Biltmore Christmas Page 2

  “Isn’t it strange that the first time she left us behind to travel with him, they were killed? I wish she’d stayed home. At least we’d have one of them.” Charity gazed at her sister, remembering.

  “But God did provide Mama Elsie and the orphanage. We have never wanted for a thing, and we were always well loved.”

  That was all true. “But how nice it might be to own more than two day dresses.”

  “Two is twice as many as one,” Peggy reminded her. “I’d better turn back now. I think this is about the halfway point. You have another mile and a half or so to go.”

  Charity set down her small suitcase and hugged her sister tight. “I love you.”

  Peggy smiled and Charity recognized the expression on Peggy’s face. She was about to expound some older sister wisdom. “Don’t get so caught up in dreamin’ that you miss what God has for you in the here and now.” With that, Peggy turned and headed back toward Biltmore Village.

  Charity watched her walk away, repeating her parting words again and again in her mind. Peggy walked the opposite direction for several minutes, then spun around and waved once. When she was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, Charity pivoted and headed toward her future.

  The majestic Blue Ridge Mountains rising in the distance beckoned her onward. She’d read many a travel book, savored the pictures, but had never laid eyes on a place prettier than western North Carolina. No matter where the Lord led, she hoped this area—her favorite place in all the earth—would always be home.

  “Thank you, Lord, for the promise of a new beginning and for my job at Biltmore. Even if I hate laundry, I shall cherish every moment of my stay there.”

  Chapter 2

  Joseph Malachi Claybrook followed his older cousin Elizabeth to the fourth floor observatory.

  “You must stay here at the Biltmore while building your own home.” Her request sounded more like an order.

  “This is your family, not mine,” Clay reminded her.

  And in truth, Clay knew she and George Vanderbilt were much more distant in relationship than Elizabeth cared to remember. She called him cousin, but actually their grandfathers were cousins.

  “I spoke to Cousin George, and he welcomes you. If you recall, his father, your father, and my father were all dear friends back when we were children.” Elizabeth sat erect at the edge of a chair, pushing her bustle off to one side. “I shared your plans to build a mansion near the Biltmore estate, and he was most interested. He’d love to sit with you and hear of your plans.”

  Clay paced to the window. The magnificent view drew his gaze across fields and outbuildings to the mountains in the backdrop. “I’m not building a mansion but a modest home.”

  Elizabeth gave him a pouty look and poured them each a cup of tea. “Why ever would you settle for modest? Grandfather Claybrook’s death left us and our siblings atidy sum of money. You surely can afford a step or two above modest.” Elizabeth liked flaunting the family money. He did not.

  She raised a disapproving arched brow. “What sort of parties could one throw in a modest home?”

  “You know me. …” He settled on the chair across the small table and faced her, picking up the delicate china cup and sipping the warm tea. “I’ve always been restless in New York City. I hate the crowded feeling it brings. High society and parties leave me discontent.”

  “You’re foolish, Malachi. The world could be your oyster. Why would you throw away your station in life?”

  “Because none of that truly matters. I had no peace in my life until I came to North Carolina for a holiday with family. We attended revival meetings with my mother’s family.” He wandered back to the window. “A tent revival led by The Reverend Abraham Bradford, and he led me to salvation in Jesus Christ that very night. I was thirteen at the time and found peace with Jesus here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Sadly, that was his last tent meeting. He and his wife were killed the following day in a tragic train wreck.” He faced his cousin. “Do you have peace, Elizabeth?”

  His question apparently startled her. She stammered, “Frankly, I’ve never thought about it. But I do have money and can do whatever I want, whenever I care to. That gives me peace.”

  Clay felt sorry for her. “I remember to this day the good reverend speaking on money being God’s tool to use, not just for our comfort, but to help those less fortunate. I planto invest heavily here in the orphanage in Biltmore Village. It is where Reverend Bradford’s children are growing up, and in his honor I wish to give them a fine facility, rather than spending all I have on me.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Waste your share of the family’s money, if you like. I shall hope that when you meet with George, he will redirect your thinking on this whole matter.”

