by Linda Banche
Penelope leaned forward. “Miss Ward is leaving. At this hour?”
Charles bent over her shoulder. “With Mr. Price.”
“Why?”
Charles laughed. “They are eloping.”
Penelope’s jaw fell. “But what about you?”
He wound his arms around her waist and tugged her back against his chest. “Earlier tonight, I talked with Mr. Price. He is in love with her. Her stepfather wrote him a letter saying his daughter no longer wanted him. I told him to make the lady deny him in person.”
She twisted to look up at him. “What happened to us happened to them, too?”
“I believe so.”
“Now that I think on it, I remember Mr. Price looking at Miss Ward as if she were the only woman in the world. And she looked at him as if he were the only man.”
“I noticed the same.”
She snuggled deeper into his embrace. “I wish them well. I pray the snow does not make the roads treacherous.”
“The snow is only a dusting. Enough to lighten the darkness, but not enough to endanger them.” He kissed her ear. “Scotland is just beyond the river. In an hour or so, they will cross the bridge into Coldstream and can wed at the Marriage House.” With one hand, he snapped the drapes shut. “Shall we accompany them?”
She turned in his arms and flattened her hands on his chest. “No.”
“No?” His breath hitched. She couldn’t mean that. He was desperate to marry her, the sooner the better.
“Miss Ward is underage. They must hurry to avoid pursuit. We would slow them down.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “We can go in the morning.”
With a jingle of harness, the gig rattled out of the stable yard.
“Too late now.” Gratefully, Charles released the breath. Then he swept her up and carried her back to the chair.
She squealed as she curled up on his lap. Then she draped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
When the kiss ended, much too soon by his reckoning, he leaned back in the chair. The mistletoe, green leaves and white berries glistening in the firelight, dangled overhead. “The mistletoe is still above you.”
She tipped her head up and her eyebrows drew together. “Gracious, what an odd place to hang mistletoe. I never noticed that before.”
“Ah, now you see it. Whenever I saw you, I saw mistletoe above you. I was certain I was going mad until Mr. Price told me he saw mistletoe over Miss Ward.” He set her on her feet and stood to touch the plant. His fingers passed through the sprig.
“Oh, my, magic mistletoe?”
“So, the legend is true. How I will enjoy seeing Edward’s and Jane’s faces when we tell them.”
“Do you think the mistletoe also led you here and unlocked my door?”
“I was somewhat drunk, and most likely, the darkness confused me. Also, the mechanism probably did not quite catch when you turned the key, but did when I shut the door behind me.” He folded her into his arms and caught her chin in his hand. “But I neither know nor care. As long as we have mistletoe, shall we use it?”
She lifted her lips to his. “We have much to thank the mistletoe for. Oh, look!”
The color had leached out of the mistletoe. Bit by bit, the green leaves and white berries greyed and faded until they vanished in a wisp of smoke.
Charles held Penelope close. “The mistletoe has done its work. Thank you, mistletoe.”
Chapter 14
“On to breakfast.” Charles slipped on his shoes. “I cannot wait to see everyone’s reaction when we make our announcement.”
Penelope sat up in bed. “No one will be more shocked than my aunt.”
He snorted. “Serves her right, the miserable way she treated both of us.”
He rose to his feet and then kissed her. “I will away to my chamber to change and then meet you in the small parlor. We will enter the dining room together.”
Penelope donned the white gown she had worn last night. An evening dress wasn’t appropriate for morning, but this was the best she had, and today was her wedding day.
She almost skipped all the way to the parlor.
Charles was already there, in coat, pantaloons and Hessians. He kissed her palm. “My beautiful bride.” Then he set her hand on his arm. “Now to beard the lioness.”
Penelope’s other hand trembled. Although she had already made her break with her aunt, she dreaded the confrontation.
Then she fisted her hand. Today was the first day of her new life. She had no reason to be frightened. Ahead of her was joy, a joy too long delayed.
