Biltmore Christmas Read online

  “Miss Charity, you are even more beautiful today than usual.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “And you clean up nicely.” He wore more formal attire than she’d ever seen him in.

  “Amazing what a little soap and water can do.” His black eyes sparkled.

  “I haven’t been to church since I started this job nearly two months ago. I shall enjoy being back in the house of the Lord.”

  “As shall I.” He tapped the reins against the horses’ hindquarters. “Charity, I wish to speak to you about a couple of things.”

  His serious tone drew her attention and her gaze to him.

  “The man I saw you with a couple of weeks ago—”

  “Mr. Courtland?”

  Clay nodded. “He isn’t a nice man.”

  Charity frowned. “Pompous, yes, but certainly nice. He was very kind to me and has offered to drive me to the village anytime.”

  “People may seem kind, even be pleasant, but are not Christian in their dealings with others.”

  His somber expression made her wonder what sort of encounter he’d had with Mr. Courtland. “Is there bad blood between you and Mr. Courtland?” Concern wove itself through her question.

  “Not me personally, but others I know. He once courted a woman close to me and was a two-timing scoundrel.”

  Charity knew her mouth gaped in a most unladylike fashion but had no power to close it. Did Clay think she was interested in Mr. Courtland in that way?

  “He and I are barely friends and have no interaction other than his escorting me on an occasional buggy ride.” Her voice took on a defensive edge. “I am not interested in him in a romantic manner, so he’d have no opportunity to take advantage of me in that way.”

  Clay nodded. His brows were drawn together in concern. “Just be careful.”

  “Is that why there is a strong tension between you and him?”

  “What do you mean by strong tension?”

  “I saw the two of you down by the barn a few days ago. It looked as if you argued.”

  Clay neither admitted nor denied that.

  “I asked him about it, but he clammed up, just as you are now.” Charity searched his face. “There must be something more between you, but neither of you will discuss it.”

  “As your friend, I am asking you to please consider my request and avoid him in the future.” Clay’s tone sounded more demanding than usual.

  Charity nodded, still not understanding. “I find him fascinating. Not as a person, but all his escapades sound exciting. He’s been all over the world and has told me some interesting tales.”

  “I’m only concerned about you.”

  Charity wondered if Clay could be jealous but immediately dismissed the idea as preposterous.

  “Here we are.” Clay pulled up in front of the church. He found a spot for the buggy and helped Charity down. She led the way to a pew where her sisters and Mama Elsie waited. She slid in next to Peggy. While they hugged, Clay slid into the pew next to her. Melissa and Selma leaned forward, both smiling and waving to him. He winked at them, and Charity heard quiet giggles.

  The pastor spoke on the tares among the wheat. Hereferred to wolves in sheep’s clothing. Mr. Courtland popped into her mind. Was he truly an unkind man who only pretended to be a Christian? Clay’s warning echoed through her thoughts. Her mind reeled back to the day Mr. Courtland had asked about him. She sensed animosity, even though he claimed not to know Clay. He’d obviously lied.

  As soon as the sermon ended, while they were turning to “Amazing Grace” in the hymnal, Charity leaned over. “How long have you known Stanton Courtland?”

  “Since childhood,” he whispered.

  An uneasy feeling knotted in her stomach. Perhaps she’d best avoid Mr. Courtland in the future. She had little patience for a liar.

  After the song, they made their way to the back of the church. They each shook the pastor’s hand. “Mr. Clay—”

  “Clay, just Clay.” Clay’s rude interruption surprised her.

  The pastor wore a puzzled expression. “Good to see you again.” He shook Clay’s hand. “And Miss Charity, I have missed your smiling encouragement from the pew.”

  “And I have missed being here. If I have a Sunday off, it’s only the afternoon.”

  Once out in the windy weather, Clay offered them a ride in the buggy. They had to squish together, but all fit. Charity was pushed tight against Clay’s side. His clear, clean masculine scent taunted her. The warmth of his body against her arm made her tingle. When he turned to speak, his breath mingled with hers in an intimate way.

  Her cheeks grew hot as the awareness of him grew. She remained quiet as her three sisters chatted around them. Clay asked Peggy about life at Reynolds House. The conversations swirled around, but all her focus was on this ruggedly handsome man whose arm burned into hers.

  Then the truth hit Charity like a January chill. She, Charity Bradford, loved Clay. Clay, the man whose last name she didn’t even know.

  Soon they arrived at the orphanage, and he lifted her down. “Are you feeling well?” he asked.

  “Quite.”

  Charity’s face glowed in a most beautiful way. At times, like now, it took all his strength not to pull her against him and kiss her soundly. Instead, he set her on the ground and helped Miss Caps from the buggy.

  The orphanage bustled with activity and noise. Clay joined Charity in setting the table. As he watched her the rest of the day, he realized there was nothing about her that he didn’t like. He loved her gentleness with the small children, her love for her sisters and Miss Caps, her adoration of the Lord. The list went on.

  “I feel like you’re staring at me. I’m not guilty of having straw between my teeth, am I?”

  He laughed. “Just amazed by your beauty.”

  “I’m certain that is it.” Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes.

