He knocked at the door and waited, wondering if perhaps Marsali herself would open the door. Instead, an older woman wearing a maid’s uniform greeted him.
Christopher doffed his hat. “Good afternoon to you. I am here to see Miss Abbott.”
The woman’s brows drew together quizzically. “No one here by that name. Are you certain you have the right farm?”
“I am certain.” Christopher’s heart felt as if it had jumped to his throat. Marsali has to be here. “Miss Abbott’s sister worked here before her. Her name was Charlotte.”
Understanding dawned on the older woman’s face. “Are you looking for Marsali— Mrs. Thatcher to those who are not well acquainted with her?”
Relief swept through him. “We are well acquainted.” He grinned, while thinking how foolish his mistake and feeling inordinately pleased that Marsali had kept his name. “I am her husband.”
“Land’s sake!” The woman stepped back as if he had jumped out at her. “Come in.” She swept her hand wide, encouraging him to enter. Christopher did, expecting to be shown to a sitting room, as he had when first entering Mr. Thomas’s house. Instead, the woman closed the door, then turned and began walking briskly.
“This way,” she called over her shoulder. “That poor girl has been pining for you since she came here. She put every penny of her wage put into advertisements, asking after you. Every night spent on her knees petitioning the Lord for your return, every morning her pillow wet with tears.”
It hurt to imagine Marsali distraught as the woman described; he understood all too well those exact feelings.
The woman led him down a narrow hall and through a kitchen, then out another door. She paused on the step outside, her breath visible in the crisp air. “It’s wash day. Marsali’s out in the shed.” The woman pointed to a cluster of smaller buildings across the yard. “First one on the left. You’ll find her there.”
Christopher started down the step when she caught his arm. “Be careful not to startle her too much. She’s fragile.”
He nodded, then took off across the frozen ground toward the outbuildings. The one used for washing was nearest the pump and also had a large window, presumably to let in enough light for the work to be done properly. He peered through this and felt his heart catch as he caught sight of Marsali bent over a washtub. Her moves were practiced and efficient, her strokes counted, and the garment turned as he had taught her. He felt regret that she had been forced to such a chore, but also a swell of gratitude that she was not above such work and had chosen this life— and searching for him— over a life of luxury with Mr. Vancer. Marsali was fragile but strong as well, as she had proved to him time and again.
He opened the door, pulling it slowly, grateful for the creak of the hinges that would alert her that someone was entering. A fire burned in a stove on the far side of the room, warming both the water boiling on top of it and the small cabin.
Marsali did not turn from her task. “Please tell Mrs. Price that I’ll take my luncheon later,” she said as she continued scrubbing. “I’ve just a few more things to wash, and I’ll be done.”
“Your skills have greatly improved, Mrs. Thatcher.”
Her hands ceased moving, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Slowly, she turned to him, a look of cautious hopefulness in her soulful eyes. “Are you real, Christopher? So many times I have imagined you— have believed that I saw you, only to be fooled.”
“I am real.” His eyes darted to her dripping hands and the ring he had given her. “You are still wearing my ring and have kept my name.”
“I am still your wife.” Tears filled her eyes, and he waited no more but swooped forward, pulling her into his embrace. Her hands came around his neck and pulled his face closer, and she kissed him first, as she had done on their wedding night.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed between their frantic kisses. “I thought you were dead. But I never loved another. I swear it. That night at the ball I was only pretending, as everyone said I must.”
“I know.” Christopher pressed his lips to her cheeks, her forehead, her hair. He couldn’t hold her tightly enough. “I have been a third time to New York, and Charlotte herself told me the whole story.” He held Marsali, and she clung to him, as if she might never let go, a rather good idea, considering all they had been through.
“I am here now,” he said, reassuring her once more. “I am here, and I will not leave you. We will not be parted again.”
Out in the yard behind them a chorus of cheers and applause erupted. Still holding Marsali, Christopher turned them so they could see through the open doorway to the crowd of servants and family members gathered outside. The stout woman who had greeted him seemed to have gathered everyone to witness their happy reunion.
Marsali smiled through her tears. “They have been good to me here,” she said.
“I am glad to hear it.” Christopher bent low, intending to kiss her again. “But from now on it is I who will be good to you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle, slow kiss that elicited more cheering from the group in the yard.
“We will be good to each other,” Marsali said when, after several long seconds, they at last parted. She gave him a dazzling smile. “But I fear that if you insist upon kissing me like that, we must make a call upon the preacher today. We are in Virginia after all, and the validity of our marriage may be somewhat in question.”
“We will go see the preacher right now,” Christopher growled. He swept her into his arms and carried her outside. “Never more will there be any questions regarding our status as husband and wife. We are married, and the world had best understand that.”
Marsali laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “They shall,” she promised. “Marrying you was the best decision of my life. It was the beginning of my life.”
