A Victorian Christmas

by Lorraine Beaumont

  He was not sure how much time had passed. He must have dozed off for when he opened his eyes; his mother’s door was open. It was eerily quiet. Taking a step toward her room, a bone chilling fear set in. He could barely get his feet to move. He walked to the door and froze.

  “No,” he said barely audible. Stepping further into her room, he saw his mother dead, or so he thought at the time. Tears blurred his eyes; he knelt down beside her, reaching for her.

  A floorboard creaked.

  His mother moaned and her hand twitched at her side. “Mother,” he cried, torn. Fear spurred his every action. Standing, he slid back in the shadows. The walking stick held firmly in his grasp. He felt like it was burning his hands and he wanted to toss it aside, but he couldn’t.

  Another floorboard creaked.

  “Allison…my God,” a man said, walking further into the room.

  Devlin didn’t think, he merely struck out and hit the man for all he was worth. The man looked shocked as blood trickled out from under his fine hat, spilling down his face. Devlin struck out again and the man stumbled back out of the door. With one last shove, Devlin pushed the man down the stairs.

  Chest heaving, Devlin stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the man lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

  He ran back into his mother’s room; it was too late. She was dead. Devlin did the only thing he could think to do…he ran…

  “Do you remember now?” the man asked, quietly.

  Devlin shook off the unpleasant memory and once again stared into the black eyes of a stranger, although they were familiar too. “That was you,” he said, his voice coming out strangely calm.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “You remember.”

  “You killed my mother?”

  A pained look crossed the man’s face and he shook his head. “I did not kill your mother. I went to see her, but when I arrived, I was attacked. Someone shoved me down a flight of stairs. When I awoke she had already passed.”

  “No. You…you…” Devlin suddenly wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “I was coming back for you both, like I promised but I was too late.”

  “No,” Devlin said, shaking his head. His chest tightened.

  “I was,” he said. “I loved your mother, but I was young, foolish, and she wasn’t from the right family. I would have lost everything.”

  “So you tossed her aside and left her to her own devices?”

  “No, I gave her what I could, but then…” He lifted his hands helplessly in the air. “Things happened…life happened, I suppose, and I couldn’t get back to her and you.”

  Devlin stood and paced the room, threading his fingers through his hair, holding his head. “Stop it. You are lying.”

  “I thought of you every day, son.”

  “I said,” Devlin clenched his jaw, “do not call me that!”

  “Fine,” he exhaled. “I told her I would be back after I made something for us, for myself.” His face crumbled before Devlin’s eyes. “I was too late.”

  “So she wasn’t lying to me?” he said more to himself than the man in front of him now. Devlin felt sick.

  “No. She was not.”

  For the second time that night, Devlin felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes. He swiped them away with his hand.

  “I am sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” Devlin snapped.

  “I am sorry I was not strong enough to stay for you, for her…I …”

  “Stop!” he shouted, feeling helpless once more. “I do not want to hear anymore.”

  “You must. I have to tell you…” He lifted his hands.

  “You have said enough.” Devlin turned hurt eyes on the man. Feeling none of the things he should. Shouldn’t he be feeling relief? But hearing this man’s confessions, the baring of his soul did nothing to alleviate the pain that was caused by his actions. “I want you to leave.”

  “I understand…but know this, I love you, son. Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you and your mother.”

  “No,” Devlin said, pressing his palms to his eyes. “I do not want to hear anymore.”

  “I wish…”

  “I do not want to hear your wishes,” he spat, angrily. “I wished too, you know. I wished every day of my life that you would come and find me, but you did not. So, just stop. You can carry your guilt, your burdens, with you, like I have.”

  “I am not looking to alleviate my guilt…”

  “Aren’t you? Isn’t that what this visit is all about? So you may go to wherever you need to go with a clear conscience. Well here is a novel idea, perhaps you should have found me when you were still alive. Once you die, it is a bit late don’t you think?”

  “Well,” he said. “I am not sure I am dead.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I think there is a high probability that you are already on your way to the hereafter, so…” He folded his arms across his chest, trying to hold himself together. He could not breathe right. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to cry like a child again.

  “I suppose you are right.” The man stood. “Well, I believe it’s time to go for I have said everything I have come to say.”

  “Good for you.” His lip quivered and traitorous tears slipped from his eyes.

  “May I…” The man held out his arms.

  “What?” Devlin sniffed. “I do not think that would be…ah…”

  “Please.” He stepped closer. “I doubt I will have another chance.”

  “I doubt you will have a chance…” He was going to say now, but stopped and rethought his hasty decision. Isn’t this something he had longed for his entire life and now, the chance was at hand to actually obtain one of the very things he had always wanted and was he actually going to let his pride stand in the way? The old Devlin may have, but like he told his mother a few short hours ago. He had changed. And yes, if truth were to be told, deep down he wanted nothing more than to hug the man, his father, if only for a moment. Relenting, he nodded his head.

  “Thank you.” The man stepped forward, and clasped him firmly in his embrace. “My boy,” he said, patting his back. “It is all right. Everything is going to be all right.”

