“Let’s start with a jig,” Matthew said. “Holly and Grayson will start by dancing with the other children, then you can segue into a waltz. Let’s get started. I’ll cue you, Freddie.”
Never in Grayson’s wildest imaginings had he dreamed of dancing with Holly Chamberlain, much less holding her in his arms. But when the time came, Freddie changed the lively jigs and reels into a slow, stately waltz. The children dropped back, and Grayson bowed to his partner. “Mrs. Cratchit,” he intoned loudly, “might I have the honor of this dance?”
She caught his mood and made a deep curtsy. “You may indeed, Mr. Cratchit.”
The children giggled as they came together and Grayson swept Holly in carefully controlled movements about the parish hall stage. Her long, slender fingers curled around his, and in her smile he found all he could want.
“You dance beautifully, Mrs. Cratchit,” he praised, not knowing what else to say and not daring to say more, lest he give his heart away in front of everyone.
“As do you, my love,” she answered, and the children laughed again.
“Look, Tim, Mama and Papa are dancing,” Clara/Martha said.
“Hurrah!” Dick/Tim cried, beating the floor with his crutch.
The entire cast—except Theo— burst into laughter and applauded as the too brief waltz came to an end. Grayson gave a theatrical bow and kissed Holly’s hand. “Well done, my dear!” he said.
“Oh, that’s good, that’s very good!” Matthew called. “Am I brilliant, or am I brilliant?”
“You’re brilliant,” the cast answered dutifully.
“Well then, let’s go on,” Matthew said, taking the pencil from behind his ear and making a note on the tattered script pages. “We start where Scrooge says…”
By evening’s end and to everyone’s relief, Matthew announced they needed only one more rehearsal, in full dress, to polish things up.
“You’ve all been splendid,” he praised the cast. “And a special thanks to the children and their parents, for being such troopers. Don’t forget, curtain goes up here on Christmas Eve at five o’clock, so everyone needs to be here by three. Now, Mrs. Allen, little Dick’s mother, and Sir Cyrus our patron, have not only put up refreshments for us tonight, but will do so after the play not only to celebrate our production, but also Miss Honeywell’s twenty—first birthday. So let’s enjoy ourselves. I for one, need a cup of tea.”
The assembly headed for the stairs in back of the stage, men to the left, ladies to the right. Grayson watched Holly depart with the other women, enjoying the sway of her old-fashioned skirt. With a sigh, he headed backstage to change clothing. At the bottom of the stairs, Grayson noted the tall figure of Theo talking with Oliver Simpson who played Scrooge’s nephew Fred, and he ducked behind a large stack of boards piled in the shadows.
“I’ll pick up the ring on Christmas Eve, and propose to Holly on Christmas Day evening,” Theo said. “Her father always has an open house then and I thought that would be the perfect time.”
“Couldn’t have chosen a better woman for a wife,” Oliver said. “You’re quite sure she’ll say yes?”
“I wouldn’t have bought the ring if I weren’t, old man,” Theo boasted.
Heart sinking, Grayson waited until they headed back into the Parish Hall. He had two days until Christmas Eve to come up with the right words for the last letters to Holly. But try as he might, no words were coming. Writing his Christmas Eve’s sermon had been far easier than this. He would have to force his brain into action before Theo put the ring on Holly’s finger.
He entered the Parish Hall and spied his beloved standing with Miss Honeywell and her grandfather. Sir Cyrus beamed and waved to Grayson to join them.
“Good work, Grayson,” he boomed. “Splendid portrayal of Bob Cratchit.”
“Thank you, Sir Cyrus,” Grayson said, trying not to gulp as Miss Honeywell came to stand as close to him as manners would allow.and not look improper forcing him to stand as close to Miss Honeywell as manners would allow. She batted her eyelashes at him with such rapidity, Grayson wasn’t sure if she were trying to flirt, or if she had something in her eyes.
“I do believe that Grayson’ s portrayal is quite poignant,” she cooed, actually laying her hand on his arm. “Grandpapa, do say I might invite Grayson to share Christmas Day dinner with us.”
“Anything you want, my dear,” Sir Cyrus said, giving Grayson a wide smile.
Grayson’s heart sank again. Why do I have a feeling that its my goose that’s about to be roasted and presented on the Honeywell table for Christmas dinner?
Chapter Six
“And God bless us, every one!” the cast shouted at the crowd packing St. Martin’s parish hall to overflowing. Wild applause broke out as they came forward, holding hands to take their bows. The children earned their own huge round of cheers and whistles as did the rest of those filling the cast’s minor roles. the cast minor characters.
When Holly and Grayson stepped to the edge of the stage, he took her hand and bowed to her. She followed with a curtsy and the applause grew in its strength.
