Once Upon A Christmas Past

Epilogue

O ne Year Later

Christmas Day

Wexford Manor in Hampshire

Pristine snow coated the grounds of the estate. Raven gawked at the blanket of flakes sparkling in the rising sun like a million tiny diamonds. A world of white crystallized on every branch of the bare trees, the surface of the icy pond, and continued over snowy hills flowing into an azure sky.

Raven sighed with equal parts awe and contentment.

The peace felt well-earned after their whirlwind of a year. Brit had decided not to press legal charges against his brothers for arranging his kidnapping. He’d hired a new team of attorneys who had advised him against the long legal battle that would likely not turn out in his favor. They had no proof besides John’s confession which he had officially retracted. Instead, Brit had disowned his brothers, thereby removing any chance of their future schemes to take back the earldom. Last they had heard, the scandal had chased John and George out of London and they were currently living somewhere in Greece.

“Do you like it here, my love?” Brit asked as he wrapped her in his arms from behind.

This was Raven’s first visit to the Hampshire estate. While Brit had educated himself on all the responsibilities and privileges of the title of earl, Raven had continued to grow her medical practice, even putting out a shingle on an office in London where she saw patients three days a week. It turned out women from all walks of life preferred a female physician, especially for the ailments that were unique to their sex. She still volunteered her services where she was needed and found that her new status as a countess stopped the tongues of the ton from wagging about it overly much. The formidable Countess Waldegrave took care of the rest of the aristocracy, resulting in far more social invitations than Brit and Raven had the inclination to accept.

Raven relaxed against Brit’s broad frame, soaking in the warmth of his large body wrapped around hers. “Tis’ magical,” she said. “Like a Christmas wonderland all our own.”

His lips lowered to the sensitive spot on the curve of her neck, and she felt his soft kisses in every nerve ending and cell of her body. This man had the power to turn her into the consistency of figgy pudding with a single touch. She turned in his arms to gaze at the face she loved most in the world and lifted on her toes to kiss his perfect mouth.

His lips pressed into hers, a silken brush. She clutched the hard muscles of his arms, sinking into his delicious heat as he slanted his mouth and deepened the kiss.

A thunderous noise broke them apart as dozens of feet tromped down the main staircase, jovial voices cascading over one another in excited cheer. The occupants of Hill House had been promised gifts and cake for breakfast. Jack and Olivia, and Mrs. March herded them into the dining room where a feast awaited. Presents would follow, then a gingerbread decorating contest and delivery of cookies to every tenant on the Wexford estate’s two hundred acres.

“Perhaps not all our own,” Brit said laughingly.

Raven touched her forehead to his. “Even better, Lord Wexford.”

The title no longer spooked him, and Brit leaned down to kiss her again as a throat cleared behind them. They turned to find Bob Cratchit, arms crossed and wearing a stern scowl, defused by the twinkle in his eyes. “I will not protest to this public display if perhaps there is a grandchild in my near future.” He lifted caterpillar brows in question.

“Not as yet, Father.” Raven went to embrace him. “But you will be the first to know.”

Martha, her husband and children in tow, appeared next. Followed by Peter and his new wife, then Matthew, and finally Tim who rubbed a hand over his wild hair and said, “I’m only up at this hour because I was promised cake.”

Brit laughed and pointed toward the dining room.

Mrs. Cratchit emerged from around the corner, wearing a long apron, a dusting of flour on her plump cheek.

“Mother!” Raven flew over to her. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long.” She gave a tired smile. “But someone had to oversee our very first Christmas as a combined family!”

Raven knew it was no use arguing. “Let’s go partake then, shall we?”

The day held all the chaos and joyful abandon that only children at Christmas could bring; gifts were exchanged, carols were sung, cookies made and delivered, followed by a rowdy snowball fight that left them all drenched and cold to the bone. Which made their gathering by the immense fireplace in the main parlor with everyone wrapped in robes and warm woolen socks while they sipped hot chocolate, all the more satisfying.

