A Berkshire Christmas Read online

  A Berkshire

  Christmas

  A Regency Christmas Story

  S. J. White

  CONTENTS

  A Berkshire Christmas

  Copyright

  Dedication

  ❄Chapter One ❄

  ❄Chapter Two ❄

  ❄Chapter Three ❄

  ❄Chapter Four ❄

  ❄Chapter Five ❄

  ❄Chapter Six ❄

  ❄Chapter Seven ❄

  ❄Chapter Eight ❄

  ❄Chapter Nine ❄

  ❄Chapter Ten ❄

  ❄Chapter Eleven ❄

  ❄Chapter Twelve ❄

  ❄Chapter Thirteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Fourteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Fifteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Sixteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Seventeen ❄

  ❄Chapter Eighteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Nineteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-one ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-two ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-three ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-four ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-five ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-six ❄

  ❄Chapter Twenty-seven ❄

  ❄Epilogue ❄

  The Kissing Bough

  Copyright

  ❄Chapter One ❄

  ❄Chapter Two ❄

  ❄Chapter Three ❄

  ❄Chapter Four ❄

  ❄Chapter Five ❄

  ❄Chapter Six ❄

  ❄Chapter Seven ❄

  ❄Chapter Eight ❄

  ❄Chapter Nine ❄

  ❄Chapter Ten❄

  ❄Chapter Eleven ❄

  ❄Chapter Twelve ❄

  ❄Chapter Thirteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Fourteen❄

  ❄Chapter Fifteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Sixteen ❄

  ❄Chapter Seventeen ❄

  ❄Chapter Eighteen ❄

  ❄Epilogue ❄

  About The Author

  Book By S.J. White

  Copyright © 2019 by S. J. White

  ISBN:

  Cover design

  __________________________________

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval system — except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its author, S. J. White.

  The characters and events portrayed in this historical novel are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Apart from well-known historical figures, any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or not intended by the author.

  To my mother, Lillian Jane Huck White, who loved Christmas as much as I do. She also believed in true love.

  Also to Yona White who loved me unconditionally and to my pint-sized Heather Rose White. Also to the new addition our family, Annie Belle White.

  ❄Chapter One ❄

  London, England

  December 20, 1812

  Simon Audley, the Earl of Stratmore, didn’t wish to attend The Earl and Countess of Braxton's Christmas Ball, but his friend, David Chambers, implored to show his face for an hour or two. It was late when his carriage dropped him off. He hurried up the steps not watching where he was going.

  A young woman dashed down the stair as he was climbing up. A collision was inevitable. He only lost his balance, but the lady received the worst of their crash. She ended up sitting on the cold, hard steps.

  Simon helped her up as he said, “I beg your pardon.”

  “Entirely my fault, my lord.” Th e woman hurried away.

  Simon still stared after her when she leapt into a waiting carriage. Under the street lamp, he was able to get a good look at the woman and he was struck dumb. He had a feeling she was the woman he had been looking for all his life but at the moment she seemed to be in some distressed. He started to follow her when he looked down and there on the stone steps he found the woman's slipper.

  “Wait,” Simon yelled. “You forgot … your slipper.” He knew he looked like an idiot holding up the slipper, but he didn't care.

  I have lost something precious without even knowing it. If only I had arrived earlier I might have— Might have what?

  Simon placed the dainty slipper inside his jacket and continued up the steps to the Ball, but somehow Christmas seemed rather flat this year.

  He would leave London tomorrow to join his mother and the rest of his family in Berkshire until after Boxing Day. He wasn't looking forward to spending time with his family. He would rather be searching London for his mystery woman.

  After he returned he would begin his search for the woman. How hard could it be to find one woman in society.

  Surely she will attend some of the same parties I do, but then again this is the first time I have ever seen her.

  ❄

  Simon's visit to his mother was rather boring. It wasn't as if he didn't want to spend Christmas with his family, but he was anxious to return to London to begin his search. He dreamed of their brief encounter every night and thought about her during the day.

  His sister, Caroline, went on and on about the accomplishments of her two unruly children. Her son, Thomas, a rambunctious three-year-old, was always getting into mischief. The boy was the very image of his father which wasn't saying much. Caroline's daughter, two-year-old Emma, just drooled over everyone. Still, he found her sweetness hard to resist. He wanted one just like her someday. Soon! If possible!

  At Christmas dinner, Caroline informed the family that she was increasing again. Simon silently groaned. That information was enough for him to lose his appetite.

