by Joyce Alec
“Your Grace,” the butler began. “George, one of your hired men, wishes to have a word with you. Whilst he will not tell me the specifics, it is in relation to your cousin, Croyton. In addition, I have a breakfast tray for you both, should you be hungry.”
“Yes, yes, send him in,” Oliver said, sitting up in bed, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. Sarah sent him a warning glance as he grimaced, her caution going unheeded. Breakfast trays arrived first, with George soon after. He was a tall man, holding his cap in both hands which he twisted back and forth.
“George! Thank you for coming. I am quite well, as you can see. Tell me what has happened with Croyton.”
George, refusing to look the duke in the face as befit his station, spoke plainly, his words tinged with a little trepidation.
“Your Grace, we chased the man that shot you across the estate grounds. He had a horse hidden, which he mounted and began to ride away on. Unfortunately, in the darkness, he fell and — well, he is dead, Your Grace.”
A hush filled the room, the atmosphere growing tense as the silence built. Oliver did not know what to say. The threat was gone for good now, but he had not wished for Croyton’s death.
“Thank you, George,” he said eventually. “Please also pass on my thanks to the others as well. Croyton’s death was of his own doing; I do not hold any of you responsible. You must all go to the kitchens for some refreshment, and you will also receive extra pay, now that your job is complete.”
Clearly relieved, George made his goodbyes, thanking the duke profusely before exiting the room. Sarah turned to Oliver, a mixture of shock and relief on her face.
“Oliver?”
He sighed, beckoning her over. She sat on the bed next to him and he took her hand, marveling at how it fit so well into his own.
“I am not sad for him, my love. He was a cruel man, serving only himself. The threat is gone, my children are safe, and you are here with me. What more could I ask for? Surely God has smiled on us today.”
She nodded, a soft smile on her face.
“I must go to the children,” she said quietly. “They will be wondering what all the commotion is about, and I shall reassure them, of course.”
“Stay nearby today,” Oliver replied, tugging her forward. “I will need you close to me, to make sure I do not over-exert myself.” He grinned at her, laughter in his eyes.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied, a mischievous smile on her face. “I shall take good care of you.”
“You already do,” Oliver whispered as she left the room. “You already do.”
Chapter 9
By the end of the following week, Oliver was up and about once again, much to the delight of his staff and his children. His wounds were healing nicely, but most of all, the pressure he had felt for many months had now disappeared. Croyton was no more; there had been no more letters, and he felt as though everything was simply dropping into place. His children were safe, his house was in order, and Sarah was in his life. Whilst he had made no more mention to her of marriage, it was, of course, his intention. The house was a hubbub of activity as the servants prepared for his Christmas ball, and it was there that he intended to ask her for her hand. The banns would be read, and they would marry on New Year’s Day. He could hardly wait.
“Miss Brown, Miss Brown,” Elizabeth giggled, whirling around the snowy grounds. “Did father really say that I may stay to watch the dancing?”
Sarah smiled at her excitement.
“Yes, my dear, we will watch from the balcony — but you must be sure to be very quiet.”
“Of course, of course I will!” came the reassuring reply. “I shall be as quiet as a mouse. Oh, Miss Brown, will they do the waltz?”
“I should think so,” Sarah replied. “It is a most popular dance!” Her thoughts turned fleetingly to when she had danced the waltz with Oliver, her toes curling as she remembered his arms around her.
“Miss Brown,” Samuel interrupted, a little shyly. “May I also stay to watch?”
A little surprised, Sarah put an arm around Samuel’s shoulders.
“Of course you may, dear. I did not think you would be interested, but you are most welcome to join us. Remember though, children, you have two more days to wait.” They continued to walk a little further across the estate grounds and into a small copse of trees, enjoying the frosty afternoon.
Out of nowhere, a figure appeared, grabbing Sarah roughly by the arm.
“You’re coming home with me, my girl!”
Gasping, Sarah tried to pull away, terrified as she recognized her father’s cruel face.
“I will not. Leave me be!” she cried, trying to wrestle her arm from his grip. A hard slap across her face staggered her, as she tasted blood. Through a haze of pain, she saw Samuel and Elizabeth’s terrified faces.
“Run, children, run back to the house!”
Before she could say another word, her father slapped her again, his ring cutting into the side of her face. Elizabeth screamed as Samuel began to drag her towards the house.
Oliver was enjoying a leisurely afternoon in his study, relaxing in front of the fire with a most enjoyable glass of port. His Christmas ball was in a couple of days’ time and had been planned down to the finest detail. He had a ring prepared and hoped that he and Sarah be betrothed very soon. His silence was broken by his twins bursting through his study door, both shouting and crying at once.
“Father, father!”
“Miss Brown, she...she...”
“We were walking by the pond....”
“No, beside the trees!”
“There was a man and he...”
“He is hurting her, father!”