  Clay only smiled. “The matter is settled, Elizabeth. I followed my heart and have returned here, as was my plan since age thirteen, to build a home on the land adjacent to Biltmore.”

  “Well, no matter. George wishes you to make yourself at home here while you build.”

  The thought tempted Clay. He’d be much closer to oversee the project than if he stayed at the boardinghouse in the village. Plus he’d heard the kitchen staff here was top-notch.

  “Would there be room for my horse in the stables?”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Then perhaps I will consider George’s most generous offer.” He’d left his horse with a stable hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go down and check on Buck now and get him settled. We’ve traveled a long journey.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth hung open in a most unbecoming fashion. “You rode from New York?”

  Clay again grinned at his snobby cousin. “What better way to see God’s beautiful creation?”

  As an aristocrat, he could afford hotels and nice stalls for Buck. He didn’t really travel like the true pioneers did, with a bedroll and a saddle under his head. He and Buck did spendone night under the stars, but only one.

  “I’ll see you at dinner,” Elizabeth called after him. Sounded more like an order than a request. He shook his head as he started down the grand staircase. She always was a bossy thing.

  He exited through the back and found Buck tied to a tree. He led him down toward the stable area. “Do you want to live here with these high-class, pretentious people?” he asked the large buckskin.

  Clay scratched between the animal’s eyes and up under his black forelock. “I’d rather sleep in the barn with you than under the roof with my showy relatives. What do you think, big fella? Would you share your stall?”

  I’ll sleep and eat in that monster of a house, but all my awake time will be spent with Buck or working on our new place.

  When Charity arrived at Biltmore, she scarcely could take it all in. Everything about the house—down to the smallest detail—testified of wealth beyond her wildest imagination. She rang the bell at the delivery door. A butler answered. “Miss Bohburg is expecting me.”

  “Your name?”

  “Charity Bradford.”

  “Miss Bohburg is otherwise occupied at the moment. I will show you to your room.” She followed him up three flights of stairs, and he led her to the same room she’d been shown last week when she was hired. He turned to leave.

  “Excuse me, sir, but may I visit the stable during my breaks?”

  His turned-up nose spoke loud and clear. “If you wish.”

  She heard the unsaid: But why in the world would you want to?

  Charity felt the need to explain. “I have always loved horses.”

  His shrug said he couldn’t care less.

  She ended her explanation, and he quickly departed.

  Charity opened her bag and hung her other day dress next to two uniforms already there. I hope the rest of the staff is nicer than that old curmudgeon. After unloading the rest of her things and placing her Bible and well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bedside table, she made a beeline for the stables.

  The beautiful grounds boasted perfectly
manicured lawns and flowers of every size, shape, and color, plus formal gardens, which she’d visit later. For now she wanted to see and pet each horse.

  When she entered the barn, she didn’t spot another living soul. Hoping to garner permission, she lurked in the entrance.

  “Afternoon.”

  Charity startled as the rich baritone rang out a greeting from behind her.

  “Good day.” She turned and faced the man, believing him to be one of the riders that passed her and Peggy on the road earlier in the day. Not that she recognized him, but she’d know that big, beautiful buckskin he was leading anywhere.

  “You look a little lost. May I help you?” He stopped next to her. His horse nudged him.

  “He’s beautiful. May I pet him?” she asked, reaching toward the black velvet nose.

  “You may. Nothing Buck likes more than the attention of a pretty lady.”

  Charity’s face grew warm. Usually Peggy was the one who blushed at the drop of a hat. Charity ignored his comment and kept stroking the soft face, admiring the animal’s earnest eyes.

  “Say, weren’t you walking on the road earlier today?”

  “Yes. I’m Charity Bradford, a new laundress here at Biltmore. Is he yours?”

