A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness

by Carolynn Carey

  And, of course, when she looked back toward the ground, she realized her footprints were being filled in by the new snowfall.

  She stepped out quickly, following the small indentations that remained of her prints. Considering how quickly the snow continued to fall, she was amazed that her footprints did not fill in immediately but she thanked her lucky stars that they did not.

  Still, she had to keep her gaze constantly on the trail ahead of her, afraid to look away lest she lose sight completely of the imprints of her earlier footsteps.

  After a bit, she became aware that she had lost all track of time so she risked pausing long enough to look around her. Ordinarily, even on cloudy days, she was able to look at the sky and make a good guess as to the hour, but today all of the signs she usually depended on had disappeared. The sky was a blur of white, and the surrounding forest was a wall of dark green. She had no choice but to continue following the indentations.

  Half an hour later, those indentations ended.

  And exactly at that moment, the snow stopped falling and the sky lightened enough for Anna to determine where she was. The footprints had led her not back to Ashworth but instead to the very door of the old gatehouse where she’d first encountered Lord Ashington.

  A wreath of greenery hung on the warped wooden door and a warm yellow square of light shown through the tiny window to the right of the door. Curious, Anna took a couple of steps sideways and gazed through the grimy glass.

  A cheerful fire burned in the fireplace and a small wooden table was positioned in front of the fire. Two plates and two goblets sat on opposite sides of the table with an open bottle of wine between them. A covered basket sat on the floor.

  From her vantage point, Anna couldn’t tell if there was a second door to the left but she supposed there must be because she could certainly judge that there was no one in the front room.

  With the sky darkening and the chill in the air strengthening, Anna considered her options and concluded she had only one choice that made any sense. She was too far from both Ashworth and her own home to risk attempting to reach either of them. She had to seek shelter in the gatehouse.

  She turned away from the window and tapped on the door. No one responded. She tapped again, more loudly this time. Still no one answered.

  A blast of cold air helped her make up her mind. She tried the door and discovered it was not locked so she stepped inside, pausing just inside to call out, “Is anyone home?”

  There was no answer.

  Anna ventured further into the small room. Warmth from the fire reached out to her, urging her closer. She took two more steps and again paused. “Is anybody here?”

  Silence greeted her.

  Fearing that whoever now occupied the gatehouse might be ill or perhaps unconscious, Anna did a quick visual search of the premises. The tiny room in which she stood was furnished only with the table and two chairs. Fours pegs on the wall near the front door were no doubt intended to hold outerwear, but they were empty.

  A curtain stretched across a doorway to the far left, seemingly serving as a barrier to whatever lay beyond. Gathering her courage, Anna walked across the room and pushed the curtain to one side.

  The space beyond contained a cot and small table. The table held only a single candlestick topped by a tallow candle that had been burned almost to a nub. A pillow and blanket lay on the cot, but there was nothing to suggest who had been sleeping there.

  Loneliness such as she had never known before enveloped Anna, and she shivered, but not from the cold. There was something strange, something eerie, going on, and she had no idea what part she played in it. But she now had no doubt she was an unwitting player on this stage. In fact, she was beginning to feel like a puppet being jerked around on unsteady strings and she didn’t care for the sensation.

  She took a deep breath and stepped back into the front room. She didn’t want to stay here in this cheerful little room that looked as though it had been prepared for a tryst. For all she knew, some gentleman and his lover might burst through the door at any second, and she doubted they would welcome a guest.

  She had to leave. She knew it would be risky to start for home, but that route was more familiar to her than any other, so she made up her mind. She pulled her gloves on more securely and retied her bonnet to ensure it was tight. Squaring her shoulders, she marched to the door and opened it.

  Snow had drifted halfway up the door and came pouring into the room. Anna groaned and jumped back. She’d have to use her hands to push the snow back outside because she hadn’t seen a broom anywhere, but first she wanted to step onto the covered porch and look around.

  It was immediately evident that she couldn’t move away from the gatehouse. Snow continued to fall and the wind had formed it into menacing drifts almost higher than Anna’s head. She’d never experienced anything close to the frenzy and intensity of this storm, and she felt fear creeping into her limbs, weakening her.

  She’d started to turn and step back inside the gatehouse when a shape suddenly loomed to her left, a dark and lumbering shape that brought to mind a hulking bear or perhaps even some nameless entity that, along with the storm, had blown in from the nether regions of Hades.

  Horror and fright surged through Anna’s veins. Stumbling backward, she opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged. She stared as the thing grew closer, afraid to close her eyes and yet fearful of what she might see.

  Then, just as she thought she surely would faint, the shape spoke. “Anna? Is that you? Please, God, let me have located her.”

  Anna’s voice came back in a rush. “Lord Ashington? Phillip? Is that you? Is it really you?”

  He stepped onto the porch beside her, just as the wind ceased its screaming rampage. He pulled a black hat from his head and shook the snow off the brim. His dark greatcoat and black Hessians had added to his menacing appearance but now Anna stared into his caring eyes and felt the most immense relief of her life.

