A Christmas Brothel: A Set of Canterbury Christmas Tales

by Kate Pearce

  Merry nodded, then groaned as another, stronger, growing wave of pain came over her and this time the thing Bríet said would happen, happened. She was thankful for the extra towels her friends told her to put under her, and embarrassed. But Joseph held her hand through the worst of her pains. When they eased, she asked for a moment alone.

  “I will stand outside the door, and will let no one in until you call.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Once he was gone, she waddled behind the half-screen that the boys threw together for her, made use of the chamber pot, then dunked a clean linen cloth into a basin of water, and cleansed herself before struggling back to bed. She removed the wet towels, pink from a minimal amount of blood, then placed more dry ones down. She was going to have to thank Elke for the forethought, and Bríet for explaining everything to her in advance.

  Richard’s son wanted escape from his cocoon. She prayed it was a boy now that she knew his father was dead. Merry hoped that the Pooles would be happy to know a little piece of their son lived on. Richard was well-read and curious. He loved astronomy and nature, and she was going to see to it that their son would learn the subjects that his father had loved. And if, by chance, she gave birth to a daughter this night, she was going to make certain she understood how much her father had loved her and wanted her.

  Merry Anna curled up on the bed and cried. She cried for Richard, and their love. She cried for the child denied a father because of her own sire. And, she cried for the life she should have had with the man she loved.

  Another labor pain came upon her, and she groaned and breathed through it. It happened again and again as the day went on. When Christmas Eve day was done and the church bells rang for the midnight services, her son Richard Joseph Hughes was born.

  It broke her heart that her son could not carry his father’s surname legally because they never married. The pain that realization brought was almost as acute as the knowledge that Richard was dead.

  Joseph sat with her throughout the day, never leaving her side until Bríet arrived to see the child delivered. He’d held her when she cried because she felt the pain was unbearable, or feared something was wrong. He sat with her in silence while she tried to catch naps between the pains, and they also talked. Merry asked him questions of his childhood with Richard. Her son’s childhood could have been just as idyllic, had his father lived. Now God alone knew what would become of them.

  A tear slipped from her eyes as her son slept in her arms, and Joseph slept seated on the stool and leaning on the edge of her bed.

  Well, she thought he slept.

  “Why the tears?” he asked softly.

  Merry startled at his voice, and lifted her gaze from her child’s to his. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it with her free hand. “No one reason. It’s Christmas morning, and while I have much to be thankful for—my son is here, he has a healthy appetite, all ten fingers, and all ten toes; I’m also very sad that my child’s father is not with us to see our son newly born. And that I cannot have my son christened in the church because his father and I were never married. The church teaches that we are to forgive those who do us wrong, but I cannot yet forgive my father.

  “And, lastly, I am worried for our future. Richard would have been a wonderful father. He would have loved his son.”

  Joseph took her free hand and held it, his eyes downcast, and in a soft and steady voice, he began to tell her a story.

  “Three years ago, Richard and I were in Haywards Heath picking up something for his father from the smith. I think he repaired a piece of equipment for the estate. I remember it was planting season, and the sun was shining, and unusually warm for that day. We were leaving Mr. Huntington’s dry goods and saw two lovely ladies leaving the dressmaker’s shop in the village. One went to the milliner’s next door, and the other into the book shop.”

  A strange sensation of familiarity came over Merry. She let him continue, wanting to understand where this led.

  “Richard went to the apothecary to pick up something for his mother, and I went to the bookstore, in awe of the most beautiful young miss that I’d ever seen, with golden hair and eyes like a summer sky. I wanted to meet this girl who had more of an interest in books than in hats.” Joseph paused and lifted his gaze to hers, a curious expression on his face. “I was about to make myself known to her, when Richard entered, looking for me. He and the young miss made eye contact and even I could tell there was a spark between them. I then went down a row looking for a book I’d not already read, saddened that I’d not spoken up before my friend arrived.

