The Ghost of Christmas Past

by Sally Quilford

  Samuel lay on the sofa, gradually coming to as Liam spooned warm brandy into him. His teeth chattered, whilst both Liam and Elizabeth dried him with towels. She had brought her brother's nightshirt and housecoat, which they changed him into. Elizabeth covered him with blankets to keep out any further chill. The Reverend put some more logs onto the fire.

  “Sam, you were told about the pond, dearest,” said Elizabeth, trying to speak calmly.

  “Johnny,” he said, struggling to speak because of the cold. He started to cry. “Johnny still there.”

  “What?” said Liam. He stood up. “I swear I only saw Samuel. I'll go back and look.”

  “No,” said the Reverend. “You dry off, I'll get a search party organised.”

  “Get Doctor Wheston too,” said Liam. “I'll need to change.”

  “My father has some clothes that might fit you,” said Elizabeth. “I'll go and put them out on his bed, then you can change.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth,” said Liam. She did not have time to think of the significance of him using her name, or chastise him for it. She could note only the small thrill it gave her to hear it on his lips. Her father went off in search of help.

  “Sam, dearest, tell me what happened,” she said, whilst Liam was upstairs dressing. “Why did you go on the pond?”

  “We didn't, Lizzie,” said Samuel. “We were in the copse, because Johnny said that's where he saw the man who built the snowman go. Then when we got there, we saw a man in amongst the trees. He started chasing us, so we ran, and the quickest way was across the pond. Only ...” Samuel began to cry. “Johnny fell first, and I was trying to help him.”

  “Who was this man, Sam? Can you describe him?”

  “He was all dressed in rags. And with a hood. I didn't see his face.”

  Liam came back into the parlour as Samuel finished speaking. “There was a man dressed in rags outside Doctor Wheston's last night,” said Elizabeth.

  “How do you know that?” asked Liam.

  Elizabeth felt her face grow warm. “We … erm … we shared the carriage with Mrs. Chatterbucks and Miss Graves. They live near to the Whestons. I just happened to be looking out and … and I saw him.”

  “I saw the carriage as I arrived home, but I didn't see the man,” said Liam. The way he searched her face unnerved her, so she turned away and began folding Samuel's wet clothes.

  “It was after you went inside with Mrs. Wheston,” said Elizabeth, trying to keep her voice light. “He came out of the shadows. I assumed he was someone seeking help from Doctor Wheston, but then we left to return home so I don't know where he went next.” She felt unaccountably angry. “I don't know what sort of world we live in when a man chases children and puts them in such danger! Samuel might have died.” Tears stung her eyes, and she was not entirely sure she only cried for Samuel's predicament.

  “No, it is outrageous, I agree,” said Liam. “But Samuel is fine, aren't you, Sam? He's a strong lad.”

  “I hope Johnny is okay,” said Samuel.

  Elizabeth turned around, silently chastising herself. Here she was, tearing herself apart over Liam's relationship with Mrs. Wheston, and another child was still in danger. “I'm sure he will be, darling,” said Elizabeth, going to her brother. She sat on the edge of the sofa and stroked his head. His forehead felt hot. “I think he's getting a fever,” she said to Liam.

  Liam put his own hand on Samuel's head. “It's probably just his body trying to reach its normal temperature. Or it could be the brandy.” He smiled. It was a wonderful smile. “But keep an eye on him for a few days, and if he's unwell, either call me or Doctor Wheston. I'm going to go and see what I can do to help with finding young Johnny.”

  “Thank you for bringing him home,” said Elizabeth, as she showed Liam to the door. “I don't know what we'd do if we lost him.” Her voice caught in her throat.

  “He's a fine young man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I see your influence in him.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. In fact Mrs. Chatterbucks was only telling me today what a wonderful mother you've been to him.”

  “I only tried to do what my mother would have done. Which is to love and care for him.”

  “Then he's also a very lucky young man. Would that we all had such a lovely guardian angel.”