  Lord, I have no idea how to cross the barrier of our stations. How do I convince her that to me, she is the most beautiful woman ever? Am I running ahead of You?

  Suddenly Clay knew what he must do. He had to returnto New York City and speak to his family about Charity. He knew they were a pure people without class prejudices. His father would guide him through this. Then he reminded Charity, “Sunset lingers.”

  She nodded, setting down the book she read to the tot on her lap. They said their good-byes and left. He covered Charity’s lap with a warm blanket before starting down the road.

  “Thank you for including me today.”

  “How could I leave my dear friend to fend for himself, without so much as a Thanksgiving feast?” Then she continued, “Do you know this is my favorite time of year? I love the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It is a magical time, thanks to Jesus.”

  “So is Christmas your favorite day of the year?”

  “Most certainly. What about you?”

  He’d never thought much about a favorite day. He decided Christmas would be from now on, though. And this Christmas would be most special of all. This Christmas he’d ask Charity to marry him.

  They rolled up to the barn. He lifted Charity down. She ran in to check on Buck and Trixie while he unhooked the buggy and removed the harnesses. He returned the team to their stalls and joined Charity. “I’m going home to New York City.”

  Charity turned to face him. Happiness evaporated from her expression, and sadness filled her eyes. “Forever?”

  He shook his head. “Only a couple of weeks.” He reached up and brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes.

  Relief flooded her expression. “I thought for a minute that you meant forever. I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

  He placed a hand on each side of her waist. “Nor can I.” Slowly he drew her to him. Slowly she came. Her eyes, round and large, reflected questions. Hopefully his kiss contained the answers.

  His lips gently settled on hers. She responded with sweet innocence. He unhurriedly lifted his head and gazed deep into a pair of blu
e eyes.

  “I’d like to marry you. How do you feel about the subject?”

  Joy filled her countenance. He knew her answer before she spoke.

  “I feel wonderful about the subject.” Her heart skipped with glee.

  “Really?” His ruggedly perfect face wore every emotion she’d felt for him during these past weeks, endearing him to her all the more.

  “You are the one for me, Clay. My heart has known it from the start.”

  He gently kissed her again, turning her aforementioned heart into a pile of complete mush.

  “Will you wait for me?” His expression overflowed with adoration.

  “I shall. How long will you be gone?” She already missed him.

  “I’ll return by Christmas,” he promised, kissing the tip of her nose.

  “Where will we live? The servants here are all single.”

  He wrapped her in his arms. “Don’t worry, my darling. I have saved and own some land. We will be fine.” This time he kissed her forehead, above her right brow. “Just fine, indeed.”

  She wished she felt as confident as he did. She would have to trust him and the Lord that their future would all work out. “Hurry back.” This time she boldly kissed him, amazed at the courage that came with knowing she was cherished.

  “Quick as I can.”

  She wanted to hold on to him and never let go. Instead, she kissed his cheek, turned, and headed to the big house. Though she wanted to glance back at nearly every step, she forced herself to keep her eyes focused straight ahead. Only once did she turn and wave. Fighting the urge to run back to his strong arms, she entered the house, saying a silent prayer for Clay’s journey.

  Chapter 6

  I saw you with her,” Elizabeth accused in a not-so-quiet voice.

  Clay closed the library doors then faced her. “So?”

  “You kissed a servant girl!” Her red face accused him of a deed worse than treason. “You are a Claybrook, for goodness sake. We are a family of affluence, greatly respected.”

  “People are people, Elizabeth. Where has all this snobbery gotten you? Charity is a lovely young woman.”

  “Listen to yourself! Do you realize the cost to our family should you have a scandalous relationship with a servant?”

  “First of all, as a Christian man, I’d never participate in a scandalous anything.”

  “You were kissing her. What would one think?” She tossed her head.

  His anger hit a peak. “Cousin, you have more to worry about than a tawdry outrage. I plan to wed Charity Bradford.”

  Elizabeth sat down. Her red face went pale. “No. No. It cannot be …”

  Clay grinned, enjoying her dramatic reaction. “Just think, Elizabeth, you and she will be cousins by marriage. Cousins and perhaps even good friends.” He knew that would never happen.

  She rose. “I assure you, my dear cousin, that shall neverhappen. And I will do everything in my power to stop this ridiculous union.”

  He saw an idea forming as her eyes lit up. Elizabeth was a schemer.

  “Eunice Hopewell regrets breaking your engagement. She’s traveling here for the holiday, hoping to make amends. She asked for my silence, but in light of this news, I believe she’d forgive my breaking that promise.”

  Clay waited for the usual stab in his heart when Eunice Hopewell’s name arose; however, the pain didn’t come. He was finally free from the dregs of heartbreak! He’d healed. “I wish Eunice well, but no longer carry the love for her that I once did.” He moved toward the closed doors, the new realization making his step lighter.

  “You’ll be making the biggest mistake of your life if you choose that little servant mouse over Eunice Hopewell.”

  She said the words with such force that Clay half expected the windows to shatter, and her description of Charity caused him to clench his fists. “No, you have it backward. For me, Eunice would be the mistake. Charity is a godly, kind woman, and most importantly, God’s choice for me.” He opened the door, and Stanton Courtland nearly fell into the room.

