A Tale of Two Hearts

by Michelle Griep

  Next to her, Will stiffened.

  Uncle Barlow jerked as if he’d been struck. “Is this true, William?”

  Mina stared, horrified, at Will. What would he say? Would he deny it or tell all?

  His head dropped. His shoulders. Even the very air around him seemed to deflate. “It is true, sir. My mother is alive. But I swear I did not know it until only recently, and she made me vow to—”

  “Stop. I’ve heard enough.” Uncle Barlow scrubbed a hand over his face. Again and again. “I think it best that you all leave—and not just this study, but my home. I withdraw my Christmas invitation.”

  “But Uncle, surely you’re not going to listen to a word of such drivel spoken by a liar and a loose skirt.” Percy’s voice tightened until it cracked. “William is not fit to inherit.”

  Uncle Barlow shot to his feet and slammed his fists on the desktop. “Neither of you are. Now out!”

  Percy whirled, muttering oaths and calling down brimstone upon them all.

  Will reached for her hand. “Let us leave, Mina.”

  She lagged behind, her heart laying in pieces somewhere on the floor back near the tiger’s mouth. How abominable this whole thing had turned out…and not just for her, but most especially for Will. Lord knows he didn’t deserve it, but would Uncle Barlow consider giving him yet another chance? It would take a miracle, an act of God—yet was that not what Christmas-time was really all about?

  Wrenching from Will’s grasp, she turned back and marched to Uncle Barlow’s desk. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the second-chance coin, worn now like a talisman, and set it down on the desk.

  Uncle Barlow glowered. “You cannot buy back my good opinion, Miss Scott, and in fact, have only worsened it in the attempt to do so.”

  “I—I would never think of it, sir. I will only say this. A friend of mine gave me this coin, but I think, perhaps, you have greater need of it than I.”

  He said nothing, and behind her, William’s whisper travelled from the door, “Mina, come along.”

  But if she didn’t say these words now, she’d never get another chance. She pointed at the coin. “That small piece of gold is a second-chance coin. I’ve kept it, wondering who to give it to, and now I know. I give it to you and plead that you’ll see fit to give William a second chance—again. He’s told me of his past, and I don’t blame you for thinking ill of him. Yet the man I know now is not the same as the man that he was. He did change after you redeemed him from gaol.”

  Uncle Barlow’s grey eyes hardened to steel. “You will forgive me if I favor the evidence I’ve seen rather than your word.”

  “Evidence that is incomplete, for the full truth is that William’s mother is sick, and she made him promise not to alert you. He’s been using his own funds to pay for her doctor fees and apothecary bills. Her room and board. Will didn’t wish to get you out of the way in order to spend your money, like Percy did. He merely hoped to use the collateral of the inheritance to gain a small loan from a banker to continue her care. It had nothing to do with wealth or greed but to hopefully save the life of another human being. As misdirected as it was, Will acted out of love and kindness, nothing more. I will be the first to admit he is a flawed man, but he is a good one, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him.”

  Without waiting for a rebuttal—for she’d spent all she’d had to say anyway—Mina turned and strode out the study door.

  Past a gaping William.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  There ain’t a gent’lman in all the land—nor yet sailing upon all the sea—that can love his lady more than I love her.

  David Copperfield

  After a last glance over his shoulder at his uncle’s estate, Will descended the final stair and dashed to catch up to the carriage setting off down the lane. The cold tried to nip him, but a white-hot sense of failure burned within. He’d likely never see Uncle Barlow again, and for that he was truly sorry.

  “Hold up!” He shouted to the driver.

  The man pulled back on the reins with a “Whoa.”

  Slipping on the snow, Will flung out his arms to keep from tumbling, then slid-walked the rest of the way to the carriage door. It would be a long trek to town should Mina and Miss Whymsy deny his request to board. But even if they consented, the ride would likely be just as long. The humiliation Mina had suffered on his account had been no small matter. He wouldn’t blame her if she gave him an earful, or worse—icy silence.

