Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

Michael held out his hand. ‘It’s all right. I’m with you now.’

Ettie grasped his strong fingers and could hardly breathe as she felt a rush of intense emotion. Would a young man with wiry, sandy-coloured hair and very blue eyes suddenly appear before her? And behind him a woman whose flawless pale skin radiated the gentleness of her nature? Lucas and Clara, were they still here?

She stood, her heart racing as she gazed around the light and airy space that no longer cast shadows in every corner. The glass cabinets and shelves containing Lucas’s precious tobaccos were gone. The smoking room too, had vanished. Now a large map on the wall displayed the city’s many thoroughfares. Beneath it hung a variety of ornamental horse brasses and lanterns, strategically placed to take the client’s eye.

No, this was not the salon she remembered. Michael’s character was stamped powerfully into every space.

‘That girl I brought here,’ Michael hesitated. ‘I never took a real interest in her, Ettie, though you may believe I did. Her family paid well and that was what I wanted. I was a mercenary sod, but the money went straight in the bank to buy my carriages. Meanwhile I had to swallow my pride and work hard.’

Ettie smiled as a feeling of overwhelming peace flowed through her. Michael had changed his ways, something she had always hoped for him. ‘I thought you might marry her,’ she said softly.

Michael’s serious features gave way to amusement. ‘Marry? She was engaged to a lord’s son and liked to think she could fool around, making eyes at her lowly driver. I admit I did nothing to discourage her. Why should I? I needed that job to earn a decent crust. As long as my wage packet was regular, she could do what she liked.’

‘Even kiss you?’ Ettie blushed, her cheeks flushing under her bonnet.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized. ‘That must have been rotten to watch.’

‘It was. I was jealous.’

He gave a cheeky smile. ‘I like that. Means you thought something of me.’

‘But jealousy hurts.’

‘You won’t ever have cause to be in the future, I swear.’

Ettie looked into his beautiful grey eyes. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Course I do.’ He bent and lifting her chin, kissed her tenderly on her lips. It was then Ettie knew her life was transforming; separately they had grown from children to adults, yet now they were united as one.

Hand in hand, they walked along the empty passage to the drawing room. It was completely bare. There was nothing, not even a chair to sit on. The fireplace was sealed up and Michael gave a shrug. ‘The chimney needs sweeping. The floorboards are creaking. The walls need painting. But since I took over this place, most of all, I knew I needed you. Terence told me what happened after your gaffer died here and how he found your letter one morning. You know, don’t you, you nearly broke the old boy’s heart?’

Ettie felt the tears prick. ‘I know, Michael.’

‘He’s a good man; one of the best,’ said Michael fiercely. ‘I reckon it was one of those holy angels of yours that caused him and his lady friend to hail my cab one day. He told me he’d been searching the city for the damson-red brougham.’

‘You don’t believe in angels,’ Ettie said and he lifted a lock of chestnut hair from her face, gently tucking it inside her bonnet.

‘I do, some of them anyway.’

‘Michael Wilson, you’ve changed.’

‘Yeah, you could say that.’

He led her through to the dining room, which was just as bare, but where Rose’s portrait now hung over the fireplace.

Ettie gasped. ‘Didn’t the bank’s men take it?’

Michael chuckled. ‘Terence nabbed it before they arrived. He knew how much it meant to you.’

Ettie stifled a little choke as she looked into Rose’s face. ‘I thought I would never see her again.’

‘Surprising, eh, what life holds in store?’ He lifted her hands in his and stroked them lightly. ‘Do your fingers still hurt?’

‘No, they’re better now.’

‘They’re not too badly scarred. But maybe scars are a good thing sometimes. They remind us what we shouldn’t do. Although, well, I don’t regret …’

Ettie watched as his face turned pale. ‘What, Michael?’

‘I did a bad thing.’

Ettie felt a shiver go over her neck. ‘What is it?’

He took off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeve. Over the proud muscle of his right arm, his skin had withered and turned pale pink. Knitted together across his elbow were ugly discolourations and Ettie sucked in a breath. ‘You’ve been burned?’

Without replying he rolled down his sleeve and put on his coat again.

‘It must have been a fire, then.’ She stopped, the truth suddenly dawning and she trembled at the thought.

‘It was me who killed the bishop.’

Ettie stared at him wordlessly.

‘I went back to the orphanage one night. I had to see if it was true that the nuns and you and all the kids had gone. When I got there, there was a light in the chapel. I looked through the window and saw someone had lit the altar candles. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it was the bishop. He was nicking all the valuables, stuffing ‘em in a bag.’

‘What did you do?’ Ettie couldn’t believe that a bishop would do such a thing.

‘I went in and confronted him.’ He paused, the muscle in his jaw working. ‘It was his directive that split us all up. He wasn’t no bishop to my mind. And that proved it.’

‘Oh, Michael, how could he have done such a thing?’

‘He didn’t bat an eyelid. Had the nerve to threaten me. Told me to keep my trap shut or else he’d tell Old Bill it was me who snaffled the stuff. And the coppers weren’t going to believe otherwise, were they? But I saw red and went for him. He tripped over his bloody bag and fell into the candles. He went up in seconds along with the cloths on the altar. Didn’t help himself by running