Chapter 15
Good Will Toward Men
On Christmas Eve, the ballroom at Maxwell Manor looked festive.
Holly, ivy, and bay were strung around the room, with mistletoe in a select few corners.
Thousands of candles were placed along the room's edge, giving the place a yellowing glow that made it feel as if the stars had taken refuge inside. Rather than chairs, large fluffy cushions were placed in circles around the space, and everyone sat on the floor like children. A small country band played happy tunes, and people of all ages and classes danced playfully in the room’s center.
Banquet tables on the far end of the room were laden with goose, yorkshire puddings, mincemeat pies, and elaborate gingerbread displays.
Luke quickly found his Merritt family. John stood off to the right, talking with a group of young men about a deer hunt.
Lady Merritt was on the left, happily laughing with a large gathering of Harleston mothers.
Lord Merritt sat on a cushion in the far corner, trying to convince a small boy to join in the dancing, and Clara was, of course, in the center of everything.
She had already spoken to each and every guest, over half of which she knew personally, and now danced with a group of young children.
They held hands and galloped in a large circle.
“Children,” she plotted gleefully, “convince Lord Maxwell to join us!”
Immediately, the twenty small patrons released their hands and came toward him. Blast you, Clara! He silently cursed. But as he went to give her a frustrated look, he wholly forgot why he had been angry in the first place.
Clara Merritt looked more beautiful tonight than Luke had ever seen her.
She wore a simple white dress, with a red and green front laced corset atop it.
Her hair was styled in two high buns, with holly leaves and berries pinned in place.
Two long, blonde curls were left loose, framing her slender face.
The children gripped his arms and gently pulled him to Clara, a direction his body readily accepted.
Within seconds, he stood before her and had a desperate urge to kiss her satisfied smile.
“Happy Christmas, Luke,” she whispered as she took his hand, gently guiding him to stand beside her. Then she announced to the children, “Get in place! Before he runs away!” They all quickly formed their galloping circle again, this time with the baron in its round.
Luke laughed as they continued to circle round and round, his mind returning to his childhood at Rosecrest. He felt as if he was once again that little boy who desperately wanted somewhere to belong.
Somewhere to call home. Someone to call family.
Never could that young Luke have guessed he would be here, in his welcoming estate, surrounded by friends, holding the hand of the beautiful Clara Merritt.
Eventually, the music stopped, and the children dizzily made it back to their parents.
“Here comes my favorite part,” Clara whispered as she released Luke’s hand, and instead placed her light fingers upon his elbow.
At Lord Merritt’s direction, each family gathered together and sat down on their cushions.
John had selected a spot in the back, and waved for Clara and Luke to join him.
So, John, Luke, Clara, and Lady Merritt settled into a small circle of pillows.
Lord Merritt stood at the front of the room, his arms spread out wide.
“Thank you for coming,” he announced to the guests.
“Lord Maxwell has so graciously allowed us to come and share our traditions with you.” The crowd cheered in applause.
“And to end our night, I wish to tell you a story.” A hush fell over the room, the only sound the crackling of the large Christmas fire.
Lord Merritt searched the audience to meet Clara’s eye.
Only with her nod, did he begin. “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed ...”
The atmosphere was beyond peaceful as Lord Merritt shared, from memory, the biblical version of the first Christmas night.
All over the room, children snuggled into their mothers.
Fathers placed a loving arm around their grown sons.
A few old men shed tears, and the room was filled with a tender love that united the community together.
“Luke,” Lady Merritt whispered. He turned his head to see John and Clara tucked in close to their mother’s side, just like the small children. “Come here, my boy,” she urged with affection.
And so, Luke joined in the family cuddle.
John had his arm around his mother. Clara was tucked up with her back against Lady Merritt’s chest, so Luke slid into the opposite side.
Sitting close to them all, but not actually touching.
That did not last long however, because soon the countess took hold of one of his hands.
John placed a hand upon his shoulder, and Clara looked up, her face full of true, genuine joy.
Her perfect smile painted so boldly across her face, Luke couldn’t help but reach for her, taking his hand that wasn’t with her mother, and placing it gently on her upper arm.
And as Luke felt the warmth and love that seemed to emanate from the whole room, his heart understood the story in a way it never had before.
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
“Happy Christmas!” Clara rang out as John entered the breakfast room the following morning.
“How long have you been awake?” her brother asked in return, rubbing his eyes from the bright morning sun shining into the small parlor.
They had been up long into the night, and most of the family had slept in late.
All of the servants were invited to be with family on Christmas day, so Clara was, quite literally, the only one awake in the house for several hours.
“Well, I wanted to make sure I gave you your gift before you went for your ride,” she explained, wasting no time, in handing John the large parcel.
“This is perfect!” he exclaimed as he opened his new saddle bag. “Thank you, Clara!” He retrieved his gift for her, which was a beautiful case of lavender smelling salts, before leaving for the stables.
