Grayson waited until the front door clicked to a close before putting his cup aside. “Good Heavens,” he said again to the now quiet room. “What am I going to do?”
Chapter Three
“Places again, everyone, places!” Matthew Timmons shouted. “We’ve only a few hours to get this right, so let’s make the best of it! Ghost of Christmas Present, are you ready?”
“Indeed I am,” Priscilla Honeywell nearly purred her answer as she smiled in Grayson Clark’s direction. Holly gritted her teeth at the clergyman’s returning smile. It was better than throwing a fit. And it was beastly unfair that Priscilla’s ghost got to wear a beautiful silver robe while Holly’s Mrs. Cratchit wore a plain dress “made brave with ribbons.” How could she possibly compete with a silver robe?
“Scrooge?” Matthew shouted. “Where are you?”
“Just coming,” Theo answered, appearing out of the wings.
“Cratchit family, take your places! Bob and Tiny Tim, get ready for your entrance,” Matthew directed. “We start with Martha’s entrance.”
The action began and Holly envisioned herself as a married woman with many children, making do on fifteen bob a week. The younger actors recited their lines perfectly and she responded in kind. Off to one side, Theo and Priscilla’s characters observed in silence.
The door built into the set swung open and oh my goodness, there was Grayson, costumed as poorly as she with little Dick Allen perched on his shoulder. The action proceeded with Martha’s surprise homecoming and then her and her brothers hustling Tiny Tim off stage.
“And how did our little Tim behave in church?” Holly asked, watching Grayson/Bob Cratchit unwind the required three feet of scarf.
“As good as gold and—”
“Stop!” Matthew shouted. “Something’s not right.”
“With our lines?” Holly asked, sure that they were.
“No.” Matthew came forward and stared at the pair, tapping his chin with his ever present pencil. “Something’s not right between the two of you. I know! Grayson, you’re going to have to kiss her.”
“What?” Holly squeaked.
“What?” Grayson Clark’s tenor voice rose an octave.
“Well, on the cheek,” Matthew amended. “You are supposed to be married. We want this to be realistic, after all. You don’t mind terribly, do you Holly?”
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Matthew! Holly’s heart sang, but she kept her lips pressed together in a frown of concentration. “Not at all,” she said at last. “As long as Mr. Clark has no objections.”
Mr. Clark darted a look at Priscilla. She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes and Holly considered undoing the many ribbons of her own costume and tying up Priscilla with them and leaving her somewhere.
“I suppose not,” Mr. Grayson said at last, returning his gaze to Holly’s face.
“Excellent.” Matthew struck his open palm with a fist. “Let’s try it. Cratchits, back on stage. Clara, make your entrance as Martha again, if you please.”
Her heart pounding with a rib bruising force, Holly managed to make her way through the scene with her “children” until Grayson entered again with little Dick on his shoulder. Soon enough, the children had departed again, leaving the Cratchits alone.
“And how was our Tim in church this afternoon?” Lord, I’m changing my lines, but Grayson Clark is about to kiss me!” Holly stepped forward to help him with the long, long scarf.
And then he was leaning toward her until he was so close Holly could catch the faint scent of something sweet and spicy. His lips gently grazed her right cheek and if he had not laid his hand under her elbow, the light in his eyes would have buckled Holly’s knees, sending her right into his arms in front of the entire cast.
“As good as gold and better,” Grayson/Bob answered with far more tenderness in his voice than before. “He said he hoped that when the other people in the church saw him, a crippled child, they would remember at Christmas who healed the lame and made the blind to see.”
And then incredibly, his voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears. Holly instinctively reached into her dress pocket for a handkerchief, took it out, and gently dabbed the area under his eyes. “Don’t cry, my dear,” she said softly. “Please don’t cry.”
He gave her a lopsided smile and then placing his hands on her arms, leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. If he had not been holding her in place, Holly would have soared right up to the ceiling and through the roof, straight to Heaven.
“Oh, I say, that’s brilliant!” Matthew shouted from down in front. “Absolutely brilliant!”
“Can we please get on with it?” Theo called, brushing the front of his Scrooge’s ratty dressing gown.
“It is getting rather late,” Priscilla agreed, adjusting her silk flowered crown. “And Grandpapa wants Grayson to come to dinner this evening to talk about the new roof for St. Martin’s.”
“Right you are,” Matthew agreed. “Cratchit children, back on stage please.”
The rest of the rehearsal finished without incident, but keeping his gaze away from Holly Chamberlain nearly drove Grayson to distraction. Spending time with Priscilla Honeywell—pretty enough, mind you and a good actress to boot— just to get a new roof for St. Martin’s seemed a bit much.
But the roof was in bad shape, with several leaks, the biggest one being right over the pulpit. If being a bit friendly —and only a very little bit, mind you—got St. Martin’s a new roof, then Grayson would do his best.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched forlornly as Theo Barrett helped Holly into her coat, called his goodbyes to everyone, and started to lead her out of the parish hall. His hand curled around a scrap of cloth, his fingertips finding a bit of lace along the edge.
“Miss Chamberlain!” He found himself darting toward her, ignoring the frown that seemed to be a permanent feature of Theo Barrett’s face.
But her eyes brightened as he stopped before them, and her smile was enough to tempt a man to do just about anything. “Yes, Mr. Clark?”
“You forgot this.” He held out her handkerchief. “I mistakenly put it in my pocket.”
“How very kind of you,” she said, taking it from him. “Thank you.”
“There you are, Mr. Clark.” Priscilla Honeywell’s voice behind Grayson interrupted any further conversation. “Grandpapa’s carriage is here and he doesn’t like the horses to get cold. Shall we go?”
“My friend needs another letter,” Grayson said suddenly, looking at Holly. “Might I call on you Monday at three o’clock?” Even if I get to see you at tomorrow s’ rehearsal, it’s not the same as being alone with you. At least I’ll get to kiss you again.
Her eyes widened. “Was the first one successful?”
“Immensely so,” Grayson said, offering up a silent prayer for forgiveness. It isn’t really a lie, Lord, but a future truth. At least I hope it will be. Might I have a little help from You in this matter?
“If you wish,” she said, placing her gloved hand on Theo’s arm. “Three o’clock Monday afternoon.”
“Monday afternoon,” Grayson repeated, watching the elegant pair depart the room. A gentle throat clearing reminded him of the young woman by his side, and holding back a sigh, Grayson turned to give his attention to Miss Priscilla Honeywell.
Chapter Four
“‘As countless are the stars in the heavens, none have the brilliance of your eyes. Neither does the brightest of diamonds match it. One look from you and I am stunned into silence, tongue—tied, unable to force even the smallest of words from my lips. But know this, dearest of ladies, one word from you, and I am yours forever.’“
Grayson looked up from the page lying on Miss Chamberlain’s desk. To hold it would give away the trembling of his hands. “What do you think?”
Those brilliant eyes sparkled back at him. “Your friend is obviously a student of Shakespeare,” she commented.
“Why do you say that?”
“‘Brevi
ty is the soul of wit,’“ she quoted. “Or to paraphrase, in declaring one’s love. And in this case, saying just enough,and not going on and on and on is far more effective in getting the point across. than pages and pages of praise.”
“I shall tell him you think so,” Grayson promised, silently congratulating himself for running out of words. “May I read the next one?”
“Yes, indeed.” Miss Chamberlain put aside the filled page and reached for a blank sheet of paper from the stack. “You may begin, Mr. Clark.”
Grayson cleared his throat. “Ah, there is one other thing, Miss Chamberlain.”
“Yes?”
Dear Lord, if this isn’t a good idea, please shut me up now. “Since we are spending so much time together in rehearsals, would you think it too forward of me to ask you to call me by my Christian name?”
Color flooded her face, and Grayson’s heart sank. “Oh, dear,” he said. “I’ve offended you. I do beg your pardon.”
