Biltmore Christmas

by Diane T. Ashley

  Jacob joined a small gathering in the library. As he began reading the latest newspapers that had arrived from New York, William McAdams walked in.

  Jacob spoke softly as his friend approached. “Good morning, William. Join me?”

  “Certainly.” William sat as close to Jacob as the chairs would allow. Jacob knew that he, too, was thinking of keeping the noise level low so they wouldn’t disturb others.

  They talked quietly about current events, the weather, and the coming Christmas season. Jacob sensed his friend wanted to talk about something more but others were present.

  Gradually the room emptied until they were the only two remaining. Jacob looked soberly at his friend. “Something on your mind, William?”

  “Uh no, not really. But I just encountered one of the loveliest women I’ve ever seen. She had the most beautiful green eyes.”

  “Really? And who might that be, as I think I must have missed her.”

  “She is an upstairs maid who cleans our rooms. She said her name is Selma.”

  Jacob dropped his paper. “Selma?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “How did you come to know her name?”

  “She came by to clean, and I was still there. We talked a second, and I asked her name.”

  Jacob rubbed his face, trying to decide what to say. He turned to watch the fire roaring beneath the carved walnut overmantel. Looking back at his friend of ten years, he finally spoke. “William, I think I am in love with her.”

  “What?” William sat up on the edge of the chair. “How could that be possible?”

  “I have encountered her several times. I took her to the orphanage to see her sister who was ill. I don’t know what to tell you. It just happened.”

  “My goodness, Jacob. What are your intentions?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t even imagine. She, of course, would be terrified if I suggested anything. She thinks our stations in life are so far apart. It’s hard for her to even admit we are friends.”

  “Jacob, has marriage entered your mind?”

  “Yes, I think about it. I just don’t know if it would work. She has been sheltered. What I mean is her world is so small. She longs for travel, but she seems content with life as it is.”

  Jacob looked up at the sound of someone walking into the room. “Let’s drop the subject. We’ll talk later.” He picked his paper up and began to read, realizing his revelation shocked his friend.

  Chapter 5

  Jacob rested in his room, considering the conversation with William in the library. He groaned when the knock on the door sounded until he realized it could be Selma. Instead, he found Miss McAllister, who handed him a note. He thanked the severe-looking woman and closed the door, thinking she needed something to cheer her. He unfolded the piece of paper.

  Dear Mr. Sinclair,

  I am in the stable courtyard, my carriage just arriving. Please hurry down and escort me inside.

  All my love, Betsy

  Jacob crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire. He watched the edges of the paper turn black before being consumed. It struck him that it mimicked just how he felt. He grabbed his hat and coat and headed for the stables, leaving the fire spitting from the burned note.

  Selma wished she were more like Melissa. Her younger sister was such a tomboy and wouldn’t have minded plopping down in the middle of the floor to dig through the largecontainers of Christmas ornaments. Selma clenched her hands and decided to do the same.

  She searched through a box. So many beautiful ornaments. She especially liked the hand-painted ones with red birds and candy canes. She pulled out one with a manger scene and hugged it to her chest. She dug deeper and exclaimed, “Look at this, Rosie! It is a little boy on a sled in the snow. Flakes are falling all around him. The painter made it look so real.”

  She started when a male voice responded. “Ah, let me see. I think I had one similar as a boy.”

  Selma, embarrassed to be found in such a position, turned to see Jacob, his arm clutched by the pretty, blond Betsy. She turned her face away so they wouldn’t see it reddened by the heat she felt. She stayed quiet as she handed the ornament to Rosie to hang on the tree.

  As she reached for the next bulb, Jacob walked over to Rosie to inspect the one Selma had given her. “I do believe it is like one at home. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  When Selma didn’t respond, Rosie chimed in, “Yes, it is. But there are so many more. I wonder if Selma will dawdle looking at them. We have so much to do.” She laughed in a teasing but nervous manner.