  Simon's youngest sister was not yet out in Society. She would make her debut in the Spring. He got the impression that she wasn't looking forward to it as most young ladies were. Emily had always been most at home with her beloved books, dogs, and horses.

  One afternoon, Simon planned to go to the nearest tavern with his younger brother. John was four years younger than Simon, but they looked so much alike they could have been twins. They were the same height, the same dark hair and had the same twinkling blue eyes. Their facial features were very similar with the same nose, mouth, and eyebrows.

  His mother, Beatrice, called him to her sitting room before he could make his escape.

  Simon found his mother lounging on a settee near the fire. She was in her late forties but never seemed to age. She had the same youthful appearance he remembered from his own youth.

  “You wish to see me, Mother. John and I were just going out for a while,” Simon said.

  “Your taverns or bawdy houses can wait a few minutes.” Beatrice grinned.

  Simon's gasped was exaggerated. “Mother, you are not supposed to know about such places.”

  “Oh, poo, Simon. Of course, I know about taverns and bawdy houses. I pulled your Uncle James out of such places in his youth.”

  Simon's gasp was real this time with his jaw dropping in shock. “You are talking about Bishop James Tellison? Uncle James?”

  “What other Uncle James do you have? It was before he found his religious calling. This has gotten me off the subject that I wish to speak to you about.”

  “Go ahead, Mother, I'm listening.” Simon's mind was still on his Uncle James. The man who was still sleeping upstairs.

  “You are nearly twenty-eight-years-old. It is time you married and produced an heir and more than one. You will need a spare or two. Your father married me when he was twenty-six.”

  Simon thought his mother was jesting until he saw her eyes. She wasn't smiling.

  “Mother, I am not father. John is my heir
at present, so I'm not worried about the title. I will marry when I find the right woman and not before.” Simon thought of his mystery woman from the Braxton Ball for a second.

  “All right, Simon, I will make a deal with you,” Beatrice said, with a smile.

  “What sort of deal?”

  Simon eyed his mother suspiciously for a moment before she answered, “You must wed by your thirtieth birthday. That will give you two more years to carouse or do whatever young men do.”

  Simon had always came out the loser every time he made a deal with his mother before. This time might be different. It would give him two years to find the girl from the ball. Surely, he would be able to manage to find her in all that time. Meanwhile, the pressure for him to wed would off his shoulders.

  “You will not mention marriage for the next two years, mother? Not a word? Not even a subtle hint?”

  “Not a peep until Christmas Day two years from now,” Beatrice agreed. “Meanwhile, I will work on your brother and don't warn John.”

  Simon laughed. “We have a deal, Mother, but I would not be a good brother if I didn’t even hint at what you have in mind.”

  “Very well. Hint away. Now off with you. Enjoy yourself while you can.” Beatrice waved her hand at her beloved eldest son.

  Simon found his brother pacing the foyer. “What took so long?”

  “Not what, who, our dear mother wanted to chat.” Simon had to chuckle.

  “Did she give you the marriage lecture about your duty to marry and produce an heir,” John said, with a laugh.

  “Something like that. Heirs in the plural. Oh, yes, you know mother so well.”

  The butler, Higgins, helped the brothers on with their winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves before they left the house.

  Their horses were saddled, ready and waiting for them once they were outside.

  Simon glanced up at the dark skies and held out his hand. Soft snowflakes landed on his palm.

  “Are you sure you are up for this?” Simon was having second thoughts about traveling in this weather even for the few miles to the village tavern.

  “Oh, yes. As much as I love Caroline and her children, there is just so much of their mischief I can take.”

  Simon laughed as he mounted his horse. “I'm with you, Brother. Just think. A year from now there will be three.”

  John groaned. “Don't remind me, Simon.”

  Simon waited until John mounted before he spurred his horse down the drive to the open gate.

  Both young men returned home at two in the morning and both weren't feeling any pain. The brothers had had way too much to drink.

  John staggered into the house, but Simon lingered. There was fresh powder on the ground. It had snowed while they had frittered away the hours at the local tavern.

  Although it was cold, the sky was clear. He looked up at the stars twinkling down on him. He wondered if his lady was looking at the stars at this exact time as he.

  Probably not! Where are you?

  ❄Chapter Two ❄

  Simon returned to London after Boxing Day. The first thing he did was to see if Lord and Lady Braxton were in London. He knew Lady Braxton hated the country and preferred to stay in London all year long despite the sparsity of entertainment.

  He sent a note asking if he might pay a call. Lady Braxton's consent was returned rather quickly so at two in the afternoon he was lifting the knocker on the Braxton's townhouse door.