Voices funneling down the passage grew louder with their every step toward the dining room. They entered and then made their way down the table toward two empty places.
Conversation drained away. Cutlery no longer clicked on dishes and the guests at the sideboard stopped filling their plates. Everyone stared.
Charles seated Penelope, and then stood at the chair beside her. “We have an announcement to make.”
“You evil girl!” Aunt Lydia thumped her overloaded plate on the table. Two muffins and a slice of bacon fell off. “You left me to fend for myself this morning. You know I need you to tend me.”
“Stop, Aunt.”
“Pish tosh.” Aunt returned the muffins and bacon to her plate. “Come fetch my tea. All is forgiven.”
“No, all is not forgiven. I will never forgive you for separating Charles and me.”
Charles, his face granite, laid his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “I will never forgive you, either. Your days of persecuting Penny are over. Find yourself a new companion, and I pity the poor wretch. Penny has agreed to become my wife.”
Jane jumped up to hug Penelope. “I am so happy for you!”
Edward clapped Charles on the back. “My congratulations, too. The best end to the holiday season.”
Aunt’s jaw dropped. Then she turned the darkest shade of red. “You ungrateful girl. After all I have done for you!”
Penelope squeezed Charles’s hand on her shoulder. “Yes, after all you have done for me—your lying to keep Charles and me apart, and your treating me worse than a leper. I told you last night what I thought of you, and I will not repeat myself. Be gone from me. I never want to see you again.”
Aunt reddened further. “Why, you—“
Clapping drowned out her aunt. “Brava, Miss Lawrence!” Smythe clapped again and again. “And congratulations to you both. Especially you, Gordon. I cannot be the only one who noticed you light up whenever you saw your lady. And you, too, Miss Lawrence, when you saw Gordon.”
Everyone then took up the applause and called out their own felicitations.
Except Aunt Lydia and Mr. Bray.
Outnumbered, and especially since she couldn’t get a word in, Aunt gathered up her meal and then slunk away.
Mr. Bray followed her.
Mr. Price, Miss Ward on his arm, passed the two on their way out. “What is going on?”
Smythe stopped clapping for a moment “Gordon and Miss Lawrence have become betrothed.”
“Congratulations, sir, and good luck to your lady. And thank you for your advice.” Price beamed at a radiant Miss Ward. “Priscilla and I married last night.”
“What?” Lady Henderson’s word was a shriek. “How could you? You could have wed better, Priscilla, someone with a title, not a third son!”
Mrs. Price stepped closer to her husband. “No one is better than Miles. I always knew that. You wanted a titled gentleman, and you married one. Then you wanted one for me, too. That is why you sent Miles and me those letters, telling us we no longer loved each other. I will never forgive you for that.”
Lady Henderson blanched. “I did no such thing.”
“Say what you will. I hope that someday we can make our peace.” Mrs. Price smiled up at her husband. “We leave tomorrow for London.”
“And his job as a clerk. You will regret this day’s work, Priscilla.” Lady Henderson stalked out after Aunt Lydia and Mr. Bray.
/> Charles and Penelope wished the Prices well.
Charles shook Mr. Price’s hand. “Where do you work?”
Mr. Price flushed. “At Taylor Transportation, as a shipping clerk. I fear I work for your competitor.”
“Not anymore, if you do not want to. I like a man with persistence, and you certainly were persistent in pursuit of your love. Come see me in London. I can find a better-paid position that fits your talents.”
A stunned Mr. Price pumped Charles’s hand harder. “Thank you, sir. A fantastic wedding gift.”
And a very merry crowd sat down to Christmas breakfast.
***
With Charles’s help, Penelope climbed up into the gig the Prices had used last night.
He jumped up beside her. “Now to be married. But first, the Christmas service with the others and one other stop.”
“For what?”
“A surprise.” He clicked the reins, and the horses sprang into motion.
