Chapter 9
A day without Seth left Sybilla downcast. How had she endured nine years? When the second day dawned, she dressed and ate early. There was much to do at the village church with Christmas Eve now one day away. Work and hope sent her out the door.
Astburn lay a brisk thirty-minute walk from the dower house. She reached the surgery first and hesitated. It would take no time at all to check on Seth’s trip. A few days ago, she would have feared being forward, but that feeling was long gone. She knocked.
No one answered. Mrs. Duncan, of course, didn’t live in, and the morning was early. Perhaps… She knocked again, hoping to rouse Seth. Again, no answer.
“Oh Miss Somer, the doctor isn’t home yet. I waited late last eve, but he never came.” Mrs. Duncan, a loaded market basket over her arm, hastened to the door and unlocked it. “I confess I popped in before I went to market. He’s not back. Will you come in for tea?”
He must have stayed over in Woodbridge. It is only a half day away. He shouldn’t be long. She had loaned him her horse to speed his journey.
“Thank you, but no. I promised the vicar I’d be over early to set up the stable, the risers, and the props. The children will be coming in the afternoon to practice.”
She hummed a carol and went about cleaning the church and directing the men setting the stage for the pageant. Her heart was full of joy in the knowledge that Seth would surely be back that day. Practice went smoothly even though her heart raced, expecting him to come at any moment.
He didn’t. Nor did he come during the night.
When she inquired mid-morning on her way to church to prepare on the morning of Christmas eve, there had been no sign of him.
Old memories and old fears, ugly and depressing, curdled in her belly.
She chided herself not to be a ninny. He wouldn’t leave her again without notice.
The first time hadn’t even been his fault. He wouldn’t. Would he?
Farm hands brought a cart full of evergreen and holly, and news that Sir Whittleby’s folks had burned the old fishing shack to the ground.
She didn’t have time to dwell on the magistrate or Seth’s absence. The women’s committee scurried about hanging garlands and tying bows.
Paul Jones lumbered into town with his donkey pulling a small cart loaded with straw. “M’ ma said as you might need some.”
They did. She directed Paul to tie his animal beside the church until his grand entrance, and asked him to carry the straw up front to the makeshift stable.
When Jacky Cramer arrived herding two sheep, her heart broke.
His sister had come down from a farm near Ipswich as soon as she heard about their grandfather.
A sensible girl, she’d organized a funeral and assured Jacky he had a home with her and her husband.
They were taking the sheep with them. Jacky created a loose pen on the other side of the church away from the donkey.
All was ready by late afternoon, when growing darkness reminded her they were in the shortest days of the year. The pageant would be in a few hours, and still she saw no sign of Seth. She went to the vicarage with leaden feet and heavier heart to change her clothes and have a light supper.
The children began to arrive early as she had ordered.
Becky Holden beamed at her in her cleaned gown and new white wings.
The Holdens would be in want of sheets this winter.
She hugged Sybilla and hobbled to the front on her crutch.
Frank Holden had contrived a platform for her to sit on to the left and slightly back from the stable in front of the altar.
He would lift her up before they started.
In the candlelit church she would be in shadow until Frank and the curate lifted raised lanterns on hooks on either side of her to light her announcement.
The curate lit candles; the vicar stood at the door greeting parishioners. Sybilla stepped out into the street and peered down at the surgery. It was dark. Her heart sank even further. It was time to start. Without him.
Sybilla sent the children playing townspeople down the side aisle, went out, and found Nan Potter, dressed as Mary, squabbling with Paul Jones who would take the part of Joseph and manage his donkey. They quieted at one word from Sybilla who helped Nan sit on the beast. Paul led them to the door.
The children began to sing and the pageant was on. Sybilla spared a quick prayer for Seth and sent Mary and Joseph down the aisle. Jacky hovered at the door in the dark with his sheep. The blacksmith’s boy, also dressed as a shepherd, stood with him. Three boys dressed as magi stood behind them.
Sybilla took a deep breath. It all went well. Nan gracefully removed the doll from under her cloak on cue, the donkey behaved, and the two junior shepherds started down the aisle with two sheep.
Sybilla leaned against the wall at the back of the church and wiped away a tear. It was perfect, and not at all what she had hoped.
But then, her hand was gripped in a familiar hold, and Seth slipped in to stand next to her against the wall, while the children sang about the shepherds. Candlelight glinted off his hair, but his face was in shadow. He wore his greatcoat and had obviously come directly from the road.
“Where’ve you been?” she hissed, keeping her eyes on Jacky parading toward the front. “I was becoming afraid.”
“That I wouldn’t come?”
“That you were hurt somehow.” She poked him with her elbow.
“I went to Norwich.”
She glared at him then. “Why on earth?” she whispered.
“I bought a gift. For both of us. I would have been back sooner, but the bishop did not take kindly to being disturbed so close to a holy day.”
Sybilla blinked rapidly trying to decipher his meaning. Bishop?
He reached into his coat and took out a sheaf of paper, handing it to her.
She tipped it so she could read it.
“It’s a marriage license!” People turned to stare. She put her hand over her mouth.
“A common license. We can be married in a week.” Seth kept his voice down.
She stared at the paper, overcome.
Seth’s voice cracked. “That is, if you want to. Did I presume too much?”
Suddenly, lanterns lit up the front.
Sybilla put her free hand around his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss.
“Is that ‘yes’?” he mouthed, his lips on hers.
Becky’s voice boomed through the church. “Behold I bring you tidings of great joy.”
Sybilla kissed Seth with determination. They missed the rest of the angel’s announcement. Only when the bells began to ring at the conclusion of the service did they break apart, smiling with great joy indeed.
The End
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If you are intrigued by the infamous will and the Clarion Bastards, you will enjoy Caroline’s series, The Ashmead Heirs. You can find them and all her books here: