Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “I would like that very much,” Charlotte said and bestowed a kindly smile upon him. “Alec would like it too. He enjoys being out of doors. Oh, is that the church?” She leaned in toward the window, attempting a better view.

  “Yes. St. John’s Chapel. Quite a fine building.”

  “I can see that.” Her smile broadened.

  “It cost an absurd amount of money. The organ alone was over $5,000. It came from Philadelphia.”

  Charlotte clasped her hands together. “I had no idea that America had such buildings as this. I can’t wait to see the inside. The outside is perfectly grand.”

  William looked out his window as well, following her gaze from the Corinthian columns up to the double-height portico, topped by a tower that rose more than 200 feet. He’d been one of the men invited on an exclusive tour of the building when it had neared completion. The architecture had so impressed him, along with the added value the church brought to the upscale neighborhood, that William had easily agreed to put it at the top of his yearly donation list. He hoped the bishop would remember that today.

  “I wish my mother was here— to see me wed in such a fine place and wearing a beautiful gown. And marrying a kind man.” Her eyes flickered briefly to his before she turned her face, and a shy smile, away again. “She would be pleased.”

  He was pleased at Charlotte’s assessment of the situation and felt his hope grow brighter. Perhaps she won’t change her mind.

  Now he had only to change the bishop’s. Thankfully they were not in England, where a couple had to post banns. But still there would need to be new paperwork and, no doubt, money exchanged to accomplish that quickly.

  The carriage stopped before the church, and they alighted. The steps had the same dusting of snow on them as the trees, so William put his arm around Charlotte’s waist lest she slip. Given his poor luck with brides, he was taking absolutely no chances on anything happening to her. At least anything he could control. They reached the top step without incident and paused, turning to face her.

  “I must ask you just once more. Are you quite certain you wish to go through with this?” It was the last thing he wished to say, but past experience bade him to. Better she change her mind now than an hour from now when the pews are full and the organ is playing.

  “Are you quite certain?” Charlotte said, turning the question back to him. “You act almost as if you expect me to change my mind.”

  I do. “It is simply that I do not wish to force you to something you may regret later. You have not even had one day to reflect on your decision.”

  “I have had five months to reflect on it,” she said. “Of necessity, I knew I must marry again. That it is to a man I know to be both kind and generous has brought an enormous amount of peace to my mind and heart. But you, also, must be certain.”

  On impulse he took her gloved hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “Thank you, Charlotte. You cannot know the calm your reassurance brings to me. Once I begin something, I never change course, I can promise you that. Now let us go in.”

  He led her inside, watching from the corner of his eye as she took in the equally stunning interior with its towering side columns and sweeping arches. “I imagine you had opportunity to visit similarly grand churches in England,” he said.

  “Not England so much, but in France, yes. I have many fond memories of both the countryside and the cities.”

  “I return to England and the Continent every few years. Perhaps you would like to accompany me on such a trip sometime?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her eyes lit up at the possibility, but in the next second her face fell. “Though I am not at all certain I would be able to survive another crossing.”

  It was his turn to smile. “Your accommodations would be considerably better than the last time. You came over in steerage, did you not?” He recalled Marsali telling him of her sister’s near-death experience and felt suddenly grateful that Charlotte had survived that trip to be with him at this moment.

  She nodded. “A memory I do not wish to revisit.”

  “Then we shall not,” he agreed. They walked to the head of the chapel, and he escorted her through a side door and hall that led to Bishop Lewis’s office. They met with him there, and all was accomplished with much more order and efficiency than William would have believed likely. At the end of their meeting, when Bishop Lewis shook Charlotte’s hand with an exuberance that matched his unusually jovial countenance, William realized he had Charlotte to credit for their good fortune in getting through the particulars and paperwork with such ease.

  She is a pleasant woman to be around, he noted happily. Marsali had not been unpleasant, but neither had she been wholly happy. He did not understand how Charlotte could be either, having lost her husband as she had, but she seemed far more resigned to, and at peace with, the idea of a new future than her sister had been. Bishop Lewis had taken to her at once, and upon learning that she was a widow with a small child, he had all but commended William for his good choice in providing for those in need.

  William returned to the chapel to take his place at the front, while Charlotte waited at the side door. She would join him after all the guests were seated and the organ had played an interlude. Leaving her for even one minute started his nerves again, and he began to feel physically ill as he stood alone at the head of the pews.

  He glanced over to the door and was surprised to see that Charlotte had opened it. She stood slightly back from the doorway so that she would not be visible to most, but clearly to him. He sent her a grateful smile, though she could not know what the simplicity of her action meant to him. So long as he could see her, he was safe. I will be married today.

  He kept his gaze focused on her and noted once more how beautiful she looked in the cream gown. Her dark hair curled prettily around her face, and her hands clasped and unclasped in front of her, the only sign of nerves he had yet to note from her. She did not seem to be a woman given to blushing, perhaps owing to the fact that she had been married before.

