“There is not much settling in to be done beyond that which we have already accomplished,” she said. An idea began to blossom through her haze of her exhaustion. “What if you were to— would you consider still taking your twelve days in December off from your work?”
“You wish me to travel alone?” He sounded apprehensive, wary, and she hurried to explain.
“Not at all. I wish you to stay at home with us— with Alec and me. So he might become better acquainted, more familiar with you. You will be the only father he is to know. He is too young to remember Matthew.” Her voice quavered at the last.
Relief eased the lines of Mr. Vancer’s face. “I would be most happy to remain at home with you. And who is to say that we cannot take some day outings. It is the season of festivities, after all.”
“Yes,” Charlotte agreed, not feeling very festive at all, at the mention and thought of Matthew.
As if he knew the direction of her thoughts, Mr. Vancer took her hand in his. “This time will also allow you and me to become better acquainted. If it would not be too painful for you, I would like you to tell me about your first husband.”
The tears that had been threatening all afternoon surfaced once more. “I am not certain that would be wise.”
“I feel it not only wise, but necessary,” Mr. Vancer said. “He is a part of your life, a part of you, the woman I should very much like to know.” He released her hand, then used his own to brush a tear from her cheek. “But wait until you are ready. We have time enough— even beyond our twelve days, the first of which is nearly gone. Shall we go inside?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to do more than that. He knocked on the door of the carriage, and it was opened at once by a footman waiting outside in the cold. Charlotte wondered how long he had been there and how much of their dialogue had been overheard.
Mr. Vancer stepped down and waved the footman away, then turned to hold his hand out to her once more. She took it and noted that he did not let go, but kept hold of her as they made their way up the steps and into the house.
Just inside, it seemed that every servant had gathered in the foyer to greet them. Mr. Vancer paused just inside the doors. Looking most pleased, he announced, “May I present to you the new Mrs. Vancer, your mistress.”
Cheers and applause erupted at this announcement, and Charlotte was overcome with another wave of well wishers.
“Bless you,” the butler said as he shook her hand heartily. “It’s a good thing you have done.”
“Praises be. Finally,” said Mrs. Duff, the housekeeper, going so far as to take Charlotte in an embrace before stepping back and giving a hasty curtsy. “We’re all pleased as punch, ma’am.”
“As am I.” Mr. Vancer leaned close and dropped a kiss on the top of Charlotte’s head. “Welcome home.”
December 21
Charlotte awoke early as was her custom, washed and dressed herself and Alec, then hurried below to the breakfast room. She had learned since her arrival several weeks before that Mr. Vancer— William, she reminded herself yet again— dined each morning at eight-thirty. It was difficult to think that yesterday morning the two of them had chatted amiably about the day to come, neither realizing that it was to be their day.
But the silver band on her finger confirmed that she had not dreamed yesterday’s events. Marsali and Lady Cosgrove were gone; only she and Alec and William— along with an army of servants— remained at home.
How long will it take for this place to feel like home? Charlotte wondered as she carried Alec down the winding staircase. The house she had grown up in had been fine, but not nearly so grand as this. And now, in some measure, this one belonged to her.
“Good morning.” She greeted the maid assigned to take Alec to the kitchen for his meal. It had been a change for them both, this eating separately, and often Charlotte made it a point to take her lunch with him in their room. But for now, the arrangement of dining alone with William had best be observed. They all had adjusting to do, and any changes she wished to implement would require both time and patience.
With a quick kiss to Alec’s cheek and a promise that he would be given a cup of milk, she handed him off, then continued on her way to the breakfast room, where she found only two places set out— the one at which William was already seated, and the one directly to his right.
“Pleasant morning,” he said upon seeing her.
“It is,” she agreed. “Did you see all the snow that fell in the night?”
“Indeed.” He rose and came around to assist with her chair.
Charlotte wondered at the absence of servants, then decided they had probably been asked to stay away, so the two of them might converse in private.
“I thought, since your boy likes the out of doors, that we might take a sleigh ride today, while there is still snow enough for it.”
My boy. “Oh yes, please. Alec would love that.”
“And you? Would you enjoy it as well?” William asked.
“If we are bundled warmly, yes.” She had had enough of being cold the past few winters to last her the rest of her life.
“I shall set the cook to preparing potatoes or stones or some such warmth directly after breakfast,” he promised.
Charlotte began to serve herself from the various dishes on the table, all the while pondering on his choice of words regarding Alec, and also the question William had asked of her in the carriage the night before. There is no easy way to broach these topics. I shall simply have to be forthright.
She took a bite of a biscuit spread generously with jam for fortification. “I would appreciate it very much if you would not refer to Alec as ‘my boy.’” She looked carefully at William so as to judge how he took her words. “Henceforth, he is ours. I realize that affection for him may not come quickly, and it may not feel natural, but I plead with you to try to treat him as your own. He needs a father— now and even more so when he grows older.”