  “Did you get an earful?” Clay asked with disgust.

  He headed up to his room, needing to rise long before sunrise to catch the train; however, sleep eluded him. Between his cousin and Stanton Courtland, the two of them might attempt to sabotage his and Charity’s plans. Lord, protect her. Protect us.

  Sometime in the night, he rose and penned a letter to his beloved.

  My dearest Charity,

  I love you most deeply. You are the music in my life, the sunshine in my days, and the very beat of my heart. I shall miss you terribly and will count the days until my return.

  He’d thought about canceling his trip altogether, but felt he must go, desiring his parents’ blessing on this union. Their approval was most important to him, so he would stick to his plan, hoping they’d return with him to celebrate his engagement.

  Without being able to explain things to you fully, I need you to be on guard until my return. There are people, guests at the Biltmore, who wish to come between you and me. No matter what is said by Stanton Courtland or Elizabeth Claybrook, please disregard. I will explain it all upon my return. Please trust me and wait.

  All my love, Clay

  Charity read the letter several times. Her stomach knotted. Why would wealthy guests try to destroy what she and Clay had found? None of it made a bit of sense, but Charity would wait and hope for the best. She gazed out her fourth-story window at the fresh blanket of snow shimmering inthe moonlight. What she wouldn’t give to see Clay one last time.

  As she dressed for the day, she relived the delight of his kiss, the feel of his palms against her cheeks, and the touch of his whiskers against her face. While at work that day, she dreamed of him often.

  “Excuse me, Miss Bradford?” The unfamiliar woman’s voice pulled her back to the present.

  Charity raised her gaze from the wooden washboard and looked into black eyes, similar to Clay’s. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I’m Elizabeth Claybrook.”

  Charity nearly fainted when she heard the woman’s name. She’s the one Clay warned me to avoid.

  “Mr. Vanderbilt has put me in charge of the house this Christmas season, since I am his cousin, and there is no lady of the manor. As a matter of fact, he will be traveling this holiday and may not even make it back for Christmas.”

  Charity nodded, wondering what this had to do with her.

  “I am pulling you from your duties in brown laundry until the holiday season passes.”

  Charity nodded again, not sure exactly what that meant.

  “However, that will not happen until next week. This week you shall be in charge of laundering and pressing all the special table linens that will be used throughout the rest of December.” Miss Claybrook clapped her hands, and several maids carried large stacks of hand-stitched linens into the laundry. Charity swallowed hard. How would she ever get all of those piles done in a week?

  “You will finish all of this by Saturday?” Though worded as a question, Charity knew it was truly, in fact, an order, and somehow this had something to do with Clay and his warning to her.

  Charity fought the urge to cry and once again only nodded.

  “It is most important that you do.” With that, Miss Claybrook turned on her heel and was gone.

  Charity systematically divided the linens into six equal piles. This woman would not break her or drive her away. She would come early and stay late, if need be, but she would finish this task.

  The week proved to be long and hard, but Charity did conquer the piles of laundry and even penned several letters to Clay. She told him of her new slave-driving boss and the tales she heard at her mealtimes with the other servants. But she had nowhere to mail them.

  After a formal dinner with his parents on Clay’s first night back in New York City, he asked if he might have a word with his father. They stepped out onto the porch.

  His father lit a cigar and took a puff. “You still don’t smoke?” He held ou
t the box of expensive cigars.

  Clay held up his hand in refusal. “No thank you, sir.”

  “What is this I hear about you and a servant girl?” His dad flicked an ash into an old milk can.

  Clay’s heart dropped. He’d hoped to reveal the information gently. “News travels fast.”

  His father stared at the cigar for several seconds. Thenhe focused his coal-black eyes on Clay. “Telegraphs beat trains every time.”

  “Cousin Elizabeth?”

  “Who else?” His father settled into a cane rocker. “You know this decision will wreak havoc for your mother and me? At least as far as your uncles and aunts are concerned.”

  Clay wasn’t sure how to read his father. “Will you mind terribly? You always taught us that people were people, no matter their race or station in life.”

  “If you are certain, I will stand by your decision and rather take pleasure in the rest of the family’s reaction.” His father guffawed. He, the nonconformist, enjoyed ruffling the rest of his siblings occasionally. “Most should already know. I’m certain mine wasn’t the only telegraph sent.”

  Relief flooded Clay. “Thank you, sir. She is a Christian, which matters the most to me, certainly more than status.”

  “I thought you’d outgrow that religion of yours, but you have not.”

  “Nor will I, Father. Jesus is my lifeblood. He is not a part of my life. He is my life.”

  Clay knew by the confused look on his father’s face that he did not understand. He prayed for his father and mother daily. After these many years, he at times had to fight discouragement that they still had not responded to the Lord.

  His father snuffed out his cigar. “I shall look forward to meeting your lady.”

  “Will you and mother travel back to North Carolina with me for Christmas?”

  “I believe we shall.” He rose from the rocker. “Let’s goinform your mother. She will need days to pack.”