  “Oh I'm sure Mrs. Wheston does her best.” The words were out before Elizabeth could stop herself.

  “Mrs. Wheston? Yes, she is an angel too. John could not have asked for a better wife.”

  “And is she the sort of wife you want?” asked Elizabeth.

  “No. I've had one wife. I don't wish for another.” His lips became a thin line, and a deep frown creased his brow. “Though why you should think I aim for Mrs. Wheston, I don't know.”

  “You seem close.”

  “Ah, I see. You saw us embrace last night?”

  Elizabeth did not answer. It really was none of her business. Despite that, she wanted to ask him about his wife. Was she still alive? Had she died? Was he still in love with her? What had she done to hurt him so? For it was clear he had not come out of the marriage unscathed. The questions flew around her head.

  Liam smiled again. “I am not in the habit of stealing other men's wives. It is just that I have been able to bring Mrs. Wheston good news of her brother, whom she feared had been lost to her. She was merely grateful for that fact. I'm sure you understand that feeling, Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Elizabeth. She looked down at her feet, wishing that she could hide somewhere in that vicinity. “And I am grateful to you for saving Sam, really.”

  “Do be sure to let me know if you would ever like to illustrate that with an embrace.”

  Elizabeth's head shot up, her eyes widening. “I hope,” she said, garnering her courage, “that you will be satisfied with a handshake, Doctor Doubleday.” She held out her hand. He took it in his hand, which had only just begun to warm up. Instead of shaking hers, as she expected, he lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingers. His lips were warm and sensual, sending a thrill running along Elizabeth's arm, and through her whole body. It wasn't the first time her hand had been kissed, but it was the first time the kiss had promised so much more. Or left her wanting so much more.

  That simple kiss unnerved and excited Elizabeth in ways she had never experienced before. Despite the rather staid attitude to sex in her times, she would be a fool not to realise that her response to him was of a sexual nature. It was then she realised the difference between Liam and Mr. Hardacre. Though handsome and charming, Mr. Hardacre had a coldness about him, whereas one look into Liam's eyes revealed a flame burning within that made Elizabeth tremble inwardly. She silently chastised herself. After all, she was a vicar's daughter. Her head should not be filled with such ideas of sensuality.

  And yet … though only fourteen when her mother died, had she not been aware of such a relationship between her mother and father? Nothing overt or crass. The Reverend and his wife were far too discreet and well-mannered for that. But occasionally Elizabeth had burst into the parlour to find them in an embrace that could only be described as passionate. Sometimes she witnessed a glance passing between them at bedtime. She blushed as, with her own sensual awakening, the implications of those embraces and glances became clear to her. She had a brief fantasy of her and Liam at the end of a long day, walking up the stairs hand in hand to a cosy bedroom where they ... She put her cool hands to her face, which burned crimson. How could she be having such thoughts about a man she barely knew? Yet every inch of her body ached for such moments with him. Had he seen the longing in her eyes? She blushed even more. She would have to be more circumspect with him in future.

  Samuel was sleeping when she went back to the parlour. She sat in the rocking chair, watching him, and wondering about poor Johnny Fletcher. But her thoughts kept returning to Liam Doubleday and the tingling in her fingers where he had kissed them. He disturbed her in a way no man ever had. How she had
ever found Mr. Hardacre attractive, she did not know. Almost as if she had summoned him by thinking of it, Mr. Hardacre arrived at the vicarage door.

  “I heard the news about poor Samuel, and have come to offer my help,” he said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hardacre,” said Elizabeth. She led him through to the parlour. “He's sleeping now,” she said in a low voice. “I can hardly bare to imagine what might have happened had Doctor Doubleday not found him.”

  “Yes...” There was something in Hardacre's tone that made Elizabeth look at him sharply.

  “What is it?”

  “It is only … Dear Miss Dearheart, I do not want to cause you anymore distress than I know you have already suffered. But what do we know about this Doubleday? He arrives from nowhere, and has a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Was he not there when you found Mr. Sanderson's body? And now, when young Samuel is in danger?”

