Page 14 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
Outside, the cold air slapped his face, grounding him immediately. He leaned against the cold wooden door, trying to wade through the tidal wave of emotions threatening to drown him. He regretted running out on his family, especially since he hadn’t seen them in some time. But how could he rejoice when his sister was trying to resurrect a past that would never be anything more than a ghost of the happiness he once felt?
Chapter Five
Two days following her last visit, Clara found herself within the familiar walls of the vicarage’s kitchen. The scent of freshly baked bread, mingled with the fragrance of chamomile tea, floated through the air. As Clara looked around, she noticed the sunlight filtering in through the cotton curtains. Combined with the smells in the air, it created a warm, inviting atmosphere. Sadly, however, Clara’s mind was largely far away from the vicarage. It was stuck in her father’s study, replaying the earl’s proclamation over and over again.
Mary, engrossed in listing essential items for the orphanage children and employees, sat on the opposite side of the wooden table, her brow furrowed in concentration. Hannah busied herself by pouring the fragrant tea into mismatched porcelain cups.
“We must ensure that the children have things for both learning and play,” Clara said, setting out a sheet of parchment to help with their list. “Perhaps, we could even start planning a way to help them grow a garden they can all tend to.”
“That would be splendid, Clara,” Mary agreed, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “Children should learn to garden. It teaches them responsibility, and it helps them establish a sense of accomplishment and pride.”
Clara nodded, smiling.
“It also teaches them how to cultivate food of their own,” she said. “Perhaps, we can help some of them to learn how to never go completely hungry ever again.”
Hannah nodded, smiling at the younger women.
“That sounds like a very wise and thoughtful idea,” she said.
As they discussed, the list grew longer. Blankets, clothes, books, toys, gardening tools and, of course, treats were all soon added. Clara’s heart, ever since she was a teenager, had always been captivated by the joy and innocence of childhood, and she yearned to preserve that for as many children as she could. Most of the orphans had seen hard, tragic times in their short lives. It was an honor for her to be able to give them a little kindness after all the heartache and, in many cases, hunger, they had experienced.
As Hannah handed Clara her cup of tea, her gaze settled on Clara with a softness and contemplation that made Clara pause.
“You know,” Hannah said, her voice deeply thoughtful. “You remind me so much of the late duchess of Thornmire.”
Clara blinked in surprise, the cup halfway to her lips. For a moment, she had forgotten her turmoil regarding her marriage to Julian. Now, however, all the apprehension and nervousness returned at the mention of his mother’s name.
“The duchess?” she echoed dumbly.
Mary looked up too, curious eyes fixed on her mother.
Hannah nodded, her eyes distant.
“Yes. Julian’s mother,” she said. “She was a beacon of hope for so many in the village. Not just because of her rank, but because of her genuine kindness. I remember her often visiting the poor, lending a hand, or simply listening to their worries. It’s rare, you know, for someone of such status to care so genuinely for those less fortunate.”
Clara felt an inexplicable lump forming in her throat. She had known the duchess when she was younger, as a friend of Julian’s and the daughter of the duke’s and duchess’s dear friends, and she knew of Julian’s deep respect and love for his mother. Indeed, it was her death that had sent Julian into a life of bitter solitude, she was certain. But she had never truly grasped the impact the duchess had made in her community. She felt a pang of guilt, thinking back to the way she had allowed her friendship with Julian to dissolve after she died. The duchess had been a very kind woman in all of Clara’s memories. And no matter how much work she did for the village, she didn’t think she deserved such a compliment. She enjoyed the charity work she did, that much was true. But the duchess had been a good soul, through and through, and Clara didn’t think she would ever compare.
For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Clara searched for words, her mind racing. Here she was, on the precipice of a new life, about to wed the son of a woman who had been the embodiment of all she aspired to be.
“I am flattered by the comparison,” Clara said, her voice trembling. “But I do not believe that I could ever live up to such a legacy.”
Hannah smiled gently, reaching across the table to pat Clara’s hand.
“My dear, you already have,” she said. “And I believe that Julian will see that, as well. I think you have nothing to fear regarding a marriage to him. He is a good man, too, though he changed a bit after she died. But I know that the young man we used to know is still in there somewhere. Maybe you can bring it out of him again.”
Emotions welled up, threatening to spill over, and Clara felt an unexpected connection to the woman who hadn’t lived long enough to see her become her daughter-in-law. It was as if, in that fleeting moment, the duchess of Thornmire herself had extended her blessing, bridging the past and the present in a bond of shared purpose. Clara wasn’t sure if it was a sign that Hannah was right about the potential for her marriage to Julian, or if her mind was beginning to fray. But it warmed her heart, even as the renewed thoughts of her union to Julian once more began to chill her soul.
She cradled her tea, its warmth seeping through the porcelain into her hands just as Hannah’s words had trickled warmth within Clara. She allowed the thoughts and feelings to circulate in her mind, summoning images of the duchess and the Julian she once knew.
She remembered the days when he had been full of life, laughter lighting up his eyes, the kind of boy whose presence was warmly welcomed by her. But by the time their paths had crossed again, his once boisterous, mischievous eyes bore an icy, impenetrable gaze, the echoes of mirth long vanished. The untimely death of the duchess had taken a terrible toll on him, turning his once jovial nature into one of cold detachment. She hadn’t thought of it until that moment. But part of her mourned the friend she once had in Julian. And another part of her wished to find that friend once again. Was there any chance that Hannah was right? Was the young man that Clara once knew still alive within the wounded man that Julian had become? And even if he was, could she manage to revive him?
The upcoming nuptials weighed on her mind. They were not a match of love, but of circumstance. She didn’t see how they could ever have even the kind of friendship they once had, not when they were being forced into a marriage that neither of them wanted. At least, she assumed that he was as reluctant about marrying her as she was about marrying him.
“Clara?” Mary said, her voice breaking through the crashing thoughts. “You seem far away again.”
With a start, Clara met Mary’s gaze, her friend’s concern evident.
“I was just thinking about Julian,” Clara said softly. “And about everything your mother just said.”
