A Hearthfire Romance
Christmas Novella
Copyright © 2015 Michele Paige Holmes
E-book edition
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. These novels are works of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialog are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Interior Design by Heather Justesen
Edited by Cassidy Wadsworth and Lisa Shepherd
Cover design by Rachael Anderson
Cover Photo Credit: Lee Avison/Trigger Image
Cover Photo Copyright: Lee Avison
Winter Scene Photo: Shutterstock #158009457, Copyright Shutova Elena
Published by Mirror Press, LLC
eISBN-10: 1941145655
eISBN-13: 978-1-941145-65-4
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Captive Heart
A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection
Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball
Between Heaven and Earth (Power of the Matchmaker series)
Hearthfire Romance Series:
Saving Grace
Loving Helen
Marrying Christopher
Dear Reader,
The story you are about to read is centered around two characters from my novel, Marrying Christopher. If you have read that book, you will recognize the opening chapter of Twelve Days in December to be the same as chapter forty-four in Marrying Christopher, only told from Charlotte’s point of view. If you are new to these characters, I hope you enjoy becoming acquainted with them. Beyond the opening chapter, this romance is entirely William’s and Charlotte’s as this is their story about the miracle of love, in a season when we recall miracles and share love with our fellow men the most.
Merry Christmas and Happy Reading!
Michele
December 20, 1828
Vancer Mansion, New York
Charlotte Holbrook paused in the hall outside her sister’s door, listening to the weeping coming from the other side.
“Oh dear.” Charlotte bit her lip in apprehension as she glanced at Lady Cosgrove, standing beside her, a distinctive frown turning the older woman’s normally pinched look even more severe.
“What now?” Lady Cosgrove muttered. She withdrew a key from her pocket and fit it into the lock. She opened the door, and Charlotte and the maid bearing Marsali’s gown hurried to enter behind her.
Across the room Marsali sat crumpled on the floor, her arms and tear-stained face draped over the window seat.
“Fetch a cool cloth,” Lady Cosgrove instructed the maid.
“I will be well enough,” Marsali said, sniffing loudly.
“Your face will not be.” Lady Cosgrove crossed the room and pulled Marsali to her feet. “Look what you have done to yourself. And with but two hours until we must leave.”
“What is it, Marsali? What is wrong?” Charlotte steered her away from Lady Cosgrove and over to the bed, where Marsali collapsed, face down, upon the coverlet and began sobbing anew.
Lady Cosgrove bustled about the room, readying Marsali’s wedding outfit, as if nothing was amiss, while Charlotte stood watch over her sister and fretted. Tears like this were not an indication of pre-wedding nerves or uncertainty. These heart-wrenching sobs denoted deep sorrow and an as-yet-unhealed broken heart. Charlotte knew the sound well enough. She had cried out her own anguish many times in the months since Matthew’s death. Losing a husband was excruciating— no matter how short a time one had been married.
Lady Cosgrove instructed the maid to leave, then sat beside Marsali on the bed. Charlotte sat on her other side, ready to rise to her sister’s defense. She had been in favor of this wedding and thought Marsali had been extraordinarily blessed in earning Mr. William Vancer’s favor so quickly. That each had suffered a loss and found comfort in the other seemed entirely logical. And that Mr. Vancer was one of New York’s wealthiest businessmen and could provide for Marsali all she needed, indeed all she might ever desire, was most fortunate. Considering the hardships each sister had faced the past years, Charlotte had felt vastly relieved to know that Marsali, at least, would be well cared for.
But perhaps she had been wrong to push Marsali toward marriage so soon. After all, scarcely three months had passed since the shipwreck which had claimed both Marsali’s husband and Lady Cosgrove’s daughter, Lydia, who had also been Mr. Vancer’s fiancée. Lady Cosgrove had brought Marsali with her to Mr. Vancer’s home to recover, and from there a friendship and affection between Mr. Vancer and Marsali had blossomed quickly. Or so Charlotte had believed.
She is not recovered nor ready to move on. Charlotte read the misery in Marsali’s expression as she rolled over and sat up, facing them. But if she does not take this chance now, she is not likely to get another. Charlotte understood the realities of a woman trying to survive in America on her own. She must encourage Marsali to avoid such trials.
“It will get better,” Charlotte promised as she took Marsali’s hand. “You simply haven’t had enough time. I still miss Matthew and love him and think of him every day, but I have learned that I must move on and make a life for myself and Alec. You have been forced to that conclusion early; that is all.”
Marsali nodded, though the look in her eyes said she did not agree.
“It seems ridiculous to think that you loved Mr. Thatcher enough to warrant all this.” Lady Cosgrove waved her hand over the pile of soggy handkerchiefs next to Marsali. “You did not talk of love the day Lydia and I helped to get you ready to marry him. Why, you did not even know each other a full month. You have had twice as long to become acquainted with Mr. Vancer.”
“But Christopher and I understood each other,” Marsali said. “We had each come from difficult circumstances, and those had shaped us into the people we are, with similar dreams and goals. We did love each other.”