  Jacob responded, “Then let us not keep you.” He ushered a yawning Betsy up the grand staircase.

  Rosie looked at Selma when they were gone. “You ninny! You were so rude. He was speaking to you.”

  “Oh, he was? I thought he spoke generally.”

  “You should’ve seen how he looked at you. I honestlythink you hurt his feelings.”

  “Well I’m sure Miss Betsy will restore them.”

  “You’re jealous!”

  Selma remained quiet.

  “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Selma saw others coming to join them, so she didn’t reply.

  Rosie bent closer and looked down at her. “We will talk about this later.”

  Selma dressed for breakfast and thought how glad she was her friend didn’t have a chance to speak about Mr. Sinclair again. It had taken until the time to check the guest rooms that evening to decorate the enormous tree that towered past the second-floor balcony. So many servants had joined in that it was impossible to talk privately. But now, as she walked down the stairs to the dining room, she silently prayed Rosie wouldn’t bring up the subject.

  Thankfully, everyone sat at the table when she arrived, and Rosie was deep in conversation concerning the decorating of the living hall that afternoon. Selma remained quiet until Maggie entered and said the blessing.

  When they began to eat, Rosie spoke softly to Selma. “We never finished our conversation.”

  “And what conversation was that?”

  Rosie’s eyes rolled at Selma. “You know of what and whom I’m speaking. And I know you can’t tell me about it now, but you must, Selma. You can’t keep something like that locked in your heart. You need to talk to a friend. Andthat would, of course, be me.” She flashed an impish smile.

  “Very well, if we have a few minutes alone this afternoon, we’ll talk. But I imagine there will be a crowd, and the living hall is much smaller than the entrance hall.” She heard her friend sigh. “But we’ll hurry and try to get away early.”

  “Good. I will meet you at the top of the stairs, and we’ll walk down together the same time as yesterday.”

  “Fine.”

  Jacob arrived as early as possible at the breakfast table. He wanted to eat hurriedly and reach the stables before encountering Betsy. He didn’t exactly know how he was going to handle the situation, but it appeared Betsy had intentions to pursue him during the holidays. He liked Betsy, but he didn’t have any desire to spend his visit with her arm hooked through his.

  He reached the stables before anyone else. Having his first choice of the riding horses, he picked a tall, stately black mare and searched for a stable hand to assist him. He was able to saddle the horse, but his host preferred his staff do it.

  A stable hand named Robert, whom he had previously met and liked, walked up. Jacob shook his hand and showed him the black mare he wished to ride. All the male servants lived above the stable, and riding early was no problem. He wondered sometimes when the servants slept. They attended the guests until late at night and were available at the break of day.

  After Robert handed him the reins, he rode to the village. He needed his hair trimmed and wanted to visit themercantile for supplies. He also wanted to stay away from the estate for a while and give Betsy time to maybe find another suitor. Jacob smiled at the idea. He didn’t want to hurt Betsy, but if she continued her attempts to dominate his time at Biltmor
e, he feared he must.

  After his trim and shave, Jacob browsed the shops in the village, always amazed that George Vanderbilt had most of them and the beautiful cottages built to support the estate. The vendors and customers purchased and consumed the products raised on the thousands of acres surrounding the Biltmore home. He admitted the scheme was truly brilliant.

  He wandered into the bakery, drawn by the sweet and spicy aroma. He purchased an apple tart and coffee before settling in the corner of the shop, where he watched an awakening village.

  After relishing the tasty treats, Jacob strolled to the mercantile and bought his supplies. The storekeeper bundled them in brown paper, so he carried them with him on his walk.

  The local library was opening, so he entered and selected an Asheville newspaper, set his package on a table, and pulled up his chair to read.

  When lunchtime arrived, he ate chicken and dumplings at a small restaurant filled with villagers who seemed friendly and willing to share their tales. From there he returned to where his horse was tied at the barbershop, fastened his supplies to the saddle, and made a slow trek back to Biltmore.

