The Dressmaker's Christmas

by Eliza Lawley

  Daisy looked haughtier than usual. “See? I told you my mama has forced my sister to become a servant. Holly is a bad girl and mama hates her, she told me so! But I’m a good girl and get whatever I want.”

  Holly had to clench her teeth to keep the piercing retort on the tip of her tongue. The little brat, using her this way to show off to her friends. Rose was cruel, but Daisy had grown to be vicious and spiteful. With her blonde curls and crystal blue eyes, she was already surrounded by admirers. The perfect little replica of their mama.

  Releasing a breath, Holly said, “I need to return to the kitchen, Daisy, so if you don’t need anything from me, I’ll be off.”

  She began to turn, but Daisy grabbed her skirts to stop her. “I didn’t say you could go!”

  The child jerked at the dress with all her might. Holly, taken by surprise, lost her balance and stumbled, losing control of her tray, sending drinks flying to the floor. There was an outraged shriek and crash of expensive crystal. Suddenly the room was deathly silent, and when Holly was able to right herself, she met the cold hard eyes of her mama.

  Rose’s dress was sopping and clearly ruined. She stared at Holly, looking for all the world like she wanted to wring the girl’s neck. Holly had never seen her mama so furious, and it terrified her. She stood frozen, too afraid to move, though wishing she could run and hide from Rose’s wrath.

  Holly chanced a glance around the room. All eyes were on them.

  “You little idiot!” Rose screamed, hurtling herself forward. Before Holly could gather her wits enough to dodge it, her mama’s hand struck her across the cheek. She lurched as pain exploded in her face and hot tears burned in her eyes. Rose began screeching in full force. “You clumsy, ungrateful child! You have ruined everything!”

  “Rose, sweetheart…” Silas stepped forward to try and calm his wife, but she ignored him, too far gone into her fury to notice the shocked stares of their guests.

  “You have been nothing but a burden since you came into this house!” Rose screamed. Years of pent-up aggression spewed forth. “We should never have taken you in! We should have left you to rot in the workhouse with the other unfortunates! I curse the day my dear departed sister brought you in to this house!”

  Silence.

  Tense, cold, brutal silence shrouded the room.

  No-one dared to move.

  Holly stared at the woman before her for what felt like a lifetime.

  Rose met her gaze without a trace of regret in her eyes.

  This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be the truth.

  Yet, even as thoughts of denial rose up like a barrier to protect Holly’s mind from breaking, everything clicked into place. Suddenly everything made sense.

  No wonder Rose hated her.

  No wonder she’d loved Daisy more.

  Daisy was hers.

  Holly…wasn’t.

  “Rose! What have you done?” Silas snarled.

  Holly looked towards him, hoping to find some comfort in his gaze, or to hear a denunciation of his wife’s words. She wanted him to run to her, take her in his strong arms and tell her that none of it was true. But his eyes darted from his wife to their guests; his embarrassment clear.

  Realisation was a sinking weight in her gut.

  Her papa was more concerned about what everyone now thought of him than he was of Holly’s thoughts and feelings. Her world was collapsing around her, and the one person who had always said he’d care for her…didn’t.

  Daisy was cackling next to her mother. “I knew you didn’t belong here! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

  Holly had known it too, though she’d tried to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut for years.

  Her life was a lie that had soured and turned her family against her.

  “Get out,” Rose hissed.

  Holly blinked, “Wh…what?”

  “I said, get out! This isn’t your home! It never was! I should have known better than to think you could be the daughter I needed. You don’t belong here. You belong out on the streets, back where you came from!”

  When Holly made no move to leave, Rose charged her, grabbed her arm, and yanked from the room and towards the front door.

  “You can’t do this!” Holly cried. She pulled at Rose’s fingers, but the woman’s grip was like iron. Turning back to Silas, she begged, “Papa! Help!”

  He stared after her, the devastation clear on his face, but he made no move to save her. He was not about to fight with his wife in front of all of their friends.

  Tear fell then, soaking her cheeks. Turning her attention back to her mama, Holly attempted to plead for her life. “Please, don’t throw me out, mama. Let me stay. I’ll work hard! I swear it! I’ll be the maid. Just, please don’t throw me out on the street.”

  Danger lurked out there.

  Not just the cold and the threat of hunger, but the menace of the Ripper still loomed over London. No woman walked the streets at night alone.

  As Rose dragged her toward the door, Holly couldn’t decide which would be worse.

  Freezing to death or being hacked to bits.

  If Rose threw her out, one or the other would likely be her fate this very night.

  “Please!” she screamed when Rose yanked open the door and pushed her out onto the snowy step. “Mama!”

  “I am not your mother!” There was a feral glee in Rose’s eyes when she spoke those words. Holly could see she’d been wishing to speak them for some time. “I never was, and never will be!”

  The door slammed in her face.

  Holly banged on it, screaming, but no-one answered. No-one came to her aid.

  Once, she had been beloved. Protected. Cherished.

  Now, she was nothing. Nobody.

  Pushing from the door, Holly ran. She had no destination in mind but was overwhelmed with the need to get away. From that house. From that family. From everything she had ever known.