  He opened the door and hefted himself up onto the step, sticking only his head inside. Miss Whymsy blinked at him from one seat, Mina from the other.

  “I know I’m likely the last person either of you ladies would want to share a carriage with, but my cousins have taken the other coach, and the horse I rode here is lame. May I ride with you into town?”

  Miss Whymsy frowned. “You’ll catch your death out there. Of course you may ride with us. Come in.”

  “Thank you.” He yanked the door shut and latched it, then jockeyed for the best place to sit. The older lady sat on one seat with a large bag next to her, overflowing with books. He could squeeze between the bag and wall—maybe. It would be a tight fit.

  But Mina gathered her skirts and shifted to make room for him. The carriage heaved into motion, and he sat before he fell upon either of them.

  The wheels crunched through the snow. Horses’ snorts added to the jingle of tack and harness. He turned to Mina, and she to him, but words stuck sharp in his throat. How was he to tell her how sorry he was? How proud he’d been when she’d defended him to Uncle? How he hoped she could somehow forgive him? Regret upon regret heaped into a great pile and sank in his gut. He’d laughed off many things in his life, but here, now, staring into the endless fathoms of Mina’s blue eyes, he doubted he’d ever smile again.

  Across from them, Miss Whymsy clucked her tongue. “It’s rather hard to breathe, what with the elephant taking up so much space in here.”

  They both turned their heads toward the woman, Mina giving hers a little shake. “What elephant, Miss Whymsy?”

  “Posh! I may be old, child, but I’m not blind. There is clearly much on both of your minds.” Leaning sideways, she pulled out a thick book from her bag and shook it at them. “I shall be otherwise occupied, so have at it.”

  She plopped the book onto her lap and opened it with one gloved finger, ignoring them.

  The woman was right. He had far too much on his mind, but what to say? Where to begin? He blew out a long breath, creating a frosty little cloud, then turned back to Mina.

  “Mina—”

  “Will—”

  Her name blended with his on the air, and she shrank back.

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “Ladies first. I would hear what you have to say. All of it. No matter what.”

  Bracing himself for the onslaught, perhaps even tears, he clenched the seat so hard his knuckles cracked.

  But a strange transformation took place. Mina’s face softened beneath the brim of her bonnet. Her brows knit, not in an angry twist, but slanted with a bend of compassion. “Oh, Will, I am sorry for the way things turned out. I know money will be a stretch for you, what with your mother’s illness. But one thing I’ve learned from all this is that there are more important things than wealth. Spending time with your cousins showed me that pretty dresses and dining in fine establishments doesn’t necessarily bring significance. Significance comes in caring—really caring—for those around us. Please don’t misunderstand, I know you do care for your uncle, and I’m not for one minute saying you don’t, but you—I—went about it in the wrong way.”

  She paused, and the fine lines of her throat bobbed. “I can honestly say now that as mundane as my life is with Father, I would rather smile with him over a simple bowl of oyster stew on Christmas than to sit at one more linen-clothed table with Percy or Alice. There’s value in that, in the sharing of joy and tears, and that’s what makes life worthwhile. Not what we do or what we accom
plish. I have you to thank for that revelation, for had you never asked me to be your pretend bride, I’d still be wishing to be someone or somewhere else.”

  His chest tightened, and breathing turned into a chore. Had ever a more gracious woman lived? She should’ve railed at him. Cursed him. Blamed him for the beastly way she’d been treated by his cousins…and by him, for he was the one who’d dragged her into this situation.

  “I know you’re disappointed with how things turned out, but at the very least—” A small smile curved her lips. “Your uncle won’t be committed to an asylum. And that’s what we were working toward all along. It was a hard victory, but a victory nonetheless.”

  “And for that I am thankful.” He attempted to match her smile, but bitter remorse stole his last reserves of humour, and he could do no better than manage somewhat of a grimace. “I regret, however, that I’ve broken the very thing I’d hoped to mend, namely my relationship with Uncle Barlow. I doubt he will ever speak to me again. Nor should he.”

