were more barriers between them now than distance and time.

  Sarah walked quickly, the tears streaming down her face in her realization that Vance was right. She wanted to find Annabelle for her own sake. Perhaps there had been no other letters. Her sister may have died at the inn after she wrote that one note. It made sense.

  “You told him off finally,” Miss Fetters said. “I did not think you had it in you to be so angry.”

  She kept walking. “Do you think I am proud of what I just did? Lord Vance has been only kindness since the moment we met him and I feel as though I have betrayed him.”

  “But you don’t love him, do you?” Miss Fetters asked.

  “I don’t know. I could love him if I did not have this gaping wound in my heart. There is no room in me for anything but grief at Annabelle’s death.”

  “Why are you so sure she is dead?”

  “Because I dreamed it.”

  “God save us from your dreams. They do not all come true. And you never dreamed about your mother’s death or your father’s.”

  “They both died at peace. Besides how do you know I didn’t dream of them?”

  “I would have known. I have been with you since you were born.”

  “I saw Annabelle fall from the window at the end of the hall and die here. I am going to look for her grave.”

  She walked on aware that her companion had fallen behind. When she turned to look back Miss Fetters seemed to be in a quandary.

  “I am going to the churchyard whether you come with me or not,” Sarah stamped her foot and the woman finally walked toward her.

  “Sarah, it was not Annabelle who fell from the window. It very nearly was you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You were walking in your sleep and had opened the doors at the end of the hall. If Lord Vance had not come up the stairs at that moment it would have been you who fell to her death.”

  “I remember that dream, but I was following Annabelle.”

  “No, you have walked in your sleep before. I thought I would always be around to protect you but now I doubt my ability to keep you safe. Perhaps we should after all accept Lord Vance’s aid, go to his estate while we make enquiries for your sister.”

  “Why have you changed you mind so suddenly?”

  “Because even though you do not yet love him it is clear even to such a hardened old heart as mine that he desperately loves you.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes and he did not give you an ultimatum. He said he would wait. How many men would stand aside, put themselves after your concern for your sister?”

  “Perhaps only this one. Very well, as soon as I check the graveyard I will find him and apologize. And I do care for him. But I am in such upheaval I don’t know if I love him or not.”

  Not knowing what else to do Vance went to the church and inquired after any record of Miss Annabelle Pelham from about a year ago. If the girl got married here the church would have a record. And if she had died, which he doubted, that also would be recorded. The rector and deacon were both busy preparing for the service so they left him in the office. There were not so many entries to look through and none with the name Annabelle. Of course she could have used a false name, but that did not seem likely for any sister of Sarah Pelham. He could only imagine Annabelle being nearly as perfect as her sister.

  Vance rewarded the deacon with a guinea for the church and went to sit in the pews until he figured out what to do. He had promised to help and he must see this quest through. It wasn’t just a matter of pride, of keeping his word. He loved Sarah and would do anything for her. She needed his aid in a way no one else ever had. Because of his mother always sending him to London to look for a bride he’d had too much leisure. But that’s not the only reason he had never found a wife to suit him among the bored and frivolous elite. Sarah was real and passionate, but not about him. Perhaps if he changed he could induce Sarah to fall in love with him.

  He thought of his new love and how he would introduce her to his mother. She would adore Sarah. She just had to.

  Even as he thought about her he saw Sarah walking slowly up the aisle toward the altar. Was it a vision? She had her hands together in front of her as though she were carrying a bouquet and her steps were measured and solemn almost like a bride, her dark green coat matching the holly and ivy in the window embrasures of the church. Somewhere a solemn male voice intoned something about “the year to come”. It sounded like a voice from the grave and he blinked. He had never experienced a waking dream before. Once again he felt the familiar paralysis. If these spirits really wanted to help they would give him the power to act.

  But the sharp steps of Miss Fetters on the slates of the nave convinced him Sarah was really here, that this was no vision.

  Sarah saw one or two parishioners coming to take their places but they were still too early for the service so she left the central aisle and walked out the side door toward the churchyard. It was not snowing now but the icy remnant of yesterday’s blizzard was already freezing her feet in her half boots which were not quite dry from last night.

  “You’ll wet your feet in that snow,” Vance said. “What are you looking for?”

