The Perfect Christmas: With Bonus Material Added

  The Perfect Christmas

  With Bonus Material Added

  Annabelle Anders

  Copyright © 2019 by Annabelle Anders

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  THE PERFECT SPINSTER

  About the Author

  THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS

  Bonus Material Added

  By Annabelle Anders

  Original version first published in

  Yuletide Happily Ever After II

  An Original Regency Romance Collection

  For the 2019 Christmas Season

  DEDICATION

  This is a story about forgiveness. Over the course of a lifetime, a person is faced with millions of choices, some more difficult than others. And sometimes, we make the wrong ones.

  In a world filled with hard consequences, all of us need grace.

  And so I’m dedicating this book to those who practice grace.

  Prologue

  England, Early 1800’s

  “Eliza, Mother asked me to remind you to wear your cap. She’s displeased that you’ve left it off.”

  Matthew’s voice carried that disapproving tone Eliza was beginning to resent. They were to be married in three weeks’ time and she hoped this feeling was only temporary. Her actual duties at the Dog and Pudding Pot Inn did not bother her, but her future mother-in-law’s constant nagging had not been something she’d bargained for. Her future in-laws were aging, however, and the plan was for Matthew and Eliza to eventually take ownership and run it as their own.

  The stress of additional responsibilities had also taken their toll on Matthew. The two of them rarely had time to enjoy one another anymore.

  Taking a deep breath, Eliza smoothed the counterpane on the bed before turning around to address him. “I only take it off because it itches. I’m not used to it, you know that. I’ll wear it if I go into the public areas, but surely it isn’t necessary while I’m cleaning the guest’s room. No one ever sees me.”

  The man she’d considered to be so very handsome last summer scowled. Suddenly she was more aware that the blondish hair she’d compared to sunshine just months ago appeared to be thinning on top and his blue–grey eyes seemed a tad close together. Silly things that didn’t really matter because she loved him, and they were to marry. It was just a phase. She was simply experiencing an unfortunate bout of cold feet.

  She should not be so picky. He was a gentle soul, she reminded herself, dismissing her irritation. It was part of what had attracted her to him to begin with. Perhaps she could wear the dratted cap. If that would make things easier––

  “Why must you be so obstinate? It’s a small thing, and it would mean so much to Mother.”

  Eliza swallowed hard and then walked around the bed and proceeded to fluff the pillow — exerting perhaps slightly more vigor than necessary.

  “Only until after the wedding,” Matthew had crept up behind her, placing his hands upon her shoulders, his mouth near her ear.

  She leaned back to take comfort from him. They’d been allowed so little time alone as of late. “Your mother hasn’t mentioned their move lately. Do you think they’ll be happy, living an idle life, away from the inn?” Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were planning to move south to live near Matthew’s mother’s sister after Matthew and Eliza were married and settled in.

  Her betrothed released her and stepped away. When Eliza stared up at him, he didn’t meet her eyes. “In due time. It’s a big change.”

  “How much time, Matthew?” Eliza dropped the pillow and hugged her arms in front of herself.

  “They might stay on a little longer, give us more time to learn the business. Mother says she feels revitalized to have us both helping out now. And Father says what with the money they save by not paying us a wage, we can add another wing to the back of the inn. If we had more rooms, the inn could easily support all of us.”

  Eliza blinked. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting that they would all live together after their wedding.

  Matthew smiled sweetly at her. “Please don’t worry over these type of details. You trust me, don’t you?” He tilted his head.

  Of course, she trusted him! She loved him!

  It would be all right. Everything was going to be fine. It was just that the role Matthew’s parents expected of her wasn’t one she’d planned on stepping into. She would do her best for now, to please them, but after the wedding…

  She smiled up at her future husband. “You know that I do. And I’ll try to remember the cap in the future.”

  She tilted her head back for the kiss she expected for some reassurance was disappointed when Matthew took a step backward instead. “Not in one of the guest rooms, Eliza.” He grimaced.

  She nodded, hating that she’d not considered that it might be inappropriate.

  “Eliza?”

  She smiled. He loved her. He’d not show her physical affection right now, but he’d reassure her with his words.

  “Yes, Matthew?”

  “Don’t forget that cook needs your assistance after supper this evening. And put your cap on before mother sees you again.” And with that reminder, he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone to finish preparing the room.

  Eliza’s own parents had allowed her considerable liberty while growing up, despite the fact that her father had been a vicar. She’d had a pleasant upbringing, really. Finances had only become tight after her father stepped down from his position. His thoughts had become muddled and after forgetting most of his sermon on one occasion, he’d felt it best for his parish that they bring in somebody new.