  Simon was showed into a well-appointed drawing room. Lady Constance sat on a sofa by the fire sipping a glass of sherry. Constance was a small woman. She barely reached five-foot in height. He thought she must have been a beauty in her youth for she still retained much of that prettiness at the age of forty-three.

  Simon bowed over the lady's offered hand. “Please, my lord, be seated. Would you care for refreshments?”

  “Thank you, no.” Simon settled into a wing-back chair close to the sofa.

  “This is not a social call, is it?” Constance hadn't gotten as far as she had within London Society without being shrewd and perceptive.

  “No, it is not,” Simon said. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Of course. Go ahead and ask. I will answer if I can.” Constance chuckled.

  Simon smiled. Most women of his acquaintance didn't chuckle. They either giggled, tittered or laughed, but never chuckled.

  “I attended your Christmas Ball last year,” Simon began.

  “I remember. It was quite a crush. Many of my guests returned to London just to attend my ball.” Constance was proud of her accomplishment. She held several balls during the year, but her Christmas Ball was by far her favorite.

  “Yes, it was. I know this may be a little much for you to remember. You did have hundreds of guest and I should not expect you to remember just one.”

  There was a puzzled look in Constance's eyes. “Which guest are you speaking of?”

  “I am afraid that I arrived late. A young woman was leaving as I arrived. She seemed to be in a quite a hurry. I was wondering if you remember her. She lost her slipper and I wish to return it to her.”

  Constance thought for a moment. “I seem to remember a woman leaving early. She received a message and left forthwith. Something urgent, I believe.”

  “Do you remember her name, my lady?” Simon found himself holding his breath.

  “No, I am afraid not, but I do seem to remember she arrived with Sir Arthur Germaine and his family I believe she is some school friend of his daughter,” Constance said. “Does that help?”

  Simon had to grin. “It helps tremendously. You cannot know how much.”

  “I am glad I was able to help even just a little.” Constance rose to her feet.

  Simon jumped up from his chair and took her hand in his for a kiss on her knuckles. He was out the door before she could say another word. He did hear the Countess chuckle once again.

  Constance wasn't fooled by the slipper nonsense. The man had no intentions of returning that slipper if it even exists. It was the girl he wanted. It felt good to help Simon even in a small way to find his true love. She had found her own, but it was no easy path.

  ❄

  On the way back to his townhouse Simon stopped at the Germaine's home on Park Place. The knocker was off the door. Simon rapped several times with his fists. Finally, the butler opened the door.

  “I am sorry, sir. The family is not at home,” the middle-aged Butler said.

  “I am Simon Audley, the Earl of Stratmore. Can you tell me when will they return?” Simon needed to know when to check back. He didn't want to become a nuisance.

  “Sir Arthur is on a diplomatic mission to Italy and his family went with him. They should return in three months,” the butler said.

  “I see. Thank you.” Simon turned away as the butler closed the door, but another thought occurred to him. “Wait, please.”

  The butler opened the door again. “Yes, milord?”

  “Perhaps you can answer a question for me.” Simon smiled at the older man.

  “If I can, milord.”

  “Before Christmas, the family attended the Braxton Christmas Ball.”

  “They did.”

  “They also brought a friend of Sir Arthur's daughter. Do you happen to know the young woman's name?” Simon was hoping and praying that today would be the day he would finally know the girl's name.

  “Yes, indeed, milord. She is a friend of Lady Louisa. They attended school together. It is a real shame what happened to her. Such a tragedy.” The butler shook his head sadly.

  “Is the woman I seek dead. Please, tell me she hasn't died. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “No indeed not, milord. Lady Kathleen Richards' father killed himself the night of the Braxton Ball. Apparently, his Man of Affair stole everything the man invested. There was not enough left to pay his creditors. Such a pity.”

  “Thank you for the information.” Simon slipped the old man a five-pound note and left.

 
; Simon's next stop should be Lord Richards former townhouse. He was sure everything had been sold, but perhaps the new owner knew what happened to the daughter.

  Did she have a family to take her in? Surely she was not left to the London streets. My God, anything could have happened to her.

  ❄Chapter Three ❄

  Simon didn't quite make it to Lord Richards former home. He decided to stop at White's Gentleman Club to see if his friend, Sir David Chambers, the Earl of Markham, had returned to London.

  White’s Gentlemen’s Club was one of several exclusive, members only, gentlemen’s clubs in London. The club offered male members of the ton a place to meet friends, to gamble, to drink, to read quietly, or to have a meal.

  The kitchen was open twenty-four hours; seven days a week. On the upper floors, a gentleman might rent a room on a temporary basis.