Not long after, Papa and Mother entered the breakfast room together. They all exchanged a “Happy Christmas,” and then Clara gave them each their gifts. They sat and ate a small breakfast before her parents returned to their rooms.
After waiting in the breakfast parlor for another quarter hour, Clara’s patience had run thin.
What is taking Luke so long? She could not sit any longer.
She picked up his gift and headed to the study.
If you are working on Christmas Day … She mentally chastened him.
But the baron was not in the study. Hmmm.
She searched the library, the stables, and the portrait hall.
She even knocked on his bedroom door, but Luke was nowhere to be found.
Finally, she admitted defeat, and made her way to the drawing room to wait for him.
But as she passed by Joan and Leopold guarding the ballroom entrance, she heard a noise.
The large mahogany doors muffled the sound as Clara leaned her ear up against it. Had someone slept in the ballroom rather than returning home? She slowly pushed the door open a crack, and as she did so, the sound became much clearer. Someone sang a low, rich baritone version of Joy to the World.
She froze, not wanting her presence to interrupt the performance.
The door was not open enough for anyone to see her, though that meant she also could not see who was singing such a beautiful hymn.
After a few minutes, the song ended, and Clara waited silently to see if another one would follow.
She had her entire body pressed up against the door, listening intently for a second carol.
The door swung open, and Clara tipped into the singing guest. “My apologies!” she mumbled as the man caught her in his arms. She instinctively reached for him as well and was surprised when she made contact with a familiar arm. “Luke?”
“Clara?” He appeared equally confused. “What are you doing?” They both stood there, neither answering the other for several seconds.
“I heard singing?” Clara was still trying to process what had happened, her hands on Luke’s forearms, his protective arms wrapped around her waist. Luke’s face turned red.
“You were singing,” she realized. “And you were amazing,” she added, which only deepened Luke’s blush.
As she looked at his ruby cheeks, color directly above his head caught her eye.
“Luke.” She gestured with her eyes to look up.
His pink face tilted upwards, and he saw it, too.
The couple stood directly below a sprig of mistletoe.
“Is there a berry left?” Clara asked. Tradition had it that any couple who found themselves under the mistletoe must share a kiss.
After the kiss, the couple removed a berry from the bunch.
When all of the berries were gone, no more kisses were exchanged.
Luke squinted up at the plant, searching for a white berry. “No,” he answered in a strange voice.
They met eyes again. “I was looking for you so I could give you-” Clara put her hands down. “Your gift I do not know where it went!” Luke released her, and they both searched the floor. “It is fairly large, I am not sure where it could have gone.”
Eventually, Luke was wise enough to step back out into the foyer. “Clara,” he called, “I found it!”
“I must have dropped it when I heard your song,” she concluded as she retrieved the package from its place beside Leopold’s toe. “It is a good thing it is not fragile.” She handed Luke the gift. “Actually, this seems like the perfect place to open it. Happy Christmas!”
“Happy Christmas, Clara,” he responded as he carefully opened the pouch.
He was immediately greeted by a large stack of white fabric.
He reached in and picked up one small kerchief, and then another, and another.
Each were hand-embroidered with his initials.
“Thank you,” he said, as he continued to pull out more and more.
He tried to keep a straight, grateful face, but Clara could see his confusion. She laughed. “Oh, Luke. Don’t pull them all out.”
“How many are there?” he asked, both hands were now full of satin fabric.
“One hundred,” she giggled. She had worked hard to finish the embroidery in time.
“One hundred?!” The shock displayed openly on his face, just as Clara had hoped.
“Why yes, as a knight, you must go through many handkerchiefs, and I am sure most of those poor damsels in distress forget to return them.”
Luke laughed, loud and merrily. He continued to pull out more and more handkerchiefs.
“Stop!” Clara yelled. “We shall be here all day!” But Luke gave her a mischievous smile and pulled out yet another.
She reached for the parcel, but he took a step backwards as he continued to pull them out one by one.
He unfolded more than would fit in his large hands, so he animatedly shoved the fabric into his sleeves, his collar, his pockets … “Stop!” Clara giggled, chasing him.
She had backed him into a corner. “Don’t!” She laughed, playfully clutching his hands. Luke quickly lifted the package above his head, out of her reach. But in his playful move, he unintentionally knocked something down.
Clara’s eyes followed the falling object, and she discovered it was mistletoe, now littering the floor, a large white berry boldly on display.
“You were standing under mistletoe,” she acknowledged quietly.
Luke lowered his arms. His playful smile disappeared as Clara crouched down and plucked the berry.
Did the tradition still apply when someone knocked the mistletoe to the floor?
“Clara?” Luke whispered, his voice dripping with emotion, though she could not decide what emotion it was.
She straightened back up, turned toward him, and—before she could convince herself otherwise—kissed him. It was short, simple, and playful. If an onlooker blinked, they might have missed it.
But it was obviously a mistake, because Luke's mood instantly dampened. He did not meet her eye, but instead put all of the satin kerchiefs back into their parcel. “Thank you again for the gift,” he remarked stiffly as he scurried from the room.