The Ghost of Christmas Past (8 page)

Elizabeth
barely had time to think about why the story had arrested her attention when
there was an almighty banging at the front door. She rushed through to the
hall, just as her father was running down the stairs.

“What
on Earth?” she said, flinging the door open. Liam Doubleday stood before her,
soaked to the skin and shivering. At first she thought he held a bundle of rags
in his arms, then with a scream of horror, she realised it was Samuel.

“Quickly,”
said Liam, darting into the house. “Take me to a room with a good fire, and
bring towels and blankets.”

Despite
her horror, Elizabeth was able to calm herself enough to do as he asked,
leading him into the parlour. As she bustled around, looking for towels and
blankets, she could hear her father speaking to Liam, asking questions.

“What
happened?” she said, coming back with the towels. “I've asked Abigail to boil
some water,” she added.

“He
fell into the pond,” said Liam. “The ice broke. Luckily I was walking nearby,
and saw him crying for help. Reverend, bring some warm brandy. It won't hurt
him in this instance.”

Samuel
lay on the sofa, gradually coming to as Liam spooned warm brandy into him. His
teeth chattered, whilst both Liam and Elizabeth dried him with towels. She had
brought her brother's nightshirt and housecoat, which they changed him into.
Elizabeth covered him with blankets to keep out any further chill. The Reverend
put some more logs onto the fire.

“Sam,
you were told about the pond, dearest,” said Elizabeth, trying to speak calmly.

“Johnny,”
he said, struggling to speak because of the cold. He started to cry. “Johnny
still there.”

“What?”
said Liam. He stood up. “I swear I only saw Samuel. I'll go back and look.”

“No,”
said the Reverend. “You dry off, I'll get a search party organised.”

“Get
Doctor Wheston too,” said Liam. “I'll need to change.”

“My
father has some clothes that might fit you,” said Elizabeth. “I'll go and put
them out on his bed, then you can change.”

“Thank
you, Elizabeth,” said Liam. She did not have time to think of the significance
of him using her name, or chastise him for it. She could note only the small
thrill it gave her to hear it on his lips. Her father went off in search of
help.

“Sam,
dearest, tell me what happened,” she said, whilst Liam was upstairs dressing.
“Why did you go on the pond?”

“We
didn't, Lizzie,” said Samuel. “We were in the copse, because Johnny said that's
where he saw the man who built the snowman go. Then when we got there, we saw a
man in amongst the trees. He started chasing us, so we ran, and the quickest
way was across the pond. Only ...” Samuel began to cry. “Johnny fell first, and
I was trying to help him.”

“Who
was this man, Sam? Can you describe him?”

“He
was all dressed in rags. And with a hood. I didn't see his face.”

Liam
came back into the parlour as Samuel finished speaking. “There was a man
dressed in rags outside Doctor Wheston's last night,” said Elizabeth.

“How
do you know that?” asked Liam.

Elizabeth
felt her face grow warm. “We … erm … we shared the carriage with Mrs.
Chatterbucks and Miss Graves. They live near to the Whestons. I just happened to
be looking out and … and I saw him.”

“I
saw the carriage as I arrived home, but I didn't see the man,” said Liam. The
way he searched her face unnerved her, so she turned away and began folding
Samuel's wet clothes.

“It
was after you went inside with Mrs. Wheston,” said Elizabeth, trying to keep
her voice light. “He came out of the shadows. I assumed he was someone seeking
help from Doctor Wheston, but then we left to return home so I don't know where
he went next.” She felt unaccountably angry. “I don't know what sort of world
we live in when a man chases children and puts them in such danger! Samuel
might have died.” Tears stung her eyes, and she was not entirely sure she only
cried for Samuel's predicament.

“No,
it is outrageous, I agree,” said Liam. “But Samuel is fine, aren't you, Sam?
He's a strong lad.”

“I
hope Johnny is okay,” said Samuel.

Elizabeth
turned around, silently chastising herself. Here she was, tearing herself apart
over Liam's relationship with Mrs. Wheston, and another child was still in
danger. “I'm sure he will be, darling,” said Elizabeth, going to her brother.
She sat on the edge of the sofa and stroked his head. His forehead felt hot. “I
think he's getting a fever,” she said to Liam.