“And mine,” Christopher said. And he kissed her once more in front of everyone.
Yorkshire, England, 1842
“Oh, my, but Marsali is beautiful,” Grace exclaimed, peering at the long-awaited daguerreotype that had been enclosed with Christopher’s last letter. He had been promising to send one for some time, and now that it was here she could not seem to stop staring at it— at them, the happy couple and three darling children.
“And look at Christopher, so handsome and grown up,” Helen said as she studied the image of her brother and his family, seated on the front porch of their sprawling home in Virginia.
“I should hope he has grown up at last,” Samuel said good-naturedly. “After all, he is thirty-five now. Perhaps the pranks of his youth are at last behind him.”
“He never did us any harm.” Helen linked her arm through Samuel’s. “Have you still not forgiven him for spying on us when we first kissed?”
“Of course I have,” Samuel said. “I was never upset to begin with. It was Christopher’s brilliant scheming that led me to you.”
“A fact you ought never forget!”
All three looked up at the loud voice— one they had not heard for nearly fourteen years.
“Christopher?” Grace reacted first, rushing toward him and flinging herself into his arms with Helen close behind. “I cannot believe you are here,” she cried. “That you have surprised us so.”
He pulled back from their embrace and flashed his old, lopsided grin. “I told you I was coming. I wrote that you would see me soon.”
“I thought you meant in a daguerreotype.” Exasperated but terribly pleased, she stuck her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as mischievous as ever.”
“So is your husband,” Christopher said. “It was he who suggested I surprise you. He knew of my plan.”
As if on cue Nicholas appeared in the doorway behind them. “I’m back.” His arms were laden, not with the Christmas parcels he said he had gone to London for, but with luggage belonging to Christopher and his family. Grace could not imagine a finer present.
“Grace and
Helen, Nicholas and Samuel, I would like you to meet my wife, Marsali.”
Christopher clasped the small woman’s hand in his and drew her forward, from the shadow behind him where she and their children had been waiting while he had his fun with the surprise.
“You’re even lovelier in person.” Grace came forward and hugged Marsali, and Helen followed. “Welcome to Sutherland Hall.”
“Thank you,” Marsali said as she glanced about the towering room. “It is very— festive.”
Grace and Nicholas laughed together.
“It has become somewhat of a tradition,” Nicholas explained. “Every Christmas season we try to outdo the previous in lifting the gloom from these old walls. We may have gone a bit overboard in recent years.”
Grace followed his gaze to the fresh garland and boughs of holly strung everywhere. “You shall have to take advantage of the kissing balls while you are here,” she said, drawing closer to Nicholas. “There is one in every room.”
“Even the nursery?” Christopher’s oldest son wrinkled his nose as if disgusted, reminding Grace of his father many years ago.
“Even the nursery,” Nicholas confirmed. “Don’t let your cousins catch you there,” he advised.
“Oh let’s do call the children in from their play,” Helen said. “All but the littlest have gone sledding up the hill.”
“Why call them in? We should join them,” Christopher said. “Keep your coats on, children.”
“You haven’t changed,” Grace said and felt glad of it.
“That isn’t entirely true,” Christopher said. He pulled Marsali closer and draped his arm across her shoulders. “When I left here I thought you all were mad, with your tender affections and expressions of love for one another. I couldn’t wait to get away from it and be around people who hadn’t lost their minds to such.”
“And then he met me,” Marsali said, a playful smile curving her lips.
They are perfect for each other. Grace had gathered this already from the many letters that had been exchanged over the years, but seeing them together made it all the more obvious.
“And then I met you,” Christopher agreed, looking down at Marsali. “And now I know better.” He steered her beneath the kissing ball in the room and kissed her right there for all to see.
“He learned from the best,” Samuel said, clearing his throat after several seconds had passed and they still had not broken apart.
“True enough,” Christopher said, at last releasing a blushing Marsali. “Everything I know I learned from my wife.”
The others laughed. Christopher joined them, but a moment later his look turned serious.
“How blessed to find you all so well. How fortunate we all are.”
Grace and Helen nodded their agreement.
“We have found the love our mother never had,” Grace said.
“And places to call home,” Helen added.
“We have honored Grandfather’s legacy well,” Christopher said solemnly. “And none of us need fear England anymore.”
Author’s Historical Notes
Writing historical fiction is both daunting and fascinating, and as an author I often find myself drawn into the past, researching far more than I need to for the story and having to choose those few events that will most enrich the tale I am attempting to tell.