  A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds, angling in through the window and resting upon Mina as a halo. “But how could he remain angry with you? The truth of what you did, while draped in duplicity, was for the benefit of him, not yourself. You are a man of integrity, despite how sideways it comes out.”

  Her words and the admiration shining in her eyes did much to soothe his soul—but could do nothing to erase the stain of his past.

  “You give me too much credit, Mina.” And she did. God knew he was as big a schemer as his cousin. “If I’d been up front with Uncle to begin with, left everything in God’s hands instead of taking the situation into my own, none of this would have happened.”

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I think we both learned a lesson, hmm?”

  Without thinking, he covered her glove with his own, sandwiching her hand between his. How small, yet how strong. How would it feel to gather her in his arms and—

  The carriage jolted and his leg bumped against hers. Red bloomed on her cheeks, and the thin space between them charged like the air before a lightning strike. He sucked in a breath. So did she. Their gazes met—and held.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Miss Whymsy slammed her book shut. “Now would be the time, Mr. Barlow.”

  “The time for what?” he asked without shifting his gaze.

  “Love is surely wasted on youth. There is no better time to ask Miss Scott to marry you than now.”

  Choking on the suggestion, he released Mina’s hand and brought his fist to his mouth to keep from spluttering.

  Mina’s jaw dropped—and a strange light of hope kindled in her eyes.

  Lowering his hand, he tugged at his collar. Air. He needed air, and lots of it. As much as he wanted to make Mina his own, how could he possibly take on a wife and care for his mother on a law clerk’s salary?

  He slipped a sideways glance at the older lady. “You overstep, madam.”

  “I think not. Clearly the two of you are in love. Do you deny it?”

  Heat burned a trail from his gut to his heart—especially when he shifted his gaze back to Mina.

  “Your answer, Mr. Barlow?” Miss Whymsy prodded.

  Gads! Had the woman been a lion tamer before she’d retired?

  “No,” he said, staring deep into Mina’s eyes. “I do not deny it.”

  Mina lifted her chin. “Nor do I.”

  His breath hitched, and for a moment he dared imagine a future of love and life and joy. Of whispers in the dark of night and blue-eyed babies with copper-streaked hair.

  But then the carriage wheels dipped into a rut, jolting him to reality. Love, no matter how pure, did not put food on the table or a roof overhead. “Mina, I—” his voice broke, and he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have nothing to offer you. Once I move my mother here, I’ll be sharing a one-room flat with her, and there will still be doctor bills to pay. I cannot ask you to endure such a hardship.”

  “Of course you can,” she murmured.

  He leaned closer. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. “What?”

  “You can ask me. One room or ten, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re in the room with me. I’m done with playing the part of a lady. I’ve had my tea at Purcell’s. My dinner in a London townhouse. Even a holiday of sorts at a country estate. The only kind of lady I want to be is yours. Truly, that’s all I’ve ever wanted from the minute you first asked me to be your pretend bride.”

  He gaped. “Do you mean that, knowing all you do about me?”

  She beamed. “I do.”

  Was this real? Had she just agreed to be his wife? As the carriage wheels rattled along, so did a hundred more questions turn round and round in his head.

  “For pity’s sake, lad,” Miss Whymsy scolded. “Kiss the woman!”

  Oh, hang it all. Without a clue as to how he’d manage providing for a new wife and an ailing mother, he pulled Mina into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.

  A Christmas Carol

  Snugging the bow tight on the small package, Mina lifted Father’s gift for inspection as the mantel clock struck six. She jumped to her feet. No time to waste! Guests were likely already arriving, maybe even Will. The thought sent her heart tripping and her feet moving. She dashed over to her chamber door and slipped out.

  She’d been right. Merry chatter and laughter wafted up the stairs from the taproom, the sound of “Happy Christmas!” being bantered about. The savory scent of oyster stew filled the entire inn. Upping her pace, she raced along the corridor to Father’s room.