Her sudden soft laugh erased his fears. “Not at all,” she said. “I was hoping you would ask me that very thing. After all, we are friends, after a fashion, are we not? Friends call each other by their given names. I will call you Grayson if you promise to call me Holly.”
“I would be honored to name you as my friend,” Grayson said. “If you don’t think your father will mind.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Papa is far too forward thinking to mind such a thing.”
“Good,” Grayson declared, with an inward sigh of relief. “Good.”
“And now for your friend’s third letter?”
Nodding, Grayson took out another sheet of paper from his folder and squinted at it. “I really must say something to my friend about his handwriting.”
“You must be a friend indeed if you can make out his squiggles,” she said playfully.
“One can only hope,” Grayson said. “Let me see. ‘Your smile’s warmth is more than a thousand suns, and yet I am not burned. To stand in its glow is all one could hope for, for it brings me into your radiance, and being so close, brings me joy, fairest and most beloved of ladies.’“
He read very slowly, pausing to give her time to write down his words. The only sound in the room came from the tall clock in the corner, the silent chirp of the second hand whispering away the seconds. Holly’s fingers curled around the pen and she had to swallow hard before saying, “I do believe that it is quite the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“He means it most sincerely.”
Holly lifted her gaze from the paper before her to find Grayson’s amber eyes staring intently at her. “I hope his lady responds in kind,” she said at last. “You are sure he is a man of good character?”
“He tries to be.” A husky note had entered Grayson’s voice. “A man can only do his best. Holly, I— that is to say—”
The door banged opened without so much as a knock, and Theo Barrett strode inside. Flakes of snow rested on the shoulders of his black overcoat and he dusted them off with a leather gloved hand.
“Sorry to interrupt, Grayson,” he said casually, pulling up a chair to Holly’s desk. “But I’ve news for Holly that won’t wait.”
“Well then, tell us!” Holly sent what she hoped was a sympathetic glance in Grayson’s direction.
The barrister’s chest seemed to swell by at least six inches. “I’ve been made a partner in the firm of Hinkle, Tyler and Ellis,” he boasted. “Youngest man ever to do so!”
“Theo, that’s wonderful!” Holly did not have to pretend to sound proud of him. He was a nice man, even if he was a bit stuffy and opinionated. He was a barrister after all, and a very nice— looking one too. But somehow Holly could not see him acting as a messenger for a lovelorn friend.
“And so I’ve come to take you to the Palm Court for high tea to celebrate,” Theo continued. “You’ll understand, won’t you Grayson, if I steal her away from you?”
“Perfectly.” Grayson rose and bowed to Holly. “I thank you again for assisting my friend, Miss Chamberlain. Congratulations, Theo. I’m sure you’ll do well. Good afternoon to you both.”
Oh dear. He didn’t call me Holly. Perhaps he’d rather Theo find out we’re calling each other by our names at the next rehearsal. “Thank you,” Mr. Clark,” she called after his departing figure. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the rehearsal.”
He pivoted, and the expression in his eyes showed her guess to be right. Theo was a dear, but would stand on ceremony.
“Yes, we will,” Mr. Clark affirmed with a nod. “And as Christmas is next week, my friend may need another letter or two. That is, if you have the time.”
“I’ll make the time,” Holly assured him. “How could I say no to one who writes such endearing statements to his lady?”
“I’ll tell him you said so.” The clergyman gave the briefest of bows, and left them alone.
“He’s an odd duck, don’t you think? Theo asked. “Never knew anyone like him.”
“He’s a modern man, Theo, even if he is a clergyman,” Holly scolded gently. “Not like Obadiah Slope or someone else from Thackery’s novels.”
“Who?”
Holly held back her sigh. “Never mind.” She looked down at her desk, and gasped, “Oh my goodness. He left his friend’s letters!”
She grabbed the sheets, tucked them inside the folder, and raced from the room and into the foyer. There was no sign of him. Grabbing her coat from the rack in the corner, she darted outside, scanning the neighborhood. She spotted him walking slowly down the sidewalk towards the corner, head down, his hands in his coat pockets. “Grayson, “ she called.
