It Happened At Christmas (Anthology)

by Penny Jordan

  The Christmas colours were also reflected in the beautiful little posies they were to carry, which the farm women had made the day before and shyly presented them with that morning. The deep red berries and shiny green leaves of holly, the delicate seed vessels of rosebay willowherb and cow parsnip, tiny brown and honey-tinted fir cones, winding ivy, and the pure white berries of mistletoe, along with other winter flowers, had all been laced through and held together with thin scarlet and ivory ribbons and pieces of lace. Connie had been touched and reduced to happy tears when she had seen the posies, recognising the work and affection that had gone into them.

  Once the veil was in place Connie stood up and surveyed herself. She could barely comprehend the fragile, ethereal vision in the mirror was her. She touched her face in wonderment. The lace and tiny seed pearls had given her skin a luminescence, and even Flora was silent for once, gazing at her with something like awe on her face.

  Was all this a dream? Was it really happening? For a moment she felt light-headed and strange, and then she glanced down at the ruby and pearl ring on her engagement finger. When Luke had placed it there he had said words of love she knew she would treasure for ever—words which had both humbled her and made her feel like a queen. This was real. All of it was real. And, unseemly though some might think her if she voiced how she felt, she couldn’t wait to become his wife in every sense of the word. To show him she wanted all the love he could give.

  Luke had revealed a little more of how his life with Christabel had been since they had become engaged, and now Connie was aching to show him how much she loved and wanted him. Whatever marriage entailed—and she had to admit she had no knowledge of the bedroom part of it, because her mother had considered it immodest to speak of such things—she knew she would welcome it. It meant she was irrevocably his, and he hers, so how could she do otherwise?

  ‘Ready, Connie?’ Maggie had risen to her feet. ‘It’s time to leave. When you come back here you’ll be Mrs Luke Hudson.’

  Declaring that it was the height of bad luck for the groom to catch a glimpse of the bride on their wedding day, Maggie had despatched her son off the night before, to stay with his best man, a married schoolfriend who lived on the outskirts of town. Luke had protested, but eventually gone with good grace.

  Connie nodded. ‘I’m ready,’ she said softly. More than ready.

  ‘Lass, I’m going to say something, and then it will never be mentioned between us again. There will no need. A new life for the two of you will have begun. You are as right for my lad as the other one was wrong, and I knew it long before you two became betrothed. My only fear was that because of what had gone before he wouldn’t have the courage to commit himself again. But somehow—I don’t know how—I would have tried to get the two of you together.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Connie hugged Maggie tightly, careless of her dress and veil.

  Downstairs, Tommy—as the eldest brother—was waiting in his role of giving the bride away. Everyone else had now left for the church, and the farmhouse was hushed. Only Charlie Todd’s two elder brothers remained. They were driving the two horses and traps to the church, and when the little wedding party came out of the front door they all clapped at the way the two brothers had decorated the horses’ manes and tails and the traps in the wedding colours.

  It had snowed the night before, but someone had had the foresight to sweep the path leading from the farmhouse to the traps clean. Connie paused on the front doorstep, the others behind her. She looked across the white fields in the distance and at the bright blue sky above. The night frost was still holding, clothing the undisturbed snow with diamond brilliance, and as though on cue the robin flew almost at her feet, looking up at her with his bright black eyes before tilting his head to wish her good luck before he flew away. Or at least that was what Connie felt he had done.

  Her heart full to bursting, she picked up the hem of her dress and began to walk down the path.

  ‘Don’t keep turning round, man. You’re making me nervous.’ Gregory, Luke’s best man, smiled at his friend.

  Luke attempted to smile back, but he was too het-up for it to carry any substance. All morning, from the time he had first opened his eyes, he had had the feeling something would go wrong. It was too perfect, she was too perfect, and he didn’t deserve her. What if there was an accident? Or his mother was taken ill? What if the horses bolted on the way to the church? He wouldn’t know any peace until she was standing beside him and they had said their vows. Only then would he begin to enjoy his wedding day.