Jumping to his feet, Oliver ushered his children into the care of his ever-reliable butler, who had just arrived on the scene.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I will take care of Miss Brown.”
Blast. In all the commotion over Croyton, he had pushed the issue of Sarah’s father to the back of his mind, assuming that, by the time he caught up with her, she would be a married woman. Cursing, he ran as fast as he could towards the small clump of trees beside the pond, hoping he was not too late. He soon saw Sarah, now on her knees as her father, as he assumed he was, held her by the hair. She was clearly in pain, and blood was running down the side of her face. Oliver was enraged and, snarling, he launched himself at the man, freeing Sarah from his hold. A single punch knocked the man to the ground, and it took all of Oliver’s inner strength to stop his attack. Instead, Oliver turned to Sarah, lifting her to her feet and holding her shaking form close, still watching her father with a wary eye. Sarah sobbed into his shirt, bruised and shaken.
“That girl belongs to me,” her father snarled. “I’ll be taking her back with me. She’ll not be warming your bed anymore.” He tried to reach for Sarah again, but Oliver pulled her away, turning her body away from her father.
“I should call you out for such an insult,” Oliver replied, calmly, pushing down the rising tide of ire. “Your daughter has been doing a marvelous job of raising my children and does not warm my bed, despite what you may think. She will not be returning with you. She is to be my wife.”
“Pah!” came the retort. “She’ll not make you a good wife! She’s the same as her mother, that one. She’ll be raising her skirts for any man that so much as looks at her, don’t you doubt it.”
Oliver began to shake with rage as Sarah clung to him. He told himself that were he to let loose his rage upon this man, he would lose everything he loved. He had to let the insults go.
“I do not have time to trade words with a fool,” Oliver replied through clenched teeth. “You will get off my property immediately and never return. Should you ever try to see your daughter again, it will be all the worse for you. Your daughter is destined to be my duchess. She loves my children as a mother might and has earned both my love and respect, something she has never received from you. Get off my land and never set foot on my property again.
Do I make myself clear?”
It was clear Sarah’s father had no choice but to leave. He spat in Sarah’s direction, one final, disgusting insult before turning around to make his way off the estate. Oliver held Sarah to him, feeling her sag in relief.
“He will never hurt you again,” he whispered. “Never again, my love.” She sobbed against his chest, blood staining his shirt. “I swear to protect you, Sarah, for the rest of my days. Will you have me?”
It was certainly not the most romantic proposal and not in the way or the place he had intended, but he needed to make her his own.
“Yes,” Sarah whispered, brokenly. “I will, Oliver.” How grateful she was for this man, how deep her love for him. He had saved her from her father, and now she would be his, forever. She was both happy and shaken in equal measure.
“Let us go inside, my dear,” Oliver said, putting a steadying arm around her shoulders. “We will need to get you cleaned up immediately.”
“The children?” she asked, anxiously. “Are the children all right?”
“Yes, yes,” he replied soothingly. “They were very good; they came straight to me. They will be worried about you, so we must reassure them that you are safe now.”
Leaning heavily against him, Sarah made her way back into the house, one that she could now think of as her own.
Chapter 10
Sarah winced as she awoke, her face still battered and bruised. With a soft knock, Meg entered the room, a few soft lavender compresses to hand. With gentle hands, she wiped and pressed Sarah’s bruises, chattering twenty to the dozen as usual.
“I heard you and the master are to be married, Miss!” she exclaimed. “That is good news indeed; we are all so pleased for you.”
“Thank you, Meg,” Sarah replied, feeling so content it almost overwhelmed her. “I am sure we shall be very happy.”
“Indeed you will, miss,” Meg laughed. “Twill be strange to call you Your Grace instead of ‘Miss,’ but I will get used to it, I am sure. Now, you must bathe your face like this both today and tomorrow, especially since you are to be announced at the ball.”
“What?” A look of surprise spread across Sarah’s face. “Announced at the ball? No, no Meg, I am staying with the children in the balcony. We are to watch the dancing before they go off to bed. Of course I am not to go the ball.”
“But you are, Miss,” Meg replied, a smile in her voice. “The master has ordered a ball gown to be made for you; the dresser will be coming soon for your measurements. You will be as pretty as a picture!”
The knock at Oliver’s door was not the usual butler’s knock. Rising to his feet, he opened it himself, chastising Sarah for knocking instead of just entering as she ought.
“You are going to be my wife, my love,” he murmured gently, examining her face carefully. “A duchess does not knock. I shall never grow tired of seeing you.”
“Oliver,” Sarah began, a firm look in her eye. “Meg tells me there is a dresser coming and that I am to be announced at the ball?”
“Indeed,” Oliver replied. “Why should you be surprised at that?”
Sarah did not know what to say for a moment. It all felt so strange.
“I am a governess, I –”
“You were a governess, you mean. My dear, you are no longer a governess, you are no longer Sarah Brown. You are Lady Sarah Sayers.”
