A Victorian Christmas

by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Oh, my surprise is not you?” he asked, surprised.

  “No, it’s not.” She lifted her brow. “See you do not know me as well as you think.”

  “Well,” he breathed, “I guess I do not, because the wife I know would have wanted me to give her a present of my own.”

  “Oh,” she said, her cheeks coloring even more and then she smiled. “We can do that later. Now I have a different surprise to show you.” She held out her hand.

  Devlin took it. Her hand was warm. It felt good. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” she promised.

  Once they were down the stairs she turned toward him. “Now close your eyes.”

  “Why?” He gave her a wary look. Devlin didn’t like shutting his eyes. It would mean he had to put his trust in someone else. He did that once before and the result had been horrifying.

  She lifted her hand and smoothed the crease between his brows. “Devlin, you only have to keep them shut for a moment, all right?”

  Devlin could not explain what he felt in that moment. It was a foreign emotion to be sure. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes.

  “Now do not look until I say.”

  “Yes, yes. I will not look.” As soon as he shut his eyes, memories scampered out of the crevices of his mind…his heartbeat erratically. Counting backward, he tried to calm the rampant fear that was seizing hold from within. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “Isabelle,” he choked, his throat clogging.

  She rushed back inside. “Open your eyes.”

  Devlin opened his eyes and looked out the door. Down at the bottom of the stairs was the finest carriage and horseflesh he had ever seen. “Who is here?”

  “No one is here.”

  “Isabelle there is a carriage in the drive…” He pointed out the door.

  “I know Devlin. I can see it, too.”

  “I am not sure…”

  “Merry Christmas, Devlin.”

  His brow creased. “Merry Christmas,” he repeated.

  “Oh Devlin, it is yours,” she explained. “It is a gift, from me, to you.”

  His eyes widened. “That is …for me?” he asked, not able to stop his shock from showing. He felt like he may need to sit down.

  “Yes it is for you.” She laughed. “Do you like it?”

  “My God,” he breathed, “it is beautiful.” He was too stunned to say anything more. Never in all his years had anyone thought to give him a gift so fine. He turned toward Isabelle and grabbed her hand. Without a word, he pulled her up the stairs to their room. For the rest of the day he made love to her, showing her his appreciation the only way he knew how.

  A log rolled further down in the fire, bringing Devlin’s thoughts back to the present. He stood and walked over to the rows of books lining the far wall of room. He and Katherine were reading the same book, A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Retrieving the book, he ran his hand over the smooth leather.

  They had started a club of sorts and had begun reading the same book, much like he and Marguerite used to do, with one exception. Katherine was only a friend, his first real one, for that matter. Once a week they would meet for afternoon tea, along with some kind of confection to discuss their thoughts on the book, which was what he looked most forward to these days. The gift he had made her was not actually made by him, per se. It was a book, but he had inscribed it with a poem he had written for her.

  “Dawning from a sunrise or a frame of mind, either way, it is a new day to explore and make more than the day before.”

  It was a silly little poem, but the meaning behind the words was significant; he only hoped she understood what he was trying to relay. In many ways he felt as though he had written the poem for himself, as a reminder…that life was indeed short, so he better make the most of it. The problem was he had no one to share it with. For who would want to spend their life with a rakehell, a reprobate, a wastrel, albeit, a reformed one.

  No one would. He knew that and yet he couldn’t help hoping for that very thing just the same.

  Ravenhurst, the Library

  “What book are you and Devlin reading this time?” asked Sebastian, walking over to his wife. She was curled up in the window seat, engrossed in her book. This is where he could find her on most days, if she wasn’t in the kitchen, seeing what goodies she could sneak away from Cook. He smiled at her, still not believing his good fortune.

  Giving him a warm smile, she marked her page and closed the book. “Oh, it’s by Dickens.” She ran her hand over the leather. “I have read it before but Devlin really wanted to read it and this version is different than the one I read, or at least it seems to be.”

  “What is it about?”

  “Oh, it’s about a stingy old man, a miser, who is visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve.”

  “Three ghosts you say?” Sebastian lifted his brow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “Yes, three ghosts.” She made a face. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Of course not,” he chuckled and when she gave him a stern look he cleared his throat. “What kind of ghosts?”

  “Hmmm…” She looked at him like she didn’t believe him. “One is from Scrooge’s past…”

  “Scrooge?” he asked, nearly laughing again.

  “Yes,” she exhaled. “He is the protagonist in the book, the miser…”

  “Interesting,” he said, pulling at a loose string on his jacket.

  “Sebastian!”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t even paying attention to me.” She swatted him in the arm with the book.

  “I am.” He rubbed his arm.

  “Really, what did I just say?”

  “Huh?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the loose string back to her face.

  “I knew you were not listening.” She gave him a reprimanding look and crossed her arms, or tried, her belly was getting pretty big.

  “I am.” He widened his eyes. “One is from the past.”

  “One what is from the past?”

  “The miser,” he answered, shrugging.

  “You are ….”