  Eliza had only begun to feel pressure to marry when she realized her father’s income had been cut by half. Her upkeep had become a burden.

  She’d come to visit her brother, Thomas, last summer with the idea that she could assist him with his own parish for a few months. It would ease her parents’ burden and give her time to contemplate her future. Although she was barely eight and ten, she’d been well educated and thought that rather than marrying, she might apply for a post as a governess, perhaps, or a teacher.

  All of that had changed however, when she’d caught Matthew Wilson’s attention. He was brawny, handsome and the son of successful merchants. She felt they suited one another rather well. He’d been considerate and charming and was all she’d imagined in a husband. Thomas, had approved of the match and she’d eagerly accepted her handsome suitor had dropped onto one knee and proposed.

  When she’d promised herself to Matthew, however, she’d not expected that she’d be entering service. It was only after they’d announced their engagement that his parents suggested they take up the management of the inn, when her life had taken this turn.

  Working as a maid, beneath his mother, was supposed to be temporary, though.

  Something like fear squeezed her hear
t. Her wedding date was less than three weeks away. Her parents had been thrilled to no longer have to worry for her future. She’d not be a burden to her parents or her brother any longer. The engagement had been celebrated by all, including herself.

  She’d imagined a small cottage and a few children. She’d imagined planting a garden with vegetables but also flowers.

  She loved Matthew.

  Eliza pressed a clenched fist against her mouth and turned back to stare at the bed she’d just made up.

  Invitations had been sent. Family members from miles away planned on traveling great distances to attend. Her mother had told everyone she knew.

  “Pardon me, Miss. I was told the room had already been readied.”

  Eliza dropped her hand from her mouth and spun around. A gentleman stood in the open door, a valise in one hand, his top hat in the other. He was tall, his head nearly reaching the top of the door frame. And he was slim, in an elegant way.

  This particular man would never have to worry about thinning hair. Although he must be close to the age of thirty, his hair was thick and black and longer than was strictly fashionable. And his eyes, a deep green, the color of leaves in the forest just after a rain.

  Struck by his… everything, Eliza stared at him in fascination.

  “Perhaps I am in the wrong room? Number seven?” He smiled hesitantly.

  “Yes.” She shook herself out of the momentary trance she’d fallen into. “No. I mean, this is number seven. I’m almost finished.” She rushed around the bed to gather her supplies, forcing her eyes to sweep the room for anything she might have forgotten.

  “I believe I’m rather taken with this village. Have you lived in Misty Brooke long?” He’d set his valise on the floor and had walked over to stare out the window.

  “Not until recently actually. I’ve lived most of my life in Blackhaven—a day’s drive south of here. Blackhaven is so small that you miss it if you blink while passing through. But my brother has lived her for several years now. He’s the local vicar and I’ve visited him often.” She realized she was babbling but for the life of her couldn’t stop herself.

  He turned his gaze back inside and after studying her face for a moment, allowed it to slide down her person and then back up again.

  She ought to feel insulted. She ought to frown in disapproval. She did neither.

  “Blackhaven’s loss is Misty Brooke’s gain.”

  All the air, it seemed, had suddenly been sucked out of her lungs. Heat flushed through her veins and a roaring filled her ears as her stare clashed with his. There was nothing inappropriate in his comment, but the tone of his voice had been… low, sensual.

  Approving.

  When she could stand it no longer, she dropped her lashes. “Th––thank you.” She managed. And then looked up again.

  “Henry Fairchild.” He bowed in her direction. “And you are?”

  Eliza swallowed hard. “I am Miss Eliza Cline.”

  His eyes flared for a moment. “Miss Cline, I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  Eliza dipped into a curtsey. “Likewise, Mr. Fairchild.” Suddenly she was all too aware that she wore a dingy looking apron over a plain brown, poor excuse of a dress.

  And yet, he seemed to appreciate her appearance.

  “Will you be staying in Misty Brooke long, Sir?” Standing behind the bed, as she was, she couldn’t exit the room until he stepped out of her path.

  He averted his gaze for a moment and twisted his mouth into a wince, but perhaps she’d imagined it, as he was all smiles when he turned back to answer. “I believe I just might.”

  Butterflies took flight inside her.

  Most inappropriate butterflies.

  Eliza berated them and willed them to settle down. She was an engaged woman and it was foolish to allow herself to be so utterly discomposed by a handsome face.

  She straightened her back. “I hope you enjoy your stay, sir. If you’ll excuse me.” She went to pass through the narrow space between him and the bed, expecting he’d move away to give her more room.

  But he did not.