She squeezed his arm. “How wonderful to travel with you. I always loved your stories of the faraway lands you had visited, and I wanted to go with you. You must have many more tales now.”
“Indeed I do. But now, we can journey together, and make our own stories.”
The sun sparkled on the snow in the fields, a bright glow that echoed the one in her heart. The road was clear, the sun having melted the snow there, and dried the ground, too, so there was no mud. Ahead rose the fork with the sign for the Coldstream Bridge and the Marriage House, where they would take their vows.
Charles took the other branch of the road, the one down to the village.
The church bells rang out in joyful song, both for the day and for their happiness, as they rode down the main street. Pedestrians scurried along on their way to the service.
They stopped in front of the dress shop, and Charles secured the reins. “I would like you to keep that white dress for the memories, but I intend to throw out every tattered garment you own. Once we repair to London, I will buy you more clothes, but for now, the best Cornhill has to offer.” He leaped down and then banged on the door, ignoring the “Closed” sign.
He knocked several more times, the sound loud in the frosty air.
Finally, the lock clicked and the door opened. A woman in outdoor attire, her brows lowered, blocked the doorway. “We are closed today. Come back tomorrow.”
Charles tipped his hat. “Thank you for seeing us. My lady and I are on our way to our wedding and she needs new attire. I know your shop is just the place for the perfect gown, as well as a complete wardrobe for our wedding trip.”
The woman’s sour expression vanished. “Please come in.”
Charles helped Penelope down and into the establishment.
The modiste removed her hat. “What may I help you with?”
“First, a dress for our wedding. The prettiest day dress you have for my lady.”
“I have a few ready-made.” She bustled into the rear of the shop and returned with several dresses. One was pink, another blue, still another violet, and the last a deep green.
Penelope stroked the fabric. All silk. “How beautiful.”
The dressmaker set down all the gowns except the pink one. “I think the pink will suit your coloring the best.”
The dress was dark pink with long sleeves. A white ribbon circled the high waist and tied with a bow under the front, and the ends cascaded to knee length. Embroidered blue flowers decorated the neckline and the hem.
“So lovely. I will take this one.”
Charles cocked an eyebrow. “All the colors will flatter you. Madame, we will take them all. Tomorrow we will come back for the final fittings. Do not forget the rest of the garments ladies need, or shoes, either.”
Penelope spent a happy half hour picking out handkerchiefs, shawls, gloves—both indoor and outdoor—a bonnet and even a matron’s cap. Also silk chemises and stockings, a corset decorated with embroidered pink rosebuds, and a blue pelisse of such a thick, fine wool the cold would never find her.
Charles added a pink Kashmir shawl to the collection.
The dressmaker swung aside the curtain to the rear of the shop. “I may have to make a few alterations. You can try on everything here.”
The pink dress fitted Penelope as if made expressly for her. In the past few years, she had rarely worn silk, and never such a fine dress. She looked like a princess, exactly as she should for her wedding.
The modiste made a few tucks to the dress, the corset and the pelisse, but the garments needed very little. “I can make any final adjustments tomorrow.”
Finally, wearing the pink gown over a silk chemise and stockings, she re-entered the front of the shop. She made a slow pirouette before Charles. “Well?”
His face lit up. “Even more beautiful than before. But now, on to the shoemaker for new day shoes for you.” He helped her on with the new pelisse and she donned her bonnet.
The dressmaker went first and roused the cobbler, also dressed to go to church. He opened his shop, the same place that had made Penelope’s boots. He measured her feet and found a pair of shoes that would fit her for now, promising to make any modifications if needed.
Charles commissioned several more pairs of footwear for her, including, at Penelope’s suggestion, a pair of house slippers, and then they left, leaving a very happy shoemaker.
Charles placed all her purchases, as well as the old attire, in the gig. “Do you remember those silks I talked about at dinner one night?”
“Yes.”