  The traitorous tears he had held in check were now running freely from his eyes. “I wish I knew you.” Devlin hugged him back, pressing his face against his shoulder, like he was a child of thirteen all over again.

  “So do I son, so do I.” All too soon, the man, his father, relinquished his hold and stepped away. “You can take solace in the fact that now you know I do love you, and always have.” He placed his hands on Devlin’s shoulders. “You turned out quite well, in spite of your upbringing or lack thereof,” he said. Tears glistened in his dark eyes. “I am proud of the man that you have become.”

  The damn broke open. “Don’t go. We still have so many things to discuss,” he choked.

  “I know but I fear you have company coming. Good-bye son. I love you.”

  Devlin looked at the clock. It was only one o’clock. “No it’s still early,” he said, turning back around. But his father was gone. “Father… please, come back…”

  For the second time that night, Devlin fell back into the chair, and covered his face. And the boy he was and the man he had become, cried for the loss of a father, he had never known but somehow found he still loved anyway.

  Chapter Eight: The Past, Hawthorne Manor

  “On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…eight maids a milking”

  As it turned out, the castle in the distance was a heck of a lot further away than Sadie had first thought. Her teeth had stopped chattering about an hour ago because they, along with her face, were so frozen they couldn’t make any movement at all. She was numb - beyond a Popsicle at this point. The cloak was working well to keep the chill away until she had fallen face first in a snow bank. In the distance, she could see another home, it was not the castle she had spotted earlier, but at the moment she would tak
e a barn if it kept the pelting snow from hitting her. The snow had turned from nice floating flurries into frozen chunks of ice that stung her face when it hit.

  “Come on Sadie, you can do it,” she told her protesting limbs. It took a lot longer to make it to the house then she thought it would, but once she was there she saw it was more of a mansion than a mere house. It looked Greek revival in architecture. Large columns supported a weighty balcony from above. Dragging herself up the stairs, she lifted her arm and hit the door. It made a dull thump. “Come on, Sadie,” she cried, frustrated, swinging her numb arm to get the momentum up and hit the door again. Thump.

  At least the ice chunks falling from the sky were blocked by the overhang, but she was too cold, too tired. She didn’t think she could take much more. “Please answer the damn door.” She swung her frozen arm back and hit the door again. Thump.

  “Hello… someone… anyone…please, answer the door.” Not able to keep standing, she slid down the hard surface of the door to the mat placed in front. She scratched the wood with her nails, too frozen to do more at the moment. “Please…”

  Devlin was losing his mind, or so he thought. He kept hearing things. He was sure it was his just-do for the wrongs he committed in his life thus far, but he had thought, no, he had hoped, he was finally on the right path; someone kept tossing obstacles in his way. First his mother and then his supposed father…

  “Now what?” he asked and looked upward, half expecting something to drop on the top of him and put him out of his misery once and for all. But nothing happened. Surely, this was a test of some sort. He had a feeling he was failing though.

  “This would be my just dessert, I suppose.” He shook his head and walked in the front hall. Eerie shadows clung to the corners of the dimly lit room; the scratching he had heard earlier was only a small sound now.

  Standing in the front of his door, he waited to see if someone would walk through the wood. After a moment or two and no one appeared, he grabbed the handle. It was cold to the touch. Bracing himself for the monster he was sure was on the other side, he jerked open the door.

  Something tumbled in the door.

  “Bloody Hell!” he yelled. Jumping away, he nearly fell over.

  Sadie barely heard the voice…it sounded so far away. The warmth revived her somewhat and she crawled forward trying to get inside.

  Devlin eyes boggled. Warily he stood back, not sure what was moving toward him. It was a big lump of red covered in a dusting of snow.

  “Please… help me…” A small hand reached outward.

  “Oh good Lord,” he said with a goodly amount of relief seeing it was a mere girl and not something terrible. He reached down. “Come on,” he said, lifting up the girl.

  Sadie looked up into the most penetrating black gaze she had ever seen. She trembled in his arms. “Thank you.”

  His heart skipped an entire beat. “Ah, not a problem,” he said, recovering, adjusting his hold. A strange feeling coursed through him, down to his gullet. “Let’s get you warmed up, shall we?”

  “Ye—yeah,” she chattered.

  Devlin helped her inside the study and set her in one of the chairs, the one his father had been in; noticing the box was still there, he did a double take. Was this another visitor from the hereafter? He had to wonder.

  Taking this third unexpected visit in stride, he walked over to the sideboard, poured an ample amount of Brandy in a glass, and brought it to the girl.

  “Here, drink this.” He held out the glass. “It will warm you up faster.”

  Sadie took the glass and was surprised she could hold onto it. The glass even felt warm to her frigid fingers. “Thank Yo…u,” she chattered, holding the glass in both hands and drank greedily. “Whoa,” she breathed, her eyes tearing up. “This is ….” she coughed, “stroong.”

