Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

C aroline thoughtlessly went on, delivering her invitations across Hamstead, despite the unsettledness persisting in her stomach. She did want to make things right with Robert, but he wouldn’t want to attend her party, not with the parameters she’d set. She couldn’t very well sacrifice her social standing and give up all her connections over the years as an apology, so she would have to think of another way.

It would have been easier to have all the invitations sent by post, but Caroline wanted to maintain these connections face to face, so that way when they all returned to London, they would know her and remember her, even if they didn’t come to her Christmas dinner party.

The last visit of the day was the Fezziwig residence, and this time she stood before their home with less disdain. Caroline was entertained by Mrs. Fezziwig and found the woman’s view of things to be less grating than others for some reason. Perhaps it was only softened by the woman’s immense wealth. She was loud and dramatic to be sure, but perhaps it was her genuine nature and sincerity to all that drew Caroline in. She had never suspected that such traits would appeal to her, but walking up to her door, she now looked forward to hearing her laughter, her opinion. Would wonders never cease?

Caroline hurried up the steps and knocked on the door, desiring to be out of the cold, and when the door opened, Mrs. Fezziwig practically pushed the footman out of the way to invite her in. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Marley! How lovely to see you. Please do come in. Won’t you join me for tea?”

She was led to the drawing room, where Mrs. Fezziwig provided her with warming tea on a cold day, and even festive teacakes to accompany it. When Caroline extended the invitation to her dinner party, Mrs. Fezziwig cheered with delight.

“Oh, Mrs. Marley! How very kind and thoughtful of you.” She pressed the invitation to her chest with a certain fondness. “It does my heart good to see you carry on your aunt’s tradition of the Christmas ball. She would be so honored.”

Caroline stiffened, clearing her throat. “Actually, it will be a little different. Perhaps you had not heard, it will be just a dinner party, and with fewer in attendance. Those more elevated in status, you understand.” As the words came out of Caroline’s mouth, the enthusiasm seemed to drain from Mrs. Fezziwig’s face, which made Caroline want to draw them back. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but the disappointed reaction had lessened her own enthusiasm.

“I see.” Mrs. Fezziwig looked down at the invitation, reading over it with more attentiveness. “Well, I am certain it will be a lovely event, and I will still look forward to it greatly.”

The tea was delivered then, and Caroline didn’t like the uncomfortable silence that filled the room. Once she had added sugar and cream to her tea, Caroline spoke up. “How go the preparations for your own party?”

This brought some ease and excitement back to Mrs. Fezziwig’s countenance. “Oh, most excellent indeed. This is a charity ball, you know, and we’ll be accepting donations of all shapes and sizes, but it’s only a portion of what I wish I could do. Especially in relation to your Aunt Fanny.”

“Indeed? How so?” Caroline asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“Fanny was always such a generous spirit. She married her husband for love, but she was lucky enough to find love with a wealthy gentleman. And because they had no children of their own, she found other ways to give and to spread joy with her wealth.”

The words of Aunt Fanny’s letter rang in Caroline’s mind, the notion of happiness being found in giving, in loving people. She did not quite understand that fully, but it seemed Mrs. Fezziwig did, making Caroline lean in to hear more.

“She and I had always talked about holding a charity ball, with the understanding that someday we would open an actual charity house together. Not just a place of donation, but for the less fortunate, for the sick or the orphaned. A home.” Mrs. Fezziwig smiled sadly. “They were merely daydreams I suppose, but I would have liked to bring some of it to a realization before she passed.”

Caroline nodded slowly, not liking the tightness developing in her chest. “I’m certain Aunt Fanny would approve of your endeavors.”

Mrs. Fezziwig smiled sadly, reaching over to place a hand on Caroline’s arm. “That is why I wanted to petition for your participation. It would feel like a part of her is still with us, and that she might enjoy seeing what little more we could do for Hamstead and the neighboring villages.”

“Yes, of course.” Caroline spoke thinly, her discomfort growing. It occurred to her that participating in this event might endear her to Robert and help her gain his trust, but everything about charity went against her own comfort. Perhaps working with Mrs. Fezziwig might change her mind, or at least enlighten her understanding on the concept as a whole.

“I will do what I can,” Caroline said, trying to appear sincere. And she didn’t know what that would look like, or what that would require of her, but something within her did want to do her best to help, whatever that meant.

Mrs. Fezziwig shivered, then looked up at the maid standing near the door. “Do fetch me a shawl, my dear. And have the footman come strengthen the fire.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and hurried out of the room.

Then Mrs. Fezziwig leaned over with a conspiratory smile. “I have a secret, and only wanted a moment without the staff nearby. I’ve arranged to have presents made for all the servants in the house. A little more than just acknowledgment on Boxing Day, you know, but a decent sum as well.” A delighted sparkle shone in her eyes. “I do try to be grateful with those who work here for me, but I hope this is an actual surprise, something they would never expect.”

“How very generous of you, Mrs. Fezziwig,” Caroline acknowledged aloud.

The maid returned with a shawl and a footman, and Mrs. Fezziwig showered them with gratitude. It left Caroline in awe of the woman and put her in a rather pensive mood as their visit came to an end.

With all the invitations delivered, Caroline made her way back home. The carriage slowly strolled through the center of the village, and she watched on with a strange longing. Before she had left Hamstead, these main streets had been her favorite to explore, as a girl and a young woman. Not that she did so often without the constant supervision of one parent or another, for she was never far from their watchful eyes, but all the little shops and smells, with adults talking and children playing, and animals coloring every other road. It had all seemed so big when she was young, just like Aunt Fanny’s house. But she was the adult now. There would be no getting lost in the same childlike wonder as before, especially because she had experienced quite a different life in London, and Hamstead was now miniscule in comparison. But it did still hold some sort of affection, even if she could no longer run around with Robert by her side.

“Stop the carriage, please,” she called out, and the footman came to open the door. She wanted to explore for a moment on her own, see the place with her own eyes.

She wandered slowly down the main street, examining every shop. Her cloak sat heavy around her shoulders, an emblem of her status flowing in the chilly wind. She walked past an inn, a tailor, a small bakery, a jeweler, a book seller, and a butcher with a giant turkey hanging in the window for a steep price.

Eventually, her feet brought her to the milliner’s shop. She remembered this place well, because the shopkeeper had always doted on her, secretly gifting her ribbons and buttons when his wife wasn’t looking. It left her wondering if they were still around.

She pushed the shop door open, the bell tinkling above her, and indeed found Mr. Dixon, much older now, standing behind the counter helping a customer. The shop itself certainly wasn’t as prim and proper as a milliner in London, and without half as many per item in stock, but it still made Caroline smile.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Scrooge! Or forgive me, Mrs. Marley.” Mr. Dixon corrected himself with the little sparkle in his eye. “What a marvelous surprise. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

Once he saw the lady out the door, Mr. Dixon turned around and crossed his arms over his apron. “Now I heard you had returned, but I wasn’t sure when you would come and see me. And look at you, all grown up and pretty.”

Caroline found herself blushing. “You are too kind, Mr. Dixon. Is your wife here?”

He shook his head. “Sadly, no. She passed on some years back. But that doesn’t mean she won’t haunt me in this store every now and then.” He gave a hearty laugh, and Caroline could only chuckle in return.

“Now, what brings you in today? Is there anything in particular I can provide that would suit your fancy?” he asked as she looked around the shop. There were plenty of items that did catch her attention, but she didn’t have anything in mind.

Until she remembered her conversation with Mrs. Fezziwig, the gifts she had prepared for the staff. Caroline had not thought of holiday presents for those who worked at Longford Manor, even though it was customary on Boxing Day. She had been certain she would not stay long enough for that, but now it seemed only fair. The remaining question was, could she find something meaningful that was simple and inexpensive? And could she keep it a secret, like Mrs. Fezziwig?

“Yes, I am looking for…” Then Caroline lowered her voice. “I will require absolute discretion in this pursuit, you understand.”

Mr. Dixon nodded. “Oh yes, of course, Mrs. Marley. Your secret will die with me, I promise you.”

Caroline smiled at his dramatics and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Dixon.” Then she went on as before, turning her back to the empty shop. “I am looking for gifts for the staff of Longford Manor.”

His brows raised in surprise. “Is that so?” He recovered quickly, but his initial shock was just as she had hoped. No one would suspect her of such a kindness, not knowing who her father was.

“Yes, of course. I will be glad to assist you in this.” He gathered his wits and moved behind his counter. “Would you like any recommendations?”

Caroline nodded. “Yes, please. That would be most helpful.”

Mr. Dixon turned around, scanning the wall. “How about…” He paused, reaching for various boxes on the counter behind him. “Hat pins for the women, and cravat pins for the men. Not something overly elegant, mind you, but decorative and high quality. Something suitable for their positions, but that distinguishes them as employees in your home.”

“Yes, precisely.” Caroline found herself mentally tripping over his words. Your home. It was her Aunt Fanny’s home, and she had loved her staff. This was not Caroline’s home, not one where she would be staying for very long. But she did appreciate his idea and found it suitable for her needs.

Mr. Dixon opened the boxes and when he pulled out items wrapped in fabric, he did have just the sort of thing she was hoping for.

“Excellent,” Caroline cooed. “Now you know Longford Manor, and the staff there is about thirty or forty in number. What would the cost be to have one for each of them?”

He did some quick calculations, staring off into the distance as his fingers danced beside his head to count, then he cited her the amount.

“Very well. I will pay the sum, and you can have them delivered before Boxing Day?”

“Oh, absolutely!” he gushed his reassurance. “It will be an honor to have this prepared for you.”

Caroline smiled to herself as he hurried to the back of his shop to finalize the order details. It would be the treat of her life to see the looks on their faces when the staff received their presents. It would be the very last thing they would ever expect, and surprisingly, the thought brought her quite a bit of satisfaction and, dare she say it, happiness.

Mr. Dixon stepped back to finalize the purchase, and Caroline leaned against the counter with a smug expression on her face. It was only then she realized that she was not the only customer in the shop, for standing in the opposite corner of the room was Robert.