He spun about, and upon seeing her, his face lit up. He matched her speed in returning to meet her in the middle of the sidewalk.
“You forgot this.” Holly held out the folder.
“How silly of me,” he said, taking it from her. “I suppose I thought Theo wanted me gone as quickly as possible.”
“You mustn’t disappoint your friend,” Holly teased.
“Not for the world,” he agreed.
They laughed together, and Holly thought frantically of something to say, to keep them together even for a moment. “Look,” she said, choosing the safest of topics. “It’s snowing. Do you like snow, Grayson?”
“Yes. When I was growing up in the Kent countryside, my brother and sisters and I lived near a large hill, and we had great fun sledding down it. We built snow forts too, and would stay inside them for hours at a time.”
“I’ve always lived in the city,” Holly admitted. “Sledding down a hill sounds like great fun.”
“It was.” Grayson’s gaze on her face was sending the most delicious warmth coursing through her. He really did have the most amazing eyes, amber-colored and full of light, and she shivered at the memory of him kissing her during rehearsals.
But then he said, “I mustn’t keep you and I do need to get these letters to my friend. I’ll see you at the next rehearsal, Holly.”
He held out his gloved hand, and she accepted it, feeling a surprising strength in his palm and fingers, and the earlier warmth became a flow of heat, surging through her. Standing beneath the swirling snow, Holly would not have moved for the world.
But then he broke the spell by releasing her hand, raising two fingers to the brim of his hat in salute, and departed, leaving Holly to stare after his tall figure. She wasn’t sure if the sudden tears pricking her eyes were from the snow or the certain knowledge that the letters would soon be delivered to Priscilla Honeywell. In spite of all Holly’ s advantages, her father was after all “in trade,” and men, as everyone knew, always wanted to “marry up.” How could she compete with a baronet’s beautiful granddaughter? She should be grateful for Theo’s attentions. Marrying Holly was certainly to his advantage as his father was only a solicitor in a small firm.
“Blast, she muttered as she began her return to the waiting Theo. “Why must love be so complicated?”
Chapter Five
“Places!” Matthew s
houted. Everyone on stage for the Cratchit family’s scene!”
It was five days before Christmas Eve, and Grayson’s duties at work had kept him at St. Martin’s. So much so there had been no time to think of composing the last two letters to Holly, much less return to her office and have her write them out.
And of course, he was trying his very best to respond to Priscilla Honeywell’s gentle flirtation. It must be working, for he had dined no less than four times with her parents in the last six days. He had increased his daily walk by two miles just to work off the richness of the Honeywell table.
But recalling Tobais Small’s visit to the rectory last evening, Grayson suppressed a shudder. Small’s gleeful attitude suggested a check for St. Martin’s new roof was about to be deposited in the bank.
“Good work, my boy!” he had praised. “I know of course you can’t do much until Advent is over as far as proposing to her. But Honeywell tells me his granddaughter has always wanted a Valentine’s Day wedding, so you have plenty of time to take care of things.”
Marry Priscilla Honeywell? That had certainly not been part of the bargain.
“All right, Cratchits! I’ve a new twist to add to your scene.” Matthew stood in front of the stage, arms akimbo. He waited patiently as the various Cratchit children took their places.“I’ve just learned that our Freddie—or should I say our Peter Cratchit— plays the squeezebox. So in the family scene, we’re going to add a little dancing to the convivial atmosphere. Holly, Grayson, you know how to dance, don’t you?”
“You want us to dance together?” Holly gasped.
“I say, is that really necessary?” Theo protested.
“I want people to see the love the Cratchits have for each other,” Matthew growled. “Who’s directing this play, I ask?”
“I know how to dance,” Grayson affirmed. “Is it to be a waltz, Freddie? Or a jig?”
“I can do both,” Freddie said proudly, holding up the squeezebox. “What do you want me to play, Mr. Timmons?”
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