Page 22 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
Dr. Hadley’s face fell, his hat tilting to one side in his dejection before he reached up to straighten it. “You will not attend?”
“I would love to taste Mrs. Hadley’s Christmas pudding, but I am afraid I am otherwise committed. Please, enjoy your feast and do not concern yourself with me. You have other guests to attend, I am certain.”
“Yes, but …”
William gestured back to the churchyard before tilting his hat. “Your wife is looking for you. Season’s greetings, doctor.”
When Dr. Hadley turned to locate his wife, William took the opportunity to walk away and turn in to Market Street.
Soon he was in his smithy, wearing his leather apron and studying a page covered in pencil drawings. He needed to heat the coal in his forge, and he could begin his work on the lock. He could, of course, have worked on this any day, but he had planned to work during the solitude of the holidays to keep his mind busy.
Just as he placed the graphite pencil down on the counter, the sound of humming began in the distance. Slowly, the humming grew in volume, and William realized he was to receive a visitor at the moment that the smithy door clicked and swung open. He knew who it would be before she came into view but, nevertheless, he was startled by her entrance when she appeared.
Her hair was glowing, lit from behind by weak sunlight, and she wore the frivolous cloak with the fur-lined cuffs that fell to the floor. She looked like an angel sent from heaven to scold him for working on Christmas Day, but her expression was benign and she smiled gently when she caught sight of him.
‘Fear not,’ said he, for mighty dread
had seized their troubled mind;
‘glad tidings of great joy I bring
to you and all mankind.’
It was eerie, her staring directly into his eyes as she sang the verse.
He stepped back, his eyes widening with irrational fear at what she was to show him this time. She walked in, shutting the door and approaching him at the counter. With hazel eyes twinkling, she gazed up at him and asked, “Why are you working on Christmas Day, William?”
“I … that is … there is no one for me to spend it with.” As he said the words, he wondered if it was true in light of Caroline’s appearance once more in his dreams. Revelations from the earlier nightmare had proved that his philosophy about tamping down his emotions had been an error. Was she to reveal another aspect of his life to question?
Caroline held out her hand. Once again, it was clean, delicate, and perfect. His own were covered in soot from writing near the forge, and he was certain he bore smudges on his cheeks and forehead, but there was no point in balking. He held out his dirty hand to clasp hers.
“Chatternwell is a good town filled with good people.”
“Yes, I do not argue that point, but—”
“Close your eyes.”
William obeyed, shutting his eyes with the knowledge that it was futile to fight whatever was to come. The quiet of the smithy disappeared into a melee of merriment, and he could hear Dr. Hadley. Opening his eyes, he found that he and Caroline now stood in a dining room observing a Christmas feast.
Dr. Hadley sat at the head of the table, with his sons and their wives. Mrs. Hadley sat to his left, instead of the customary distance at the foot of the table. She was dressed in a fine velvet gown, with a lacy fichu draping her décolletage and matching the mobcap tied to her blonde hair.
Through the door, William could see a second table in the hall where children sat eating their Christmas pie.
The tables were loaded with plates, serving dishes, and gleaming silver. Wine had been poured, and a large Christmas goose had been carved. Hadley’s eldest son finished telling an anecdote, and both men and women burst into laughter.
Caroline squeezed his hand and nodded her head to Dr. Hadley and his wife. They had their heads bent together, and Caroline drew him forward so he could hear what they were saying.
“You invited the blacksmith, and he declined?”
“Yes, Martha. I practically chased him down the street to deliver the invitation.”
Martha was a cheerful, buxom woman who took part in charitable works about town. Her blonde hair was now streaked with gray, but her blue eyes were still lively with humor and intelligence. She had been a friend of William’s mother, who had died when he was a boy, and she had always made a point of seeking him out to ask after his well-being. Guilt at his lack of interest in the generous woman suddenly presented itself, to William’s dismay.
“I worry over little William.” William nearly snorted—he was twice the size of Mrs. Hadley. “He has not been the same since he returned from the war. I fear his mother would be most disappointed in me for allowing such aloofness to develop in her sweet boy. It is high time he finds himself a wife. A friend. Anyone.”
“I quite agree. But what am I to do? Every holiday I invite him to join us, and every holiday he declines.”
Martha peered over her shoulder toward her grandchildren, who were eating the feast with gusto, smiles of joy on their little faces as they chattered together. “I just wish he could experience the joy of family. He was such a happy boy, before he left to fight Boney. He never smiles anymore. It quite distresses me to think of the change in him. William is a good man.”
