Once Upon A Christmas Past

17. Chapter 17

Chapter seventeen

O n that snowy night long ago, Brit took Archie’s hand and together they made a way for themselves and others like them who had been discarded and abandoned. They plundered the streets of London town like a band of pirates taking back what should have been theirs.

Thus began a remarkable friendship between two lost souls, a brotherhood more like, one that withstood time and testing.

And even death.

St. George’s church glowed with the soft flames of a massive chandelier, hundreds of candles lighting the gilded vault of the ceiling and reflecting in the multicolored stained-glass windows. Second-story galleries lined either side of the nave, walnut wood rails adorned with evergreen boughs and scarlet poinsettias.

Deep awe sparked in Brit’s chest as he walked up the center aisle toward the ornate, gold cross. Who was he to have come so far? He’d gone from homeless orphan to marrying the woman of his dreams and inheriting the wealth and title of his noble father. It felt like too much goodness to hold, and he glanced back over his shoulder, half expecting Raven to have fled into the night.

But no, he saw her in the lobby surrounded by her family. Once the Cratchits heard the story of John’s treachery, they had taken surprisingly little convincing to support Raven’s decision to jilt John and marry Brit before midnight. The Cratchit family expected miracles, especially at Christmas, it would seem.

Brit inhaled the scents of melting wax and incense as he neared the dais when a hunched form stood from the pew to his right. Unkempt beard, a balding pate with stringy, gray hair to his shoulders. Brit sucked in a breath and stopped mid-stride. He knew this man. The Shadow from the orphanage who liked to hover near the back doors and dole out unsolicited wisdom. But before he could contemplate the man’s presence, recognition sparked, and as if a veil had lifted from his eyes, Brit saw a thinner, more haggard version of the same person with eyes the gray of sleet, a beaked nose, and a hard, lipless mouth.

“Mr…Mr. Scrooge?” Brit managed to choke out.

The man hobbled forward and gave a nod. As he drew near, he seemed to grow and stretch, the pallor of his skin glowed, and the gray of his eyes shifted to glistening silver. Mr. Scrooge still appeared as Brit’s old employer, yet with an ethereal cast.

And that’s when Brit remembered that Raven had told him Mr. Scrooge was long dead.

Perhaps if Archie had not become Brit’s constant companion after he’d passed, Brit would have run down the aisle screaming. But as the case may be, he only marveled at the old man’s appearance. He did not seem to be a paler version of himself in life, as Archie did in his spirit form, but a fully metamorphosed transcendent being.

“It is I, my boy,” Scrooge said warmly. “I am here not only to assist in the ceremony of your nuptials but to ask for your pardon. You came into my life before my miracle, you see, and I treated you mercilessly. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I…” Brit was suddenly that lost boy again, discarded in the snow like rubbish. Those weeks after he’d been thrown out of Scrooge’s basement had been the hardest of his life. If Arch hadn’t come along when he had, Brit didn’t like to think what would have happened to him.

But Archie had come along.

And so had Raven.

Ebenezer Scrooge was quite a savior for our family.

Just as Raven had saved him.

Brit felt suddenly lighter as he said, “I forgive you, Mr. Scrooge. I only regret that I did not have the privilege to know you after you found the light.”

“Oh, you have.” Mr. Scrooge laughed. “I’ve been hanging around for quite some time. Waiting for the right moment to reveal the Master’s plan for your life.”

“That’s right. The old Shadow.” Brit smiled bemusedly. “But what do you mean by plan?”

Scrooge glowed brighter as if the purity of his soul shown on the outside of his body. “The plan to prosper you and give you a hope and a future, of course,” Scrooge said, his eager gaze shifting beyond Brit’s shoulder. “Ahh…here we are now.”

A cacophony of voices echoed behind him, and Brit turned to find at least twenty people filing into the nave; children with boots and coats thrown hastily over night clothes, all excited little faces that Brit knew well.

“Brit!” Chip Lightheart raced up the aisle, blond curls shining. “Are you really marrying Doc Cratchit?”

“And what if I am?” Brit grinned. If he were any happier, he might float into the rafters.

Chip’s expression turned thoughtful. “I always did say you were the luckiest bloke I know.”

“You might be right.” Brit laughed as someone tugged on the hem of his jacket.

Brit looked down to see Joey’s wide eyes staring up at him, his teddy bear clutched against his cheek. Brit knelt and picked the boy up, happy to feel a bit more meat on his bones. “I’m glad you came, Joey.”

“Ain’t it Christmas?” His freckled nose wrinkled in confusion as he glanced around. “Why are we in church?”

“Do you remember the story of the first Christmas that Olivia read last night?”

“About the baby in the manger and the angels?” He cocked his head and watched Brit’s reaction.

“That’s right, little chap.” Brit kissed his rumpled head. “That’s what we celebrate when we come to church at Christmas. But tonight is special because I’m also getting married.”

Joey frowned.

“You’ll understand someday,” Brit said as he set the boy on his feet, and he scampered over to Chip as Jack and Olivia MacCarron approached.

Jack appeared stony faced as usual, while Olivia already had tears brimming in her golden-brown eyes as she said, “My brilliant boy, you did it. I am so happy for you.”

Brit pulled Olivia into a one-armed hug. “How did you know to come?”

“We received a letter by courier from Mr. Bob Cratchit explaining that you and Raven had fallen in love,” Jack said a bit gruffly. “The missive said that you planned to marry by midnight in order to claim your family’s title and fortune, which I can understand.” Jack’s blue gaze locked on Brit’s, and he understood that his mentor was not angry, but hurt. “What I don’t understand, is why we knew nothing of this until now.”

