A Bluestocking Christmas Read online

  But it was Christmas, and she’d given them time off to spend with their families. If they thought she needed them, they would sacrifice their holiday to stay with her. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She forced a smile to her lips and turned to face him.

  “Actually you can, Morris. Would you summon a hansom cab for me and fetch my cloak, I’ve decided to work at the library this evening.”

  Tall and portly, the butler gave a slight start. He hesitated for a second, his gaze watching her closely. When she frowned at him, he quickly went to the front door to step outside and hail a cab. Ivy turned back to the mirror and quickly tried to repair her appearance. Fingers trembling, she pulled out the pins holding her hair in place and hastily rearranged her hair.

  Staring at herself in the mirror when she finished, she blinked back another onset of tears. No, she refused to cry. There was no point. A moment later, Morris reappeared at her side with her hat and cloak. He waited patiently as she set the hat on her head, before settling the cape on her shoulders. The gentle brush of his hands on her shoulders as he dusted off imaginary flecks of dust was a comforting feeling. With a jerky movement, she picked up her gloves off the small table under the mirror. With precision, she tugged them on before carefully smoothing each finger making the soft leather cling to them.

  “And will Lord Wycombe fetch you from the library, Miss Ivy?” At the question, she lifted her gaze to look Morris in the mirror. She shook her head.

  “Actually, I won’t be seeing Lord Wycombe anymore, Morris. I’ll find a hansom cab when I’m ready to return home.”

  “But it’s Christmas Eve, Miss Ivy,” Morris exclaimed in an appalled voice. “It will be most difficult to find a hackney in St. James Square later this evening.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Morris. But I’ll be quite all right. I won’t have another opportunity to visit the library before I leave for Italy.”

  “I do wish you would reconsider, Miss Ivy.” There was an underlying hint of disquiet in Morris’s words, and she was certain he wasn’t referring to her visiting the library.

  Avoiding the servant’s gaze in the mirror, Ivy stared at her reflection. Was that stricken expression really hers? It was the same look she’d seen on her face the day Caroline had betrayed her so long ago. It was with relief when Morris informed her the hack was at the front door.

  She knew the butler was worried about her, and the longer she remained in his presence, the stronger the likelihood that he would stay through the holiday. Not meeting the butler’s gaze, she swept past him and climbed into the small vehicle as Morris paid the driver her fare. With great care, her servant picked up the blanket on the cab’s seat and laid it carefully across Ivy’s knees. As Morris closed the door of the cab, she forced a smile to her lips and touched his hand on the top of the door.

  “Happy Christmas, Morris. I expect you and Mrs. Morris to enjoy the holiday with your family. Be sure to let the rest of the staff know they’re not to return until late tomorrow evening.”

  Ignoring the deep concern on the butler’s face, she looked up at the small window in the vehicle’s roof and ordered the cabbie to drive on. The vehicle jerked forward and she sank back into the cab’s leather seat. Despite her warm clothing and the blanket across her legs, the frosty night air bit into her skin. Darkness had fallen on the city a short time ago, and it only emphasized the bleakness weighting down on her.

  Her sigh blew out a soft cloud of warmth from her lips as she numbly watched last-minute shoppers hurrying out of few shops still open at this late hour. Two days ago, she’d been one of those customers, happily calling out season’s greetings to strangers as she’d hurried home to wrap Simon’s present.

  Why on earth did she persist in torturing herself like this? It was over. Finished. There was no going back now. One could never go back. Her cousin might have been quite resourceful when it came to Thornton Whitby, but not even Caroline could turn back the clock.

  Whitby. He’d been the first man to pay any attention to her, and she’d fallen quickly for his smooth compliments and false promises. He’d even said he loved her. When he’d demanded she prove her love, she willingly given her body and heart to the man.

  Ivy knew now that her submission to Whitby’s caresses had been born out of a need for someone to love her. But she’d not realized that at the time of Caroline’s betrayal. All she’d known then was that the one person who’d said they’d loved her had stolen Ivy’s chance for happiness. Perhaps she should forgive her cousin. After all, Caroline had saved her from a miserable life with Whitby. Ivy released a soft, scornful laugh.