  “Yes, wife…what am I?” He smiled and pulled her up into his arms, his face mere inches from hers.

  “You are….ah…”

  “Yes…” he prompted.

  “Stop,” she giggled. “You know I cannot think straight when you look at me like that.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “What I have in mind doesn’t involve thinking.” He traced his finger down her neck to the opening of her gown. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the delicate flesh.

  “Oh,” she breathed and pulled him closer.

  Present Day, New York City

  A truck rolled by outside, making the old windows rattle. Pulling back the curtain, Sadie looked outside at the falling snow. It was getting pretty bad, now. There wasn’t even anyone on the streets, which was amazing considering where she lived. Rubbing her arms, she let the curtain fall and walked back over to the box Mrs. Flint had given her.

  “Well Mrs. Flint, what did you give me?” A sizzle of excitement slid through her. The old tissue paper made a crinkling sound as she pulled it back, once again revealing the red velvet material. Reaching inside the box, she pulled it out.

  “What do I need with this?” It was a cloak, a beautiful one. She shook it out and tossed it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp. The inside was lined in fur. She spun around, feeling like a princess from a Disney movie, like Belle, except she didn’t have a prince or even a Beast, like in Belle’s case. Still it was lovely, warm and the nicest gift she had ever received.

  “Why did you give me a cloak, Mrs. Flint?” The words she said drifted back to Sadie. Have a safe trip and remember… a heart wants what a heart wants…all you need to do is listen to it and everything will work out just fine. Oh and believe…

  “What the heck?” Walking over to the door, she pulled on her boots. She was going to run down, tell Mrs. Flint tha
nk you, and ask her what she meant. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her keys. Something thudded on the floor. She bent over and picked up handkerchief, the one the gentleman had given her. Her cheeks bloomed with color again, thinking about her tampon fiasco. She opened up the handkerchief.

  “Oh my… ” It wasn’t a tampon, like she expected. No, it was a necklace. The fiery stone sparkled beautifully. “Why did he give me this?” She wondered aloud.

  It must have been on accident. But that didn’t make sense. She clearly remembered what he said when he had given it to her. “I think the item inside is what belongs to you.”

  A shiver ran up her spine. She didn’t know why but she was getting a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like something was about to happen, except she didn’t know if it was going to be something good or bad. Her brow creased.

  “Why would he think the necklace belonged to me?” The stone sparkled beautifully, shimmering in her hand, beckoning her to it. Suddenly she didn’t care why he had given the necklace to her. The urge to put it on was overwhelming. In one swift motion, she unfastened the clasp and put it on her neck. Once the clasp snapped shut she felt a jolt course through her body like she had just stuck her finger in an electric socket. It kind of hurt, actually. Lifting the necklace, she stared at the red glowing stone. White smoke swirled within, revealing a snow covered landscape with a castle in the distance. She stared harder, not believing her eyes, for surely she was imagining what she was seeing.

  The longer she held the necklace the warmer it became and yet she couldn’t bring herself take it off. No, Sadie wanted to see this other world revealing itself to her like a forgotten time straight from the pages of a fairytale. The stone grew even brighter. The scene revealed itself even more and suddenly she found herself wanting nothing more than to be there, inside that very scene. Closing her eyes, she tightened her grip on the amulet and made a wish. “I wish for my very own happily ever after.”

  And with that solitary wish, under a full moon and the stars aligning just right… Sadie McAllister vanished.

  Chapter Five: The Past - Hawthorne Manor

  “On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me… five golden rings.”

  “Devlin, wake up!”

  Devlin jerked awake. He was still in the study. Warily he looked around. He could have sworn he heard his mother’s voice and it was just as shrill as he remembered. Shivering, he sat up and braced his arms on his legs. The fire crackled in the hearth, hissing softly.

  “Are you going to dally all day? We’ve got places to be.” Skirts rustled across the carpet. Devlin turned slowly around. His eyes widened. “Mother?” he breathed, shocked.

  “Who else?” she said, giving him one of her staple looks filled with disdain.

  He rubbed his eyes. “This must be a nightmare.” He shook his head.

  “You wish,” she scoffed.

  Lowering his hands, he looked again. She was still there, wearing her best dress, the one he had her buried in. Except she didn’t look dead, no, she looked alive and well. His chest tightened. “Am I dead?”

  “No, you aren’t dead.” She glided across the room.

  He gulped. “Then why are you here?”

  “To see you,” she said, like it was of no consequence.

  “Why? Am I in trouble?”

  “Aren’t you always in trouble?”

  “Well, no,” he disagreed. “I’ve changed.”

  “But have you changed enough?”

  “I think so.” Had he though? He wasn’t sure suddenly, for why else would she be here.

  “Not likely,” she said doubtfully.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Come on and be quick about it. I have things to show you.”

  He leaned further back into the cushions. “What kind of things.” Fear roiled inside of him and he suddenly felt like the helpless little boy he once was.

  “Why your past,” she said, “obviously.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Why do I need to visit my past?”