“I knew not what made me keep them. Now I know I saved them for you. In London, we can commission a modiste to make you dresses from them.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “And maybe some nightwear, too.”
She blushed.
They, the dressmaker and the shoemaker were all late for church, but that didn’t matter.
***
Charles and Penelope descended the church steps to more congratulations from their friends.
Then he once more helped her up into the gig for the last few miles to their wedding.
The sun shone brighter, the sky sparkled with a blue clearer than crystal. The day had even warmed up, as if nature itself smiled on their prospective union.
They made their way slowly across the bridge at the head of a procession of their friends.
Their wedding procession.
Charles’s spirits rose higher than the blue dome above them. Finally, finally, finally, he would marry the woman he had loved from the first time he’d seen her. These few minutes of delicious anticipation were the same as if he awaited her in church as she walked down the aisle to wed him.
They passed a cart going in the opposite direction. The carter grinned and tipped his hat. “On the way to your wedding?”
Charles nodded. “Yes.”
“Congratulations to you both!”
“Thank you.”
Penelope smiled and waved.
Charles looked over his shoulder as the man proceeded on his way. “He reminds me of the carter who picked me up on my way back from Kent. The man lent a sympathetic ear as I poured out my tale of woe, and then told me something I never forgot. Perhaps he was just being kind to a heart-broken young man, but he said that if you and I really loved each other, we would meet again, because love always finds a way.”
Penelope’s eyes rounded. “A very wise man.”
“Prophetic, too.”
When they pulled up before the Marriage House, a cheer greeted them from even more assembled friends who had preceded them.
Penelope looked around. “Aunt is not here.”
“Good. That part of your life is over.” He hopped off the gig and then helped her down.
Jane pressed a bouquet of white roses into Penelope’s hands. “I am so happy for you!”
Penelope breathed in the flowers’ scent. “White roses, my favorite. Thank you so much. Jane, I have waited for years to ask you to be my bridesmaid. Please say yes.”
Jane hugged Pe
nelope. “As if I would refuse.”
“And you, Edward, be my bridesman. I do not have a ring yet, but I will remedy that when Penny and I return to London.”
“Of course.”
“One more thing.” Charles gathered the Prices to their little group. “Edward and Jane, your mistletoe legend is real. Last night Penny saw the mistletoe, but when I tried to touch the sprig, my fingers passed through the cluster. And then, the plant faded away to nothingness.”
Jane gaped.
So did Edward. “Harry and Amelia never mentioned anything like that.”
Charles laughed. “I knew the expression on your faces would be priceless. Thank you both for telling us about the legend, and I hope you find your own magic mistletoe someday.”
“I didn’t see that, either.” This from Price.
“Now that we have won our ladies, I doubt that either of us will see the mistletoe again.”
Amid more well-wishes, Charles and Penelope entered the Marriage House. As many of the crowd as could squeezed in after them.
“Good morning.” A man in a clerical collar sitting at the side looked up from his prayer book. “I am Mr. Sutherland of St. Elspeth’s Church in Coldstream, here to bestow Christmas blessings.” A twinkle in his eye, he stood. “And to perform a wedding?”
Charles nodded
“Since today is Christmas, I wish to bring all possible cheer to the day.” The clergyman gestured to the right. “If you two will stand there.”
“Why there?” Charles looked up.
Mistletoe glimmered in a shaft of sunlight.
The mistletoe is back!
Penelope blanched.
Mr. Sutherland frowned. “Is something amiss? I thought mistletoe was appropriate for a Christmas wedding.”
“No, nothing is amiss.” Charles wasn’t seeing things. Not anymore. “Mistletoe is indeed a good choice for the day. Real mistletoe, that is.”
The churchman’s frown deepened for a second, before he flipped pages in his prayer book. “Would you like to start the ceremony now?”
“Yes.”
The mistletoe twinkled and glittered as Charles and Penelope said their vows. Then they kissed under the mistletoe to a cascade of applause.