Page 37 of The Dare Before Christmas

I am pleased to report the workmen have successfully carried out the repairs to the church roof. Happily, we were blessed with a week of sunshine and dry weather, and so it was not as complicated as we feared. However, on closer inspection, I am told that the roof is in rather worse condition than we hoped, and the repairs are only a temporary solution. I will of course be seeking several opinions and quotes, but the first I enclose for your information. Not a cheap undertaking, I fear. I will, of course, speak to the Parish Council concerning fund raisers, but as you know, they are already working diligently towards several goals, and I fear the roof might overstretch their energies and their goodwill.

As I know you will have been fretting on their behalf, I am also relieved to inform you that the boys are all well and back at school and have recovered from the influenza, which afflicted so many. However, as we have begun third declension nouns and adjectives in Latin, I believe many of them are rather wishing they could suffer a relapse. I am universally despised.

I called upon Mrs Simmons yesterday who was in excellent spirits, and she asked me to scold the earl soundly for not visiting her this weekend. Believe me, I am not about to do so, but I pass on the sentiment. I explained you were in town until the week before Christmas, but this was apparently not sufficient an excuse for his absence. As I am certain you remember, she is partial to marzipan sweets. Perhaps a peace offering?

―Excerpt of a letter to The Right Hon’ble Harriet Cadogan, Comtesse St Clair from The Reverend Harry Martin.

18th December 1844, Heart’s Folly, East Sussex.

Barnaby’s lips left hers for the first time in what might have been a lifetime, or no time at all. Victoria blinked, staring up at him, giddy and happy and more alive that she had ever felt in her life before. She smiled, the rightness of this moment, this man, the feeling of being in his arms the only thing she could think about. His expression was more serious, though, and she knew he had not kissed her lightly, not without thinking it through. She reached up and touched his face.

He jolted at her touch. “Your hands are icy,” he said, covering her hand with his own and turning his head to kiss her palm.

Victoria sighed with pleasure. Her feet were wet and frozen, the snow having soaked her boots, but she never wanted this moment to end. “I could never regret you, Barnaby,” she said, remembering his fears for their future, hoping he would trust her on this, but knowing it was too soon. He had kissed her, though.

“You say that now,” he replied, his eyes searching hers, studying her intently. “But it’s no guarantee, is it? I want to believe you, though. I do.”

“That’s a good start.”

“I want this, Victoria. I want you, but—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “But you’re cautious. I understand. Lady Millicent led you on, gave you reason to hope when there was none. I would not do that, Barnaby. I have admired you for a very long time, and I know I can trust you. I hope you will come to trust me. You are a good man, one I know will never let me down, and I shall be that for you too, I promise. I shall be someone you can rely on. Please, give me a chance to prove that to you.”

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

“Yes,” he said on a breath that clouded around them. Barnaby laughed, his mouth tipping up into a smile. “Yes, I shall, though you know your father is going to murder me?”

Victoria shrugged. “Oh, no. He’ll make you think he’s going to murder you, but Mama won’t let him. You’ll see.”

A gust of wind swept up, tugging at her cloak, and Victoria shivered. She did not think she had ever been so cold in her life.

“Come along. Let’s get back to the house before you catch pneumonia, or your mama will kill me before your father can get a look in.”

She laughed, despite her wet feet and frozen toes, and took his proffered arm, and they hurried together back to the house.

As Barnaby had predicted, it was close by. The old, forgotten kitchens had been built next to the wing of the house that had yet to be renovated. They hurried around the side, trying to find a way in that would avoid the staff, for once the servants knew Victoria had been missing all day with Barnaby, no power on earth would stop their tongues wagging.

“Here,” Barnaby said, finally finding an unlocked door.

Victoria hurried after him, closing the door behind her.

“Watch your step.” Barnaby turned, holding out his hand to her.

Victoria looked around, seeing why he was concerned. The room was in near darkness, only dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the window. The workmen were using this room as a store for materials and tools. They had seen this on their tour of the house.

“If I remember right, this leads back to the main corridor,” Barnaby said, guiding her carefully around the building supplies until they were back in the main part of the house.

“I’m freezing,” Victoria said, stamping her feet and then regretting it as pain radiated through her bones. “Let’s find a fire, please.”

“You’d best go to your room. Then you can call for a servant and order some dinner, have a hot bath. Come along.”

Victoria wasn’t about to argue, too keen to sit before a warm fire, and she knew the servants would have kept the one in her room burning. Louis César and Evie were generous hosts and devoted to ensuring their guests were comfortable.

They hurried to the entrance hall and up the main staircase, moving quickly in the hope no one would see them, but the house was quiet, with no one in sight and only a few lamps burning.

“This is me,” Victoria said, opening her door and hurrying inside.

Barnaby hesitated on the threshold, but Victoria tugged at his hand, pulling him into the room.