A Regency Christmas My Love

A Regency Romance in England. It is about a young lady that finds herself in a terrible situation and needs a champion to help her. She is innocent and alone and it is Christmas. Can true love find a way in the most horrible of circumstances? Can a man fall in love after just one kiss? Will he find her?

A Regency Christmas for My Love

By Linda Hays-Gibbs

    “Oh, no!  It cannot be.  I can’t have lost both my parents.  You must be mistaken.”  Her whole body shook with tremors as she grabbed the door handle for support.

     Constable Harris a gray-haired rotund man in his fifties swallowed hard and sputtered.

     “I assure you Miss Grace that I would not tell you such a thing if I were not positive.”

The elder Constable looked at the vase above her right shoulder and shuffled his feet. He stood erect and unmoved except his eyes moistened.

     “Constable Harris, please come into the parlor.  I can’t believe it.   This is so horrible.  I have no one left.  I cannot bear this.”

       Her sobs accelerated and Constable Harris tried to console her.  He gently patted her back with his large hands and gave her his less than pristine handkerchief.

   “I am so sorry Miss Grace bringing you such news but there was no one else.  Is there anything I can do for you Miss Grace?” His hands shook with the knowledge that this young girl was all alone.  She seemed terribly pale and shaken and very young.

      “No, just leave me.  I will be all right.”  She stood then shook her head and sat back down.  “No, wait.  Please tell me again. I just need to understand what has happened?”

      “There was an accident with the carriage, Miss Grace. The horses rounded a corner on a dray and the carriage hit it full on. The snowfall from last night made everything slippery and it crashed.  I again offer my condolences. It was quick Miss Grace.  Please try and calm yourself.”  He ran his fingers through his already tousled hair and swallowed nervously. He could not handle hysterical females.  He darted his eyes toward the door.

     “Thank you again Constable.  I just can’t quite believe it.” Her back convulsed with sobs and her hands twisted the handkerchief into shreds.  A blonde curl fell over left shoulder. Her pale yellow dress showed drops of tears a shade darker on her collar.

    “It was nobody’s fault.  Miss Grace, are you sure there is not someone I could get for you?”  The Constable shifted again and nervously looked toward the door.

    “No…I just…no.  Please…I assure you.  I am fine.”  Victoria Grace rose from the settee and escorted the Constable from her parlor.  She stumbled slightly.  He reached for her but snatched his hands back in a jerk. She tried to hand the sodden handkerchief back to him but he declined it.  Vicky closed the door and leaned back against the hard wood trying to feel any warmth from the hard gray planks.  There was none. It had long ago evaporated on the cold wind. She stumbled back into the parlor and collapsed onto the settee again racked with sobs.  Her world was over.  How would she be able to carry on without her wonderful parents?

     At just eighteen years of age, she was alone in the world.  Her father was a penniless Baron who gambled away what meager rents his poor estate garnered and now he was gone.  Her mother ran away from her family to marry for love and had promptly been disinherited.  A very sheltered Vicky had only experienced her life with just mother, father, and herself.  Their own little world, but it had been filled with love.  They were her world. She had no world left. Her sobs grew in intensity as she ran to her bed.

     A few days later, Vicky knew with the reading of the meager will that she had to find employment of some kind and soon. She was not trained in anything but to be a lady.  That was not an occupation that paid.  Her parent’s funeral had been a scanty affair served with what money she could find in the house. Her parents kept a small amount for deliveries and messengers in a chest beside their bed.

      Vicky was trying to sort through her clothing to sell some of her gowns for food when there was a knock at the door.  All the servants were dismissed from her service for she could ill afford them. Vicky rushed to the door when she finally realized there was no one else.  When she reached the door she stiffened her spine and shoulders.  Then she patted her hair and straightened her gown with her hands before reaching for the door.

    “Yes, may I help you?  I am afraid that the servants have all gone.  I was just at my parents funeral.”  Vicky wiped a tear away and averted her head to hide her swollen eyes and face.  Her golden hair had slipped a few pins and a few silken stray strands covered her nape and around her too huge violet eyes.  Her trim black bombazine dress made her look altogether too thin but accentuated her tiny waist and ample breasts.