“He had to make his own way,” Olivia said softly as she moved to Jack and looped her arm through his. “I remember a headstrong young scoundrel who did things his own way come hell or high water.”

“Mrs. MacCarron!” Jack scolded, even as he grinned crookedly. “Cursing in church now, are we?”

Olivia lifted her pert little nose. “The good Lord knows I’m trying to make a point.”

Jack kissed her cheek before turning to Brit. “I’m just grateful that Raven asked her father to contact us.”

“I am as well. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit distracted.” Brit shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Completely understandable, my boy. You can tell us all about it when you are ready.”

Brit nodded his thanks as frantic movements drew his attention to Archie waving at him from the front of the church. “I believe we are about to start,” Brit said.

“Veck is here.” Jack pointed to the bespectacled barrister seated unobtrusively in the back row. “He’ll ensure everything is legal.”

Brit gave a nod. For his parents, he would do everything within his power to continue their legacy and honor the earldom. The hint of trepidation for his new role must have shown on his face because Jack said softly, “You were always meant for more than leading a ragtag gang of orphans.”

“Everyone could see it,” Olivia confirmed.

Jack clasped Brit’s shoulder and met his gaze. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, if you were my flesh and blood son, Brit.” Jack was a good man—one of the best—but not known for effusive sentiment. Which made the moment all the rarer and more precious. But Brit could not give in to the well of emotions that Jack’s praise conjured.

Instead, Brit swallowed his tears and gave a single nod to Jack, before striding back up the aisle to where Archie waited for him in a shadowed recess.

“I’m standing up with you, mate. Even if the others can’t see me, I’ll be there.” Archie’s lopsided grin suggested the man he used to be before opium had stolen his life. He looked good and truly happy, if perhaps not as solid as before. In fact, Brit had to concentrate to bring his best friend into focus.

“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, Arch. Are you the one who brought Mr. Scrooge into this?”

“The old Shadow?” Archie’s gaze darted behind Brit, and Brit turned to see Ebenezer Scrooge wearing long, flowing robes, and holding a Bible.

Archie continued. “He’s the one who gave me my second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” Brit asked.

“It is time to begin. Please take your seats,” Mr. Scrooge called, prompting everyone to move toward the front pews.

“Wait…” Brit stared. “They can see and hear him too? How is that possible?”

“Mr. Scrooge ain’t like me and Bel,” Archie said. “He already made amends for his wrongs in life. Now he helps other souls do the same.”

Ebenezer Scrooge radiated light from the top of his bald head to the shining, gold slippers on his feet. “He’s an angel,” Brit breathed in awe.

“Something like that.”

“Do the Cratchits recognize him?”

“Naw, not even Raven, I’m afraid. But that’s for the best. He wouldn’t want to upstage the bride and groom.” Archie smiled and clapped Brit on the back (a gesture that felt like a soft breeze), and said, “Let’s get you married!”

Brit couldn’t feel his feet as he walked over and stood beside Mr. Scrooge. The narthex doors swung open to reveal Raven, wearing the same violet dress he’d seen her in earlier that evening, the jewels in her tiara glinting in the candlelight. But now, a lavender veil covered her face as she walked forward on her father’s arm.

Perhaps he should feel doubts. They had decided to marry only hours before. But Brit had never felt more certain about any decision in his life. Securing the fortune and title was secondary to marrying the most incredible, kind, beautiful woman he’d ever known. The thought of waking up with her and spending every day at her side—making her happy and helping her change the world one person at a time—filled his chest to near bursting. All the love he’d missed out on as a boy had been returned to him and then some.

After Mr. Cratchit had given his permission for Brit to marry his daughter, Brit lifted the veil and gladly drowned in the lavender-blue sea of Raven’s eyes as Mr. Scrooge spoke of keeping the delight of Christmas in every day. It was a beautiful speech and afterward, Brit and Raven exchanged the words and made the vows. Finally, Mr. Scrooge turned them to face the crowd.

“Now that Lord Brit Griffin and Raven Lucy Anne Cratchit have given themselves to each other by the promises they have exchanged before God and their loved ones, I pronounce them to be Lord and Lady Wexford, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!”

Cheers and hoots rang out from the children, and the MacCarrons and the Cratchits applauded as the cathedral bells began to chime. This time, Brit didn’t begrudge the gruff old bell marking the midnight hour. In fact, as the grand vibrations rang through the air, he thought it sounded less like teeth chattering in a frozen head, as he’d once thought, and more like joyous laughter from the heavens.

He took Raven’s hand in his, and she stood on her toes to whisper, “I love you, Brit Griffin.”

“And I, you,” he replied into her ear, but when she gasped, he turned and followed her gaze.

At the far end of the aisle, another couple stood hand in hand in a near mirror image of themselves. Archie and Belinda, surrounded by incandescent light, began to rise into the air. All joyful smiles, Archie waved, and Bel blew a kiss just as their outlines faded and then flared brilliant white before winking out of sight.

Raven covered her mouth to muffle a sob.

Brit’s eyes flooded until he could hardly see. Archie and Bel had both returned to atone for their wrongs and help the ones they loved most. Their lives on earth were finished. But they would spend eternity together.

Just like he and Raven.

Gently, Brit turned his wife to face him and smiled into her tear-filled eyes. It was Christmas Eve. A source of pain, not so long ago. Now rewritten as the happiest day of his life.

The bell tolled twelve…