  Leaving the stables, Jacob entered the main house through the gentlemen’s quarters and unobtrusively returnedto his room. After disbursing his supplies to their proper places, he strolled down to the living hall, hoping Betsy was settled in her room for the afternoon.

  Upon entering, the chatter gave him a sense of excitement. He found servants decorating a tree, the mantel, and every available space in the room. He spotted Selma, whose back was turned as she stretched cedar across the mantel. He walked softly toward her. “May I be of assistance?”

  The cedar hit the floor as a surprised Selma turned and struck him with her elbow. “Oh sir, I am so sorry.”

  “Well at least you are injuring me now rather than yourself.” He laughed with joy at the sight of her.

  Her smile, which was much too brief, melted his heart. It was as if she remembered who they were, and her countenance stiffened. “I think, sir, I would rather injure myself.”

  He glanced down at her hands and, seeing a small drop of blood, drew them closer. “I think you have. You need to wear gloves to protect your delicate hands from the sticky cedar.” He saw her blush. He didn’t want to embarrass her or cause her concern and directed his attention to the circle of women who had stopped to stare. “I am missing the opportunity to decorate this year. I would love to help you ladies, if I wouldn’t be imposing. Would you mind very much if I assisted you?”

  They chimed together. “Oh no, sir.”

  “Good. Then give me my instructions.”

  Obviously bold, in spite of her size, Rosie came forward. “If you could hang ornaments where we can’t reach, sir?”

  “I would be delighted.” Jacob turned toward Selma. “First, let me help this young lady place the cedar on the mantel. I am afraid I must have scared it out of her hands.”

  The servants laughed as he kneeled and picked up the cedar. When he stood, he was pleased to see Selma smile again.

  Selma was surprised she felt comfortable with Jacob assisting them. She laughed with the others at his humorous remarks and clumsy way of handling the ornaments, amazed that none broke. An hour passed by all too quickly.

  Her smile faded when Betsy walked into the room, elegant as always, her dark-green brocade skirt swishing and her head in the air as she headed straight for Jacob. Selma saw her shake her head as she looked up and admonished him. “What are you doing?”

  Selma’s glance caught Jacob’s face. She thought his teeth clenched before answering, “What does it look like?”

  Betsy motioned toward the other side of the room. “I do believe you are helping the servants do their job. I wouldn’t suppose that would be acceptable to George. Would you?”

  Jacob frowned. “To George, or to you?”

  Selma had to stifle a grin at the look on Betsy’s face.

  Betsy put her hands on her hips. “To any of us, Jacob. None of us appreciates your consorting”—she looked around—“with these people.”

  Selma gasped. What nerve!

  She watched as Jacob slowly climbed down the ladder and faced Betsy, but was disappointed when he spoke. “Let us take our leave.” He escorted her out.

  When the immediate shock of the lady’s brashness faded, the servants gathered around, talking and raving. Selma heard Rosie stomp her foot as she exclaimed, “What a snobby woman!”

  Selma felt her heart breaking but stiffened as she remembered the differences between people with means and those without. It was just to be.

  Jacob led Betsy to the tapestry gallery and chose a sitting area near one of the limestone fireplaces. The room was large, and the divided sections provided guests a place for quiet conversation. Three tapestries personifying prudence, faith, and charity adorned the wall. Jacob noticed other guests had gathered at the far end of the room.

  He settled Betsy on a love seat and faced her. “Betsy, you and I do not share the same beliefs. I personally cannot conceive that God made different classes of people, some better than others. Jesus Himself was a humble servant. Can you deny that?”

  “Why no, but He was, after all, a carpenter’s son.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  “Betsy, He was and is Lord of all. You cannot diminish who He is. He is King of Kings. He is our Savior. If you do not believe that, then you should read your Bible. I cannot fault you. I can only pray for you.”

  “But Jacob, look at what and who we are.”