  “Buck?” He rubbed the horse’s neck, up under his mane. “He is mine.”

  “So they allow servants to own animals?”

  The man hesitated and then smiled. “Only the ones who work in the barn.”

  “Am I permitted to visit the barn during my off hours?” She lifted her eyes from the handsome gelding to his equally handsome owner.

  “I believe you are. You apparently have a love for horses.”

  “I do.” She looked straight into eyes black as coal. “I plan to own one in the not-too-distant future.”

  “Do you ride?”

  “Not yet, but I will. Isn’t it wonderful that women can now do such things!”

  His grin nearly stole her breath. Oh my, but was he handsome. She’d best be careful or she’d find herself swooning, and she was not the type of woman to do such silly things.

  “I’ll tell you what, Charity. If you come down to the barn on your afternoon hours off, I’ll teach you to ride.”

  “You would do that? And would that be permitted by Mr. Vanderbilt?”

  “It would be my pleasure to teach you, and I will gain permission so you need not worry.”

  “Are you in charge of all the animals in this barn?”

  He again hesitated. “Just some.” Forgive me, Lord. Just one. But somehow he sensed if Charity knew who he was, she’d not give him the time of day. Knowing George, there were probably rules about this sort of rendezvous. But for some reason, he wanted to get to know this pretty little thing. Any woman who loved horses had his attention. Most declared horses smelly and unsavory at best.

  “Shall we start tomorrow afternoon, then?”

  “I’d love to, sir, but tomorrow is my first day, and I have no idea when my break time will be.”

  He wished they could start today, but he hadn’t garnered permission to borrow a horse. Then he looked at Buck. “How about now? You could take a few laps on Buck.”

  Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh sir, may I?”

  “Clay. My name is Clay.”

  “Is that appropriate?” Even though she’d grown up poor, she’d obviously been well schooled in propriety.

  “It is for riding buddies. So what do you say, Charity? Your first lesson on Buck?”

  She let out a little squeal then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I assume that is a yes. Step over here and I’ll lift you up.”

  She looked down at her muslin day dress. “I don’t have the proper attire to ride.”

  He nodded. “Well then, for today I’ll let you brush him and get acquainted.”

  They led Buck farther into the barn, Charity talking to the horse as they walked. He took him to the stall the barn manager had assigned earlier that afternoon. While he removed the tack, Charity scratched Buck’s face and whispered sweet nothings to him. Buck seemed to be enjoying the female contact as much as Clay.

  Chapter 3

  Charity headed to her room during her afternoon break to change into her day dress. She’d best not wear her laundress uniform to the barn. Others might not appreciate her smelling like a horse. She giggled, climbing the last flight of stairs. She loved the smell of hay and horses but knew others did not share that sentiment.

  Opening her door, she spotted a box sitting on her neatly made bed. She stopped just inside the room but saw no one. She slowly moved toward the box. Would Mama Elsie have sent her something? She gingerly lifted the lid, and there ensconced in tissue lay riding attire.

  She lifted from the box an interesting garment. The soft brown velvet material felt good against her skin. The pants were concealed under the skirts of the riding habit. She held them up and spun around, a grin nearly splitting her face in two.

  Charity hurried through the clothing change and at the bottom of the box discovered a pair of riding boots that were a bit too big, but the rest of the apparel fit well. On her way to the barn, she spotted Clay holding Buck and another horse under a tree. Two saddles waited on the ground near his feet. She ran the rest of the way, not wanting to miss a moment of her lesson.

  “I see you found some more appropriate clothes.”

  She stopped short. “You did not place these in my room?”

  He grinned. “I would not be allowed in your room.”

  “Ah, but you must be responsible. Certainly they did not appear on their own.”

  He chuckled and handed her the reins to a small sorrel mare. “This is Trixie. She is yours for the duration of your lessons.”

  “Thank you. She is beautiful.” Charity touched the small white star between the horse’s gentle eyes. “And thank you for the riding habit—however it got into my room and whomever you borrowed it from.”