  At the time, if Whitby had known about Ivy’s inheritance he would no doubt have offered for her. Instead, he married Caroline. Looking back, she now saw the man for the overbearing boor he’d been, but it didn’t make her cousin’s betrayal any less painful. Caroline deserved to find herself a penniless widow with three mouths to feed.

  Wincing at the bitterness of her thoughts, Ivy burrowed deeper into the cab’s warm wool blanket. When had she become such an embittered woman? Ivy released another breath that clouded white in front of her. Even the frosty air blowing across her face wasn’t as frigid as the ice that had sluiced through her veins the moment Caroline had entered the salon. Bile rose in her throat, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Caroline or her children.

  An image of three small girls forced their way into her thoughts. Their sweet smiles made it impossible to dismiss the memory. Especially little Ivy. When the child had raced forward to hug her—Ivy quickly banished the thought. Why would Caroline name her youngest daughter after her? It had to be a ploy of some sort. A way to atone for her betrayal. Ivy bit down on her lip as bitterness welled up inside her. If Caroline hoped for any redemption from her, then her cousin was sorely mistaken. The woman had made her choice a long time ago. Ivy could never forgive such a brutal betrayal.

  But the children. She winced. Simon had been right to take her to task about sending them away. They’d looked so thin in their threadbare clothes. Still their smiles had been sweet and cheerful. Euripides had said that the gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children. Were Caroline’s children responsible for their mother’s sins? Could she abandon them to poverty so easily?

  The hack rolled to a stop and interrupted her chaotic thoughts. Throwing the blanket aside, Ivy gasped softly at the loss of heat. The library wouldn’t be much warmer. Perhaps Morris had been right. It might have been a mistake to come here. She shook her head. No the library had always been a haven for her. A place of quiet solitude. The driver, having jumped down from his seat, opened the door.

  She gave a start as she stared into his weathered face. There was something so familiar about him that it made her heart skip a beat. It was as if he was an old friend she’d not seen in a long time, and it made her want to impulsively reach forward and touch his face. The outrageous notion held her in place for a moment as she struggled to place him. She immediately shook off her fanciful thoughts. No doubt, she’d been one of his customers in the past and remembered the kind, avuncular air about him.

  “It don’t seem right leaving ye ‘ere all alone, miss,” a frown crossed the man’s face. “Why not let me take ye home.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll be perfectly safe inside.”

  “Do ye plan to stay long, miss?” The driver jerked his head toward the library, a worried expression on his kind, but aging, features. “I could fetch ye in a couple of hours. Not too late mind ye, I need to be getting home early, seeing ‘ow’s it’s Christmas Eve and all.”

  The man’s offer was too tempting to reject, and Ivy accepted his hand to alight from the black hansom cab. With a smile of gratitude, she nodded.

  “That would be extremely kind of you. Would nine o’clock be too late?”

  “Not at all, miss. Ye’ll be my last fare for the evening.”

  “Thank you,” Ivy said as she moved up the steps of the library and inserted the ke
y into the door’s lock. “I promise not to keep you waiting.”

  “Don’t mention it, miss,” the driver said as he climbed back up to the high seat of the cab and the door of the library creaked opened. “Hopefully in there ye’ll find the courage to forgive yer cousin. Would be a shame fer ye to let the past deny ye a lifetime of happiness. But then maybe your visitor will help ye.”

  The driver’s words sent shock waves rippling through her. How did he know about Caroline, and what visitor was he talking about? Fear trickled down her spine, and she jerked around to confront the man, but the hansom was already rolling away down the street at a decidedly fast clip.

  Suddenly frightened that she had made a terrible mistake in coming to the library, Ivy quickly passed through the building’s front entrance then locked the door behind her. For a long moment, she stood with her back pressed against the door in the cold, dark foyer pondering the man’s words. He’d said visitor. What if he were to try and break into the library with an accomplice. Ridiculous. What would anyone want from the library at this late hour?