  “So you may see your future more clearly.”

  “I see things clearly now?”

  “Do you?” She lifted her brow. “Hmm,” she said giving him one of her pointed looks. “Well, no matter. You’re still coming with me. Now stop dilly-dallying.”

  “I do not want to.” He was whimpering, like he did when he was a child. That scared him more than she did. He sat up straighter, fighting against the terror that was seizing him.

  “You always were a disagreeable child.” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I see you haven’t changed much.”

  “I have changed.” He sat even straighter. Something else seized him instead of fear….hope maybe? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure of one thing. There was no way he was going anywhere with her.

  “I am a better person, now. No thanks to you, of course.” He stared at her, surprised his voice had come out so sure, so strong. He had never been strong around her. He had cowered, like a scared, little, beaten animal. But then again, the same animal that has been beat down, sometimes finds the strength to bite back. He tried to do the same now.

  “See, that stubborn streak in you will be your undoing…just you wait and see.” She glided further into the room.

  “I don’t think so, mother.” He stood up from the chair, taking a stand against his greatest fear. His fear of disappointing his mother, making her think less of him, but then again her opinion of him had never been very good no matter what he did. “I think the problem is and always has been you.”

  “You think?” She smoothed her hands over her gown, her expression contemplative. “Perhaps,” she said in a matter of fact tone.

  “Why do you hate me so?” He couldn’t help asking.

  “I do not hate you, son.” Her face changed. The animosity, bitterness, even the disappointment that was always clearly etched on her face seemed to soften. “You remind me of him.” Her face took on a faraway look.

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  “I only wanted what was best for you, what you deserved. What he promised me.”

  Devlin instantly knew whom she was speaking of…his father. “Mother, it is not my fault he left you.”

  “Oh but it was,” she said. “If I had gotten rid of you like he wanted, he would have stayed with me. We could have been happy….” She trailed off.

  “Well, I doubt that,” he said, surprised by his own candor.

  She brought her gaze back to him, the softness he had seen now gone. “You are wrong. He promised me.”

  “Mother, he used you and tossed you aside. That is what men do, some men…” he amended.

  “And you are like him as well,” she said flatly.

  “No, I might have been but I see things differently now. I want to love and be loved. I will not settle for anything less and neither should have you.”

  “No one ever loved me.”

  “You are wrong mother,” he said, his heart breaking for her all over again.

  “Really?” she scoffed, clearly not believing him. “Tell me, Devlin, who loved me?”

  “I did,” he said, he voice shaking with emotion. “I loved you. But you didn’t see me, you only saw him, and what you lost, never what you actually had.”

  “What did I have?” she asked clearly perplexed.

  “Me, mother…you had me…I loved you.”

  She cocked her head strangely to the side, confusion in her eyes. “Why did you love me?”

  “Because you are my mother, that’s why.”

  “That doesn’t seem like a very good reason.”

  “How is it not?” He lifted his hands in acquiescence. “You gave me life, without you I would not be here.”

  “Well, that is true enough, I suppose.” She gave him a sad smile. “You know Devlin, even though I did not know how to show it very often, I always did love you.”

  Her words nearly brought him to his knees. “You did?”

  “ Yes,” she said, h
er image fading. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.” And with that last avowal, his mother disappeared from his life once again.

  “I love you, mother,” he choked, tears brimming in his eyes. Falling back into the chair, he covered his face. And for the first time, the boy he was, cried for the loss of a mother that loved him, after all.

  Chapter Six: The Past, Ravenhurst Property

  “On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…six geese a laying.”

  “Oomph!” Sadie groaned, rolling to her side. She was in a bank of snow. It was a soft snow, thankfully. Flurries floated in front of her eyes, like a shaken up snow-globe. “Where the hell am I?”

  One minute she was in her apartment and the next…

  She looked warily around her, sitting up. Trees covered in snow, formed a canopy around her. The air was crisp, cold…stealing her breath. Pulling her hood further over her head, she stood up, dusted herself off, and snuggled into the confines of the fur-lined cloak. Her heart picked up pace. “Okay, Sadie,” she exhaled. White air surrounded her head like a wreath from her breath. “Just calm it down,” she told herself.

  It was eerily quiet with the exception of the branches creaking under the weight of the snow.

  “Eeep!” she cried, startled. A small rabbit hopped by and stopped, giving her a curious look. “What?” she said, staring back at the rabbit that was looking at her like it was wondering what she was doing out in the woods in the middle of the night. “Well guess what little fur ball, I am wondering the same thing,” she said.

  The rabbit flicked its ears and hopped away on its merry way, disappearing under a tree.

  “How did I even get outside?” she wondered aloud. Her teeth chattered. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear or being cold, maybe a little of both. She looked up at the full moon. It illuminated a large castle, up on the hill in the distance. It looked like it was from a forgotten time. She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them. It was still there. “Oh no, Mrs. Flint,” she exhaled.” The woman’s words came back to her. “When the moon is full, and if the stars align just right, other worldly things will happen.”