  Elizabeth felt her knees weaken. “What are you suggesting? That he did this to Samuel?”

  Hardacre smiled. “No, no of course not. I do not know what made me think of it. Jealousy perhaps.”

  “Jealousy?”

  “Miss Dearheart … Elizabeth, darling. You must know how I feel about you.” Mr. Hardacre caught her by the shoulders and pulled her nearer to him.

  “Mr. Hardacre, please. It is inappropriate with my father out of the house.” It was strange how she had not felt that when Liam suggested she embrace him. Then she had only felt regret at being too shy to do so.

  “Darling Elizabeth, I have to leave Midchester, but I want you to come with me. I have known more happiness in your company than at any other time. Dora knows of my feelings. She teases me about it, but I know that she would be most happy to have you in our family.”

  Elizabeth stood back. Something felt wrong, and not just that Hardacre's proposal brought home to her that she had no such feelings for him. There was something desperate about the way Hardacre spoke, and she had a strong feeling that it was not due to love or passion.

  “I am very grateful for you kind offer...”

  “No, don't say no, not yet darling. Think about it. We leave on Boxing Day. Say you'll come with me.” He pulled her to him again and pressed his lips against hers.

  Elizabeth was too shocked to stop him, and by the time she had regained her equilibrium and started to push him away she heard a polite cough.

  “We have found Johnny,” said the Reverend. He stood at the parlour door with Liam Doubleday.

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, stepping back and almost falling over. “Is he well?”

  “He is in a serious condition,” said Liam, grimly. He was looking from Elizabeth to Hardacre, with a darkness in his eyes that Elizabeth could not fathom. “Doctor Wheston is attending him. I have just returned to see how Samuel is. But clearly he must be well, as I am sure Mr. Hardacre would not think of making love to you with a sick child in the same room. Good day.” Liam turned and stormed out of the house.

  Hardacre left soon after, bowing to the reverend and saying to Elizabeth, 'Please think about my offer.”

  “Are you going to?” asked the Reverend, when he and Elizabeth sat down to afternoon tea. They took it in the parlour, so they could watch Samuel as he slept. Elizabeth kept some toast warm, in case her brother should awaken and feel hungry.

  “I have no wish to marry Mr. Hardacre, Father. Tell me about Johnny Fletcher.”

  Her father looked at her for a long time, then clearly decided not to press the matter. “He was under the ice for some time. In fact, we had only just found him when Doctor Doubleday returned. We were sure we would have to give up poor Johnny for dead, but Doubleday argued otherwise. He said he had heard of people being revived some time after drowning in icy water. Something about the cold slowing down the bodily functions. Despite Wheston believing young Johnny had no chance, Doubleday insisted on trying to revive him. And it worked. Poor Johnny may lose a couple of toes to frost bite, and it may take him some time to recover his faculties, but he is alive. Thank the Good Lord.” The Reverend made a praying gesture.

  “So … so Doctor Doubleday could not have wanted Johnny and Samuel dead, could he, Father?”

  “Whatever makes you say that, Lizzie?”

  “Mr. Hardacre pointed out that Doctor Doubleday has a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was there when I found Mr. Sanderson, and there when Sam and Johnny fell through the ice.”

  “I find it hard to believe that a man who strove so hard to save that boy's life would have been the cause of Sam and Johnny's distress.”

  “That's what I would like to think,” said Elizabeth. “Father?”

  “Hmm.” The Reverend had just bitten into a slice of hot buttery toast. The butter dripped onto the plate, and he scooped it up in the bread. In the cosy room, with the firelight spreading warmth, it was hard for Elizabeth to believe there were dangers in the world. Yet Sam, lying on the sofa, covered in blankets reminded her that their comfortable lives had been invaded by such horrors.

  “Why do people think that Arthur Sanderson embezzled from his associate then murdered him?”