They stepped back, and Theo Barrett stepped up to receive a thunderous ovation from the gathering. He nodded and smiled and motioned for Matthew to join them for still more applause. Then the curtain came down, and the cast scattered, eager to be with friends and family. Grayson looked for Holly, but she was gone. As she would be by this time tomorrow afternoon. Gone from him forever.
And he would be dining with Miss Honeywell and her grandfather.
At least he had come up with two short missives and made it to Holly’s office for her to write them out. He sighed, thinking of his poor, short attempts at putting his heart on paper.
There is none like you, fairest of ladies. One moment, one hour by your side, hearing the sound of your beloved voice protects me and surrounds me with such riches, that I am in all amazement. You hold my heart in your hand, and there I would rest forever.
He dare not think of the last one. Cheeks burning, he left the empty stage. Behind the same boards where he had hidden himself he heard a giggle and then a whisper and then—Merciful Heavens!
“Oh no,” Priscilla Honeywell whispered, breaking her kiss with a wide-eyed astonished Matthew Timmons.
“I say, Grayson, be a good fella and don’t betray us,” Matthew pleaded.
At first Grayson could only stare. “B—but Miss Honeywell. I thought that you—”
“I’m sorry to break your heart, Grayson, but I had to pretend I was in love with you until my birthday because Grandpapa would never have permitted me to marry Matthew.” Priscilla’s words came out in a rush. “But now that I’m twenty—one and have come into my own money and—”
His heart beating in wild exaltation, Grayson held up his hand to stop her. “You may marry and still inherit. I quite understand. You plan to elope? Right now?” The pair nodded and Grayson said, “What about your grandfather, Miss Honeywell?”
“He’s singing solo at all the services at St. Alban’s,” she said. “He’ll be too busy to notice I’m not there until it’s too late.”
“Then go quickly, and may God bless you both,” Grayson said with his best pulpit voice.
The couple hurried away and hope returned to Grayson’s heart. Returning to the parish hall, he scanned it for Holly, who was of course, standing with Theo. For a moment, the look she gave the barrister nearly changed Grayson’s mind, but a man must do what he must. Spying Clara talking with Oliver, he hurried to join them and said, “A private word with you, Miss Clara?’
He tugged at her sleeve and pulled her into a corner before she could answer. Eyes wide, she said, “Whatever is the matter, Mr. Clark?”
“I need your help on a matter most urgent,” he said. “What time does Miss Holly get up on Christmas Day?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Right around six to prepare her Papa’s special breakfast. The bread has to soak in the milk and sugar mixture before we cook it. Why?”
; “Because—” and Grayson leaned over to whisper in her ear.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, sir,” she whispered. “That’s the most romantic—”
“Hush,” he whispered back. “Do you understand what you need to do?”
She nodded and after making sure Holly’s attention was on her coachman Harold— who had grown out old-fashioned mutton chop whiskers to play their Fizziwig— Grayson hurried backstage, found his coat and hat and left St. Martin’s for Chestnut Street.
Chapter Seven
“‘Merry Christmas, Miss Holly,” Clara greeted softly as Holly entered the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas, Clara,” Holly echoed, taking the traditional cup of cocoa. She quickly drank it and asked, “Is the milk for the bread pudding good and cold?”
“Yes, Miss, but before we start, could you go and hang up the stockings on the mantle? Some have fallen down, and I can’t find the hammer.”
“It’s on the mantle, but I’ll go do it,” Holly said, giving her the cup. She headed toward the parlor and from behind the slightly open door, saw the glimmer of candlelight.
Candles? She pushed open the door, and gasped.
Two candelabras filled with shimmering candles, stood on either side of the mantle, from where five embroidered stockings hung, each bearing an initial of her name. She stumbled forward and saw each held a scroll of paper. Hands trembling, she took out and unrolled the paper from the H stocking. She gasped again as her own handwriting greeted her. Since the moment of our first meeting… Grayson Clark. From O to the second L, all the stockings contained the letters she had written to his dictation, and all signed by him. Her beloved Grayson.
Tears running down her cheeks, she pulled out the remaining scroll, remembering their laughter at his ‘friend’ borrowing lines from Jane Austen’s Persuasion and one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Oh, how I faint, when I of you do write, for you pierce my soul. One glance from you and I am half hope, half despair. For I have loved and will always love none but you.
Yours alone, Grayson Clark.
Grateful she always changed into her clothing before preparing Papa’s breakfast, Holly dashed for the hall closet and her coat, and she was out the door, where miracle of miracles—for Christmas is after all, all about miracles—the family coach waited and driver were waiting. A smiling Harold helped her inside before climbing back on the box and setting the horses into motion.
And because it was a miracle, Holly didn’t even have to tell him where to go.
