Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella (8 page)

He was right, of course. Charlotte pressed her lips together, to keep them from speaking the thoughts swirling through her mind. She loved Matthew. Always, she would love Matthew, and she never wanted that to change, did she?

She and William had something different— a mutual friendship and respect, and she needed to be content with that. Marrying each other had not been a first choice for either; that it was working out so well needn’t alter anything else— past or future.

She swallowed the regret that came with these sensible thoughts and tugged her hand carefully from his.

With a smile she did not quite feel, she clasped her hands together and stood, determined to be content and grateful for all she had.

December 24

“It is the loveliest tree I have ever seen,” Charlotte exclaimed for at least the tenth time as she stood back to admire their handiwork. During the afternoon hours, she and William had been busy tying ribbons and carefully placing candles— from one of the many boxes he’d brought home yesterday— upon the tree.

The fresh pine scent engulfed the room, and Charlotte felt that if she but closed her eyes she would find herself a little girl again, trudging with her father through the forest near their home in France as they searched for the perfect tree.

As if he’d read her mind, William promised, “Next year you and Alec can come with me to help find the tree. And we will plan ahead and make an outing of it, so it is not a before-dawn-until-dark expedition as was yesterday’s.”

Next year.
“You cannot know how good it feels to hear that,” Charlotte said, bestowing a smile of gratitude upon him.

William chuckled. “If it means that much to you, perhaps we should get a tree for
every
holiday.”

“I was not speaking of the tree.” Charlotte clasped nervous hands in front of her, half-wishing she had contained her thoughts. But now that she had spoken she must explain herself. “Knowing that we shall still be here next Christmas, and the one beyond that and the one beyond that…” She turned away, walking to the window that overlooked the snowy yard. “It brings a great measure of comfort.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “That you have given us a home.”

“You— and Matthew— did not reside in the same home throughout your marriage?” William came to stand beside her, close but not too much so. In the past few days they had been silently figuring out boundaries— what each might say and do that would not cross a line of discomfort for the other.

Charlotte shook her head. “We did not. Before we left England, we had saved enough for my passage, but Matthew traveled under indenture. His first employer in Virginia was a kind man. He allowed me to work for our lodging, while Matthew’s labor went solely toward paying off his debt.” She smiled wistfully. Those first two years had been good— or as good as they’d enjoyed. “Then the plantation was sold, and Matthew’s indenture with it, and the next owner was not as sympathetic. I had to take work elsewhere and went to live with a different family. For a good year and a half, Matthew and I saw each other only on Sundays.”

“And this was your circumstance when your husband died?”

“No.” Charlotte turned away from the window and faced William. She’d dreaded speaking to him of Matthew but found now that she had started, it was not as difficult as she had feared. In some ways, it felt a relief to tell him, to share with someone the sorrows that had been hers and hers alone for too long.

Marsali had been too consumed with her own grief to listen to Charlotte’s tale. And before that…
No one to listen or care.
Matthew had not been the only man killed in the accident at the mill; the whole town had been consumed with grief, with none to spare for the newcomer’s wife, especially considering the circumstances.

“Last April Matthew’s passage was finally repaid. He found work at the mill in another town, and we were renting a small cabin. I planted a garden, and we were beginning to save money for our own farm.” Charlotte closed her eyes briefly, as if to shut out the painful memories.

At a gentle pressure on her hands, she looked up and found William’s gaze upon her.

“You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t wish to.”

“I know.” She allowed him to lead her back to the settee, where they sat silently admiring the lovely tree. How had she allowed the mood to turn melancholy? She didn’t want to feel this way, not now, not on Christmas Eve and when William had worked so hard to make the holiday special for Alec.

But
well begun is half done,
her mother used to say, and Charlotte did not wish to leave this half done.
Just tell him— all of it.

“In late July there was an accident at the mill. Three men were killed. Matthew was seriously injured. Everyone said it was his fault. They brought him home to me, and I tried to take care of him. But his leg and chest had been crushed, and there was something inside hurting him, making him suffer terribly. I tried, but I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t ease his pain.”

“Was there no physician summoned?” William asked, his face drawn and concern reflected in his own eyes.

“The doctor came— once,” Charlotte said, reminding herself that being bitter helped no one. “His son was one of those killed, and it seemed to me as if he did not try very hard to help Matthew.”

“How long did he suffer?” William asked quietly.

“Six days— nearly a whole week.” How it hurt to think of that time— the worst six days of her life. At least after Matthew was gone, she’d known he wasn’t in pain any longer. Seeing him suffer and being helpless to do anything about it, anything for him, had left her drained and hardly feeling alive herself. If not for Alec, she might not have been. “I never left his side, except to care for Alec. No one came to see how Matthew was. And after— no one bothered to see how Alec and I fared. I was carrying another baby but lost it in the two weeks after Matthew’s death. After that I took Alec and returned to my previous employer. Without Matthew to help, and in my own, weakened condition, I couldn’t make enough for room and board for Alec and me, let alone anything else we needed. I didn’t know how we were going to get through the winter. When your carriage arrived, it seemed an answer to my desperate prayer.”