  From the lies that had built up, then destroyed, her whole world.

  Chapter 6

  Holly ran and ran until every muscle ached and her lungs burned. Icy wet snow soaked through her shoes, and the cold wind whipped at her face, freezing the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, but she kept running and running until she suddenly realised that she was on London Bridge. She must have run for miles. Stumbling to a halt, she bent to hold her knees and tried to pull air into her lungs, gasping for breath between sobs that wracked her body.

  Clutching at her throat, her fingers skimmed the silver chain of the locket that hung from her neck and she grasped it. The only birthday gift she’d received that year, from the man who had failed to defend her.

  Sorrow, confusion, and anger roiled through her like a thunderous storm, and she yanked at the locket. She wanted to rip it off and throw it into the dark water of the Thames that raged beneath her feet. Yet, as the thin metal dug into her neck, she stopped, and stood frozen, staring out at the river.

  She sniffled, clutching the locket in her hand. It was cold against her palm, yet she felt a strange comfort holding it. Slowly, she released her fingers, and the locket fell back against her chest. A thought entered her mind and a sense of calm washed over her.

  Moving closer to the low stone wall the separated the footpath of the bridge from the water below, Holly peered over the side. It was dark, and she couldn’t determine how far down the water was, but she could hear it stirring, oblivious to the pain and poverty that existed in the city built upon its banks. She considered the river for several moments. It was a constant; a steady force that could be relied on, no matter what. Holly took comfort in that idea. Her heart was shattered, her world burned to ashes, but the river wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t throw her away. It would simply pull her into its depths and comfort her, embrace her in a way that Rose never would. Holly kicked off her shoes and pushed herself up onto the wall, lured by the river’s siren song. As she stood on the edge, the wind yanked at her skirts, as if urging her to the dark abyss below.

 
She had once heard that drowning was a beautiful way to die.

  Closing her eyes, Holly lifted one foot and raised it over the black void…

  “Miss! Wait! Don’t!”

  Startled by the deep voice calling to her, Holly opened her eyes and spotted a young man hurrying across the bridge towards her. Frowning, she watched as he came to a stop and gazed up to meet her stare.

  Holly blinked, confused. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Her voice was composed. Casual. They could have been crossing paths in the park, making easy introductions and exchanging casual pleasantries rather than standing on a bridge in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, one of them a step away from death.

  “I was about to ask you the same question, miss. Can I help you down? You must be cold up there in the wind.”

  His tone matched hers, but there was an underlying urgency to it. He raised his hand to hers, but she didn’t take it. She studied the man for several heartbeats. His long woollen coat looked warm and expensive and she could just see the peak of a red satin scarf tucked underneath. He was handsome, for sure, with a square jaw and mop of dark hair that he wore long enough for a strand to escape his flat-top bowler. His kind blue eyes gleamed with concern.

  Concern for her.

  She blinked, fresh tears suddenly swimming in her own amber eyes.

  Why should this stranger care at all about her?

  His hand stretched towards her, and a part of her wanted to take it. What would follow, though? What kind of life awaited her now? She would be cold and alone on the streets, with nowhere to go. She didn’t know a soul in London and she suddenly wondered how she could have reached the age of sixteen and have no friends to speak of, no-one to love and protect her.

  Rose, her mind spat at her. Rose did this to you. She kept you isolated and alone for all this time.

  Holly glanced down towards the water.

  Death would be easier.

  Yet, still she hesitated. This man’s display of compassion was a flickering candle in the darkness, and she was lured by its light and warmth.

  “Miss?”

  As his hand brushed her wrist, she let out a surprised yelp and lost her balance. Crying out, she fell forward, and in that harrowing moment, the river didn’t appear so inviting. It was rabid and hungry, eager to swallow her whole.

  Holly realised she didn’t want to die after all. She didn’t want to disappear from the world as if she’d never existed.

  Strong fingers wrapped around her arm and yanked her back from the yawning abyss. Falling from the stone wall, she landed in his arms and he clutched her tightly to his chest.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, releasing her and grabbing her shoulders, turning her around to face him.

  Holly couldn’t respond. Her heart raced so fast inside her chest that she could feel it banging her ribs and she thought it might burst. As the weight of what she’d almost done settled on her, she collapsed to her knees. The man followed her down. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head and forced her to meet his eyes.

  “Miss? Answer me. Do I need to find you a doctor?”

  Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but it was as if her throat had closed up. She could only manage to shake her head.

  “Where do you live?”

  She tried to respond again. “I…” Where did she live now? “Nowhere.”

  He frowned. “Nowhere? You must be staying someplace?”

  She shook her head again.

  Pursing his lips, he studied her at length, then pushed to his feet.

  “Very well. Come with me.”

  Holly furrowed her brow. “Wh…what? Why?”

  “I can’t very leave you out here alone, can I? You might try to do something foolish. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve.”

  Why did he care?

  What did it matter to him if she lived or died?

  “On your feet, then,” he said. When she didn’t comply right away, he reached down to grab her hand and pull her up himself. “This way.”

  Before she could utter a word of protest, he strode off into the darkness and Holly was too exhausted to argue.

