Page 28 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
“Memories are often both a blessing and a curse,” he said. “They remind us of what we’ve lost, but also of what we’ve had.”
Taking a deep breath, Julian finally sat up, feeling the weight of his dreams and memories pressing down on him. He was glad that he didn’t need to explain his grief to his valet. Moreover, he was relieved to not have to speak about Clara right then. The very thought of her name sent his mind racing. And while the dreams he’d had were fading, they were still just prominent enough to consume his brain.
“Very philosophical for this early hour, Fernsby,” he said with a small smirk.
Fernsby offered a smile in return.
“Just trying to offer some perspective, milord,” he said.
With a grunt, Julian swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Let’s get this day started, then,” he grumbled, even though every fiber of his being yearned to bury himself under the covers and disappear.
Fernsby hesitated, giving Julian a knowing look.
“Sometimes, we aren’t haunted as much by memories as we believe,” he said. “Sometimes, we are haunted by things of which we cannot let go, and of the essence of the things we are overlooking as a result.”
The words resonated with Julian, but his sadness dismissed them before he could grasp their full meaning. He merely nodded, getting into position for Fernsby to help him dress.
Fernsby soon had Julian dressed, the physical transformation from disheveled dreamer to a man of status complete. But internally, the battle to reconcile his past with his future raged on. He dragged himself to join his family for breakfast, despite his promise to himself to remain in his chambers. His sister, niece and nephew deserved better from him. Though, whether he could deliver was very uncertain.
The warmth of the dining room was a stark contrast to the chilly hallways of the estate, though Julian found it did little to thaw the cold that had settled deep within him. He took his place at the head of the table, noticing the array of dishes laden with eggs, meat, fruit, and fresh-baked bread.
Elizabeth, her face bright with excitement, looked up from her plate.
“Julian, I have some delightful news,” she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
Julian raised his eyebrows at his sister, doing his best to feign interest.
“Do share, Elizabeth,” he said, wincing as he heard the blandness he felt in his words.
Elizabeth’s eyes were sparkling brilliantly, clearly consumed with the excitement of what she was about to say.
“I’ve been talking to Mrs. Harris about the orphanage,” she said with anticipation. “She says that she is planning a wonderful Christmas for the orphans, and they need our help with some essentials.”
The mention of the vicar’s wife sent Julian’s heart racing. Memories flooded in, of a time when he and his mother would make frequent visits to the orphanage. Those were days filled with laughter and merriment, where he’d seen firsthand the love and compassion his mother bestowed upon those children. The vicarage’s cozy rooms, filled with the delightful aroma of Mrs. Harris’s freshly baked bread, had once been a place of joy.
Elizabeth, oblivious to the whirlpool of emotions within Julian, continued.
“I thought of visiting them today,” she said. “Would you accompany me, Julian?”
The question caught him off guard. The orphanage, once a place of fond memories, had become a symbol of grief after his mother’s passing. Their shared association with it meant that Julian had avoided the vicarage and the orphanage for years, fearing it would be too painful a reminder.
He cleared his throat, trying to mask the rawness he felt.
“I haven’t been there in so long, Elizabeth,” he said.
She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his.
“I know, dear brother,” she said. “But I believe that it’s time. Mother always believed in the joy of giving, especially during Christmas.”
A deep pang of nostalgia gripped him. He remembered how his mother would lovingly wrap presents, how she would hum carols under her breath, and how her face would light up seeing the orphans’ joy. That infectious spirit of giving, of love and care, was something Julian had inadvertently buried deep within, shrouded by his sadness. He wanted to tell his sister that he was still reeling from the previous day, and all the memories that resurfaced. He was prepared to suggest that she take Stephen, instead. Julian knew that her husband enjoyed charitable deeds just as much as she did. But the hopeful, pleading look in her eyes made him unable to deny her request.
“I will accompany you, Sister,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth clapped her hands, beaming at her brother.
“Thank you,” she said. “I assure you that you will not regret it.”