  “Thank God, you’re here.” She grasped his arm and tugged him toward the open door. “Come in. There’s a fire. You must be half frozen.”

  He responded by wrapping his arms around her and nearly lifting her off her feet as he hugged her against his chest. “You frightened me half to death, disappearing as you did. What possessed you to walk all the way to the gatehouse?”

  Anna welcomed his embrace, which spread warmth throughout her body. She fought back tears of relief and happiness as she pulled him even closer. “I can’t believe you found me. But please, you must come inside.”

  He nodded and released her long enough to wrap his arm around her waist and guide her through the door ahead of him. The snow had disappeared from inside the doorway and the fire blazed more brightly than ever.

  Anna immediately looked up into his face, which was growing more dear to her every time they met. “How did you find me?”

  He shook his head slightly, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to say. “I wanted to talk to you, so I followed your footprints into the forest until the snow started falling. Then they filled in so quickly that I couldn’t see them anymore.”

  Anna frowned in confusion. “But that’s how I arrived here, by following indentations in the snow. If you couldn’t follow them, how did you know to look for me here?”

  “I followed the light from the gatehouse window.”

  “But in this snowstorm, you couldn’t have seen it for more than a couple of feet in front of your face.”

  He shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t have been able to see it that far away, but somehow I did.”

  Anna gnawed on her lip. “What is happening to us? And why? Do you have any idea?”

  “I don’t. But one thing I do know.”

  “And that is?”

  “I feel as though I’ve known you for a hundred years, my dear Anna, and my feelings for you run as deep as if we’d been lovers for decades rather than acquaintances for a couple of days. Whatever is happening, whatever the fut
ure holds, I’d like to face that future with you. I hope you in some way return my feelings.”

  A smile lifted the corners of Anna’s lips, and a laugh of pure happiness built in her chest. “I too, feel as though we’ve known each other for more years than either of us have lived. Do you suppose, perhaps, that these strange occurrences have been pushing us together?”

  “If so, I welcome them despite the discomfort they’ve caused. But whatever the cause, it appears we must spend the night together here in the gatehouse. That being the case, I repeat my proposal of marriage, with the assurance that I do so because of my tender feelings toward you rather than because of any sense of duty. Will you marry me, Anna?”

  “I will, on one condition.”

  A hint of worry clouded the earl’s eyes.

  “That you’ll kiss me again the way you did in the library.”

  He laughed out loud before pulling her into an embrace that left her breathless. She tilted her head back and welcomed the sensations that pulsed through her when his lips touched hers. His kiss was all she remembered and more. She found herself delighting in the tastes and textures that were both new and somehow totally familiar to her. And she understood that love played a very important role in how much she enjoyed that kiss.

  Half an hour later, they examined the contents of the basket sitting near the table and discovered fresh bread and cheese. That, along with the bottle of wine, provided their supper. They talked as they dined, and Phillip described his youth and how unprepared he’d felt when he suddenly came into the title.

  And Anna described her childhood, how happy she’d been with her carefree parents and how devastated she’d been by their deaths. It had taken some time, she explained, before she’d grown accustomed to living with her great-aunt in the country, away from the city and the people she’d known in London.

  Which reminded her that the same obstacles still existed that had sent her running away from Phillip earlier that day. Her euphoria faded as doubts assailed her. Could Phillip really make peace with his neighbors? Could she bring herself to accept her father’s family members who had treated her parents so badly?

  She opened her mouth to share her concerns with Phillip, but suddenly the fire flickered and went out. Almost immediately, the door blew open to reveal Cora and Rachel standing on the covered front porch. There was no sign of any of the snowdrifts that had trapped them earlier.

  Anna jumped to her feet. “Aunt Cora, how did you get here?”

  “We came in Ashington’s coach. Now I ask the same of you, young lady. You disappeared, as did Lord Ashington. What happened?”

  Phillip stepped to Anna’s side and looked down at her with a smile that spoke volumes about his love for her. “Among other things, Miss Anna and I have become engaged to be married.”

  “I see.” Aunt Cora nodded once. “What other things are you referring to?”

  Phillip shifted his gaze from Anna to her aunt. “I suspect the lady in red has a great deal to do with the strange occurrences that brought us to this point. I’m hoping you can enlighten us about who she is and why she would interest herself in our affairs.”

  Aunt Cora took a deep breath. “Perhaps. First let’s go back to the house. It grows chilly in here.”

  Anna glanced around the old gatehouse. The fireplace was cold and the basket, wine bottle and goblets had disappeared. As she stared, cobwebs began forming in the corners. “Yes,” she said with a shiver. She surreptitiously slipped her hand into Phillip’s. “Let’s get away from here.”

  Forty-five minutes later, to Phillip’s relief, they had arrived safely back at Ashworth. The ride in the coach had been uneventful, which was a surprise considering the uncanny weather of the past few days. The snowdrifts that had isolated him and Anna in the old gatehouse had gradually shrunk to a scant four inches before they turned into the drive of the estate.

