Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella (7 page)

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 had 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.”

William chuckled softly at this. “He needs his own bed,” he said. “And you need yours. There is a fine, large room that would suit you both. It is in the far wing… next to mine.” He let the suggestion hang in the air, more than curious as to how she would take it.

“If you are offering, I would like that,” Charlotte said.

He would like that too, he decided, having her closer, even when they slept. The room beside his would do nicely. And in his mind, it was a positive step forward in the direction of their marriage.

December 23

At breakfast Charlotte was disappointed to find only one place setting and an envelope bearing her name beside it. After being seated she opened it quickly to find an apology from William, stating that he had urgent business and would be away most of the day.

Disappointment surged through her. She had become used to his company.
As I should not,
she told herself. At the new year, he would return to the normality of his life and running his business, and she would be left by herself— save for the servants— to decipher what her purpose and routine should be.

There was caring for Alec, of course, but without other chores and responsibilities to occupy her time, Charlotte knew there would be far too many free hours.
Which will never do.
She would have to find something else to keep her busy.
For starters, I shall have to make this house my home.

She would begin this morning by moving her belongings into the room beside William’s in the east wing, as he had suggested she might do.

After a hurried breakfast— dining alone was not enjoyable— she made arrangements for Alec’s continued care, then went in search of Mrs. Duff to make her request.

“Mr. Vancer said you might inquire about that today,” Mrs. Duff said. “I could tell that he hoped you would,” she said to Charlotte as an aside and with a knowing sort of sparkle in her eye.

“It was very kind of him to offer,” Charlotte said, while a twinge of worry took hold in her heart. She followed Mrs. Duff to the aforementioned room and took a minute to look around while the housekeeper went to fetch help with moving Charlotte’s belongings.

William had not been exaggerating when he’d said the room was larger. It was at least twice as big as the one she’d been staying in, with plenty of space to put an additional bed for Alec. A large window seat overlooked the front of the house, and a fine brick fireplace graced the opposite wall and boasted two comfortable looking chairs beside.

The bed was a tall four poster with a beautifully embroidered coverlet that looked as if it had never been used.

It hasn’t,
Charlotte realized.
This was intended to be Marsali’s room. William wanted to marry Marsali. I am just a poor substitute.
Surely William had offered this room to her only as a kindness and because of Alec.

Still, the inkling of concern she’d felt increased when she noticed the door that stood between the bed and dressing table. After only a second’s hesitation, Charlotte opened it and stared at the chamber on the other side. Her worry increased tenfold.

His room.
Of course. William had told her as much. And she ought to have known there would be a connecting door. She’d seen the same in some of the houses she’d cleaned. It was not uncommon.

But the marriage we have is
not
common.
It was not a real marriage, in the sense that most were. That hers and Matthew’s had been.
It is a marriage of convenience, a business arrangement.

But standing in the doorway, staring at the bed William slept on, she did not feel very businesslike at all. On impulse, she stepped into his room. His dinner jacket from the previous evening lay draped over the chair. Out of habit, from years of servitude, she picked it up, intending to place it in his dressing room. But his familiar scent clung to it, catching her off guard, sending her senses and emotions temporarily reeling.

Charlotte closed her eyes and clutched the jacket to her chest as a dozen images from the past few days scrolled through her mind. William looking so vulnerable on the church steps as he asked her if she was certain she wished to marry him. William wiping snow from his face. William hoisting Alec on his shoulders so he might see the ships better. William lying beside them in bed last night.

She dropped the jacket and fled the room, closing the connecting door and locking it securely. She only just resisted the urge to move the bureau in front of it.
As if that will stop this madness.

It could be nothing else, this thinking of her new husband in any other terms but as an amiable partner. Someday, perhaps, she might feel differently.
But not now
. Not with Matthew so recently gone and this marriage so new.

Forgive me, Matthew.
But she did not even know what she was asking forgiveness for this time. And she dared not ponder it to find out.

After a busy morning spent relocating her belongings to the new room and playing with Alec, Charlotte had enjoyed both her larger fireplace and the window seat, indulging in an afternoon of reading while Alec napped, all the while keeping half an eye on the comings and goings in the street below.

It was dark and would soon be time to dress for dinner. William had not returned home, and she was starting to worry. No one in the house knew his whereabouts— or they were not telling Charlotte if they did. Feeling something between irritation and concern, she pressed her face to the window looking down on Fifth Street.

A wagon was approaching, bringing a delivery of some sort, no doubt. The residents in this neighborhood did not drive wagons, that she could tell, but instead all owned fine carriages kept in carriage houses behind the main buildings.

She followed the wagon’s progress up the street and was surprised when it stopped in front of the house. Even more surprising was that William himself jumped down from the seat. She watched as he paid the driver then went around back to heft an enormous fir tree from the wagon bed.

A Christmas tree!

Charlotte flew from the room, scarcely remembering to close the door behind her, lest Alec wake. She ran down the stairs and arrived breathless at the front door, in time to beat the butler to his post and open it herself.

“You’ve brought us a Christmas tree! Oh, thank you.” Impulsively she threw her arms around William’s neck as he struggled to bring the tree inside.

“Charlotte,” he choked. She released him and stepped back, laughing.

Moving behind him, she attempted to lift the top of the tree and keep it from dragging across the floor. A trail of pine needles followed their progress from the foyer to the parlor, and her fingers were soon sticky with sap. At last William set the great tree down and paused to wipe his sleeve across his forehead.

“Oh, thank you,” Charlotte said once more, though this time she refrained from hugging him. “Our father always brought us a Christmas tree, and I haven’t had one in years— not since we left France.”

“I know.” In spite of his evident fatigue, he grinned. “Marsali told me all about the trees your family had. I realized this morning that we had no Christmas for Alec. So I set about remedying that as quickly as possible.” He inclined his head toward the hall, where servants laden with packages were making their way in.

“Goodness,” Charlotte exclaimed. “Whatever have you bought?’

“Things little boys need— from new mittens and knickers to blocks and a rocking horse. This shall be a Christmas to remember.”

Charlotte hugged herself to keep from throwing her arms around William once more and burying her face in his neck and bursting into tears. “How—” She turned away, waving a hand in front of her face, as if that would somehow ward off the moisture spilling from her eyes.

“What is it? What is wrong?” William was beside her at once, his hands on her shoulders, and he turned her gently to face him.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is
right,
” Charlotte said, realizing she made no sense at all.
Too right.
“Only how am I supposed to repay you when you are always doing kindness after kindness for us? You have everything to give, and I have nothing.”

He walked to the parlor doors and shut them, then gathered her in his arms, where she cried, as she had feared she would.

“You gave me everything when you married me,” William insisted a few minutes later when her tears were spent. He led them both to the settee.

“You saved Vancer Furs. Without a wife, I would have lost an important inheritance— one that is already financing expansion to the west— something I must do if I wish to remain in competition with both Astor and Hyde.”

“But that didn’t cost me anything,” she sniffled. “It was easy.”

“Was it?” He took her hand in his, caressing the back of it with his thumb. “I believe it cost you plenty to say ‘I do,’ a second time— to a man you don’t love and barely know.”

“You mustn’t say that.” She lifted her tear-stained face to his. “I
do
know you. A better man I could not have found, and I—”

“Careful,” he advised, stopping her. “Don’t say anything that you will regret later— anything you are not sure of. Honesty between us is all that I require now. I would not wish to hear something that isn’t truthful.”