“An excellent idea,” she said in a rush, struggling to hide her relief.
Her father hailed a footman coming down the stairs. “You there, are the trunks being packed?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Ellie, go help your aunt.” He cast a dark glance about the sparsely furnished hall. “I am impatient to be away from this gloomy place.”
“It’s not gloomy!” Ellie protested. “I find it rather . . . poetic.”
He shook his head, as he always did at what he called her “fanciful notions.” “Poetic or not, the sooner we are away, the better.”
For the next half hour Ellie did her best to stall him, though once he came up to hurry the packing along, she could stall no more. She consoled herself that Martin would surely follow them to Hensley if they left the manor before he returned. He had to, if only to say good-bye.
Unless he sees this as his chance to be rid of me without any fuss.
No, she couldn’t believe that. She wouldn’t.
When everything was packed, and Papa had carried her aunt down to settle her comfortably in the carriage, she took Mr. Huggett aside. “Tell his lordship that he is invited to join us for Christmas dinner at the Rose and Crown in Hensley today.”
“Yes, miss.” But he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
“You will tell him, won’t you?” she pressed.
“I will, I swear.” Mr. Huggett sighed. “But I cannot promise he will go. You know how he is.”
“He must,” she said, determined to listen to her heart and not her fear. She dug into her pocket for the gold button. “Give him this. Tell him he owes me a boon.” He might come after her just to dispute that lie. Either way, she had to see him again before they left the area for good.
“Aye.” Mr. Huggett cast her a wistful smile. “Whatever happens, you should know that it’s been an honor to serve you. I think I can safely speak for the servants in saying that we would be happy to have you return anytime.”
“Thank you, Mr. Huggett,” she whispered past the lump lodged in her throat. “I hope to see you again soon.”
As they rode off in her father’s two carriages, she clung fervently to her hope of a return. Because it would be no Christmas for her if she didn’t.
* * *
When Martin had awakened near dawn to find that Ellie had returned to her bed, he’d gone downstairs to find Huggett and the footmen bustling about in preparations for Christmas morning. Though he’d given up on stopping any of that days ago, it had been too much for him to handle with his thoughts in such a turmoil. He’d had a sudden violent urge to escape it before the children awakened and added their own brand of chaos to it. He had to think, to plan.
After walking aimlessly, he’d somehow found himself at his brother’s grave, which lay in a far spot on the estate that had always been Rupert’s favorite, overlooking the lake where he’d enjoyed rowing.
Martin had visited it every week since his brother’s death. He’d told himself he did it as a reminder of what he owed to his brother and the miners, but after last night he knew differently. Ellie had been right. It had been a penance. All of it—his isolation, his rigid rules for the staff, even his neglect of the manor. He had been punishing himself—not just for his part in Rupert’s death, but for being allowed to work and eat and breathe while his brother languished forever in the grave. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But then, life wasn’t generally right or fair.
Or safe, as Ellie had pointed out. He’d used Rupert’s death as an excuse to protect himself from life, and instead he’d condemned his heart to a vast wasteland where his guilt had become a kind of solace. A deadly and ruinous solace.
Then she’d burst upon him with her bright smiles and her ridiculous quotations. And her wonderful, forgiving, open heart. Now he had to make a choice. Embrace the happiness she offered or sink further into the guilt that had become his prison. It couldn’t be mere coincidence that her coming had given him the solution to the problem of his fuse that had plagued him for three years. It was hard to think straight when one’s mind was mired in misery.
He couldn’t banish the guilt that still lay heavy upon his soul, and doubted he could ever rid himself of it entirely. But perhaps he could put it into its proper place and turn to living his life. With Ellie. With the woman he loved.
A moment of panic seized him. Loved? Oh, God—the very idea struck fear into his soul. Loving was the greatest danger of all. If he loved her, and something happened to her . . .
The answer is not to deny yourself family or friends or love. That only poisons the soul. Samuel Johnson said that ‘Solitude is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue.’ By condemning yourself to this lonely life, you save no one, not even yourself.
A faint smile touched his lips. Leave it to his Ellie to quote some stuffy old writer to make her point.
His Ellie?
Yes—his. He couldn’t live without her, come what may.
He stared down at the grave another moment, then clapped his hat back on his head. “Forgive me, Rupert, but I must go. It’s Christmas morn. And I think it’s time I stop mourning a death on Christmas, and start celebrating a birth instead.”
With lighter steps he turned for home, eager to embrace his future. But the moment he entered the manor to a stillness too like the grave he’d just left, he knew something was wrong.
Where were the children clamoring for their presents, the footmen setting the table? Where was Ellie?