Charlotte understood. She and Matthew had come together from England. Their trials there and aboard the ship together and starting over in Virginia had bound them together in a way that others who had not lived what they had could ever know.
“Well, you are not going to make a difficult circumstance for Mr. Vancer this morning,” Lady Cosgrove huffed. “He stands to lose a fortune if the two of you do not marry.”
“Christopher lost a fortune by marrying me,” Marsali cried. “He gave me his only thing of value— his grandfather’s ring— and he pledged at least two years of his life working to pay off my debt. There was nothing to be gained by his actions.”
“Simply because there is something to be gained by Mr. Vancer’s does not mean he isn’t a good man.” Charlotte had found in Mr. Vancer the kindest man. He had sent a carriage all the way to Virginia for her, so she and Marsali might at last be reunited. And he had not seemed at all bothered that Alec had come with her and could often be seen and heard exploring the halls of the mansion. Charlotte had had her hands full, keeping her fifteen-month-old son out of mischief since their arrival, so many were the wonders for him to get into. And on those few occasions she had not been quite fast enough, and Alec had broken something or made a mess, Mr. Vancer had not seemed upset in the least. He had shown them both only consideration and gentleness.
“He is fond of you and will treat you well,” Charlotte said.
“I know.” Marsali fel
l back, her dark hair spilling across the pillows as fresh tears spilled from her brown eyes, reminding Charlotte very much of herself, just a few months earlier.
Though she had not been afforded the luxury of a comfortable bed or much time to weep over her loss. Alec had needed tending, and they had both required food and a roof over their heads, and she was the only one left to see to those things.
As I am the only one here who can help Marsali through this grief.
“If only I could stop thinking of Christopher,” Marsali said. “But I still dream of him most every night. And when I am awake I imagine sometimes that I see him places— once on the street when Mr. Vancer and I were out driving. I even thought I saw Christopher at the masquerade ball.”
“Oh, Marsali.” Charlotte’s voice was full of empathy, not reprimand.
Lady Cosgrove let out a slow, heavy sigh, as if resigning herself to something. “You did see him at the ball,” she admitted quietly.
“What?” Charlotte exclaimed.
Marsali pushed herself up on her elbows and stared at Lady Cosgrove. “What did you say?”
“The truth.” Lady Cosgrove’s usually straight posture was now hunched, and she looked discomfited. She cleared her throat. “I fear I have done a terrible, terrible thing.”
“Only if you are lying now,” Marsali said. “Please, tell me.”
Lady Cosgrove would not meet her eye but inhaled deeply, as if gathering strength, then launched into a tale of deceit that Charlotte could scarcely believe.
Christopher is— alive? She brought a hand to her racing heart and could only imagine what Marsali had to be feeling. If this is true, she cannot marry Mr. Vancer.
“I knew I should miss your company if you left,” Lady Cosgrove said to Marsali. “A woman my age does not easily make friends in new circles. But with you as his bride, it was possible that I might.”
“So you kept Christopher from Marsali because you wished to be her friend?” Charlotte’s face screwed up in anger, and it was all she could do to refrain from shaking the woman.
“I don’t understand,” Marsali said. “Is Christopher alive? Was he here?”
Lady Cosgrove continued her explanation without answering either of them. “Later, I believed I was doing what was best for you… But now I fear I have ruined more than one life with my meddling.”
Perhaps not. Charlotte read the hope in her sister’s eyes. She decided to change tactics with Lady Cosgrove, reasoning that anger— no matter how justified— would not gain them anything. They needed Lady Cosgrove’s cooperation and help if they were to find Christopher.
“It may not be too late to mend your mistake.” Charlotte softened her voice, and she took Lady Cosgrove’s hand and inquired about Christopher once more.
Lady Cosgrove sniffed and nodded slowly as she explained how Christopher had come to visit and she had told him Marsali was dead. “I was thinking of you,” Lady Cosgrove insisted. “Mr. Thatcher had been seriously injured, and it appeared he would be lame for some time— perhaps permanently. I could see only a life of hardship ahead for you, if you remained his wife. I imagined you working to support not only yourself but him as well. But if you stayed with Mr. Vancer, you would never have to work, and you would have everything you ever wanted.”
“I wanted Christopher,” Marsali cried. “It was not your choice to make.”
They continued their argument, Charlotte only half-listening and participating. What is Marsali to do now? She is to be married to Mr. Vancer in two hours’ time. It was apparent Marsali had little thought of him at the moment, as she hurried about the room, donning her cloak and retrieving the wedding ring Christopher had given her. Charlotte stood and followed her, voicing concern over Marsali heading off to search for her husband alone.
“And what of Mr. Vancer, who fulfilled the debt?” Lady Cosgrove asked Marsali. “You would repay his kindness by abandoning him at this critical time?”
“We never should have reached this critical time had you been honest with us both,” Marsali said, anger shaking her voice. “I regret that he will be hurt, but I cannot marry him now.”