  The man looked uncomfortable and very small in his tailored suit. He swallowed hard and said, “I am, Mr. Rapene from The New Bank of London.  I have come to impound this house and all the belongings held within as partial payment for your father’s debts.” He shuffled his feet and looked around the entrance to the house never meeting her eyes.  Finally, flushing a scarlet color and hanging his head in shame, he cleared his throat and nodded to the young beautiful lady before him.

     “Oh, my goodness.  Everything?  I can’t believe that includes my personal affects.”

     “Yes, Miss Grace.  It does.  I will however, give you time to pack you clothes and leave.  That is all I can do and I am not supposed to do that.”

      “You can’t be serious, Mr. Rapene?  It is three days before Christmas and I am to be on the street?”  Tears started down Vicky’s cheeks in rivulets.

     “I am sorry Miss Grace but please leave before I must take you into the courts for your father’s debts.  I don’t want to do that but I must if you stay.”

     “Goodness, I will pack immediately and leave.”  Vicky rubbed at her eyes with the base of her hands and blew into a bedraggled handkerchief.  Her hands shook with fright.

     Vicky ran up the stairs and threw everything she could into her trunk and valise.  She grabbed her mother’s pearls and put them into her pocket. She would not part with them and the locket with her parent’s painted likeness was hers alone to keep.  She stuffed that into her pocket along with her grandmother’s ruby ring.  They would have to kill her to take those few trinkets away.  She had to find a way to survive and she would not be coming back.  Her trunk was heavy but she hauled it into the entrance of the house.  She had one pound and three sixpences to her name and she hid that too.  She would have something to eat tonight.

     Mr. Rapene shuffled his feet again and looked at the floor. 

     “I can take you to a hotel or relative’s home if you would like Miss Grace?”  Vicky looked at the heavy trunk and decided that it would be best to have him load it for her and take her somewhere.

     “Yes, that would be very kind of you, Mister Rapene.  I will go to the George’s Hound. It is a decent place, is it not?”

      “I believe it is adequate, Miss Grace.” He grabbed her trunk and valise and took it to his carriage then turned and locked the door to her house and took her keys.

    Vicky let out a sob when the key turned and waited for him to help her into the carriage.  He took her hand and helped her into his carriage for the ride to the hotel.

     Vicky was glad that she had help with the large trunk. She settled into her room but realized she could only stay the night. Her money was almost gone.  Her crying was heard all down the hall of the hotel.

     Creighton Brewster, the sixth Earl of Brawley was meandering down the hall with a healthy barmaid on his arm when he heard the heartbreaking sobs.  He took the girl’s arm off his sleeve and raised an exquisite black eyebrow at the barmaid. He knew she knew all the gossip as she listened at every keyhole.

      “Oh she is some lady that finds herself in a fine circumstance, she does.  Her family just died and the magistrate from the bank, well, he brung her here. She won’t be staying long as she doesn’t have the blunt but she’ll find a way to make some blunt soon enough.  She’s a looker that one is.  Now governor, are we settled on a price for the night?”

     “I don’t think so Maisy.  I believe I must make an early night of it.  I will see you later.  You go on back to the pub.  Here, this will serve for your time spent with me.”  “Well, thank you governor.  That is mighty nice of you.”  She swaggered back down the hall and winked at him over her bare shoulders. 

     Creighton was six feet two of pure muscle and brawn.  His features were that of the aristocracy.  His ebony locks curled just enough to make him look tousled. Black thick eyelashes set off his bright light blue eyes.  His bearing was regal and he had the perfect mouth with a clef delicately etched in his chin.  To say he was handsome was an understatement and his clothes were always impeccable.  His superfine dark blue jacket fit his muscled frame snugly.  His top boots were polished to perfection by his valet that dressed his cravat in the most intricate designs to date. He was decidedly ready for an adventure and this sobbing sounded like an adventure to him.  His curiosity was about to overcome his common good sense.  Creighton could not seem to help himself.  The constant sobbing was draining on his self-control.  He stood in front of the door and knocked with his gloved hand, as any gentleman would do.