  As for her cousin, the man couldn’t possibly know about Caroline. How could he? She tightened her lips in self-disgust. It was nothing more than her subconscious trying to convince her to forgive her cousin and seek Simon’s forgiveness. Bitterness became a knot in her throat. Simon and Caroline were the ones who needed to seek her forgiveness.

  The sudden notion of offering her cousin the opportunity to atone for her sins flitted through Ivy’s mind. Perhaps there was a way for Caroline to earn Ivy’s forgiveness. Ivy would take the children and raise them as her own if her cousin agreed never to see her daughters again. It would hurt Caroline as deeply as Ivy had been hurt all those years ago. She was certain of it. She would see to it that little Ivy and her sisters would want for nothing.

  An image of her aunt’s vitriolic expression flooded her mind. The picture was so real that she flinched. With a shake of her head, she rejected the vengeful idea. No, she wasn’t that heartless. No matter how deeply hurt she’d been by Caroline’s betrayal or her aunt’s obvious contempt, Ivy refused to become like them. She remembered all too well the loss of her parents. It would be cruel to tear her nieces away from their mother. It didn’t matter that Ivy would never treat them as she’d been treated her. She might despise her cousin, but she couldn’t extract such a torment on three innocent children.

  The day after tomorrow, she’d send word to Barnabas, her solicitor, to see to it that the girls received a warm house to live in, food on the table, and warm clothing. But she’d ensure that Barnabas would administer the funds. She would do nothing for Caroline. Her cousin was quite adept in using her charms to find a suitable husband, and it had been painfully obvious this afternoon that Simon had a great deal of sympathy for Caroline. Her cousin would use that to her advantage.

  Ivy’s stomach lurched at the thought, and she reached up to twist the small key-like knob of the gas light on the wall beside the door. For the first time she realized it was almost as cold in the library as it was outside. In all likelihood, the fireplaces throughout the building had been allowed to die down to nothing but embers.

  Moving across the foyer to the circulation desk, she removed her hat and cape and laid them on the counter. A large stack of books rested at the end of the marble surface waiting for someone to shelve them. Scooping up as many of the texts as she could carry, Ivy examined their labeling then turned to the book stacks. She turned up the gas light attached to one of columns that marked the end of each book aisle then moved down the aisle to replace the first volume.

  She’d shelved at least four books to their rightful place when she heard the wood floor creak slightly as if someone were walking toward her. With a jerk, Ivy whirled around to stare down the empty aisle. In the back of her mind, she heard the cab driver’s words again. She sniffed in self-disgust.

  Blast it, she was allowing her imagination to run wild. She resumed the shelving of the books tucked in the crook of her arm and moved into another section of the book stacks. Again, a board creaked, and her heart thudded frantically in her breast. Ivy set down her books and peered through the bookshelves to the other side of the shelving.

  “Hello, is someone there?”

  Although she hadn’t expected a response, her heart was still racing with fear. When there was no response, she picked up her books and turned to continue down the aisle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something sparkle in the soft rays of the gas light. Ivy turned her head and froze in shock. The necklace dangling like a bookmark from one of the shelved volumes made her suck in a sharp breath.

  Stunned, she could only stare at the diamond and sapphire jewelry. How had it gotten there? In her dazed state, had she brought the necklace with her? No, of course she hadn’t. It couldn’t possibly be the same one. Her fingers curled around the cool jewelry and lifted it to examine it more closely. The stars encrusted with diamonds and sapphires twinkled like a constellation in her hand.

  Ivy’s heart fluttered as she realized how much it looked like the necklace that lay underneath her Christmas tree. Even the detail of the finely-spun gold filigree appeared to be identical to the one she’d touched earlier. Ivy released a small sound of incredulity. She was being a fool. One of the library’s patrons had absent-mindedly left his wife’s Christmas present on the shelf while searching for a book. An act she was certain the poor man would regret tomorrow, if he weren’t already on the verge of an apoplectic fit trying to remember where he’d misplaced the precious object.

  Ivy stared at the necklace a moment longer before stuffing it into her skirt pocket. She’d make sure it was returned to its rightful owner. She retrieved her books and was about to move down the aisle when the whisper of a sound echoed behind her. Frightened, she whirled around to stare down the empty aisle.