  She rapped her knuckles against the wood and hid the gift behind her back with her other hand. “Father? It’s time.”

  “Coming, girl.”

  The door swung open. Father stood with one hand behind his back, dressed in his finest grey serge suit. His hazel eyes twinkled. “I’ve got something for ye, daughter.”

  She grinned. “And I for you.”

  “Ye ready?” He fairly bounced on his toes, as giddy as a young lad.

  Her grin grew. Ahh, but she’d miss this tradition, the private exchange of gifts between her and Father before celebrating with friends. Yet just because she would be married next Christmas, surely that didn’t have to mean an end to all her traditions with Father, and in fact, she determined, it would not.

  “Ready.” She met her father’s gaze, and they counted down in unison. “Three. Two. One.”

  She held out her gift. So did Father—and they both tore into the wrappings, bits of paper flying and falling to the floor like snow.

  “Oh, my girl. How thoughtful!” Emotion roughened his voice. “Ye could’ve bought a fob and yet ye took the time to make me one?” He yanked out his pocket watch and wound the braided twist through the loop. “It’s perfect.”

  Forgetting her own gift, she grinned, wide and carefree. “I am happy you think so. I know Mother always intended to purchase you a gold chain, and I still hope to someday carry out that wish.”

  “No, child. This is dearer to me than a bit of shiny metal, especially now that ye’ll be leaving me.” He ran a gnarled knuckle along her cheek. “Now go on. Finish opening yours.”

  Pulling off the last of the brown wrapper, she sucked in a breath. “Oh, Father!” she whispered.

  Fingers trembling, she flipped open the cover of a somewhat frayed copy of David Copperfield and caressed the title page. In all her twenty-three years, Father had never once given her a book, and she hugged it to her chest. “I shall cherish this always.”

  Father’s big arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her close. “Just as I cherish you, my girl. Happy Christmas, now and always.”

  A sob caught in her throat, and she nuzzled her face against his waistcoat. As thrilled as she was to become Will’s wife, she would be hesitant to leave her day-to-day life with this man. “Happy Christmas, Father,” she murmu
red.

  He gave her a little squeeze, then released her. “Our company awaits. Shall we?”

  Sniffling back tears, she looped her arm through his and gave him a wavering smile. “We shall.”

  Her steps faltered only once as they descended the stairs—when the blue of William’s eyes met hers from across the room.

  But Father halted her two steps from the taproom floor, so that they looked out over the patrons filling the Golden Egg. A more merry sight she couldn’t imagine. The room was draped with holly bunting. Strings of cranberries and nuts and raisins swagged back and forth across the ceiling. Everyone smiled and chattered, and best of all, Will shouldered his way through the crowd toward her, the gleam of love in his eyes stealing her breath.

  “Friends!” Father bellowed.

  All turned his way, and the din lowered to a muted hum.

  “Welcome one and all to the annual Golden Egg Christmas Eve celebration, but before I serve what I know yer all waitin’ on—”

  “Bring out the stew! Bring out the stew!” The chant started low then grew in intensity.

  Releasing his hold on her arm, Father lifted his hands. “Aye! Stew ye shall have. But first, an announcement. Mr. Barlow, if you wouldn’t mind joining us.”

  With a grin and a wink, Will hopped up on the bottom stair and entwined his fingers with hers.

  “It is with great pleasure that I should like to announce—”

  Just then, the front door burst open, and along with a blast of chill air and a flurry of snowflakes, in bustled a surprising collection of new arrivals. Uncle Barlow’s grey hair tufted out from the brim of his hat. Next to him was Miss Whymsy, who walked next to a tall lady with an assured step.

  And behind them marched Percy and Alice.

  “An announcement, you say?” Uncle Barlow doffed his hat. “Then we’ve arrived just in time. I should like to make an announcement.”

  Mina tensed, and Will’s hand squeezed hers.

  Father leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Who is that?”