     The sobbing ceased and he heard sniveling.  There was a scrapping chair sound and then nose blowing.  He thought she might not answer the door and was about to turn when the door jerked open and two very red bloodshot eyes pierced into his.  Her face was swollen and her nose was red but she was still beautiful.  So beautiful, in fact that he gasped and took a step backward.  She snubbed and asked.

      “What do you want?”  He was taken aback by her abrupt question and could only stare.   She squared her shoulders and looked him up and down, frowning at him.

     “Can I help you?  Do you want to throw me into the street or take my clothes?”

     His eyes widened and he squared his shoulders.  “I assure you Miss…ah…may we start again.  Please forgive my manners but I am Lord Creighton Brewster and I just wondered if I might be of service?  I was passing by and heard your distress.”

     His soothing voice was her undoing. “Oh…I apologize.  I am Miss Victoria Grace and I am so sorry I was making too much noise.  I did not mean to draw attention.  It is just that…well…sob…I just buried my parents and I was E…VIC…TED.”  On a bigger sob, she tuned and retreated into her room collapsing onto the bed.  Her crying deepened into further despair.  Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her sobs.

     “I am so sorry, Miss Grace.  I…oh…my…may I get you some water?”  He went to the pitcher beside the bed and poured her a glass of water.  Then he went into the privy and brought a towel and wet one end.  He set her upright and held the glass to her lips.

      “Here drink a little water.  I am sure it will help.” He guided her lips onto the glass.

      “Oh, thank you.”  She took a swig and choked a little.  Creighton took the towel and wet her face and wiped her tears away.  “You know you must be extraordinarily beautiful.” Creighton smiled down into her face.

      “Why do you say that?  Hiccup!”  She closed her eyes in embarrassment.

      “You are beautiful even after all this crying and usually women look horrid after a bout.”  His smile widened at her into a full-fledged grin.

     Her purple eyes widened in alarm, “I should not have let you into my room.  I am…uh…I am sorry but you will have to leave.  It is not proper.”

     “Oh, I don’t know.  It seems pretty proper to me to offer help to a lady in distress.  I want to help you, sweet lady.  You are so beautiful. Please let me do something for you.  I could at least feed you and we can discuss it.  Why don’t we have supper in the dining room with the other guests and you can dress up for me?”  He stood and offered his hand.

     “I am so sorry, but I do not look presentable enough to go downstairs.  I do not feel like socializing, as I am sure you will understand.  I just want to die.”  Vicky started wailing again. More of her hairpins fell to the floor and blonde curls fell down her back.

     “All right, we could just die or I could order some food sent to your room.  How would that be?  Will you dine with me in your room then?”  He paced the floor and studied her. He had to get into her good graces.  This woman was a beauty.

     “I have not fallen so low as to barter my favors for food.  I am trying to decide what to do with my life.  I do not need someone to make fun of me or use me.” Vicky was livid.  How dare him think she was so cheap?  She was not that sort of woman, was she?  She was certainly hungry and did not know if she had enough money for food.  He raised a magnificent eyebrow at her.  He was the most beautifully put together man she had ever seen but his arrogance was horrible.  He presumed too much.  How was she to deal with him?  Her mother had not even brought her out yet.  She had attended no balls, had no social skills, and no experience with men.  It was a frightening situation to say the least.

     He paced over to the window.  It was clear he did not want to leave.  He studied her face from the perspective of the reflection in the window.  Was it possible that he wanted this woman?  Oh yes, it was more than possible but he would never take advantage of a lady and she was definitely a lady from her hair to her toes.  He turned around and faced her arching another brow.

      “I have no intention of taking advantage of a lady.  I just want to be of some assistance.  I can be your knight in shinning armor, if you let me?”

    Vicky shook her head.  “Surely you see that is impossible.  I cannot take anything from a stranger.  I do not know you and you do not know me.  I think it is all improper.”