  “Yes.” It was the only word he could manage. Her hood had come down and her light brown hair spilled down to her shoulders, matted to her head; it looked frozen in spots. When she lifted her eyes to his, his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes captivated him…they were the palest shade of blue, he felt as though he was looking up into the sky. His heart thumped a little faster.

  Sadie felt his eyes on her and gulped the rest of her drink down. The drink was doing a fine job of warming her up but his unrelenting gaze made her feel…strangely warmer… “Might I bother you for another?”

  Devlin blinked coming back to his senses and took her glass. “Of course,” he said. Walking over to the sideboard, he repeated his earlier ritual and filled her glass once more. Looking over his shoulder, he cast a wary glance in her direction and instantly decided he had better make one as well. The sadness he had felt earlier was fading away and being replaced by something different, something not quite explainable. He did not know what it was exactly but he welcomed it just the same. Suddenly he hoped she was real and not some figment conjured from his mind.

  Careful not to spill the drinks, he walked slowly back across the room and handed the glass to her once more. This time when she took it, their fingers touched and he felt a jolt shoot up his arm.

  “Oooh… sorry,” she said, feeling the snap of electricity.

  “What are you sorry for?” he asked startled.

  “I shocked you.”

  “Oh.” He blinked. “It is quite all right.” He cleared his throat. “I am just going to…ah…” Turning away, he set his glass on the mantle and bent down to toss another log in the fire, trying to control his rampant emotions. “Are you warmer now?”

  “Yes, I am feeling much better. It was touch and go for a while though.” She laughed nervously.

  “How long were you outside?” He turned toward her, standing up once more.

  “Gosh, I am not sure.” She flustered. “When I fell through the …” she trailed off. Good grief, she couldn’t tell him she just popped out of thin air. He would think she was crazy. Heck, she thought she was pretty crazy right now too.

  “When you fell…” he prodded.

  “Yeah, I fell from my… ah…”

  “Horse,” he supplied helpfully.

  Horse? What the heck! “Sure, yes, ah…” she swallowed hard, “my…horse.”

  “Where were you going?”

  “Um, I can’t ah…seem to recall,” she lied.

  “You must have hit your head.” He looked concerned.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Her cheeks bloomed with color like they always did when she lied. It was her tell. Some people get a twitch or dart their eyes around but she turned a bright shade of red. That is why she was no good at poker. Everyone could tell if she was bluffing.

  “Do you feel sleepy?”

  Sadie thought about that. “Yeah,” she said, suddenly feeling sleepy. It had to be the Brandy. On cue, her eyes drifted closed.

  “Don’t go to sleep!” he snapped.

  Her eyes popped open. “What did you do that for?” she snapped back and put her hand over her racing heart.

  “If you have a concussion,” he said trying to explain. “You are not supposed to go to sleep.”

  “Oh,” she said, giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, for …well …you startled me.”

  “I understand.” He sat down in the chair opposite her and crossed his legs.

  “Nice place you got here.” She looked around the room for the first time. It was done in a light pale yellow color with lots of floral paintings. It looked very feminine. She looked back at him…taking in his tight fitting pants and his extremely shiny tall boots. The collar to his bright white shirt was tall, and he wore a tight fitting jacket. “Strange,” she muttered and took another drink.

  “It was ah…” he stopped in mid-sentence. He was going to say his ex-wife owned it but suddenly didn’t want to reveal more than necessary.

  “Are you gay?” she blurted suddenly and then covered her mouth, appalled. “Oh gosh…that is none of my business.” She shoved her glass back to her mouth and took a large drink.

 
Was he happy? Why yes, yes he was. “I wasn’t but I find now that you are here, I am…”

  She spluttered. “What?”

  “Happy…” he finished, giving her an odd look.

  “Oh right, of course.” She brushed her spilled drink off her cloak. “So stupid,” she muttered.

  “Are you warm enough,” he asked standing once more. “I can take your cloak and hang it up.”

  She pulled the fabric closer to her body. “No, I’m good,” she lied once again, her cheeks flaming giving away her blatant lie. Actually, she was starting to sweat.

  “All right,” he said and sat back down, and lifted up his drink once more. He frowned. “Were you going someplace close or did you get lost in the storm?” He noticed her cloak was finely made so she was not a pauper or a vagrant, perhaps she had fallen on hard times. He understood that all too well.

  “Both,” she lied. She didn’t really know why she was continuing this giant gob of a lie but her gut told her she shouldn’t tell him how she really found herself to be here. Everything seemed a bit too…off…

  “Oh,” he said, and then remembered Katherine had said Grayson’s niece was coming to visit. Why wasn’t she in a carriage though? Perhaps she had already arrived and was out for a ride…in a storm. All right, so some things didn’t add up. “You are Grayson’s niece, are you not?”

  Niece? Grayson? “Sure.”

  “You were out riding and got caught in the storm…” he added.

  “Yes,” she nearly yelled. “That is exactly what happened.”

  He chuckled at her sudden enthusiasm. “Well luckily you were able to make it here.” He smoothed his hand through his hair, leaning back and re-crossing his legs. “I should attend to your horse.” He stood again.

  “No!” She reached out and grabbed his jacket.