  Phillip was positive that the peculiarity of the weather was related in some way to the appearance of the lady in red, and he found himself especially eager to find out why. As soon as everyone had divested themselves of their coats, gloves, and hats, he suggested they gather around the fire in the drawing room and warm themselves with a pot of hot chocolate. When all agreed, he escorted the ladies and arranged the seating so that Anna would be by his side. He wanted her as close as polite company would allow although that wasn’t anywhere near close enough for his taste.

  A scant ten minutes later, when everyone appeared comfortable and relatively at ease, he turned to Anna’s aunt. “What do you know, Miss Benton, of the woman in red who appears to be related in some way to the weather we’ve been experiencing?”

  Anna’s aunt said nothing for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. She clasped her hands together in her lap before moistening her lips and beginning to speak.

  “The story of the lady in red has been repeated in this area for years, but I never really put any stock in it until now. I still find it difficult to believe.”

  She paused so long that Phillip had to bite his lip to keep from urging her to hurry. Finally she began to speak again.

  “Supposedly, the lady was in a carriage headed for London with her husband, who was very ill. He was, in fact, dying. She’d heard there was a physician in London who might be able to heal him, and she was determined to take him there.

  “But as they were passing through the neighborhood, a freak snowstorm hit, making the roads nearly impassable and extremely dangerous. Because the lady was so desperate to get to London, she instructed the coachman to continue, which led to the coach sliding off the road and into a ditch.”

  Anna scooted forward in her chair. “Where was this, do you know?”

  “Perhaps a mile before the entrance to the Bellingham estate. The house hadn’t burned at that time, but the family was visiting relatives in another part of the country and had left only a skeleton staff of servants. Of course no one in the carriage realized this at the time. The coachman offered to unhitch the horses and ride one bareback to seek help, and the lady in red agreed.”

  Phillip was growing increasing tired of hearing the female in question described only by the color she wore. “Did this lady not have a name?”

  Miss Benton shrugged. “She’s had various names applied to her over the years but the one I’ve heard most consistently is Marie. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll call her by that name for the remainder of the story.”

  Phillip nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Where was I? Oh yes, the coachman left Marie and her husband alone in the coach and disappeared into the night. An hour passed with no word from the coachman and the night air grew increasingly frigid. Marie had at last come to the conclusion that the coachman was lost and that neither she nor her husband would live through the night.

  “Then, just as she was sinking into sleep brought on by the cold, someone tapped on the window of the coach and she roused, crying out happily because she thought the coachman had returned with help. However, it was a young girl and her lover who had slipped away from their respective homes for a quick rendezvous and had been surprised by the snowstorm. Because they were on foot, they had decided to seek shelter in the Bellingham’s gatehouse.

  “When they discovered Marie and her unconscious husband, they insisted on taking the couple with them. The young man had to carry Marie’s husband, which was not an easy task in the deep snow, and the young woman insisted Marie lean on her.

  “Eventually, the four of them reached the gatehouse, which was unoccupied but was kept stocked with firewood and food for just such occurrences. The young man quickly built a fire, while the young woman set about opening a bottle of wine that had been left there, along with some stale bread and cheese.”

  Phillip looked at Anna and found her gazing at him with widened eyes. A bottle of wine. Bread and cheese. Surely this was no coincidence.

  “What happened then, Aunt Cora,” Anna asked.

  “According to legend, the young woman was the daughter of a
healer, and she helped nurse Marie’s husband through the night. By the following morning, the snow had stopped and the sun was out, so the young man was able to fetch his lover’s mother, who spent the day in the gatehouse dosing Marie’s husband with her most powerful potions. By that afternoon, he was strong enough to be transported to the Bellingham mansion where he and Marie stayed until he was well enough for them to return to their home.

  “Marie supposedly was quite happy until she learned that the young man’s aristocratic father had discovered his son was in love with the daughter of the village healer. He threatened to accuse the girl and her mother of being witches if the young couple did not agree never to see each other again.

  “They reluctantly agreed and the next day the girl’s body was found floating in the Bellingham lake, an apparent suicide. Marie was terribly upset to learn that the girl who’d saved her husband had been forced to give up her own true love.

  “Thus, Marie vowed that whenever she was needed in the future to help ease the path of those who were intended to be lovers, she would return to ensure they were not kept apart by either circumstances or family.”

  Phillip was thrilled when Anna asked her aunt the question that was foremost on his mind. “And do you think that’s what happened this week, that Marie returned to ensure that Phillip and I would meet and fall in love?”

  Miss Benton bit her lip and gazed into her lap for a few seconds. When she looked up again, a troubled expression darkened her eyes. “You are asking a question I can’t answer, child. After all, in spite of the legend, until this week, no one had seen the lady in red during my lifetime.”

  “I did.”

  Every head turned toward Rachel, who sat with a soft smile lighting her expression.

  Phillip stared at his sister as though she’d sprouted a third ear. “You’ve seen her? When?”

  “Just before Father came here to move us to London. I was young, of course, not quite six years old. She came to me one evening after I’d been tucked into bed. I thought at the time that she was a guest at Ashworth, but then I realized she’d floated through the door instead of opening it. Strangely, I wasn’t afraid because she was so beautiful and her smile was so kind.”