  “From what Constable Hounds told me, they found proof in Sanderson’s study of him having practised his associate’s signature. They never did find out what happened to the money. As Sanderson was mentally unfit, he could not be brought to trial.”

  “Father, there was a case in the papers five years ago. It was very similar. A man was hanged for murdering his associate, after embezzling money which was never found. The condemned man’s wife disappeared too, only to return after his death and claim his estate. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  “Yes, it is rather.”

  “I wish I could find out more about Lucinda Hargreaves.”

  “I imagine the sisters will be your first point of call for all things murderous. They know about every murder trial going.”

  “Will you be alright to care for Samuel if I call on them after tea?”

  “Lizzie … I want you to be careful, dearest. I'm not entirely sure that Sam and Johnny's forays into detecting haven't led to today's worries. I should never have let him go.” The Reverend looked across at his son, his face a mask of guilt. “I thought it was harmless enough. Who would think children would be hurt?”

  “Johnny said he'd seen something,” said Elizabeth. “But we all thought it was to make himself look important. I wonder now...”

  “Exactly.”

  Despite her father's warning, Elizabeth wrapped up warm and set out on her trip to see the sisters. She was just about to turn into their gate when Liam Doubleday stepped out of Doctor Wheston's front door.

  “Miss Dearheart,” he called. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth stopped and waited for him to cross the road.

  “I owe you, and your father, an apology for my behaviour earlier. It is not for me to judge your conduct, and I am sure that you would have had your brother's interests at heart at all times.”

  “There is nothing to apologise for,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Hardacre took me by surprise. I mean, I was not expecting him to become so ardent.”

  “He has asked for your hand in marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “And will you accept?”

  “No. I do not love him.” Why it was important that Liam know that, Elizabeth did not quite understand.

  Liam's face visibly altered to become more relaxed, breaking into that wonderful smile. “You're not in love with him.”

  “No, I am not. He is a good...” Elizabeth almost said decent, but something stopped her, “man, but I realised today that I do not return his feelings. I hope I have not caused him too much pain.”

  “He'll get over it, I'm sure,” said Liam. There was something brittle about his voice.

  “Are men's feelings always so fickle, Doctor Doubleday?”

  “No more than women's.” Again that bitterness. She wished she could understand what made him
feel that way. “You are going to see the sisters?” Elizabeth nodded.

  “I wish to ask them something.”

  “Are you still investigating Mr. Sanderson's murder?”

  “Not investigating. Just trying to make sense of what happened.” Without realising why, Elizabeth found herself telling Liam about what she had read in the paper, and the link – the bloodied fabric – with Albert Sanderson's missing wife. “I have heard it elsewhere recently,” she said.

  “The Demon Doctor of Delhi,” said Liam.

  “What?”

  “His wife also went missing, after he was accused of murdering a patient after a similar embezzlement.”

  “Of course! Yes, that was where I had read it. How strange that these things should happen in such far flung places. England, France, India. It makes me wonder... but it happened with a man too. That was the one in France. So it could not be connected, could it?”

  “People travel, Miss Dearheart.”

  “Yes, I suppose they do. Well thank you, you have saved me a trip to see the sisters.”

  “I am sure they would be most disappointed if you did not call. Let me come with you. I have failed to pay them my proper respects since I arrived.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I cannot imagine that Mrs. Chatterbucks and Miss Graves are of any great interest to a man like yourself.”

  “Then you do me a disservice, Miss Dearheart. They are characters, and if there is one thing I enjoy in life, it is the company of a character. Where else can I hear stories of amputated legs and dog-eaten fingers?”

  “As a doctor I would have thought everywhere you went.” Elizabeth could not help smiling. The earlier tension between them had gone, and they spoke as friends again.

  “Ah, but not told with such naivety and a total lack of understanding of the humorous aspects.”

  “You must not make fun of them,” said Elizabeth, sternly, smiling despite herself. “It is not kind.”

  “No, it is not. And I would not dream of it.” His eyes twinkled.