by Kate Pearce
Except for her place with James. She glanced over to see him watching her. The older gentleman noticed, too. There was a break in the storytelling so he quickly spoke up.
“It seems I’m in the wrong seat,” he said with a smile. “Here, young man. You’ve had your eye on this young lady all night. I take it she is someone special to you?”
He rose and fairly demanded that James take his chair. Lizzie hated to put him out, but at this point it would have been the height of rudeness to refuse to sit beside her own husband. James thanked him for the offer and the two men traded places.
“That is acceptable to you, isn’t it Miss?” the older man asked, leaning to smile at her around James.
“Yes, thank you,” she acquiesced. “He is my husband.”
“Ah, then most certainly you should be seated together. Far be it from me to come between you!”
Lizzie smiled and thanked him, but James muttered under his breath. “Don’t worry, sir, it isn’t you.”
Now the old man’s curiosity was piqued. Lizzie felt her face grow warm.
The gentleman studied her. “Do I detect a chill in the air? Oh, whatever it is, I pray you look past it. It is Christmas Eve, after all.”
“We are fine, sir,” Lizzie snapped, glaring at James. “Thank you.”
But the older man merely chuckled and gave a sad shake of his head. “Oh, I can see how things are—I recognize that look. But come, whatever has cast a shadow tonight, put it aside. You are young, you have love! That is the most precious gift you could ever wish for.”
“Some gift might not be as lasting as one might hope, I’m afraid,” James grumbled.
Lizzie would have replied with something equally cutting, but the older man sat back in his chair and placed his hands on their knees, as one might do to quiet an unruly child.
“Ah, but love is the most lasting gift of all! Don’t cast it aside—I know the pain that can cause. Indeed, I would give anything to go backward in time and take back the love I once knew.”
Lizzie chewed her lip. “If it were only that easy…”
“Love is the easiest thing in the world!” the man declared. “It is our foolishness about it that is hard. I assure you, whatever you think is a problem, it’s not worth wasting one minute of your lives. We are telling stories here tonight, are we? Well, let me tell you my tale, then you can decide if this thing that’s between you is worth all the heartache.”
Clearly he was going to tell his tale whether they asked for it or not, so Lizzie folded her arms and sat back in her chair. James assumed a similar posture, although she could feel his eyes peering over at her. The older man paid them no mind and accepted encouragement from others in the room who were eager for another tale to pass the time.
“There once was a young man,” he began. “He came from a good family with a prominent name. When he was of an age, his family sent him off to school and expected him to make them all proud.
“After each term and at each Christmas holiday the boy traveled home from school. The route—every year—took him through a certain small village. He stopped there for a few days each time as an elderly aunt lived in that village and the family insisted on visits. Surely you all understand there is no arguing with what family dictates!”
A well-dressed young gentleman with a shock of blond hair grunted and rolled his eyes. “Ugh, family!”
A few others remarked in agreement and begged the older man to continue. He did.
“There was one redeeming factor regarding his stay in this village—he met a young girl.”
Now there were knowing nods and various sly expressions.
“The most beautiful girl he had ever seen,” the gentleman went on. “The daughter of the local shopkeeper; the young man made ever excuse possible to go to the shop. With each visit to that village, he grew closer and closer to the girl.”
“A girl in a shop?” an older woman questioned. “Did the young man really favor her so? You said he was from a prominent family.”
“And so I did. It was not expected at all that he should grow so fond of someone like her, and indeed he knew that his parents would never approve. Still, he could not deny that he loved the beautiful shop girl.”
“That’s so very sad!” a young lady across the room said with watery eyes. “Did the girl return the young man’s love?”
The gentleman smiled. “She did. When he confessed himself to her one day he was amazed to find that she declared her own love for him! It was the happiest day of his life. True, he was still young and foolish, but he promised to make her his wife. He vowed that he would defy his family, that he would go off to make his fortune so that one day they could be together.”
“That’s beautiful!” another young lady sighed.
“It was beautiful. For quite some time they continued this way—the young man stayed in London to amass his fortune, and each year for summer holiday and Christmas he would travel home to see his family. Along the way, he would visit his true love in the shop in her village.
“But of course, young people are restless. It seemed forever before he could truly support her without the help of his family. He was used to quite a comfortable lifestyle, after all. How could he ever provide that for the one that he loved? On his summertime visit that year, he went to his father and told him of the beautiful girl in the shop and his plan to make her his wife.
“It didn’t go well, as you might assume. The father was furious! He demanded the young man give up such foolish notions. He must abandon the girl and take on proper responsibilities. When it came time to marry, he would be expected to take a wife who was worthy of the family name, not some low-born girl from a shop.”
“So the young man went against his father and married the girl, didn’t he?” the young blond man suggested.
But the older man shook his head. “No, he did not. He had no idea how to live without his father’s money. He was not even brave enough to visit the girl on his way back to London. He wrote her a letter and gave the sad news.”
Clearly this was not the way people had expected the story to go. There were gasps of surprise around the room, expressions of disappointment. Lizzie felt it herself.