  “What we are is lost without our Lord. Who would be sinners. If you haven’t found Him, I pray you will. I seriously doubt anyone with faith would stoop to condescendingremarks such as you made upstairs.”

  Jacob wiped his brow. “I enjoyed working with those ladies. And to be honest, Betsy, I really don’t enjoy being with you right now. I like you and wish the best for you. But you need to search your soul, and if you don’t find the Holy Spirit there, I’ll be glad to read the scriptures with you and talk to you. But please set aside any ideas about the two of us having any other kind of relationship.”

  Betsy stood, her face red. “Then so be it, Jacob Sinclair. There are other men here who seek my attention.”

  Jacob stood and faced her. “Then please, let them have it.” He turned and walked from the room.

  Retiring early, Jacob lay watching the fire as he recalled the events of the day. He knew he had been stern with Betsy and regretted part of his behavior. But he didn’t know any other way to clarify his position. He felt pity for her if she truly didn’t believe in a Jesus who was humble and not self-serving.

  But he felt anger, too, and he prayed about it, even as he remembered Jesus’ reaction to the moneychangers at the temple. Scripture indicated instances when anger was okay. He tried to justify his belief that this was one of those times.

  Jacob also knew his feelings for Selma grew deeper each time he was around her. He pulled the covers tighter and drifted off to sleep, wondering what he could do to persuade her to give him a chance to prove the simplicity of his love—an emotion felt by a man for a woman, regardless of class or money.

  Chapter 6

  Selma couldn’t believe three days had passed since she had seen Jacob. She had tried to stay busy, suppressing thoughts of him when they surfaced. She determined, however, to make this a good day, as she had the afternoon off. She had arranged to ride into the village with the housekeeper, Mrs. King, for an afternoon of Christmas shopping. All her savings were pocketed in the little cloth bag Mama Elsie gave her as a gift when she left the orphanage. Enough for all her presents. She smiled at the thought as she hurried to the stable courtyard to catch her ride.

  Arriving in the village, Selma promised to return to the carriage at four before setting out toward the cluster of shops. She couldn’t pass the bakery without wandering in and looking at the delicacies displayed under glass. She promised herself if she had any money left, she would buy a pastry. She gazed at the one with lem
on filling. She closed her eyes momentarily as she inhaled the aroma of baked goods then reluctantly left.

  She entered the mercantile located next door where she had been employed before going to Biltmore. Searching for the perfect gifts was harder than she thought. She picked up a pair of gloves, and as she assessed them, she heard an unmistakable voice.

  “Those are nice and warm. They must be a gift for Melissa.”

  Selma did an about-face. “How did you know?”

  “They are lovely but sensible. As you are.”

  Selma was never around Jacob that she didn’t feel heat rising to her face. “Thank you. I am considering them for Melissa.”

  “I believe you’ve made a perfect choice. But if you want to look further, I would like to join you.”

  Selma looked around. “Are you alone?”

  “Of course. Why would you think otherwise?” His lips eased into a smile as he teased her.

  She knew he assumed she was thinking of Betsy. She was not going to admit it, however. “I didn’t think it. I just asked.”

  “I see. But you didn’t respond to my request.”

  “Yes, you may join me.”

  “Thank you.” He gave a small bow. “After you, my lady.”

  Selma was conscious of his presence as she looked at handkerchiefs, scarves, and other small articles, making modest purchases along the way. She wondered if he thought her like Ebenezer Scrooge for looking at cheap items. She sought a gift of love, and the cost didn’t matter.

  She stopped at a counter to look at a jewelry display, eyeing a gold heart-shaped locket through the glass case. She wanted to look more closely but knew it was too expensive.

  “Let’s have a better look.” Jacob’s voice was gentle to her ears.

  “I could never afford it.”

  He ignored her as he pointed through the glass and asked the salesclerk, “Would you mind removing this locket for us to see?”

  The lady handed it to Jacob. It looked dainty in his large hand as he held it up. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”