“They’re gone,” came a weary voice. He whirled to find a disconsolate Huggett slumped in a chair by the hearth where the Yule log still smoldered. “Mr. Bancroft came and took them all to the Rose and Crown in Hensley. They’re leaving for Sheffield tomorrow.”
Ellie was gone? Without waiting to speak to him, to settle what lay between them? No doubt that was her father’s doing. But for the merest moment, Martin was tempted to accept it as a sign that he wasn’t meant for happiness, that he must have been mad to think otherwise.
Then he remembered her sweet face and the chatter of the children and the hope she’d brought thundering in the moment she’d arrived. I am willing to fight for what I want, she’d said.
And now, so was he.
“The young miss said I was to invite you to join them for Christmas dinner at the Rose and Crown.” Huggett rose morosely and came toward him. “And I was to give you this.” He handed Martin a gold button.
What the devil? Ah yes, the “lucky raisin.”
“I told the young miss that like as not you wouldn’t wish to go, but she said to remind you that you owe her a boon.”
With a laugh that startled Huggett, he stuffed the button into his pocket, his heart lighter than it had felt in years. He should have known his Ellie would never let him go so easily.
“Tell me, Huggett, do you think the Rose and Crown will be able to get a goose today? Or any of the other trappings for a decent Christmas dinner?”
Huggett’s face reflected a faint hope. “I would be quite surprised if they could, my lord, especially at this late date.”
“And do you happen to have such necessities lying about the house somewhere, enough to feed a large family?”
“I do indeed, sir,” Huggett said, his voice thrumming with excitement.
“Well, then, man, pack it all up—every pie and pan and loaf of bread. We’re going to town.”
Chapter Eleven
Dear Charlotte,
Follow your heart if you must, madam. I suppose that is the way of all women, especially at this time of year.
With best wishes for a Merry Christmas,
Michael
If not for the worry in her heart, Ellie might have been amused by the heated conversation taking place between her father and the innkeeper. The Rose and Crown hadn’t expected seven people for dinner. The in
nkeeper’s wife had only planned a modest repast, since the other staff were celebrating with their families, a fact the innkeeper, a grizzled Yorkshireman, kept trying patiently to explain.
“We should have stayed at Thorncliff Hall,” Aunt Alys murmured beside her. “Your father can be so impetuous.”
Ellie sighed. The boys had done naught but complain since they’d left, and Meg kept asking when they were going to see Lord Thorncliff again—a question Ellie wanted answered as well.
Suddenly Charlie called out from the window, “Come see, everyone! There’s a parade!”
A parade? On Christmas Day in a provincial town like Hensley? That was hardly likely. But when the others rushed to look out the window, she did, too. And what she saw struck the breath from her lungs.
Martin led a procession of servants in carts, his great black mare stamping majestically, ribbons streaming from his saddle. The greenery she and the children had used to deck the manor now adorned a cart pulled by a horse Huggett rode as he held a Yule candle high. And in the cart were . . .
“Look!” Percy cried. “His lordship has brought us Christmas dinner!”
As tears stung Ellie’s eyes, she held her hand to her mouth to contain a sob of joy. He had indeed. More important, he had come for her. He had come!
At that moment, Martin looked up and spotted her in the window. Doffing his hat, he cast her a smile so brilliant that it warmed every inch of her heart.
“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” the innkeeper said as he stared out. “Ain’t seen his lordship smile like that since the terrible day his brother were killed. Some said he would never recover, he was that overwrought.”
Her father glanced to the innkeeper and then to her. “Is that so? I’d heard otherwise.”
Papa probed the man for more details and the innkeeper began supplying what he knew, but Ellie paid them no mind. She lifted her skirts and ran out.
In moments she was downstairs, reaching the door just as Martin opened it. Heedless of who might see them, he caught her up in his arms and kissed her soundly, his servants behind him letting out a cheer.
When he drew back, his eyes were shining and she had every answer she’d wanted. But before he could give her the words, too, her father appeared at the top of the stairs.
“See here, sir, unhand my daughter!”
“Papa—” she began.
“Let me handle this, love,” Martin murmured as he drew her to his side, keeping his arm anchored about her waist. “Good morning, sir. I see that you arrived safely.”
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me, you scoundrel,” her father said as he descended. “I want to know what you think you’re doing with my daughter.”
The boys and Meg scrambled down behind him, eyes alight with curiosity, and the innkeeper helped her aunt move down enough to see what was happening.