Liam
put his own hand on Samuel's head. “It's probably just his body trying to reach
its normal temperature. Or it could be the brandy.” He smiled. It was a
wonderful smile. “But keep an eye on him for a few days, and if he's unwell,
either call me or Doctor Wheston. I'm going to go and see what I can do to help
with finding young Johnny.”

“Thank
you for bringing him home,” said Elizabeth, as she showed Liam to the door.
“
I
don't know what we'd do if we lost him.” Her voice caught in her throat.

“He's
a fine young man.”

“Yes,
he is.”

“I
see your influence in him.”

“Do
you?”

“Yes.
In fact Mrs. Chatterbucks was only telling me today what a wonderful mother
you've been to him.”

“I
only tried to do what my mother would have done. Which is to love and care for
him.”

“Then
he's also a very lucky young man. Would that we all had such a lovely guardian
angel.”

“Oh
I'm sure Mrs. Wheston does her best.” The words were out before Elizabeth could
stop herself.

“Mrs.
Wheston? Yes, she is an angel too. John could not have asked for a better
wife.”

“And
is she the sort of wife you want?” asked Elizabeth.

“No.
I've had one wife. I don't wish for another.” His lips became a thin line, and
a deep frown creased his brow. “Though why you should think I aim for Mrs.
Wheston, I don't know.”

“You
seem close.”

“Ah,
I see. You saw us embrace last night?”

Elizabeth
did not answer. It really was none of her business. Despite that, she wanted to
ask him about his wife. Was she still alive? Had she died? Was he still in love
with her? What had she done to hurt him so? For it was clear he had not come
out of the marriage unscathed. The questions flew around her head.

Liam
smiled again. “I am not in the habit of stealing other men's wives. It is just
that I have been able to bring Mrs. Wheston good news of her brother, whom she
feared had been lost to her. She was merely grateful for that fact. I'm sure
you understand that feeling, Elizabeth.”

“Yes,
of course,” said Elizabeth. She looked down at her feet, wishing that she could
hide somewhere in that vicinity. “And I am grateful to you for saving Sam,
really.”

“Do
be sure to let me know if you would ever like to illustrate that with an
embrace.”

Elizabeth's
head shot up, her eyes widening. “I hope,” she said, garnering her courage,
“that you will be satisfied with a handshake, Doctor Doubleday.” She held out
her hand. He took it in his hand, which had only just begun to warm up. Instead
of shaking hers, as she expected, he lifted it to his lips, kissing her
fingers. His lips were warm and sensual, sending a thrill running along
Elizabeth's arm, and through her whole body. It wasn't the first time her hand
had been kissed, but it was the first time the kiss had promised so much more.
Or left her wanting so much more.

That
simple kiss unnerved and excited Elizabeth in ways she had never experienced
before.  Despite the rather staid attitude to sex in her times, she would be a
fool not to realise that her response to him was of a sexual nature. It was
then she realised the difference between Liam and Mr. Hardacre. Though handsome
and charming, Mr. Hardacre had a coldness about him, whereas one look into
Liam's eyes revealed a flame burning within that made Elizabeth tremble
inwardly. She silently chastised herself. After all, she was a vicar's
daughter. Her head should not be filled with such ideas of sensuality.

And
yet … though only fourteen when her mother died, had she not been aware of such
a relationship between her mother and father? Nothing overt or crass. The
Reverend and his wife were far too discreet and well-mannered for that. But
occasionally Elizabeth had burst into the parlour to find them in an embrace
that could only be described as passionate. Sometimes she witnessed a glance
passing between them at bedtime. She blushed as, with her own sensual
awakening, the implications of those embraces and glances became clear to her.
She had a brief fantasy of her and Liam at the end of a long day, walking up
the stairs hand in hand to a cosy bedroom where they ... She put her cool hands
to her face, which burned crimson. How could she be having such thoughts about
a man she barely knew? Yet every inch of her body ached for such moments with
him. Had he seen the longing in her eyes? She blushed even more. She would have
to be more circumspect with him in future.