“He will lose his fortune and suffer public humiliation today,” Lady Cosgrove murmured. “Oh! Whatever have I done?”
Marsali stepped around Charlotte and opened the door. “Somehow I think he would choose both over marriage to a woman who already has a living husband.”
“Indeed I would.” Mr. Vancer stood in the hall just outside her door, his brows pinched and a most stricken expression upon his face. “Forgive me. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but having heard my name mentioned, I paused outside your door and caught the end of your conversation. I gather you are going somewhere— and it is not to our wedding.” He touched the edge of Marsali’s cloak.
“My husband is alive,” she said. “He has even been here— to your home— twice, without our knowledge. Lady Cosgrove at first told him I was dead and then later convinced him that I was better off with you.”
“But you are not.” Mr. Vancer cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“No,” Marsali whispered. “I love him still. I must find him.”
“Of course you must.”
Mr. Vancer spoke with a great deal of understanding, and Charlotte felt her heart breaking for him. He had been so kind to Marsali, and they made such a handsome couple, his lighter hair and blue eyes a compliment to Marsali’s darker coloring. Dashingly handsome, was how Charlotte had described him earlier. But now he just seemed distressingly sorrowful.
“This is quite the turn of events.” He brought a hand to his temples and began rubbing. “In less than two hours we were to be at the church. Explaining to our guests shall be bad enough, but now I am left with only one week before the end of the year in which to find a wife. They are not easy to come by, you know.” He gave a harsh laugh.
“I am so very sorry.” Marsali touched his hand lightly. “I did not mean for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you, and I shall find a way to repay every penny you have spent on me.”
“You may have to,” Mr. Vancer said, clearly jesting but with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I have already made purchases and invested against the inheritance I was to receive. And now I will be unable to pay my creditors back.”
“There is a possible solution,” Lady Cosgrove suggested timidly.
Charlotte turned to look at her, astounded that she dared to even linger in their presence, let alone suggest anything— after all she had done to them both.
“I think I have had enough of your suggestions,” Mr. Vancer said. “You accuse Marsali of repaying me poorly when you have betrayed the long-standing friendship of our families in such a manner.”
“I did not intend to.” Lady Cosgrove rose from her seat at the edge of the bed and crossed the room to the doorway. “When we arrived, I did believe Mr. Thatcher to be dead. And when it was discovered that he was not, I did not know how to tell you— I was afraid for you and your predicament and concerned for Marsali and the otherwise harsh future ahead of her.” Lady Cosgrove had crumpled a bit but straightened before adding, “And I truly believed that Mr. Thatcher had gone away for good.”
“Clearly, he has not,” Mr. Vancer said. “Nor would I, were Miss Abbott my wife.” He blew out a long breath and leaned his head back, looking up, as if seeking inspiration.
“You can still marry today,” Lady Cosgrove said. “Not Marsali, but Charlotte.”
Me? Charlotte heard a gasp and wondered if it was her own.
“There is no doubt that her husband is deceased,” Lady Cosgrove continued. “And she and Marsali are similar in appearance. Why, it is entirely possible that many in the congregation may not notice the difference.”
“Aside from her name,” Mr. Vancer said, clearly exasperated.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated at being thrust upon him thus.
“And,” he continued, “I would rather lose a fortune than force… a woman to marriage.”
She opened her eyes in time to catch him looking at her, assessing. Asking? In that brief instant she glimpsed his need— whether purely financial or something else beyond that she could not tell— and a vulnerability that reached her own, aching heart. He is actually considering it.
A tiny catch of hope, of possibility, stole her breath. Could this not be the answer to her own prayers? The very way she had been seeking to provide for herself and Alec? Her mind reached that conclusion before her heart had quite settled on it. “You would not— have to force me.”
“Charlotte?” Marsali turned to her.
“I would not require much,” Charlotte continued, looking past Marsali to keep her eyes locked with Mr. Vancer’s. It was important he understand. “A roof over our heads and perhaps an education for Alec— when he is older. That is, of course, if you would not mind adopting a child in the bargain.”
“I— would not mind.” Mr. Vancer swallowed thickly. “Are you quite certain? We know very little of each other.”
Beneath Charlotte’s gown her heart beat wildly at the prospect of marrying a man she did not truly know. Marrying again. Forgive me, Matthew. I am thinking of our son.
“I know you have treated my sister kindly.” Charlotte felt tears welling and fought to keep them at bay. She would have time enough later to both examine and cope with her emotions. But this here and now would come only once. If Marsali gaining Mr. Vancer’s favor was good fortune, for Charlotte to earn his offer of marriage had to be direct heavenly intervention. “I have hope you would regard Alec and me the same.”
“I would,” Mr. Vancer said. “I will. I would be in your debt for so great a favor.”
In my debt. It was entirely the other way around. He could save them from the life of privation and danger awaiting her at the plantation where she worked. The very sort of life Lady Cosgrove was trying to save Marsali from.
Marsali looked from one to the other, as if they’d each gone mad.
Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella (A Hearthfire Romance) Page 1