  In spite of Gregory’s tutting, he glanced behind him again. The small church had been beautifully decorated for Christmas and it was jam-packed full. A good number of the folk would be back tonight for the Christmas service, no doubt. Tonight. His heart leapt, but as he felt himself grow hard he steered his mind from the carnal path it had been following. He was in church, for crying out loud, he told himself wryly. There was a time and a place for everything.

  He was conscious of the stir outside in the church’s little porch area a second before the organ struck up, and as Gregory hissed, ‘Face the front, Luke,’ he obediently turned his head to face the smiling parson. But only for a moment. He couldn’t help himself. He turned again and saw her. His heart stopped beating. All the colour in life, all the beauty he had ever seen and the sweetest sounds he had ever heard drew together and were embodied in the figure of the woman walking towards him on the arm of her small consort. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and had he but known it the look on his face reduced most of the female members of the congregation to tears before the service had even begun properly.

  Then she had reached him, and regardless of protocol he reached out and took her hand, entwining her small fingers in his, where he wanted them to remain for ever.

  The service was simple, but beautiful, and when the parson pronounced them man and wife Luke lifted her up and twirled her round in his arms as he kissed her until she was breathless, with everyone laughing and cheering in the background.

  They emerged from the church to a shower of rice and dried flower petals, and the trees and bushes bordering the path down to the road sparkled with frost crystals in the sunshine, as though nature had conspired to make the day especially beautiful.

  Luke’s mother and Flora were following in the second trap, the lads having piled into one of the wagons with the rest of the farm folk, and as they began the journey home Connie sat nestled into Luke’s side, the two of them exchanging long, lingering kisses.

  ‘We’re married.’ She lifted her face up to his, her eyes starry. ‘We’re really married, Luke.’

  ‘So that was what this morning was all about,’ he teased lazily, before tracing the outline of her face with the tip of one finger. ‘I love you, Mrs Hudson,’ he said, very softly.

  Luke had suggested they have a small wedding breakfast for immediately family and a few close friends at a hotel in town when they had first discussed the wedding arrangements, but Connie had wanted everyone to join in the celebrations for the day, so they had decided to have the meal at the farmhouse. She, with Rose and Alice and Hannah, had been baking all week in preparation for the huge buffet now laid out in the dining room. Luke had brought in a barrel of beer, along with bottles of whisky and brandy, and there was hot mulled wine, spicy ginger beer, plus endless lemonade for the children.

  They had invited several of Connie’s old neighbours—all of whom had eagerly accepted—and it was during a lull in the proceedings midway through the afternoon that Mrs Briggs came up to Connie, her rosy-cheeked face beaming. ‘By, lass, but this is a good do,’ she said cheerily. ‘You’re set up now and no mistake. And I wasn’t surprised to hear about the nuptials, you know. I saw the way he looked at you that night you were taken bad—couldn’t take his eyes off you. I said to Mr Briggs, once you’d gone to the farmhouse, that man’s taken with Connie. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.’

  Connie smiled. Everyone had been so nice, and the
day had been wonderful, but she was longing for the moment when she and Luke could escape to the master suite, which had its own little sitting room as well as a dressing room off the bedroom.

  She glanced across the room to where Luke was standing by the enormous Christmas tree Flora and the lads had had such fun decorating the night before. His dark, well-tailored tailcoat and trousers fitted the big masculine frame in a way guaranteed to make any female’s heart beat a little faster. The oil lamps had already been lit, as the sky had become heavy with more snow in the last hour or so. In their soft mellow light his black hair gleamed like raw ebony, and the ruggedly handsome face was faintly brooding.

  She discovered why in the next moment. As Flora claimed Mrs Briggs’s attention, Luke made his way over to her, his voice low and smoky as he murmured, ‘Isn’t it about time some of them began to take their leave? It will be getting dark soon.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ she chided gently. ‘Everyone’s in a holiday mood, and this is a wedding.’