  “Easter break was soon over and I returned to my classes. Richard and I exchanged fairly regular letters, and when I was finished at university, I went directly into the military. Richard often wrote of your growing romance and he had such hopes and dreams for you both.” He shifted on his seat, seeming uncomfortable with more than the hard wooden stool. “I stayed away because I feared doing something ignoble and losing my friend, or something embarrassing and shaming myself. And I respected my friend too much to do either. But, through our letters, I became fond of you and respected you as the object of his affection.”

  Merry cried freely now, unable to stop herself, and the babe woke hungry for his mother’s breast. Joseph politely turned his back to her, as Merry covered herself, put her nipple in the babe’s mouth and coaxed him to take it. The sensation of her child latching on and drawing her milk from her breast was strange, different, and she wished she had time to concentrate on and relish in this new part of her life. But she needed to speak with Richard’s friend while he was still here. Surely he would leave as soon as the weather broke.

  Once the babe was settled and sucking she wanted to respond to Joseph’s confession.

  “The day you were talking about in the village was two weeks before my sister’s wedding. I remember it well. I wanted to get a new book for the ride to London, where Catherine and her husband were going to marry. Her husband wanted a wedding in the height of the season to show off his good fortune. Never had I met a man as status-hungry as my father, until I met Catherine’s husband.

  “Papa—and Mama, too, when she was alive—used to say that his daughters were the most beautiful in the country and that marrying us off to higher-ranking nobles would be the family's crowning achievement.”

  “Interesting he chose that and not his naval service record,” Joseph said.

  “Father got lucky when his cousin died without issue. It was then he realized that all he had were daughters, and the baronetcy would die with him. But there was a clause in the patents of his title, which allowed him to name a grandson from a daughter as his heir. Adeline has provided him with four grandsons already; and Caroline had given him two more.

  “He said that even with all his daughters providing their husbands with many male issue, he was holding out for the best offer for me. I heard him say one night when he was hosting a dinner in London, that I was the prettiest of the three and he would not part with me until I turned one-and-twenty.” She shook her head in disgust. “Such nonsense that was…because he would later tell me that I was worth at least fifty-thousand with two sisters giving birth to six male offspring. He was planning to match me with some desperate titled old reprobate, like he did my sisters, and… Well, he never softened on that, and there was never a sober moment when I could speak with him about falling in love with Richard. So I knew I would have to run off with Richard and pray Papa would forgive me afterward.

  “I don’t know how, but he got wind of us, and…and…” The babe started to cry, and Merry held him up, let him burp and returned him to the second breast, as Bríet had explained. She loved this babe, her perfect, beautiful, son. She covered him and her breast, thankful for the warmth of the fire. “And here we are. Me, and my son the church calls a…a bastard, and the man I loved now dead because my father sought to sell me to the highest bidder rather than see us happy.”

  “I would propose to help
you, if you allow me, Merry Anna.”

  “And what help would that be, Joseph?” Merry knew there was nothing he could do to help her, beyond perhaps the gift of a few coins. She was a fallen woman. He would of course take a bride much more suitable than her, even if, as he seemed, he was of comparable social standing to her family. For some reason, the thought of him marrying upset her.

  Joseph grasped her free hand in his, those deep lovely eyes searching hers. “I can go to the church now and get a license and we can marry. I know I am not Richard, but I will love your child as my own and he will grow up to know the same love my friend would have given him.

  “And you will never have to worry again about where you would have to sleep, or from where your next meal would come.” He raised her hand and placed a feather-soft kiss atop the knuckles. “Marry me, and we can grow to have affection for each other one day, I’m sure of it.”

  His generosity humbled her. That he would consider her fit to wed after all she’d gone through was incredibly self-sacrificing, and she believed his sincerity, and that made her cry even more. “Sir, I cannot marry a man I do not know,” she said through her tears. “You obviously know who I am, and I only know you as Richard’s friend, Joseph.”