“You mean he abandoned the shop girl? Just over his father’s money? What a horrible story!” she cried.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“But you promised us a story of love! This isn’t about love, it’s about… giving up.”
“So it is,” he agreed. “The young man had true love, and he wasted it. He let money and family and worry and a hundred other things get in the way.”
“So his love faded away, because of that,” James said softly.
But the older man shook his head and disagreed. “No. That is the point of my story. The love didn’t fade away—love is resilient, enduring. That love lasted the rest of his life.”
Lizzie felt her heart beat faster with the hope that there might be a happy ending yet. “You mean he married his shop girl after all?”
“No, he never did. He is alone, still to this day. But the love lingers on! Indeed, once you have love, it never really goes away. It can be wasted or cast aside, but it leaves its mark. That’s why it’s so precious, of course.”
“But if he still loved her, why did he never go back for her?” James asked.
“Who said he didn’t?” the man replied. “Of course he did! Oh, not at Christmas time as he had promised in his letter. No, he did not do that. You see, he didn’t abandon her outright. He sent her a letter and told her they could not be married now, but he would work extra diligently and then by Christmas when he made his annual visit he would have enough money set aside for them to live in comfort. He would take his beloved away and they would elope!”
“How romantic!” one of the girls from the brothel exclaimed. “But… you said they never married?”
“The young man broke his promise, I’m sorry to say,” the man said with a long, weary exhale. “As Christmas approac
hed, he realized he did not have as much money as he thought they would need. Instead of going to his love and finding a way to live beneath his usual standard, he stayed away. He sent another letter, then another, and another. Each letter contained an excuse, promising to come for her at a later date. Yet each date came and passed without him. He simply never thought he had enough money to support her properly.”
“That’s terrible!” Lizzie said. “How did the shop girl respond to his letters?”
“She didn’t,” the man answered. “That should have been his first indication that things were not well. But he was so caught up in his own determination to gather more and more money that he did not even realize that his letters were unanswered. At last, Christmas time rolled around again. He had quite a fine pile of money by then and finally he thought he might have enough to live in fine style. So, he left London and traveled back to the village, ready to claim his bride.”
“Finally!” one of the listeners exclaimed, then paused to rethink the outburst. “But was she still waiting for him?”
The man shook his head. “She was gone. The young man was told that she’d left in disgrace many months ago. You see, after their last meeting in the previous summer, the girl had gotten with child. Oh yes, it’s a sordid tale, to be sure! The young man was ashamed and begged to be told where he might find his beloved. All he could learn was that she’d run away to hide her shame. She’d come to Canterbury… she’d ended up here.”
“Here, in the brothel?” Lizzie almost leaped from her chair. “Did the young man find her here?”
“He came here straight away, you can be sure of that. He prayed he would find his true love—along with the child who should bear his name—but he did not. No, all he found was the sad news that his true love had died giving birth. She and the child had been laid in an unmarked grave, grieved only by Frau Klaus and her ladies. All the piles of money the young man had earned could never be enough to bring back his love… it had all been a waste.”
Lizzie was stunned. Despite his warnings that this was a cautionary tale, she still had not expected this. She shook her head sadly. “The shop girl died, but his love for her lived on. What a sad way to live…”
“It is,” the man said under his breath, then turned his blue eyes onto her. “I would not wish it on anyone. So please, whatever has come between you and your young man, I pray you find a way past it. If you have ever felt love for each other, it should never be wasted.”
The man shifted in his chair so that Lizzie was facing James. Their eyes locked and she knew he felt everything she felt. They did love each other; that would always be there. Somehow she would have to find the courage to tell him the truth, tell him the dreadful things she had learned about herself and her history. And somehow he would have to find the courage to love her in spite of it all.
“You are the young man in the story, aren’t you?” Frau Klaus said standing just inside the doorway. “You were the young man at my door, looking for that girl all those years ago.”
“It was me,” he confirmed. “And I’ve grieved her ever since. I made this journey each year on Christmas Eve. I stop here in the churchyard where you said she was buried, then I go on to her little village. I hope her spirit still lingers in these places; I hope she can forgive me for everything.”
“I’m so sorry for you,” Lizzie said and instinctively took the man’s hand in hers.
He patted her hand with fatherly concern. “And I’m sorry my story for you is so very sad.”
There was a shuffling at the doorway. Lizzie glanced up to see Frau motioning to someone waiting just out of view. It was more than a surprise when Frau practically dragged Mamma into the room.
“But your story isn’t over, George,” she said, giving a thin, nervous smile to the gentleman at Lizzie’s side.
He dropped her hand and jumped to his feet. “Sally?! Is it you?”
Mamma stepped into the room, holding her wrap tightly around herself and never taking her eyes off the man.
“It is. How are you, George? It’s good to see you again.”
He stammered, clearly in shock and at a loss for words. “But how… you can’t be… I didn’t… How can this be? I thought you were dead!”
Lizzie blinked in confusion. She glanced at James who appeared just as confused as she was. Mamma, however, seemed to have all the answers.