The greenery hanging from the communion rail and pulpit scented the empty church. With a heavy heart, Grayson finished lighting the candles and returned to the sacristy. Christmas Day was here, and within minutes, the sexton would unlock the front door for the seven o’clock service. In the bell tower, the ringers had already gathered, waiting for the clock to strike the hour.
He’d always associated the scent of evergreen with hope, but it was foolish to hope that writing love letters to Holly Chamberlain would make a difference. By this afternoon, she would be engaged to Theo Barrett and that would be the end of it. After all, Grayson was only a clergyman and—
“Grayson.” A beloved voice called from the doorway. Its owner hovered there as if unsure if she should enter or flee. But the light in her eyes outshone all the altar candles, and Grayson opened his arms to her. She ran to enfold herself against him and he buried his face in her glorious unbound hair.
“You found the stockings?” he asked.
“An Oxford scholar asks such a question?” she whispered. “You got Clara and Harold to help you, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was the only way. Dare I hope you’re here—”
“Because I love you?” She lifted her head and in her eyes was the promise of love, tomorrows yet to come and all the happily-ever-afters one could dream of. “So much for you’re being a scholar. Yes, silly man, because I love you. Only you.”-
“And here I was thinking you loved Theo,” Grayson sighed in relief.
“And I thought you were in love with Priscilla,” Holly said. “It nearly broke my heart thinking those letters were for her.”
“Good thing they weren’t, or Matthew would have killed me,” and Grayson told her about the by now newlywed couple.
She laughed. “So there we were, writing and dreaming of the one we loved when they were just across the desk. A fine pair we made.”
“A fine pair we’ll make,” Grayson corrected, brushing his lips across her forehead. “What about Theo?”
“He’ll have to find someone else,” Holly said. “Is it a sin to kiss in the sacristy?”
“I’ll have to ask the bishop,” Grayson said, pulling her closer. “But it’s a good place for a proposal.”
She pretended to pout. “But I was going to propose to you.”
“Then let’s ask each other together. On the count of three. One, two…”
“Marry me, Grayson?”
“Marry me, Holly?”
“Yes,” they chorused and at that moment the bells began to peal out Joy to the World, spreading the news to all of London that Christmas Day was indeed finally here.
But Grayson and Holly, wrapped in each other’s arms, were too busy enjoying the first of a lifetime of kisses to notice.
About the Author Jennifer Conner
Jennifer Conner is a best-selling Northwest author who has fifty short stories,books, and audiobooks.She writes in Christmas Romance, Contemporary Romance, Paranormal Romance, Historical Romance, and Erotica.
She has hit Amazon’s top fifty authors ranking and her books have been #1 in sales.
Her novel Shot in the Dark was a finalist in the Emerald City Opener, Cleveland, and Toronto RWA contests.
Jennifer is an Associate Publisher for the indie e-book publisher, Books to Go Now who resides in the Seattle area. They pride themselves in helping new authors get their foot in the door with well-edited manuscripts, professional covers, and platforms uploads.
She live in a hundred year old house that she grew up in. Her semi-small town holds an interesting mix of resident hillbillies, yuppies and Navy Seals. And of course Seattle, only a few miles away, is the birthplace of Starbucks so coffee is always on the check list. She blows glass beads with a blow torch, (which relieves a lot of stress and people don’t bother you) and is a huge fan of musicals.
About the Author Sharon KIeve
Sharon Kleve was born and raised in Washington and currently lives on the Olympic Peninsula with her husband.
Sharon is a multi-published author of paranormal and contemporary romance. She loves romance. She loves reading romance, living romance, and especially loves writing about romance. She gets no greater feeling than watching her characters come alive in each other’s arms. Most of all, she loves giving her characters the happily ever after they deserve—with a few bumps and bruises along the way.
One of her favorite things to do is picking up a new book and sinking into the story, immersing herself in the emotions between the characters. She hopes to inspire her readers the same way her favorite authors have inspired her.
When not writing, she can usually be found either curled up in her recliner with her cat and a good book, or in the kitchen baking sourdough bread or bagels.
About the Author Karen Hall
Karen Hall lives in East Tennessee where she shares her home with Buddy and Febe, THE WONDER DOGS and works as a therapist. When not writing romance, she enjoys singing in her church choir, cooking for friends and tries to keep the flower beds weeded.
About the Author
Author Bio: Mindy Hardwick enjoys writing first love and sweet,
contemporary romance for all ages and is known for her small-town, artistic community stories.
Mindy enjoys teaching others about writing and her on-line classes can be found on Savvy
Authors. When she’s not writing, Mindy can be found art journaling, visiting flea markets
with her dog, Stormy. Mindy believes that a great story can warm the heart, lift the spirit, and
heal the soul.
Website: www.mindyhardwick.com
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