  “I have a sister about your size, and she is not as enamored with horses as you. She wore that only once, was thrown, and vowed to never ride again. With her blessing, I’m passing it on to you.”

  “Send her my regards and deepest appreciation. I shall give them the best of care and hopefully spend many hours in them atop Trixie.” Charity was deeply moved by this near stranger’s kindness.

  “There is so much more to owning a horse than simply riding, and since your hope is to one day own one of your own, I feel it is best if you learn to care for her as well as feed her.”

  Charity nodded. “That would only make sense.”

  “So while Trixie belongs to you, you will have to come down to the barn in the mornings to feed her and provide clean water for her.”

  Charity nodded. That meant a very early morning because her duties in the brown laundry began at six. But it would be worth it, she assured herself.

  “Let’s start with morning care.” After tying both horses to a tree using their reins, he led Charity back into the barn.

  “Trixie’s stall is right next to Buck’s down this first row here.”

  Charity followed Clay. He showed her how to measure Trixie’s morning food and rake the stall, as well as where to haul the manure. “Normally the stable hands do all this, but since you want your own horse, I think it best if you know the amount of work you’ll be in for.”

  “I most certainly will not be affording a stable boy,” Charity agreed. “I’m not afraid of hard work, especially for someone as beautiful as Trixie.”

  After the morning chores were taken care of in the stall, he grabbed a bucket of grooming supplies and led her into the afternoon sun.

  “Daily hoof care is a must.” He bent over, lifting Trixie’s, and with a bent metal tool, he scraped out horse droppings. Charity leaned close to see exactly what he did. She caught a whiff of his clean masculine scent. I should not be aware of such things!

  He set the hoof back on the ground and led Charity around the front of the horse. He held out the too
l he’d used. “Your turn.”

  She sidled up next to Buck’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction, and slid her hand down his foreleg as she’d seen Clay do. At the ankle, she lifted the horse’s foot, bending it back toward his rear legs. She rested it on her slightly bent knee and reached for the instrument. Trying to mimic what she’d seen Clay do, she loosened the hardened dirt and droppings from his foot. Then she returned it to the ground, dusting off her riding britches with her palms before straightening. She looked at Clay, waiting for his response.

  He smiled when her eyes met his. “Well done!”

  She returned his grin. “Really?”

  “Like you’ve been doing it for years.”

  “I have in my dreams. Having read so many books on horses and equine care, I feel like I’ve already done some of the chores firsthand.”

  Seeing approval in his eyes, her stomach fluttered. How handsome he was.

  “I will teach you more on her care tomorrow.” He quickly brushed Trixie’s back then threw a saddle up on the mare, cinching it tight. “But if you want to ride today, you don’t have much time.” He glanced at the timepiece he’d pulled from his pocket.

  Placing his hands at her waist, he sent a tingle up Charity’s spine. Lifting her like she weighed no more than a feather, he sat her on the saddle. “Take your right leg and lift it over the saddle horn and the horse’s neck.”

  She did as he requested. At last, she was astraddle a real-live horse.

  Clay waited under the old cottonwood tree for Charity. She usually got her break about now. He had both horses saddled and ready to go. In the two weeks since her first lesson, Charity had become a solid equestrian. She fed and caredfor her mare in the mornings, groomed and saddled her in the afternoons. Clay did the evening feeding, since Charity worked until nine each night.

  Today was her afternoon off, so he’d ordered a picnic basket from the kitchen. They’d take a nice ride and eat on the banks of the French Broad River.

  He saw her coming. She looked cute in her riding attire. He was glad he’d remembered that Rebekah had left those behind at his grandparents’ farm. He’d taken his weekly ride out to their place and picked up the clothes while there. Trixie also had been purchased for his citified sister, so he’d brought the mare as well. She was older now and very calm, which made her the perfect horse for Charity.