  As her body brushed his, those butterflies turned into shooting stars and every inch where she’d made contact with him sizzled with something startling. And that something startling was also very inappropriate.

  “Good day, Miss Cline,” his voice taunted her as she escaped through the door.

  * * *

  Eliza tugged the uncomfortable cap off and tilted her head back to study the night sky. So many stars, twinkling, winking down at her. She closed her eyes and allowed the cool night breeze to cool her neck and cheeks.

  She’d washed more dishes tonight, most likely, than she had over the course of her entire life.

  Although murmurs rose and fell from laughter and sometimes a not–so–heated argument inside the tap room, outside it was quiet and peaceful. If she was at her father’s house, she would venture into the woods but Matthew had instructed her not to go wandering alone.

  And he was right, of course.

  Even so, Eliza gazed longingly into the shadows.

  “Aschenputtel is allowed a time of rest.” The voice emerged from the darkness before the person did. His voice.

  Tonight, he was not wearing his tightly fitted coat, nor a cravat. He wore elegant trousers, however, with an embroidered waistcoat and a pristine linen shirt.

  Her eyes examined the lace at his wrists and then trailed up to his face.

  Her heart jumped when their eyes met.

  The very air that surrounded her seemed to change with his presence. It grew heavy, charged, as though lightning was not far off.

  She smiled at him, recognizing his reference to the fairy tale immediately. “Aschenputtel gives me nightmares. I prefer the French version myself. Those Brother’s Grimm are too dark for my liking.”

  He gestured toward the empty space on the bench. “May I?” At her nod he lowered himself beside her. “Cendrillon then? Practically a nursery rhyme. The story only becomes interesting when the evil stepsisters begin cutting off parts of their feet.”

  “And the birds peck out their eyes.” She laughed. “I do admit to finding some satisfaction in their fate.”

  He’d turned so that he partially faced her. Only a few inches separated the two of them, reminding her of the reaction she’d had to him that afternoon. But they were only conversing. She was quite safe.

  And yet, she mustn’t allow herself to give the appearance of flirting with him, despite an almost irresistible urge to do so.

  “I trust your meal was pleasant?” She attempted to erect the barriers of their different stations.

  He didn’t answer right away. It seemed he preferred to simply stare at her.

  “What?” She reached up to brush at her cheek. “Have I something on my face?”

  He shook his head. “I’m merely drinking in your beauty.” He smiled so wide that she knew he was well aware of how ridiculous his compliment sounded. But then he grew serious, and his eyes, even more intense. “You may try to hide your loveliness, but I see it. I have not been fooled by your aprons and caps.”

  “Perhaps you can remind my fiancé of this.” The words escaped unchecked. Such a comment did not show Matthew in a good light. She sounded petty and self–pitying. She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Please, forget that I said that. I must be more tired than I thought.”

  What was wrong with her?

  “The young Mr. Wilson? He’s blind if he doesn’t see what he has.”

  “How do you know who my fiancé is?” His comment had surprised her. He’d only just checked in and she and Matthew’s engagement wasn’t something anyone would have discussed with a guest.

  “When I see a pretty girl, I like to know something about her.” He raised a hand to his chest. “A dagger pierced me through and through when I discovered you were promised to another. I’ll have you know, I found the news quite disagreeable, indeed.”

  How foolish.

  Eliza frow
ned, still wondering who had been discussing such personal information about her with a perfect stranger.

  “Mrs. Wilson, if you must know. It was your future mother–in–law who divulged the dreadful state of your affairs.” Mr. Fairchild’s voice sounded almost lazy, in his casual disapproval of Matthew’s mother. “Mother–in–law. An altogether disagreeable pairing of words. Nothing wrong with a mother. They are perfectly wonderful beings. But add legal implications and…” He pretended to shudder and then grinned over at her.

  Eliza couldn’t help but laugh.

  Oh, but she shouldn’t. She truly should not!

  “Your future mother–in–law did, however, inform me that if I needed anything at all, I was to bring my request to you.”

  “Did you have need of something then, Mr. Fairchild?” Eliza straightened her back and went to stand up. Whatever it was that he needed, she’d fetch it for him and then sneak away to her own small chamber to retire for the evening.

  “Not at all. Quite the contrary.” He placed a hand upon her leg, halting her from rising.

  And then… he didn’t remove it as he ought. Eliza dropped her lashes and studied that hand. Elegant, lean fingers, but they were not effeminate. They showed that he’d labored some.

  It was, she thought in surprise, the most attractive hand she’d ever laid eyes upon.

  His voice brought her attention back to his face. “I merely wished for some company, some pleasant conversation,” he amended.

  He could easily find conversation in the taproom. But…