  “I want to be alone with you.’ He reached up and touched the shining coils of her hair, free now of the veil. ‘I want to tell you how much I love you and what a fortunate man I am.’

  She smiled, her eyes loving him, wanting him. ‘You’ll have to be patient just a little longer,’ she said softly. ‘Jacob and some of the others have already left to take care of the animals. It won’t be long before those going into town leave too.’

  In spite of her words it was nearly seven o’clock before the last of their guests were gone. She and Luke stood on the doorstep, waving to the occupants of the final horse and trap as it disappeared from view, and as they did so the first fat snowflakes began to fall from a laden sky.

  ‘Christmas Eve,’ Connie whispered gently. ‘I couldn’t think of a more perfect day for us to get married.’

  ‘Not in the summer, when it’s warm and the evenings are long?’ Luke turned her round in his arms so he could kiss her.

  Connie shook her head firmly. To wake up beside him on Christmas Day, to know that they had the rest of their lives before them, who could ask for more? ‘No, today is perfect.’

  ‘You’re perfect.’

  Behind them in the farmhouse they could hear Flora loudly marshalling the lads up to the large sprawling bedroom they were to share, Flora having a smaller one across the landing, next to Luke’s mother. This left two more spare bedrooms besides the master suite, and all the rooms were spacious and comfortable. Connie experienced a moment of intense longing that her parents could see how they had fared and what a wonderful man she had married. But perhaps they could, she comforted herself in the next second. Perhaps even now they were smiling down at them, rejoicing in her happiness. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

  Luke’s mother had already retired to her room an hour before, tired out by the exertion of the day, and when they went into the sitting room only Flora remained to say goodnight to them, then she too skipped off upstairs.

  ‘I think everyone is being wonderfully tactful.’ Luke’s voice was deep as he took her into his arms, kissing her long and passionately in a way he hadn’t done before. Then he took her hand in his and led her up the stairs to their rooms. By the time they were standing in their private little sitting room, where a fire glowed in the grate, Connie had to admit her anticipation was threaded through with apprehension about the unknown. She wanted to be everything to him. She wanted to love him and please him and erase all the bad memories of the past and the way Christabel had made him feel. But what if she didn’t know how? What if she wasn’t enough for him?

  She watched his mouth as it came closer, shutting her eyes and praying this first night together would be wonderful for him. She felt his lips touch her eyelids, one after the other, before working round the whole of her face, her ears, her throat. She hadn’t been aware of how tense she was, but as he continued to slowly rain little burning kisses on her skin she relaxed, her mouth ready for his when he finally took it. He explored the inner sweetness with voluptuous pleasure, and she began to tremble as it brought forth sensations she’d never experienced before.

  ‘You’re beautiful, soft, exquisite…’ His voice was shaking with desire, but still he took his time, beginning to undress her slowly and encouraging her to do the same to him. She was shy and fumbling at first, but his fingers guided her when she was unsure, and then he was clad only in his trousers and boots, his magnificent chest and shoulders bare to her wandering hands. She felt his muscles clench and move beneath her fingertips, awe at the power of his body drying her mouth, but he gave her time to get used to feeling and touching him before he peeled her chemise away from her breasts and put his lips to the hard peaks.

  She jolted with the impact of his mouth on her engorged nipples, the fire in the grate reflected in her body as ripples of heat turned her liquid. She was barely aware when at last she was naked before him, but as he gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, again lit by the flames of a crackling log fire in the fireplace, she turned her head into his shoulder, suddenly shy again.

  ‘It’s all right, my love. I won’t hurt you.’ He laid her gently on the satin quilt covering the big bed, peeling off the last of his clothes before lying down at the side of her and kissing her again and again. ‘Trust me. I love you….’