William dabbed his napkin to his mouth before responding to her request. “I am honored that you feel thusly,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And part of me, selfish though that part is, feels grateful that Alec is so young and will know only me as his father.” His mouth twisted in apology. “As we have been entirely truthful with each other to this point, I would hope that we might continue, however many of my flaws and shortcomings that may reveal.”
“I would imagine that your feelings on the matter are natural,” Charlotte said, trying to think of how she would feel if it was he who had been previously married and had brought a child to their union. Nervous, she decided and realized she had, in some ways, an unfair advantage, having been wed before.
“I will do my best to do right by Alec,” William promised. “And I hope to do so in a way his father would approve of.”
He spoke with a tender sincerity, and his eyes held such hope of approval that Charlotte could not help but give it. She reached her hand out to him, patting his briefly in thanks. This earned her a reticent smile, and she withdrew her hand, also feeling inexplicably shy. They had touched frequently throughout the day yesterday, holding hands, brushing shoulders— actions expected of a newlywed couple. He had even had his arm around her in the carriage. And that kiss on my head in front of the whole household. But whatever familiarity they had achieved yesterday had somehow vanished.
I ought to feel grateful. Instead Charlotte sighed inwardly at the thought of starting all over again. Distance from one another was certainly a safer way to go about living, but if she was truthful with herself, she had to admit that she had enjoyed the comfort William’s nearness and touch had brought. But perhaps he had not enjoyed it.
He is likely still thinking of Marsali. As should I be. Imagining how she would feel if she were to learn that Matthew still lived, Charlotte felt a wistful joy for her sister. Be happy, Marsali. Be happy for both of us.
And I shall do my best to be content and grateful— and attentive. She and William had the next eleven days to devote to
their marriage, to decipher how they were to act as husband and wife.
The snowfall and sleigh ride proved nothing but providential. William directed the driver to take them to St. John’s park once more, where they rode around the entire park, admiring the trees outlined with snow and icicles.
Alec squirmed to get out, so William called the driver to halt the team, and when they had stopped he jumped down into the snowdrift that came nearly to his knee.
“Come here, little man,” William called, holding his hands out to the toddler. To his great surprise the child came willingly, practically falling into William’s arms. Trudging slowly, William walked him to the grassy area of the park and set Alec down in snow less deep.
He squatted down closer to the child’s height, then scooped up a ball of snow and began compacting it. “This is called snow,” he told Alec. “And it’s great fun, if you know how to use it.”
“Ball,” the little boy said, pointing to the creation in William’s hands.
“Yes, snowball. And balls are for throwing.” He pulled back his arm and lobbed it in a high arc at the sleigh, only to discover that Charlotte was no longer there. Or perhaps she was crouching on the seat. He told himself to remain calm, as he’d had to repeatedly throughout the day yesterday, whenever she had strayed from his side. Foolishly, he had believed that once married, his feelings of insecurity would disappear. She’d kept her promise to marry him, and all would be well. Except that he kept imagining her leaving. Vows or not, she might still change her mind about being his wife. As he’d feared she had last night when she had suggested he take the time he had planned off from work, though there was to be no wedding trip.
He’d imagined she would take the opportunity to leave while he traveled alone. How relieved he’d been to be wrong.
William stood, hoping to see into the sleigh, when something cold hit him squarely in the back of the head.
“Balls are for throwing, are they?”
He turned around and found Charlotte standing behind him, two additional snowballs balanced in her hands and a youthful, mischievous smile upon her lips. William stared at her for several seconds, transfixed at this change from the serious woman he’d had at his side yesterday. Her cheeks were rosy with cold, her eyes sparkling, and her lips…
Abruptly he pulled his thoughts from her mouth.
He held his hands up in surrender before quickly leaning down to swoop up Alec as a shield. “A good lesson to learn and learn young, my son, is that there is nothing wrong with surrender, especially where a woman is concerned.”
Alec giggled at this or perhaps at the snow he was busily squishing between his mittened hands. These he brought forward and squished William’s cheeks, shoving snow into his ear in the process.
William gave a playful shout, though his ear felt frozen, and set Alec back on the ground. Rubbing his ear and shaking his head sideways, he tried to remove the excess snow.
“Here. Let me.” Charlotte dropped her snowballs and came to his rescue, even tugging off her own gloves in the effort. Her fingers brushed lightly across his stubbled cheeks, causing him to wish he’d shaved today. But when she touched his ear and her fingers tickled against the back of his neck he began wishing other things entirely and finally— out of desperation— removed her hand and held onto it, so she could touch him no more.
Is she purposely trying to drive me to distraction? She’d been married before and had to know what her touch could do to a man. But her smile was innocent.
“All better?” she asked.
That depended on what she was referring to. The cold was gone from his ear, but other things were starting to heat up, and he wasn’t certain that either of them were ready for that yet.
“Yes, thank you.” He released her and stepped back, putting distance between them and trying to remind himself that at this time yesterday he’d barely considered the prospect of marrying her at all.