As Marrying Christopher is a work of fiction, there were some liberties taken, regarding the events that took place and particularly the ability to travel by steamship in 1828. Actual facts regarding the ship were accurate, inasmuch as I was able to research them, but Captain Gower’s ship was truly ahead of its time— about ten years ahead. Its predecessor, which he references in the story, the American made SS Savannah, did sail across the Atlantic in 1819 and was wrecked off Long Island in 1821. Like Captain Gower’s ship, the Savannah was met with much superstition. In spite of her speed, the public did not embrace steam travel until the late 1830s and early ’40s, when the British-made SS Great Western began regularly scheduled service across the Atlantic. Like the Amanda May, the Great Western also had sails and a single smokestack. It’s remarkable to think of the progress that was soon to come, with ships like the Titanic taking passengers across the Atlantic just seventy years later.
The other vessels referenced in the story, the Josephine— the Irish packet ship that rescues Lady Cosgrove and Marsali— and the Black Ball Line “Blood Boats” were both in service in 1828.
The practice of boarding merchant ships and pressing crewmen into service for the Royal Navy was also common during this time period, though far more so in earlier years during the Napoleonic wars and the America Revolution. The opium trade was also a very lucrative— and troubling— reality for the East India Company.
That a young woman like Marsali would find herself on Lime Street in the red-light district of Liverpool was also realistic, with prostitution being a significant problem in Liverpool and other large cities in the 1800s. Disease was rampant, and many young women suffered for having this lifestyle. Some chose it, but often it was seen as the only means for a woman of a lower class to support herself.
America was not without her troubles either, with the issue of slavery heading toward a conflict that would nearly divide the young nation. The sprawling plantations of the south with their tobacco and cotton crops required large numbers of laborers, entrenching the society with a perceived need to continue practicing slavery. Indentured servants were also common, and Marsali’s contracted term of four years was indeed generous, with most terms lasting between five and seven years.
Amidst these evils, the world was also entering an age of progress— for better or worse. Joseph Niépce’s heliograph was an exciting invention in 1828, and it was not too many years after when daguerreotypes became common enough that Christopher would have been able to send one home to his family.
And though Christopher doubted when Captain Gower suggested that someday men might travel the Atlantic more regularly for business or pleasure, that time was not far distant, allowing us to imagine that families once separated by distances so vast could be reunited again.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Marrying Christopher. I hope you enjoyed Christopher’s and Marsali’s voyage across the Atlantic and their journey to love.
The book you just read is the third in the Hearthfire Historical Romance series. The next novel in this line is set in Scotland during the late 1700s and revolves around the lives of twin brothers who are facing the difficulties of the Highland Clearances following the failed Jacobite uprising of 1745. Watch for previews and teasers on my website in coming months.
Coming this December, also from Mirror Press, is the Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball. This volume features three novellas by three authors— Annette Lyon, Heidi Ashworth, and myself— all centered around a midwinter ball.
I am equally excited to be one of the twelve authors involved in the Matchmaker series. Watch for the prequel novella this November and the twelve full-length romance novels to follow, one each month in 2016.
So many wonderful things to look forward to! Thank you for being a part of those. I continue to appreciate those who take the time to read my stories and those who post reviews as well. You make it possible for me to continue doing what I love.
If you would like more information about my other books and future releases, please visit www.michelepaigeholmes.com. You can also follow me on Twitter at @MichelePHolmes.
Happy reading!
Michele
Click on the covers to visit Michele’s Amazon Author Page
to purchase more of her books.
Michele Paige Holmes spent her childhood and youth in Arizona and northern California, often curled up with a good book instead of out enjoying the sunshine. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in elementary education and found it an excellent major with which to indulge her love of children’s literature.
Her first novel, Counting Stars,
won the 2007 Whitney Award for Best Romance. Its companion novel, a romantic suspense titled All the Stars in Heaven, was a Whitney Award finalist, as was her first historical romance, Captive Heart. My Lucky Stars completed the Stars series.
In 2014 Michele launched the Hearthfire Historical Romance line, with the debut title, Saving Grace. Loving Helen is the companion novel, with a third, Marrying Christopher released in July 2015.
When not reading or writing romance, Michele is busy with her full-time job as a wife and mother. She and her husband live in Utah with their five high-maintenance children, and a Shitzu that resembles a teddy bear, in a house with a wonderful view of the mountains.
You can find Michele on the web: http://michelepaigeholmes.com
Facebook: Michele Holmes
Twitter: @MichelePHomes
I continue to be grateful for the talents of so many who have contributed to this novel. Their dedication and skill make my stories into what I have imagined them to be.
I am especially grateful for fabulous editors Angela Eschler, Michele Preisendorf, Heather B. Moore, and Jennie Stevens. I am also grateful to Heather Justesen for her work formatting the e-book.
Many thanks to Rachael Anderson for designing the perfect cover. I continue to be grateful for her talents and abilities.
Much gratitude goes to my husband and children, for the time they’ve gone without me. Thank you for your understanding and making it possible for me to pursue my dreams. Bringing to life the words on paper is fun and challenging, but I hope you know I find my true joy in each of you.
Other Books by Michele Paige Holmes
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Marrying Christopher Page 35