  William thought on this a moment, wondering how that might affect their marriage. According to Marsali, Charlotte’s marriage had been a love match, one that had begun when she was quite young. But something between then and now had turned Charlotte quite sensible, enough so that she would readily agree to this marriage of convenience for them both.

  Motherhood, he supposed. Wasn’t it an innate quality in women that they would do whatever it took to protect their children? If that was true, he supposed he had young Alec to thank for his mother’s being here today. William would have to do right by the child and make sure he was well provided for and educated.

  He had enjoyed having the little boy running around the house. It brought a life to the place that had been missing, and William found he rather liked the idea of having more children to fill his vast home someday. He’d grown up in England, with a houseful of brothers, and he missed that. I will have a wife and family of my own to share with my brothers the next time we meet. Imagining himself introducing Charlotte and her son to his mother brought a feeling of comfort and pride, and William realized the situation was improving by the moment. To have gone from despair to near contentment and even pleasant anticipation for his future in the space of two hours seemed a miracle. The day is full of them.

  At last the congregation was seated, the pews full of his business associates and friends, the elite of this city and a few who had come from farther away. My friends. Except that many were not, but were simply associates. The nature of his business demanded that he be acquainted with a great number of people, but it also meant he was close to none. Not since his relationship with Daphne had he allowed himself to truly trust or get too close to anyone. He had hoped that might change with Marsali. It would be nice to have one person in whom he could confide, one he felt would always be on his side no matter what.

  His gaze locked on Charlotte’s as she began to move toward him, walking carefully to match the music from the organ
. It was too soon to know if she might be that one. For now, that she had agreed to be his wife was enough.

  She took her place at his side, her gaze never wavering. Her expression was neither solemn nor happy, but somewhere in between, where his own emotions lay also. Bishop Lewis announced the reason they were gathered, then asked the required question of those in attendance, if there be any who objected to the marriage. William held his breath, believing this to be the last hurdle. When there was no response, he sighed, perhaps a bit too loudly; Charlotte looked up at him, a knowing smile upon her face.

  He took her hand and held it, enjoying the feeling and once more overwhelmed with gratitude that she stood at his side. How differently this day might have been. That she had spared him extreme difficulties and potential disaster could not be overstated.

  Bishop Lewis blessed them and read from scripture the importance of marriage. When he came to the line about the procreation of children, William kept his gaze straight ahead, though he wondered what Charlotte was thinking. He would like children of his own someday. But that could come later, well after they had come to know one another better.

  Bishop Lewis continued. “Marriage was ordained for mutual society, help, and comfort— both in prosperity and adversity.”

  Help and comfort. That was what this marriage was based on. And if it was in scripture, then what he’d done— marrying Charlotte essentially to save his business— could not be so bad, could it? He intended to do his part as well, to comfort and help her and her son in any manner possible. I will make up for my less than noble intentions, he silently vowed.

  When it came time for speaking the words, his voice was strong. Hers was equally sure, though he caught the quivering of her chin and the unmistakable glisten of unshed tears in her eyes when she promised to love him and cleave unto him and none other. He felt a sudden wish to comfort her, to enfold her in his embrace and promise that he would never take advantage of that promise or her in any way. Another man had loved her truly and loved her first, and William knew he must always respect that.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Bishop Lewis’s grin spread nearly ear to ear.

  Blessed relief washed over William, and the gratitude he felt for Charlotte grew even more as he watched her brave smile and noted her blinking fast to keep her tears at bay. This cost her. No matter that she had said she was prepared for it; marrying again had cost her.

  I will do everything I can to make it worth that cost. He could not make her stop loving her first husband, nor would that be right. But he could ease the worries and burdens she had borne since his passing. William could see she was comfortable and warm and safe; he could afford to buy her the nicest gowns and take her to France or anywhere else she desired. He would do all that and more, for she had truly saved him.

  Not just his business, but him. If she had not married me today, I should never have married at all. Instinctively he knew losing Marsali would have been too much for him to ever try again. Charlotte had saved him from himself, from the lonely existence that had been his for so long. And someday, in years to come, God willing, she would assure that his line went on, that he had children and grandchildren to bless his life.

  He owed her the moon, if that’s what she wanted. And the sun and the stars as well. As they made their way down the aisle, hand in hand, amid the well-wishers, William could not recall having ever felt so happy before, nor more filled with purpose. The world seemed alive with possibility. All because of the woman beside him.

  “How do you feel?” Charlotte’s new husband asked a question she did not wish to answer. Yet she could be nothing less than truthful with him. She turned her face from the window to look at Mr. Vancer seated across from her in the carriage.

