by Sue London
A Common Christmas
by Sue London
A young woman, desperate to have one last lovely Christmas, brings the spirit of the season to the Harrington household.
Grace Ashman has lost everything: her mother five years ago, and now her father and her home just a week before Christmas. She lives on the streets until one kind man invites her inside for a meal before the holiday. What she couldn’t know is that his kindness will change her life forever.
Joshua Dibbs has been the butler at the Earl of Harrington’s London town home since 1809. If there is one thing Dibbs is known for, it is doing things properly. At least until now. Alas, when the earl arrives unexpectedly, the butler is reliant on help from a homeless woman to keep the household running until the staff returns!
A Common Christmas
(Haberdashers Tales)
by Sue London
bysuelondon.wordpress.com
Amazon Edition
Graythorn Publishing
Copyright © 2013 Sue London
All rights reserved
Cover by Kim Killion, Hot Damn Designs
This book may not be reproduced by any means including but not limited to photocopy, digital, auditory, and/or in print.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
To everyone who is trying to find the spirit of Christmas again. Don’t worry, we all lose it sometimes.
Introduction
If this is the first story you are reading in my little slice of Regency England, then welcome to the world of the Haberdashers! This story isn’t about the Haberdashers per se, but rather about some of the employees in the Harrington household. The story takes place the Christmas before the first official book of the Haberdashers, Trials of Artemis, and gives us a glimpse of what Gideon was like before Jacqueline met him. You’ll see that it’s quite possible that Grace made it easier for Jack and Gideon to find an accord. And if you’ve already read Trials of Artemis you’ll find here your suspicion confirmed that Gideon does care quite a lot about his people.
Also of note: while the Haberdashers books are hot (explicit), the Haberdashers Tales are sweet (just kissing). Would hate to have anyone going between the two and surprised that they were so different.
Chapter One
December 1814, London
The townhouse was quiet. Sometimes this was how Dibbs liked it best, with no one in residence. Since the earl had retired to Kellington for the holidays as usual, Dibbs had sent most of the staff back to their families as well. Now he was in the warm and toasty kitchen polishing the silver. When he had been a boy, it was quiet times like this that his father had taught him everything about being a proper English butler. His father reigned supreme over Kellington, the earl’s seat south of London. Sometimes at the holidays Dibbs missed being with his family. But his first duty was to this household and his father had taught him too well for him to shirk his responsibility now.
Further, as he was now coming upon five and thirty it was past time that he consider taking a wife and having a son of his own to teach. He had almost married once. His polishing rag slowed as he considered how things might have turned out differently. What would that be like, he wondered, being tucked away here in London with a family of his own for the holidays? It would certainly lessen how much he missed being at Kellington for Christmas.
Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the knock at the back door. He tucked the last spoon back into the silver chest and closed it before going to attend to his visitor. As it was the back door he could be relatively certain it wasn’t anyone of consequence. If it were a beggar he would need to send them on their way because doling out handouts made them gather worse than cats. He opened the door to find a figure huddled on the step, covered in a thin cloak against the sleet that had started earlier in the day. The light outside had gone to a silvery grayness that denied the ability to tell what time it was, although Dibbs knew it had to be getting late in the afternoon. He was about to issue the order for the beggar to move along when the figure looked up at him, the movement causing the hood to slide back from her hair. He saw lovely yet sorrowful deep brown eyes and light chestnut hair in a simple plait coiled on top of her head. She struggled with one hand to reassert the hood as a covering to keep the sleet from her, while her other arm clutched something to her bosom. It took him a moment to push away the unexpected pang of pity he felt.
“Please, sir,” she said softly. “Any food or shelter you could offer would be a blessing.”
Dibbs felt a sinking in his chest. The bundle she held so protectively was most likely a babe. He would either hate himself for turning her away or hate himself for not doing so. If it were his own home he would never hesitate to offer aid to a young mother in such a state. But it was not his home. It was the earl’s home. As such it was not in his purview to offer the hospitality of his lord to every beggar who came calling. His moment of silent indecision seemed to be enough answer for her, as she silently nodded and backed down a step, pulling the hood further over her face.
He found that he couldn’t leave it like that. “Missus?”
Her gaze returned to his, filled with hope. “Miss Ashman, sir.”
The child had no father. He wasn’t sure if that increased or decreased his sympathy, but the young woman’s eyes continued to plead. “Is the babe…?” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask but her confused expression stopped him from forming a full sentence. After a moment, comprehension dawned on her face.
“Oh! Oh, no sir.” She pulled the cloak back from where she clutched it so closely, revealing a scrawny and quite miserable looking black kitten that meowed loudly in protest at the sleet. He saw her expression change again as she realized that perhaps pretending to have a child might have gained her more in the way of food or other provisions.