“But to be living in this house, without a chaperone, what will people think of me?”
Oliver smiled, his final surprise at hand.
“I have thought of all that, my love. If you would do me the honor, I should very much like to marry you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” came the astonished reply.
“After what your father did to you, I did not want to take any chances. I rode all night and have returned with a Special License in my possession. We do not have to wait for the banns to be read; there is no need to wait any longer. If you are willing, we shall marry tomorrow and attend the ball as man and wife in the evening. What do you say, my love?”
Sarah felt as though all the breath left her body at once. She would be the Duchess of Huntington, the wife of Oliver and mother to both Elizabeth and Samuel. All in one day!
“What do the children think?” she asked, breathlessly.
Oliver chuckled.
“Of course you would think of the children at a time like this,” he laughed. “Have no fear, my love, I spoke to them both, and they are vastly in agreement with me. I believe Elizabeth has already decided she is to be your flower girl.”
Sarah smiled in relief. The children wanted her to be a part of their lives, and that was all the reassurance she needed.
“Very well, Oliver,” she replied quietly, sliding her arms around his neck. “I should be very pleased to marry you tomorrow.”
“It cannot come soon enough,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her with all the love that he felt.
***
The following morning dawned bright and early. Looking in the mirror, Sarah was relieved to find that her face, whilst not perfect, was certainly much improved from the day before. Meg assured her that, with a little thought, her hair could be artfully arranged to hide the worst of the remaining marks. The morning passed in a blur of preparations as she was bathed, dressed and prepared for her wedding day.
The moment had come. Elizabeth had walked down the aisle, throwing flower petals in all directions, a whirlwind of happiness. Samuel was standing stoically by his father’s side, although she saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. The two witnesses were ready, smiling broadly at her as she made her way towards Oliver.
“You look beautiful, my dear,” he whispered, taking her hand and tucking it under his arm. Sarah couldn’t speak, her happiness threatening tears once more as she thanked God for this man. She listened carefully to the vicar, speaking her words of love and respect and making her promises before Oliver and God. He slid a ring on to her finger, and it was done. They were man and wife. The Duke and Duchess of Huntington. She could hardly believe it. Together they walked out of the church to a flurry of well-wishers, who had come to see the new bride.
The happy couple had very little time to celebrate, with the Christmas ball quickly approaching. By now, news had spread of the duke’s sudden marriage and an air of expectation lay around the estate.
Sarah was nervous. The house was enchanting, decorated with wreathes and rich greenery, giving the house a beautifully festive scent. She was dressed in one of the finest gowns she had ever seen, her feet encased in beautifully soft slippers. Her hair was in an ornate design, and pearl earrings hung gracefully from her ears. She barely recognized herself. As she descended the stairs, Oliver felt his breath hitch. She was so beautiful. He took her hand and kissed it, wishing there were not gloves in-between his lips and her skin.
“You are majestic tonight, my dear. I shall be the envy of every man in the room.”
Sarah’s smile wavered just a little as she raised her chin and allowed her husband to lead her into the ballroom to prepare for the receiving line.
Sarah’s smile was fixed in place as she finished meeting the last of her guests. She had smiled and nodded for what seemed like hours and was grateful for Oliver’s presence beside her. She knew she was the object of people’s curiosity and did her best to ignore the many stares and whispers that came from behind gloved hands.
“Well done, my love,” Oliver murmured, his hand around her waist. “The worst is over. Let us enjoy the rest of the evening. Shall we?” He presented his arm to her, and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her onto the floor. As the beginnings of a waltz began to play, Sarah realized they were the only couple on the floor.
“Oliver,” she whispered. “What if I make a mistake?”
He smiled at her, his voice for her ears only.
“It is just you and me, my love, just you and me. We are dancing as we were before. Do you remember?”
She nodded yes, still aware of eve
ry eye on her.
“Do not think of them, Sarah, look only at me. I shall count to three if it will help you to keep in time?” He was laughing now as the music began, teasing her out of her anxiety. Taking her hand more firmly in his, Oliver smiled at her once more, wishing he could kiss her worry away.
Sarah smiled at him in return, as though she knew his thoughts. Focusing on the love in his eyes, she forgot all about the people who watched them, her nerves dissipating.
“Oliver,” Sarah whispered. “I love you so.”
“I love you too, my dear,” he replied, pulling her close as they began to dance.
***
THE END
Christmas Mystery of Love
Text Copyright © 2016 by Caroline Johnson
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2016
Publisher
Love Light Faith, LLC
400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33302
www.LoveLightFaith.com
Christmas Mystery of Love
By: Caroline Johnson
Christmas Mystery of Love
Chapter 1
London, 1900
"Really, Henrietta, you could have married at Kentonville and saved us all this trouble. Better still if you weren't going through with this," Lady Amelia said through chattering lips to her dear friend, Lady Henrietta Blythe, as they sat in the rocking carriage.