  She turned to stare at Vance, wondering how he could have found her. Over top of his usual finery he wore a caped greatcoat.

  “Annabelle’s grave.” As Vance walked toward her, Miss Fetters took his place in the doorway but for once her companion did not come to keep them apart. What strange behavior.

  “You left your brother’s house because you were convinced she was alive. Now you think your sister is dead. Why?”

  “I told you. I saw her fall,” she said shakily though Miss Fetters’ revelations had made her doubt the reliability of her dreams. She began to pace the rows of stones but many were so worn nothing could be read on them or else her tears were making them blurry. “This is hopeless,” she said and let him lead her back toward the door.

  “You had a dream,” he said in her ear. “Apparently you dream all the time.”

  “And often they are true.”

  “But not every time.” Vance seated himself on a cold stone bench and spread his greatcoat over the spot beside him so Sarah could sit in some comfort.

  “I told you your sister stayed at this very inn with her husband one year ago on Christmas Eve.”

  “But she was not married.”

  “Perhaps not when she left home but the man said they had married. At least three people saw them leave the following morning. It’s just that none of them remember where the happy couple was going.”

  “You wouldn’t deceive me?”

  “Ask Fisk yourself. And no one fell out any window,” he said confidently, though he had no positive proof to offer her.

  “Could they be hiding the truth?”

  “Someone would have mentioned it. My man laid enough money about him last night. People love to boast of tragedies. It never happened.” His breath made puffs of fog in the cold air and Sarah’s eyes looked misty as she gazed at the tombstones either from the cold or crying. What awful places they chose for their discussions.

  “Then why did I dream it? I saw her leave the room and go down the hall.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  “A nightdress much like mine.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then suddenly I was the one standing on the ledge and looking into the courtyard.”

  “Dear God. You were the one in the dream, not your sister. You did indeed almost die last night. If I had not come up the stairs and found you… “He gripped her small hands between his as though trying to warm them through both layers of leather. “You were foreseeing your own death. And I had been warned in a dream that if I did not find you soon you would be beyond my reach. Oh, Sarah, it scares me how close we came to losing each other.”

  “You saved me. Then if I was the one in
danger, Annabelle must still be alive.” Her voice sounded jubilant even to herself.

  “And I will help you find her, but when we do there is something I want to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “Will you marry me?” he blurted out.

  “Marry you? But you scarcely know me.”

  “I know I love you which is more of a certainty than I have ever had in this life before.”

  She looked into his intense brown eyes and suddenly was very sure of him. “I must admit I have feelings for you as well. I have never before met someone so kind, so…”

  “I was not kind when you met me but I have changed. You are the genuine article, a real woman who cares more for everyone else than for herself. And I want to care for you.”

  He brought one of her gloved hands up to kiss it, then heard Miss Fetters clearing her throat.

  “We should go back to the inn,” the older woman said. “If my feet are freezing I know Sarah’s are.”

  “What was I thinking?” He helped Sarah up and was about to throw his greatcoat about her.

  “Sir, I would never make it back to the inn if I have to carry that heavy thing.”

  “I had not thought about it. Then I shall carry you.”

  Miss Fetters had come out, by now her forbearance at their close contact at an end. “That you shall not. We have caused enough gossip in this town with that argument at the inn.”

  They were distracted in their discussion by a hail from a carriage on the street.

  “Look, it’s Fisk,” Vance said, “and with my coach. How fortuitous.”

  “I’ve been looking for you,” his valet called. The coach stopped and Fisk got out to hold the door. “I have news. Come and get in. All of you. We must get back to the inn.”

  Miss Fetters shook her head emphatically. “We cannot ride in a closed carriage with a total stranger.”

  “Fisk shall ride on top with the coachman and I behind. Will that satisfy your notions of propriety?”

  Once wrapped in a lap robe and with her feet on a hot brick Sarah felt better but she could not fathom why. Perhaps it was Vance’s smile that seemed to give hope where there was none. Of course there was his proposal of marriage. But she could not accept him just yet, could not be happy herself until she had found Annabelle. And it was not just being selfish to want to know that Annabelle was all right. If her sister was indeed married and happy Sarah would never intrude on her life unwanted.