“I remember making that decision,” William said. “It happened at the oddest of times. I was at work, in the middle of writing up a contract for a new client, when the idea came that I should send for Marsali’s sister. And so I stopped what I was doing and did so right then.”

“Thank heaven,” they both said at once, echoing the other’s thoughts. Charlotte found that she could laugh, and the corner of William’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

“How old are you?” he asked when her mirth had fled.

“Twenty-four. And you?”

“Ten years your senior,” he said soberly. “Yet your hardships have no doubt made you wiser than I.”

“I am not certain ‘wise’ is the right word.” She lay her head back against the sofa and was not entirely surprised to find William’s arm behind her.

“They have made you gentle, then,” William said. “Grateful. Cautious.”

He was correct on all counts, though she did not tell him so. She had known what it was to lose the man you loved, and so she had felt empathy for Marsali and treated her gently, as she had wished to be treated— and had not been— following Matthew’s death.

And I am grateful to be here, to be warm and safe, to have food enough for Alec
.

And cautious— who wouldn’t be? Charlotte didn’t know if she could ever live through pain as she’d felt last summer again. Keeping William at arm’s length, not allowing herself to become too attached to him, was definitely the safer route.

And then there was guilt. She felt it constantly. Matthew had suffered and died from trying to provide for her. And she had repaid him by marrying another.

William’s fingers brushed her shoulders, and Charlotte straightened quickly, scooting to the edge of the settee, though a part of her would have liked nothing more than to escape into the comfort of his arm around her.

A long, awkward minute passed in silence.

At length William spoke. “I will do my best to care for you as Matthew would have.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte murmured, not daring to say more. He was already caring for her too much, and would she but allow it, she feared William might do just as he said, caring for her as Matthew, and completely obscuring her memory of him in the process.

December 25

William withdrew his pocket watch from his vest and glanced at it again. “Alec has been riding that horse for twenty-two minutes.”

“I do believe you have hired your first nanny, one that will be quite good at keeping Alec occupied for great lengths of time.” Charlotte sat on the floor beside Alec as he rocked, though she had quickly realized he had full command of the rocking horse and there was little cause for concern. At least with regard to injury. She feared a tantrum when she removed him from the toy at naptime.

“At this length he shall be five years old before we get to unwrapping the parcel with the blocks.” William’s tone was good natured as he tucked away his watch.

“He is obviously delighted with it,” Charlotte said. “You have given him the perfect gift.”

“Let us hope I am as successful with yours.” William crossed the room to stand closer to them.

Guilt— for all he had done and was doing for her— rushed to the forefront of her mind. “You have already bought me gowns and hats and shoes and a new cloak this week.” Charlotte looked up at him. “Please do not get me anything else. I feel badly enough that I am unable to give you even a simple gift.”

William leaned close to her, one hand extended. Charlotte took it and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. “This gift is not something that I am purchasing for
you.
”

“For Alec, then? But you have given him everything he could possibly need or want as well.”

“Precisely,” William said. “Plus, he is too little to understand, so this item is not for him either, though I do hope it will hold some importance for him as he grows older.”

Charlotte felt her curiosity piqued. She tilted her head, looking up so she might meet William’s eyes. It did not appear that he was teasing. “I give up then. I suppose I shall just have to wait until you give me this present that is not for me or Alec.”

“You shall have to wait,” William agreed mysteriously, then said no more on the matter. “Church services start on the hour. We should go soon if we wish to get a seat up front. I think Alec will enjoy it more if he can see all of the candles.”

“Spoken like a father already,” Charlotte said, feeling her heart expand a little more. She allowed William to help her with her cloak, all the while commanding her insides to quit fluttering at his touch as he lifted her hair and his hands brushed her shoulders. When she had fastened the clasp, he still stood behind her, and the urge to lean into him for just a moment became too much to resist. As she took the tiniest step back, his arms came around her, and he leaned close, his face near to hers.

No words were exchanged; none were needed as they stood together, watching Alec still rocking furiously before the glow of the Christmas tree.

“Perfect.” William broke the silence with his whisper. Then with an audible sigh he released her and stepped back.

Charlotte felt the absence of his warmth and much more, but she dared not dwell on that.

“How are we ever to get him off of that thing?” she asked, looking down on Alec. “Or do you propose we take him to church on it?” She laughed at the foolishness of her own suggestion.

Instead of answering her, William withdrew a candy stick from his pocket and knelt beside Alec. Placing his hand on the back of the rocking horse, William gradually brought it to a stop.

“Would you like to go for a ride outside and have a piece of candy?” he asked.

“Candy,” Alec repeated and held his hands out to William.

“You’ll spoil him,” Charlotte scolded half-heartedly.

“That is my intention.” William scooped Alec into his arms. “Today, at least. And on his birthday, and when we picnic in the summer, and when he is old enough for a real horse and—”