Raven curled up beside Brit on the sofa, their hands entwined, as they listened to her father’s annual retelling of Ebenezer Scrooge and the three spirits of Christmas’s past, present, and future. It was the first time Brit had heard the story, since on Christmas day the previous year, they had been a bit preoccupied.

As her father wove the tale, taming down some of the scarier moments, the children of Hill House ooh’ed and aah’ed at all the appropriate places. When he reached the ghost of Christmas future, Joey ran to Brit and curled up in his lap, clutching his teddy. Raven couldn’t say that she blamed him—that silent, shadowed spirit had starred in many of her nightmares over the years.

“After that night,” Mr. Cratchit went on. “Mr. Scrooge had no further interaction with spirits, good or ill. But it was said of him ever afterwards that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. And so, we shall all hold Christmas in our hearts every day of the year!”

Everyone clapped, and Raven glanced over to see tears shimmering in Tim’s eyes. Mr. Scrooge had not only saved his life but had been like a grandfather to him. They exchanged a knowing smile and Tim quickly blinked away his emotion, then rose with a grin to play his requisite role. “God bless us, every one!” he pronounced. “Now let’s get some biscuits!”

The children cheered and followed Tim out of the room, including little Joey.

“They’ll never sleep now,” Olivia lamented and rested her head on Jack’s shoulder.

“That is Tim’s responsibility,” Jack said as he stood with his sleeping daughter in his arms. The toddler woke at the sound of his voice and then snuggled in closer to his neck. Jack kissed her forehead as he extended his hand to help Olivia to her feet. The couple made married life appear so idyllic that Raven hoped she and Brit could maintain such a relationship over time.

Bit by bit, everyone left the room, leaving Raven and Brit alone in the glow of the candles on the tree, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire. As happy as Raven felt, her heart still longed for her sister.

“Do you think they’re happy?” Raven asked quietly.

“Archie and Bel?” Brit inquired; his thoughts aligned with hers as usual. “I do.”

“Sometimes, I miss her and then feel completely selfish for doing so.”

Brit’s arm tightened around her and when he responded his voice was thick with emotion. “I didn’t know if I should tell you this, because well,” he cleared his throat. “It’s not an easy thing to hear, but Arch came to me right before our wedding and told me he’d been given a second chance to amend for his wrongs in life. That’s why he hung around all those years after his passing.”

Raven sat up and stared at him. “What?”

“Now that I’ve heard the story of Mr. Scrooge and understand a bit better, I feel all the more grateful that Archie, and perhaps Bel, did not have to wander the earth as broken spirits and were given the chance to spend eternity in heaven together,” Brit said as he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind Raven’s ear, his warm hand lingering on her jaw.

Raven’s vision blurred, her throat closing. “Bel was stuck here because of me ?”

“It wasn’t like that. She was granted a second chance.” Brit brushed a thumb under her eye, catching her tears. “You found her, didn’t you? When she died.”

Raven nodded and closed her eyes against the image of her sister’s dead body, her sightless eyes.

“I was the one who found Archie as well, and I blamed myself for years for not arriving soon enough to save him.”

“I did too,” Raven gasped.

Brit tugged Raven close, and she nestled against his warm throat, savoring the vibration of his voice as he said, “Here’s what you need to understand, that I have just now come to realize about Archie. Bel’s death was not your fault, Raven. She made a choice that led to her demise. They both took their lives into their own hands and stepped outside of God’s will for them. Helping us find our happiness freed them from their guilt and allowed them to accept God’s forgiveness so they could move into the light of eternity. They finally understood that we cannot save ourselves. Only God can do that. All we have to do is accept the gift He offers.”

“The ultimate gift of Christmas,” Raven breathed.

“I think Mr. Scrooge would approve of that assessment.”

Raven snuggled against Brit’s warmth and realized a weight had lifted from her heart. She felt light and fizzy like anything was possible. She was exactly where she was meant to be, and so was Bel. They would reunite someday. But as she lifted her face to Brit’s for a kiss, she hoped not too soon.

“Happy Christmas, love,” Brit murmured and kissed all of Raven’s melancholy thoughts away.