  “Exhausted,” she said. “I had not realized that there would be so many people, so many faces and names to remember.” They had gone directly from the church to the wedding breakfast, hosted by William’s friends, the Fitzgeralds. It seemed the whole of the congregation had come, and the breakfast had stretched well past noon, a three-hour-long celebration wherein she had eaten very little but had been introduced to and spoken with what felt like hundreds of people.

  Such an event should have been a good distraction to her tender emotions, but the constant congratulations and reminder that she had just married again had kept her on edge the entire time, fearful she might lose control and burst into tears at any minute. And that would never do. Only the thought of the embarrassment and anguish this would cause to Mr. Vancer had allowed her to keep her brave face as she mingled and greeted their guests. But oh, how she wished for the peace she had felt up until the very minute when she’d had to pledge her love to a man other than Matthew.

  She had prayed his forgiveness too many times today to even think it again. What was done was done, and it had been the right thing to do. Hadn’t it? Charlotte hated the doubts plaguing her even this minute.

  “I am sorry I did not warn you about that,” William said contritely. “The breakfast was the last thought in my mind this morning.”

  “That is understandable,” Charlotte said with a tired smile. “And your friends are too kind, especially the Fitzgeralds. I liked them immensely. I promise to be better company in the future.”

  “You were fine company,” he assured her, sounding genuine in his compliment. “I daresay there were a few men there today who were jealous of my good fortune.”

  Jealous because you had to marry your fiancée’s older, widowed sister at the last minute when the woman you really cared for discovered her first husband to still be living? Doubtful. But Charlotte kept her peace on the matter. By and far those in attendance had been understanding and gracious when hearing of the circumstances that led to the last-minute change of brides. She’d been able to spot at once, those women who’d been overjoyed with such a juicy story to gossip about. But so long as she and Mr. Vancer— William, she must call him now— got along in the future, she did not see that there would be much to continue to gossip about.

  Charlotte determined that it should be that way. She and her husband would get on well, in spite of such an unusual and awkward beginning. Marriages had been arranged for centuries; and while they might be lacking the love she and Matthew had known, she believed that she and William could be good friends.

  We can help and comfort and support one another as Bishop Lewis instructed.

  It appeared that William intended to begin that immediately, as he scooted forward on his seat, rose, then turned around so that he was seated beside her instead of across from her as he had been.

  “You are practically falling asleep,” he noted. “Rest your head against me and close your eyes until we are home.”

  Home. What a lovely word. So long it had been since she’d felt as if she’d had one. All through her marriage to Matthew, and even before that, while staying at her aunt’s house in Manchester, Charlotte had not felt as if she had a home. Always they had been guests or employees of someone else. Not since her family had left France had she known the sense of security that having a home meant.

  William’s arm came awkwardly around her, as if he was not quite certain how to make good on his offer, or if, on second thought, it was an entirely good idea. Charlotte wasn’t certain it was either, but she could not deny that closing her eyes and resting sounded divine. So she scooted closer to him of necessity and leaned her head against his side. Gradually she felt the weight of his arm descend across her shoulder and arm, its warmth comforting.

  She closed her eyes and sighed with contentment, giving into the need to be held for just a few minutes. So long it had been since anyone, aside from Alec, had shown her affection. To be cared for, just a little, returned some of the peace she had felt earlier.

  This is right and good. Her eyes drooped, and she gave into sleep.

  What seemed a minute later they were home. Mr. Vancer’s voice was soft in her ear.

  “Would you like me to carry you into the house
?”

  That woke her. Charlotte sat up quickly, her heart beating a panicked staccato as she realized her proximity to her new husband and his own, rather rapidly beating heart.

  “No. Thank you.” Where would he have carried her? To his room or hers? She couldn’t think of that yet, of any intimacy beyond what they had just shared. And she prayed he would not either. “I should go check on Alec. He may be wondering what has become of me.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Vancer withdrew his arm and straightened, putting as much distance between them as possible on the seat. “I meant to tell you— to ask, that is.” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Marsali and I were to take a wedding trip through the end of the year. We had planned to go to Philadelphia and to see some of the other countryside, weather permitting, of course. You and I might still go, if you would like. I’ve allotted these last twelve days of December for the trip. Or, perhaps, with your son to care for, you would prefer not to travel?”

  Charlotte definitely preferred not to travel, and not simply because that would mean leaving Alec. Mr. Vancer’s house was grand, with plenty of space and bedrooms and the possibility that she might retain her own. But an inn in Philadelphia would likely prove an entirely different arrangement, one she was not at all ready for. “Might we stay home?” she asked. “It would be difficult to be away from Alec so long.”

  “I understand,” Mr. Vancer said, his tone indiscernible and his expression unreadable in the low light of the carriage. “You two can get settled in, and there is always plenty of work for me to do at the office.”

  “There is not much settling in to be done beyond that which we have already accomplished,” she said. An idea began to blossom through her haze of her exhaustion. “What if you were to— would you consider still taking your twelve days in December off from your work?”