  Chapter 7

  The man led Holly along several winding narrow streets, seeming to know the area like the back of his hand. They had been walking for half an hour before common sense worked its way back into her frazzled mind.

  Even in the dark she recognised where she was, and a sense of dread knotted her stomach. She’d been here before with her papa... or the man she once believed was her papa. Silas had needed to run an errand a few months ago and had stopped the carriage… right over there… in the very heart of Whitechapel. And now, here she was, with a man she didn’t know, right at the epicentre of Jack the Ripper’s hunting grounds. She was alone with this stranger, in the most dangerous area of London.

  Her heart pounded and blood froze.

  What an idiot she was.

  She thought of running. But where would she run to?

  Heart racing, she frantically looked around for anyone who might assist should she need it. But it was late into the night on Christmas Eve, it might even be Christmas day by now and the streets were eerily quiet.

  What if this man was the famed Whitechapel murderer, and had only saved her so he could kill her himself?

  Panic set in, and her thoughts battled in her mind as she tried to figure out a plan.

  The man came to a sudden stop and she nearly crashed into him.

  “Here we are,” he murmured.

  “Wh…where are we?” she stammered, looking up at the worn signage of an old dressmaker’s shop.

  He looked back at her with a raised brow. “This shop belongs to a dear friend of mine. She’ll look after you.”

  Holly froze, confused. “So, you don’t mean to kill me?”

  Both his brows shot up. “What? Kill you? Why on earth would you think that?”

  “What else am I supposed to think?” She felt oddly affronted by his shock. “It’s late into the night, and you drag me through the streets of Whitechapel. I don’t know who you are… not even your name… what if you’re…” Suddenly the words seemed clumsy, almost foolish on her lips “…Jack the Ripper.”

  His mouth dropped into a wide O. “Good Lord! I didn’t even think of it! You must be scared out of your wits. I apologise for causing you such worry, especially on top of an already traumatic night for you.” He offered her a warm smile. “Please, just come inside and meet my friend.” Opening the door to the shop, he stepped aside to let her enter first.

  The interior was small, but warm and inviting with red embers of a small dying fire in the hearth on the far wall with a large and carefully placed plush velvet chaise beside it. Dressmaker’s mannequins, maybe four or five of them, stood naked on the shop floor and one corner was stacked with rolls upon rolls of fine-looking material in almost every colour that Holly had ever seen. She cautiously crossed the threshold.

  Coming in behind her and closing the door, the man stamped his feet to rid his boots of the snow. Holly did the same, realising that her stockinged feet were soaked and freezing; they suddenly hurt to move.

  “Edie! Edie, are you here?”

  Holly heard the sound of shuffling from the back of the shop, and the next second, a tall woman stepped from behind the clerk’s counter with a baffled frown. She was older, perhaps in her forties, and had dark hair that was tied into a tight knot at the back of her head. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest.

  “Thomas!” Edie exclaimed in surprise. “What’s all this then? Do you know what time it is?”

  “I apologise for the late hour.” Thomas unbuttoned his coat and slipped a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat. “Goodness, it is late,” he said, checking the time and putting the watch back in his pocket. “But it seems I’m in need of your help.” With a gentle nudge, the man pushed Holly forward.

  Edie eyed her with a curious gaze. “And just who is this?”

  “I
found this girl on London Bridge. She’s in need of a place to stay for the night, and I thought she might be welcome here.”

  Edie’s eyes went wide. “Out on London Bridge? In the middle of the night? On Christmas Eve? What were you thinking, girl? You could have caught your death of cold, or worse! What if the Ripper had found you?”

  Holly swallowed, surprised by the genuine alarm darkening the woman’s tone. “I…I didn’t intend to be…”

  “Never mind all that now,” Thomas interjected. “She is safe and whole, and in need of a warm meal and a few hours of sleep.”

  Edie sighed and rested a hand on her hip. “I suppose so. I can’t very well let the girl roam the streets alone, now can I. No, no, my conscience would never allow it.”

  “You are an angel.” Thomas stepped forward to plant a kiss on the woman’s cheek. When he returned his attention to Holly, he said, “You’ll be safe and cared for here. I could leave you in no finer hands.”

  He was hurrying towards the door before Holly realised he was leaving.

  “Please, sir! Wait!”

  Pausing on the threshold, he turned back to give her a little wave before disappearing into the night.

  Holly stared after him, baffled.

  “Well, I imagine you must be hungry,” Edie said, cutting through Holly’s confusion. “Come along, my dear.”

  Edie began making her way to the back of the shop. Holly glanced towards the front door one last time before hurrying after her.

  “Thank you for your generosity, ma’am,” she mumbled as they made their way up a narrow set of stairs to the upper floor of the building.

  “No thanks necessary. It’s my Christian duty to care for the unfortunate, after all.”

  If Holly had any pride left, her words might have hurt it. As it was, Rose had managed to destroy most of it.

  “I’m Holly,” she said.

  Edie stopped and appraised her. “Edith Parker, but most call me Edie.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Edie.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and stepped into a small living space with a cosy fireplace with two armchairs placed either side.