But to Dibbs, inherent honesty was far more valuable. Hoping he wouldn’t regret the decision, he stood to the side and held the door wider. “Come in.”
As she tentatively mounted the steps and crossed the threshold, she reminded him of the does that wandered the Kellington meadows. Shy, easily spooked, and ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.
*
Grace couldn’t believe her luck. After a week of living off scraps, being turned from doorways of what she had formerly thought of as friends, being chased and harassed, she might finally be warm again. Eat again. Although at what price she still wasn’t sure. The man seemed nice enough, but things weren’t always as they seemed. When he had first opened the door her heart had risen in hope, as so many of the homes hadn’t even answered her knock. Hope was a thing that couldn’t really be killed, it seemed. But then seeing him she had become unsure of his welcome. Tall, austere. In just his shirtsleeves and blue waistcoat he managed to look better dressed than many men of her acquaintance. His hair was dark, pulled back in a tidy queue. And his eyes. Sweet heavens, his eyes were the color of a cloudless summer day.
“May I take your cloak to dry it by the fire?” His voice was deep, smooth. She imagined he had asked that question countless times. She nodded and released her grip on the garment, planning to shrug out of it to hand to him, but he swiftly removed it and set to spreading it out on a chair near the fireplace. She hadn’t even felt him touch her. She doubted that a pickpocket could
have removed it with as deft a skill. He indicated a chair at the table but near the fireplace. “Sit, please.”
She sat, holding the kitten close and running her fingers through its fur as it purred. Perhaps they were safe. Perhaps.
*
Dibbs set to making a tray. Sandwiches, biscuits, and a strongly brewed tea. The young woman looked soaked to the skin and was still shivering, even sitting close to the fire. It would be a wonder if she hadn’t caught her death. He hadn’t foreseen that by removing her cloak he revealed how much her wet dress clung to her. A finely made and fetching gown, in fact. Whatever her circumstances, she wasn’t a street beggar. Or at least wasn’t yet. As the wet cloth was distracting to him and undoubtedly uncomfortable for her, he would need to find something clean and dry for her to change into. He was now regretting sending absolutely every one of his maids, as well as the housekeeper, away for the remainder of the season. Yesterday it had felt magnanimous sending off the very last maid four days before Christmas so that she could see her parents. Now it felt dangerous. There should be another female in residence to make this young woman more comfortable. But it wasn’t as though he could turn her back out into the sleet simply because of a sense of propriety and he wasn’t comfortable entertaining her alone. He set the table for the two of them, focusing on the quiet efficiency of a duty he had been practicing since before he could remember. He poured her tea and set the tray of food on the table.
“Eat, Miss” he said simply.
Her soft voice ventured, “Thank you, Mister…?”
“Dibbs.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dibbs.”
“Just Dibbs.”
He took a bit of roast and chopped it into small pieces that he placed on a saucer. When he knelt to set the saucer near her feet he heard her sharp intake of breath, making him think that she didn’t like him being so close. “For the kitten,” he clarified.
As he backed away she nodded and set the cat down near the dish. The feline set to devouring the meat with a loud, rusty purr. He noted that Miss Ashman had placed some tidbits on her plate but hadn’t eaten yet, opting instead to sip at her tea.
“Please eat,” he encouraged. “I’ll be back very shortly.” With that he scooped up the silver chest to secure it before setting out to find her some dry clothing.
Chapter Two
Grace was surprised the rather serious, even humorless, Dibbs left her alone. She had expected a small meal and encouragement for a quick exit. Waiting to eat her food was partially because he had made place settings for both of them and it would be rude to eat without him, but also because any delay in finishing her meal would mean a longer stay in the house. But instead of rushing her out, he had set a veritable feast in front of her and taken himself off she knew not where, while she remained in the warm, spacious kitchen listening to the crackle of the fire and Bitsie’s throaty purr.
She’d had a moment of panic when he had come near. The past week had left her jumpy and frightened, especially of men. It had been difficult avoiding the rougher streets. She had learned quickly that staying too close to home left her open to harassment from random men that she hadn’t expected. She had drifted further and further into the more upscale parts of London and that had led to harassment of a different sort, patrolmen who had inquired as to what she was doing. It had taken a good deal of confidence and charm to talk her way past them. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could sweet talk the night watch and sleep in deserted courtyards. Surely her luck would run out soon.
Having finished her first cup of tea she poured a second. When he still hadn’t returned after a few minutes she decided that eating one of the finger sandwiches might keep her stomach from rumbling. She was glad then that she started eating while he was away. The simple pleasure of having decent food again almost made her groan. It was difficult not to start stuffing her face with the food like a street urchin. That thought made her lips twist into a wry smile. She supposed she was a street urchin now, if a bit old for the part.