  “Do you really think he would have bought a necklace for you that wasn’t uniquely of his own design?”

  The man’s voice reverberated in her ear, and a warm breath caressed her cheek as if someone. A soft cry of fear escaped Ivy’s lips, and the books she carried crashed to the wooden floor as she ran toward the front of the library. She’d only gone a few steps when the necklace she’d put in her pocket materialize in front of her. Heart pounding in fear, she took two quick steps backward, her gaze never leaving the necklace as it swayed in mid-air.

  “Who’s in here? Show yourself,” she croaked.

  “As you wish.” The deep, gravelly voice came from the end of the aisle, and Ivy turned to see a swirling white mist moving toward her.

  Dear lord, a ghost. No one had ever mentioned anything about a ghost in the library before. She trembled as a shape took form in the pearly cloud of air moving toward her. Slowly, the mist evaporated to reveal an elderly gentleman. The man’s hair and beard were neatly trimmed and white as the snow falling outside.

  He wore a black suit coat with two rows of buttons down the front, a pair of striped pants, and white material layered over the tops of his shoes. A cane completed his unusual appearance. While he looked exceedingly dashing with his neatly trimmed white hair, Ivy couldn’t remember ever seeing any man dressed so oddly. The elderly gentleman leaned on his cane, his gnarled fingers curled over the silver wolf cane top. Arching a white eyebrow, he smiled.

  “Well, do I meet with your approval?” The question made Ivy start.

  “You’re not real,” she muttered as she braced herself against the nearest bookshelf. “Either that or I’ve gone mad.”

  “No, my darling, Ivy, I’m as real as you.” He smiled before something like pain crossed his face. “You wished that you’d never met Simon. If after our travels tonight, should you still wish to forget Simon, I shall grant you that wish.”

  There was a courtly manner to the man as he closed the distance between them. She recoiled from him, but not quickly enough. To her amazement, his touch was warm as lifted her hand and brushed his mouth against the back of her hand. She shuddered. How could a ghost’s ha
nd be so warm?

  “I don’t understand,” Ivy shook her head and tried to pull her fingers free of the man’s grasp. For someone her imagination had conjured up, he had a strong grip.

  “You will in time, my dear,” the elderly man said as he squeezed her fingers. “Come, there’s a great deal at stake. I only have a few hours to show you how much you love Simon.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” she exclaimed bitterly as she tried to jerk her hand free of the man’s incredibly strong grip. “I don’t love him. I’m through with him.”

  “I find that difficult to believe, but if after our journey you still wish to forget Simon, I will help you do so.”

  The man’s hand tightened on hers and Ivy gasped as the mist she’d seen moments ago reappeared and swiftly engulfed the two of them. In an instant, the library was gone and she was floating in nothingness.

  Chapter 2

  The newspaper in Simon’s hands rustled like a noisy wind in the quiet of the London Library. He’d already read the daily once today, but the pretense of reading allowed him to observe Miss Ivy Beecham undetected. A soft growl of aggravation rumbled out of him. He’d found it necessary to rearrange his entire morning schedule because of Miss Beecham.

  In fact, if it were not for Anthony’s wayward behavior, he’d most likely be enjoying a sparring match at the club. Instead, he found himself lodged here in the library’s scholarly setting simply to put an end to Anthony’s outrageous notion of marrying beneath his social station. This was his nephew’s second unacceptable infatuation in less than a year, but this time the boy had gone too far. A dalliance with a commoner was one thing, but marrying one was an entirely different matter. He was ready to thrash the boy. As his nephew’s guardian, Simon took his duties seriously, but Anthony was growing exceedingly tiresome when it came to heeding Simon’s advice.

  In a word, it was exasperating. Damned exasperating. Anthony routinely protested Simon’s interference in his personal affairs, but it was clear his nephew needed supervision. The boy was reckless when it came to considering his family’s social status, especially where his heart were concerned. As the Earl of Claiborne, Anthony needed to be more discrete when it came to his romantic liaisons.