As Ellie glanced at Martin, her heart in her throat, a twinkle appeared in his eyes. He pulled something from his pocket. “It’s very simple. Your family and I played snapdragon the other night, and in the process I acquired this.” He held up the gold button. “I’m told it’s the ‘lucky raisin,’ allowing me to demand a boon of someone in the party. So I’ve come to demand it of your daughter.”
Percy snorted. “But Ellie was the one who—”
“Be quiet, Percy!” Aunt Alys hissed, making him jump.
Papa’s eyes narrowed as he marched toward them. “And what boon might that be?”
Martin squeezed her side. “Her hand in marriage, sir.” He turned to her, his gaze as bright as the gold button. “I love you, Ellie, and I can’t live another day without you. I will give up my penance for you. Will you take me, dangers and all?”
“Yes, Martin, yes,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”
“Now see here,” Papa broke in. “You’re not the first man to be tempted by my daughter’s fortune, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I don’t care about her fortune, sir,” Martin said evenly, turning to meet her father’s stern gaze. “Though we would prefer to have your blessing.”
“What if my blessing comes at a stiff price?” her father asked in a hard voice. “Will you give up her fortune to have my blessing?”
“Papa! I want to marry him, and he deserves—”
“It’s all right, Ellie,” Martin murmured. “I told you from the beginning, I don’t need your money.”
“He don’t, ’tis true,” the innkeeper put in. “Everyone knows that his lordship’s estate brings in over five thousand a year. And the mine is earning more now than it ever did when his brother owned it.”
“What?” She twisted round to look over at the servants. “But Mr. Huggett said—”
“Forgive me, miss,” the butler replied with a blush. “You were so convinced that his lordship had fallen on hard times that it seemed rude to tell you otherwise.”
She let out a laugh, remembering how neatly Huggett had manipulated her into decking the manor in greenery despite his master’s wishes.
She glanced up at Martin, who was eyeing her and Huggett with a perplexed expression, and flashed him a giddy smile. “Very well, sir, I shall grant your boon—though I do have one condition of my own.”
“Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“You must promise never to get rid of Mr. Huggett.”
Martin began to laugh, and so did she. Then the boys joined them, dancing about while her father stood there stunned and her aunt beamed.
“Come now,” Martin cried, pulling Ellie out of the doorway. “The food is getting cold, and we have a dinner to eat.”
As the servants hauled in the roast goose and Christmas pie and plum pudding, the boys were beside themselves with joy, exclaiming over each new treat in wonder.
“His lordship knows how to keep Christmas well, if I do say so myself,” the innkeeper pronounced.
Little Charlie Dickens stared round at all the feast, and in a burst of pleasure cried, “God bless us, every one!”
And so He did.
Author’s Note
Yes, I took the ultimate dramatic license—I put Charles Dickens himself in my book and gave him some of his own lines from A Christmas Carol. Fortunately the timing of my book was perfect for it, occurring exactly between when his family moved to a suburb of London and his father entered debtor’s prison. How could I resist?
I also appropriated the invention of the safety fuse for my hero. The real inventor was a man named William Bickford, who lived in a mining town and decided to do something about all the needless deaths from explosion. His invention came about when he saw a man weaving rope and had a “Eureka!” moment. His design is the same one used today for fuses for explosives.
And yes, snapdragon was not only a real game, but it became quite popular in the Victorian era. It’s not as bad as it sounds (I experimented to be sure). The song (contained in Robert Chambers’s The Book of Days) is also real, although longer. The “lucky raisin” is a variant I was delighted to be able to use!
ALSO BY SABRINA JEFFRIES
THE DUKE’S MEN SERIES
How the Scoundrel Seduces
When the Rogue Returns
What the Duke Desires
THE HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL SERIES
A Lady Never Surrenders
To Wed a Wild Lord
How to Woo a Reluctant Lady
A Hellion in Her Bed
The Truth About Lord Stoneville
THE SCHOOL FOR HEIRESSES SERIES
Wed Him Before You Bed Him
Don’t Bargain with the Devil
Snowy Night with a Stranger
(with Jane Feather & Julia London)
Let Sleeping Rogues Lie
Beware a Scot’s Revenge
The School for Heiresses
(with Julia London, Liz Carlyle & Renee
Bernard)
Only a Duke Will Do
Never Seduce a Scoundrel
THE ROYAL BROTHERHOOD SERIES
One Night with a Prince
To Pleasure a Prince
In the Prince’s Bed
We hope you enjoyed reading this Pocket Star Books eBook.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Sabrina Jeffries LLC
Previously published in 2008 in the anthology Snowy Night with a Stranger.
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition November 2014
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Cover illustration by Jon Paul
ISBN 978-1-4767-8455-7
When Sparks Fly Page 11