“Not dead, no. I’m so very sorry, but I didn’t know what to do. I ran away from home and ended up here. Frau took me in, let me work in her kitchen to pay for a room. She and her girls were so kind to me when I needed them,” she glanced back to smile at Frau, then turned her attention back to the gentleman.
“I stayed here until the baby was born, and a little while after. But then… well, one of the gentlemen who visited here fancied me. Frau made an arrangement with him; his wife had died and he had five children to raise. If he married me and supported my child, then she would help to make a new identity for me. I could be a respectable woman, his children would have a mother, and my child would be raised as a lady. It seemed like a miracle at the time, George, so I agreed.”
“Of course you did!” he said, still shaking his head in wonderment. “And that’s why I was told you had died?”
“Frau told everyone that I died, that way no one would look for me and ever know the truth. It was the best thing… for our child.”
“So… our child is alive?”
“She is seated right beside you.”
The gentleman turned back to her and Lizzie blinked up into his blue eyes. He smiled at her and reached out his hands. She took them, rising to stand before him. Her father.
“I should have known,” he said softly. “I kept staring at your eyes, those same beautiful hazel eyes that your mother has.”
“I never knew the story,” she told him. “Not all of it, and what I do know I only learned recently. I still can’t believe it!”
He squeezed her hands. “And what a story it is. Not over, indeed!”
“Come, sit! Sit!” Frau was saying, ushering Mamma over to them and pushing Lizzie toward James. “Everyone has so much to talk about now, and I have more tea to bring in.”
She scurried away. The room was buzzing with conversation, but Lizzie could hear none of it. She stepped away to make way for Mamma and the gentleman to take chairs next to each other. Clearly they had catching-up to do! Years and years of it, in fact.
James came around to Lizzie’s side. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned to kiss her cheek.
“Congratulations on your new father,” he whispered.
She turned to him, hoping she could make him understand all of this. “Oh, James, I’m so sorry for everything! I promise, I had no idea I wasn’t Papa’s real child when I married you! I know Mamma should have told you, but surely you can see why she kept everything secret all this time.”
“Hush, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, pulling her close despite all the eyes that were on them. “I knew some of this even before you did, apparently.”
“What? You know about this?”
“I knew you were already an infant when your parents were married.”
“You knew I was someone’s natural child and you still married me?”
He laughed at her. “Of course! I love you, Lizzie Sanders. Nothing can change that, not all the secrets in the world. Your brother told me about it and wanted to be sure it would not affect me feelings for you.”
“My brother knows about this?”
“He was eight years old when your mother married his father, Lizzie. Of course he remembers that he gained a step-mother and a sister on the same day. It never mattered to any of your siblings and they wanted to make sure it would not matter to me. And it doesn’t.”
“Oh James, I’ve been such a goose!”
“No, I saw you were fretting over something and I should have discussed it with you instead of assuming that I’d done something to make you upset.”
N
ow she laughed at him. “Let’s never let ourselves stew over things ever again! There’s nothing we can’t work out between us, not as long as we love each other.”
She looked down at Mamma and her gentleman, clinging to each other’s hands and chatting rapidly. Mamma was telling him about Papa’s death and how that had freed her to wish to return to her village again, just to relive old memories. She was going back there on Christmas Eve, dreaming of the hopes she’d had long ago that her young man would come for her then.
“When Frau suggested it in her letters, I wasn’t sure I wanted to come, at first, but—” Mamma was saying.
Lizzie interrupted. “Frau was the one who suggested you return to your village on Christmas Eve?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Mamma said. “She convinced me it might be helpful to lay some old ghosts to rest. But look! Instead of a ghost, I found a very living George Richland!”
Lizzie smiled at him. “Richland? Is that your name, sir? We’ve not even been properly introduced!”
That was quickly rectified. The newfound family shared names, the men shook hands, and Lizzie gave her mother a very warm hug. She caught a glimpse of Frau watching them as she brought in another tea tray, smiling smugly as if she’d had any part of this joyous reunion.
As Lizzie thought of it, perhaps she had. Frau could have known that Mr. Richland visited Canterbury each year, that he made a pilgrimage to Mamma’s old village on Christmas Eve. She could have orchestrated the whole thing, now that Papa was gone and Mamma was free.
Lizzie nodded at Frau and gave her a grateful—and knowing—smile. They may have started the evening heartbroken and stranded, but somehow Frau had made everything right. Here, in a brothel full of strangers.
True love really was the most precious gift anyone could ever wish for.
A Christmas Kiss
Dawn Brower
Chapter 1
Light snowflakes fluttered from the brilliant blue sky and blanketed the ground in unending white. Miss Natalia Benson stared at them as they fell from the library window. Her father was enclosed in his study with Louis Fornier, Comte Foix. A man she disliked and feared—he’d gotten a little too close to her a few times and made her uncomfortable. She wished her father wouldn’t do business with him and Natalia didn’t quite understand why he thought the comte could help. Yes, the man’s wealth was well known in France; however, he had a shadowy side. As black as his hair and cobalt eyes—that sometimes appeared as dark as a raven’s feathers.
