Twelve Days in December: A 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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(Power of the Matchmaker series)

Hearthfire Romance Series:

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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 fell 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.