It’s too soon to feel anything for her. Even physical attraction. She is a mother, for heaven’s sake!
William focused on that, on admiring her way with Alec, the rest of the morning as they frolicked in the snow, building a lopsided snowman and lying on the ground to make snow angels. He’d been shocked when she suggested that, and for a split second worried that someone else might come along and see them on the ground, flailing their arms and legs and think they’d both lost their minds— or that he’d married a woman mad as hops.
But he’d very quickly decided he did not care. Daphne would certainly never have played in the snow with him. Neither, he imagined, would any of the women living in the mansions surrounding the park. But his wife was different. In her homespun cloak— he must remember to have a new one made for her— she didn’t seem to care what others thought. A quality William decidedly appreciated.
He reached down, grasped her hands, and pulled her up from her last, and best, “angel,” then looked down on it with her.
“Perfect,” he said, wrapping his arm about her, while his other reached for Alec before the boy could step into the print and ruin it.
And though William had meant Charlotte’s creation in the snow, in that moment he felt the same could be said of his life and his new little family.
December 22
Charlotte meant to lie down for just a few minutes with Alec to get him to sleep for the night, but her eyelids drooped quickly, and a drowsy contentedness came over her as she snuggled beside her son.
What a whirlwind few days it had been. First the wedding, then their outing in the snow, and today William had taken her shopping, purchasing for her more hats and gloves and cloaks and gowns than she had ever dreamed of owning. She had tried protesting that it was too much, that she didn’t possibly need so many clothes. But every time, he had silenced her with a finger to her lips or a quick kiss on the bridge of her nose.
“Allow me to spoil you this way. I am enjoying this. I’ve waited a long time to have a wife to take shopping.”
She had finally ceased her protestations and enjoyed the excursion, though a part of her still felt guilty. After they had finished shopping they had taken tea with the Fitzgeralds, and then William had thoughtfully gone home so they might bring Alec to accompany them on a drive around the city.
William had shown them the wharf— to Alec’s great delight. He loved the tall ships and had strained to get out of her arms and closer to one. William had also shown her the Park Theatre and promised to take her to a play or an opera soon.
All in all a delightful day, and Charlotte almost felt the need to pinch herself to believe it was real. It still seemed odd not to be rising early to carry firewood or start laundry or head for the fields. Living like this, without a care or worry for how she would provide for Alec, was going to take some getting used to.
I must do something to thank William, to show my gratitude for all he has done for us, was her last thought before drifting off to a peaceful sleep.
William knocked quietly on Charlotte’s door, and when she did not answer, he reasoned it was all right to push it open a bit more, the door having already been ajar. He had grown fond of her company these past few days, and he had hoped she might join him for a game of chess or reading in the library after she put Alec to bed.
He felt both disappointment and a surge of tenderness when he saw that she had fallen asleep beside her son.
Unbidden, he stepped farther into the room, feeling drawn toward them, wanting somehow to reassure himself that they were both well. This is what it feels like to be married, to have a family, he realized with no small shock. To care for someone so that they consume your every waking thought, to worry over their welfare. He had only ever experienced those feelings with regards to his business and was surprised at the ease and intensity with which they had transferred to Charlotte and her son.
Our son, she had insisted. Already William could tell that would be no problem for either him or Alec. The little boy was endearing and brought a happiness to the house it h
ad never known before. I want to fill it with children, William thought once more, then gazed upon his sleeping wife and realized what change in their relationship that would require.
How long? he wondered. How many months or even years would it take before they might reach that level of mutual affection and understanding? How long— if ever— before she would not think of her first husband and the love they had shared? William felt instantly guilty for even having such a thought. Was it even right of him to hope such a thing? Especially when his marriage to Charlotte had so clearly been a business transaction of mutual benefit for both. A few days ago he would not have believed he would be considering such matters, but somehow his feelings for her were much more than he had anticipated.
Sometime during his musings, she had opened her eyes and now lay smiling up at him.
“Come join us.” She reached across Alec to pat the bed on the other side of him.
William hesitated, feeling that perhaps even this was too intimate a situation for them just yet.
We are married, he reminded himself. And there will be a child between us.
Wordlessly, he removed his shoes, then crossed the room to the bed. Carefully, so as not to wake Alec, he lay on the bed beside him, facing Charlotte.
They each lifted a hand at the same moment, and after a brief hesitation she reached for his. William entwined their fingers, enjoying her touch once more.
“Is this how you sleep each night?” he asked, hugging the edge of the mattress. “I can’t imagine that it makes for a very good rest.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t.” She smiled. “Alec does not lie this still very long. Sometime in the night he will begin to roll and squirm.”
“But I can see how it is nice to spend some quiet time with him when he is so serene— and smells rather good.” William inhaled deeply, breathing in the baby sweet scent.
“He has just had a bath,” Charlotte said. “But come back in the morning. He often does not smell so sweet then.”
Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella (A Hearthfire Romance) Page 4