  Slowly, like before, she relaxed against him, and when she was once again fluid he began to touch and taste her with delicate eroticism. In her innocence she had no idea of the control he was displaying, but he was rewarded by her feverish delight as he led her on and on in the game of love, constantly checking his passion until she was ready for more intimate caresses, knowing it would be a crime to rush her.

  It was a long, long time before he carefully eased himself between her thighs. In spite of her desire she was very tight, but then the brief hindrance was gone and her softness welcomed him. She held on to him with all her might, exulting in the knowledge that she was his, that this was what it meant to be a wife. And then the warm throbbing in the core of her being became stronger and stronger, and she ceased to think, only to feel. She was unaware of the little moans of pleasure she was giving, but Luke wasn’t, and his gratitude at her complete giving of herself so generously urged him on as he a carved a place inside her for himself.

  When the climax came it took them to a place outside of themselves, a place where only lovers could go, a place of light and sensation and burning bliss. She was dazed, enraptured by the sensations he had brought forth, her voice holding a note of wonder as she murmured, ‘I never knew…’

  ‘Nor did I, my love. Nor did I.” He eased the covers from under them and gently drew them over her as he fitted her into his side, his arm round her and his other hand brushing wisps of hair from her flushed face.

  ‘What if we had missed each other that night I fainted in the snow?’ she said after a few moments, turning to look into his face. ‘What if you had been a few minutes earlier or later? What if you hadn’t saved me? What if—?’

  ‘No more what ifs.’ He placed a finger on her lips, the brooding quality to his dark face absent for once and the lines of his face almost boyish. ‘We were meant to find each other, Connie. You are the other half of me. I believe that with every fibre of my being. It’s not just that I love you…’ He raised himself on one elbow, taking up a handful of her rich silky hair and letting it run through his fingers. ‘You’re in the essence of my soul, my spirit. I could not have suffered this life without you and been the man I was meant to be.’

  ‘And now you don’t have to.’ She smiled at him mistily, reaching up and drawing his mouth down to hers.

  It was much, much later, when they had loved again and Connie was fast asleep, curled into the crook of his arm, that Luke gazed down at his sleeping wife in the dim light from the flickering fire. His voice husky with a gratitude that was inexpressible but which he knew he would feel towards her till his dying day, he murmured, ‘Now I don’t have to, my love. But it wasn’t I who saved yo
u that day. It was never that, but you who saved me. And one day you will come to understand that.’

  He could hear the faint distant sound of the church bells, welcoming the Christ Child, and for the first time since he had lost his son he could allow himself to picture Jack’s little face and hold him close to his heart again. He wasn’t gone. He was in a different place, that was all, and he mustn’t shut him out through pain and grief but be thankful he had known him, if only for so short a time. Jack deserved that. He deserved to be remembered with joy.

  His eyes wet, he clasped Connie tighter to him, and even in her sleep she murmured his name and curled closer.

  And so it was always to remain.

  TILLY OF TAP HOUSE

  Carol Wood

  With grateful thanks to the Island History Trust,

  the Island History News and the curator of the Trust,

  Eve Hostettler.

  CHAPTER ONE

  October 1928

  ‘CRIPES, look at them shoes! They’re posher than I’ve ever seen in me life!’ exclaimed the skinny little girl with copper coloured curls bouncing all over her head. She was peering from behind the heavy chintz curtains of the tall window of the basement room.

  ‘Shh, Cessie,’ whispered the extremely thin fourteen year old boy standing next to her. ‘Miss Tilly will hear you and you’re supposed to be in bed.’

  ‘I ain’t tired.’

  ‘Well, you should be.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ thirteen-year-old Molly demanded as she came to join her brother and sister. ‘What’s all the excitement about?’

  ‘Him!’ Seven-year-old Cecilia—Cessie to all who knew her—pressed her nose against the window, bringing a blush to the glass as she returned the smile of the man standing on the steps outside.