Samuel
was sleeping when she went back to the parlour. She sat in the rocking chair,
watching him, and wondering about poor Johnny Fletcher. But her thoughts kept
returning to Liam Doubleday and the tingling in her fingers where he had kissed
them. He disturbed her in a way no man ever had. How she had ever found Mr.
Hardacre attractive, she did not know. Almost as if she had summoned him by
thinking of it, Mr. Hardacre arrived at the vicarage door.

“I
heard the news about poor Samuel, and have come to offer my help,” he said.

“Thank
you, Mr. Hardacre,” said Elizabeth. She led him through to the parlour. “He's
sleeping now,” she said in a low voice. “I can hardly bare to imagine what
might have happened had Doctor Doubleday not found him.”

“Yes...”
There was something in Hardacre's tone that made Elizabeth look at him sharply.

“What
is it?”

“It
is only … Dear Miss Dearheart, I do not want to cause you anymore distress than
I know you have already suffered. But what do we know about this Doubleday? He
arrives from nowhere, and has a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong
time. Was he not there when you found Mr. Sanderson's body? And now, when young
Samuel is in danger?”

Elizabeth
felt her knees weaken. “What are you suggesting? That he did this to Samuel?”

Hardacre
smiled. “No, no of course not. I do not know what made me think of it. Jealousy
perhaps.”

“Jealousy?”

“Miss
Dearheart … Elizabeth, darling. You must know how I feel about you.” Mr.
Hardacre caught her by the shoulders and pulled her nearer to him.

“Mr.
Hardacre, please. It is inappropriate with my father out of the house.” It was
strange how she had not felt that when Liam suggested she embrace him. Then she
had only felt regret at being too shy to do so.

“Darling
Elizabeth, I have to leave Midchester, but I want you to come with me. I have
known more happiness in your company than at any other time. Dora knows of my
feelings. She teases me about it, but I know that she would be most happy to
have you in our family.”

Elizabeth
stood back. Something felt wrong, and not just that Hardacre's proposal brought
home to her that she had no such feelings for him. There was something
desperate about the way Hardacre spoke, and she had a strong feeling that it
was not due to love or passion.

“I am
very grateful for you kind offer...”

“No,
don't say no, not yet darling. Think about it. We leave on Boxing Day. Say
you'll come with me.” He pulled her to him again and pressed his lips against
hers.

Elizabeth
was too shocked to stop him, and by the time she had regained her equilibrium
and started to push him away she heard a polite cough.

“We
have found Johnny,” said the Reverend. He stood at the parlour door with Liam
Doubleday.

“Oh,”
said Elizabeth, stepping back and almost falling over. “Is he well?”

“He
is in a serious condition,” said Liam, grimly. He was looking from Elizabeth to
Hardacre, with a darkness in his eyes that Elizabeth could not fathom. “Doctor
Wheston is attending him. I have just returned to see how Samuel is. But
clearly he must be well, as I am sure Mr. Hardacre would not think of making
love to you with a sick child in the same room. Good day.” Liam turned and
stormed out of the house.

Hardacre
left soon after, bowing to the reverend and saying to Elizabeth, 'Please think
about my offer.”

“Are
you going to?” asked the Reverend, when he and Elizabeth sat down to afternoon
tea. They took it in the parlour, so they could watch Samuel as he slept.
Elizabeth kept some toast warm, in case her brother should awaken and feel
hungry.

“I
have no wish to marry Mr. Hardacre, Father. Tell me about Johnny Fletcher.”

Her
father looked at her for a long time, then clearly decided not to press the
matter. “He was under the ice for some time. In fact, we had only just found
him when Doctor Doubleday returned. We were sure we would have to give up poor
Johnny for dead, but Doubleday argued otherwise. He said he had heard of people
being revived some time after drowning in icy water. Something about the cold
slowing down the bodily functions. Despite Wheston believing young Johnny had
no chance, Doubleday insisted on trying to revive him. And it worked. Poor
Johnny may lose a couple of toes to frost bite, and it may take him some time
to recover his faculties, but he is alive. Thank the Good Lord.” The Reverend
made a praying gesture.