“Oh! Robert.” She pressed a hand to her chest in shock. “You startled me. How long have you been standing there?”

She watched him carefully, his expression indecipherable. Had he overheard her discussion with Mr. Dixon? She had desperately wanted everything to be a surprise, but part of her hoped he had heard. Would that further help her cause in his eyes? Would he see her efforts at being a better person, of earning back his trust?

“Long enough,” he mumbled, stepping closer to her.

“Ah, Mr. Cratchit, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Mr. Dixon said over his shoulder, feverishly scribbling on his paper.

Caroline held her breath as Robert neared, and she swallowed her fear, refusing to be intimidated by him. When he stood almost toe to toe, almost indecently close for two people who might not even be friends, especially in public, she could see every freckle on his cheek, and the start of unshaven scruff on his jaw. Caroline wanted to lift her hand to his face and lose herself in the blue of his eyes.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said finally in a low voice, pulling Caroline from her thoughts.

She cleared her throat. “And what exactly am I doing?”

He stared at her for a moment longer before he said, “Something unexpected.”

Ah, she was caught. “You won’t say anything, will you? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly, making her heart start to race. “Your secret is safe with me.” Then he took a step back.

Mr. Dixon turned around with a folded piece of paper. “Your receipt, mum,” he said, handing it to Caroline and tapping the side of his nose with one finger.

“Thank you, Mr. Dixon,” she replied. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

“And you, Mrs. Marley.”

“Good day, Robert,” Caroline called as she moved toward the door.

He nodded at her departure. “Good day, Caroline.”

When she stepped outside, she was excessively grateful for the chill in the air to cool her cheeks. She didn’t know that standing so close to Robert would have such an effect on her.

But as she boarded the carriage and continued home, she hoped he would keep her secret, and that he would someday find her trustworthy again. They had been friends once, and even more than friends, at that. She knew now what she had lost when she hurt him, damaging their connection, so she would take what she could get from him, whatever bit of friendship he could offer.

Maybe she couldn’t go back to the way things were all those years ago. But she could start anew with Robert, and for the better.

December 1807

Caroline sat in the coach that would deliver her back to Edgewood Estate, and this time her view of Hamstead was dismal at best. It was no longer the charming hamlet she had left, and instead bore the resemblance of a dingy, underprivileged town. Perhaps it was simply that her time in London had become the level of expectation. And even though London had its fair share of impoverished rabble, she would have preferred not to come back to this one.

Passing through the village, Caroline caught sight of Mr. Dixon, standing outside the millinery shop with Mrs. Fezziwig. They must have recognized the coach, for they both waved eagerly, but Caroline did not wave back or respond in the least.

“We can no longer associate with those beneath us,” Father said sharply. “Mr. Dixon and Mrs. Fezziwig are both in trade, and therefore we can have nothing to do with them. It would taint your association with Mr. Marley, and I do not want anything to endanger that agreement. Am I understood?”

“Of course, Father,” Caroline responded.

Mother said nothing, and Caroline was certain her heart was waning. She wanted this marriage for her daughter more than anyone, but she loved her friends and had repeatedly commented on how she missed the society in Hamstead.

“And if any former relation should dare to show his face, you are to turn your back on him. I want nothing to do with him.”

Caroline knew he was speaking of Fred. It hurt her heart, but she nodded. The curious part of her wanted to see him, but the injured part of her knew that she would have to protect herself from his rejection if she saw him again.

“We have only returned for your Aunt Fanny’s Christmas ball so that you can maintain any distant relations before you are wed,” Father went on. “Once you are settled with Mr. Marley’s son, we will keep a casual acquaintance with your Aunt Fanny, at the off chance she may desire to leave you any inheritance upon her death. I do not imagine any of us will be returning, therefore it will be necessary to cut all other ties once and for all.”

Father leveled her with a stern glare, and there was no missing his meaning. Caroline turned her gaze out the window; she knew exactly who he spoke of, but she had hoped she could avoid that meeting altogether. Why could she not simply marry Mr. Marley and be done with it? Why did she have to torture a good man?

The coach pulled up to Edgewood Estate and Father stepped out first. “I believe it is time to sell this place. I will arrange for all our things to be packed and prepared for our trip back to London at the end of the year.”

Mother nodded in agreement, but she did not quit the carriage immediately.

“You do know why we are doing this?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother,” Caroline said with a sigh.

“You do not know the horrors of poverty, not like I do.”

Caroline nodded. Mother had been born into a poor but titled family, and her first marriage had saved her from destitution, but left her miserable. She had inherited upon the man’s death, which was just enough allurement for Mr. Scrooge to marry the wealthy widow, but she never let Caroline forget the reason they had forced Mr. Marley’s suit on her; why love alone was never an acceptable option to marry.

Why Caroline could not settle for Robert.

She dreaded what she had to do, but she would do it. She could not allow him to continue on in this delusion. She could not marry a poor man, and he would not mysteriously become wealthy. It would be better that they end things now.