She was still chilly and wondered whether her cloak might have dried enough to wrap up in when she heard a noise in the hallway. She went on alert, as she didn’t know who else might be in the house, but shortly Mr. Dibbs entered again, his arms laden with linens. He set aside what appeared to be clothes and shook out a blanket that he wrapped around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling the blanket tightly around her.
He finally took his seat and nodded. “You still seemed chilled. I can only offer you a maid’s uniform to change into until your clothing is dry.”
She could stay long enough for her clothes to dry? She could change? After the week she had been through that seemed like almost impossible luxury. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“You haven’t eaten yet,” he said in a mildly chiding tone. “Is there something else you would prefer?”
“No, this is lovely. Thank you very much for preparing it.” She began to nibble on another sandwich while Dibbs filled his own plate.
“You don’t sound like a typical beggar so I assume you have suffered a misfortune?”
“Yes. My father passed on last week and my brother, my half brother who inherited, decided that he didn’t want the extra mouth to feed.”
Dibbs frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss. But your own brother turned you out in the street?”
Grace felt a lump in her throat that she knew could easily turn to tears and simply nodded rather than try to reply.
“I can’t even imagine treating a family member in such a way.”
More certain she had her emotions under control, she spoke again. “I couldn’t either until last week.”
“You have no friends or other family you could stay with?”
Grace sighed and picked at the food on her plate. “Family, no. I thought perhaps I had friends. But for the past ten years I’ve mostly been home, first nursing my mother through her illness and then my father. Before Papa became ill I would still work in the store sometimes. Most of the women I thought of as friends I knew through the store. But it turns out we were not really friends.”
“What sort of store?”
“An apothecary.”
“All those drugs at his disposal, yet your brother couldn’t find one to save himself from cloddish behavior?”
Dibbs seemed earnest in his outrage but the comment struck her as funny. With the warmth and safety she found in this room Grace had relaxed enough to smile. “Some ailments,” she confided, “have no cure.”
Dibbs blinked at her but then slowly smiled in return. His smile did something funny to her insides. Perhaps it was having a real meal after all this time. Her belly squeezed and her chest felt like a cage full of butterflies. She only had a moment to consider why that might be before the back door was flung open and a boy raced inside.
“Dibbs! Dibbs! The earl is here!”
Dibbs was on his feet immediately and shrugging into a jacket. Within a moment he was gone.
The boy, no more than ten, crossed his arms and looked at her shrewdly. “Who are you?”
She held out a hand for him to shake but that just made him cock his head to the side. “I’m Grace,” she said. “Miss Ashman.”
The boy looked at the door that Dibbs had disappeared through and then back at her. He nodded as though he approved of something, then took off his cap to tug on his forelock. “I’m Joey, miss. Pleased to meet you.”
He trotted back out the way he had come, leaving Grace once again alone in the kitchen.
*
Dibbs was cursing himself for being a million times a fool. He had been butler here for five years, and every year he had pared down to a more limited staff over the holidays because it was clear that the earl would always spend the season at Kellington. Always until this year. Now it was three days to Christmas and Dibbs had no cook, no housekeeper, no maids, no footmen. It was an impossible situation. Absolutely impossible. He might be turned off without a reference
. He wasn’t sure if an Earl of Harrington had ever fired a family retainer, but this might lead to just such an instance. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.
Of course, as he opened the door he simply bowed and said, “We are pleased to see you again, my lord.”
“Dibbs,” the earl said, nodding absently in return. Dibbs gathered his lord’s greatcoat, gloves, and hat.
“Have you supped, my lord?”
“It’s early yet. I’ll be in my study. Bring me a tray later, will you?”
“Of course, my lord.” Dibbs had held out a vain hope that the earl would say he was going to his club for dinner. But alas, no. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.
*
Grace heard footsteps in the hall again. Dibbs rushed into the kitchen, looking quite pale and distracted. He searched the shelves and then stepped into what she supposed was the pantry. When he came back out to search the shelves again she stood up.
“Can I help?” she asked.
He paused. “I have no idea. Can you cook?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You can?”
His surprise almost made her laugh. “Yes.”
“From what is here?”
“It’s a large and well-stocked kitchen, I’m sure I can find something. Is there anything in particular I should make or avoid?”
“We are at your mercy, Miss Ashman.”
“How many will be dining?”
“Just the earl, Miss. A simple meal for a tray, so we do not need multiple courses.”
She nodded again. “Very well. Any particular time?”
“In three hours would be sufficient, Miss.”
“Well, then I suppose I’d best get started.”
“I will return in a bit to see if you need anything.”
Dibbs withdrew and Grace began reviewing the same shelves and pantry he had looked through. Slowly a menu came to mind for her and she began chopping vegetables. “Well,” she said to Bitsie. “It looks like we have found employment.”