  “I’m just a soldier, an officer even,” he added with a shy expectant look upon his face, “and a man who wants the opportunity to make you a good husband.” He kissed her hand which he still held. “I want to marry you, Merry Anna Hughes.”

  Epilogue

  On the morning three days after giving birth to her son Richard Joseph, Merry Anna and her son, along with her two witnesses, were driven to the church a few blocks from the brothel. She went to the rectory, where she was told Joseph would be waiting for her. Borrowing one of Elke’s more modest dresses, and wearing only a simple silver chain necklace that Richard had given her for Christmas the year before, she pasted a smile on her face, and met the man who would now be her husband.

  They stood before the register, with the minister waiting. Joseph politely motioned for her to sign first. She moved baby Richard up a little higher in her arm so she had a better grasp of him, and with her witnesses behind her she signed the next available line on the register, Miss Merry Anna Hughes.

  Joseph slid her a relieved smile as their eyes met. He turned and wrote down his name. Behind Merry, Elke gasped, and all Merry saw from the corner of her eye was Joseph removing his finger from his lips in the ‘say nothing’ motion. She was curious as to what he was asking her friend not to reveal. Her son was fast asleep in her arms, and when the time came to walk to the altar, she chose to walk to her new husband on her own, without the support of her friends. When she reached him, she handed her son over to Bríet and put her hand in Joseph’s.

  The reverend was a dour-looking man, likely judging Joseph’s reasons for marrying her—the scullery maid at the local brothel, and a mother out of wedlock to boot. He began the monotone recitation of the vows.

  “Joseph Martin Blakeney, sixth Viscount Gilmour, do you take Merry Anna Hughes to be your wife, to have and…”

  Merry’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened in pure shock. Taking her hand out of his, she raised it to stop the reverend.

  “Who are you, Joseph?” she asked, her face burning with shame that she’d not thought to ask him direct questions about his family. “Who was your father? Who is your brother?”

  “Carteret-Rolle,” he replied. “How do you think I knew Richard so well?”

  She threw the minister a frightened glance. “Reverend, I cannot…”

  “Merry,” Elke whispered. “You can and you will.” Her friend’s voice was sure, and quietly scolding. “You do this for your son, ja?”

  Merry glanced up at Joseph, a man with the patience of a saint. He was giving her time to master her fears. Her shame would have traveled through the county by now, the story having grown with each telling, no matter what lie her father had told to protect his own honor. How could Joseph possibly understand?

  “Do we return to Haywards Heath?” she asked him. “I fear my father will have…”

  Joseph shook his head. “It seems with that title I just inherited, comes a bit of land in Norfolk. You never have to see your father again if you don’t wish to.”

  Her eyes began to water again. It seemed that was happening a great deal these days. “I should be happiest if I didn’t have to see him ever.”

  “And I will be happiest making you happy,” Joseph said, kissing the top of her head.

  “Your regiment?” Merry asked. “How soon do you need to return to them?”

  “I never said I was returning to them,” Joseph explained. “You made the assumption and I never corrected it. For that I am incredibly sorry. I had to resign the commission when I accepted the title, as I am my brother’s heir until he marries and relieves me of that responsibility by siring some of his own sons.”

  “This is much for me to take in, Joseph,” she whispered.

  “And I will help you each step along the way, Merry, if you would say yes.”

  She took a deep breath and considered whether she could come to love this man. He wasn’t her Richard. No one would ever replace him. But Joseph was exceptionally kind, and patient, and clearly didn’t care what the world thought, so he must be brave as well…all qualities she had loved in Richard.

  Behind them baby Richard started to fuss, causing them both to smile. Merry quelled her fears, looking into the eyes of this generous man. This friend of Richard’s…and friend of hers. “My lord, we should hurry this along because someone will be needing a meal soon.”

  Joseph held her gaze as he said, “Reverend, you heard the lady. Let’s hurry this along, our son will be wanting a meal soon.”

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