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A Berkshire

Christmas

A Regency Christmas Story

S. J. White

CONTENTS

Copyright 2019 by S. J. White

ISBN:

Cover design

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval system except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews without permission in writing from its author, S. J. White.

The characters and events portrayed in this historical novel are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Apart from well-known historical figures, any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or not intended by the author.

To my mother, Lillian Jane Huck White, who loved Christmas as much as I do. She also believed in true love.

Also to Yona White who loved me unconditionally and to my pint-sized Heather Rose White. Also to the new addition our family, Annie Belle White.

Chapter One

London, England

December 20, 1812

S imon Audley, the Earl of Stratmore, didnt wish to attend The Earl and Countess of Braxton's Christmas Ball, but his friend, David Chambers, implored to show his face for an hour or two. It was late when his carriage dropped him off. He hurried up the steps not watching where he was going.

A young woman dashed down the stair as he was climbing up. A collision was inevitable. He only lost his balance, but the lady received the worst of their crash. She ended up sitting on the cold, hard steps.

Simon helped her up as he said, I beg your pardon.

Entirely my fault, my lord. Th e woman hurried away.

Simon still stared after her when she leapt into a waiting carriage. Under the street lamp, he was able to get a good look at the woman and he was struck dumb. He had a feeling she was the woman he had been looking for all his life but at the moment she seemed to be in some distressed. He started to follow her when he looked down and there on the stone steps he found the woman's slipper.

Wait, Simon yelled. You forgot your slipper. He knew he looked like an idiot holding up the slipper, but he didn't care.

I have lost something precious without even knowing it. If only I had arrived earlier I might have Might have what?

Simon placed the dainty slipper inside his jacket and continued up the steps to the Ball, but somehow Christmas seemed rather flat this year.

He would leave London tomorrow to join his mother and the rest of his family in Berkshire until after Boxing Day. He wasn't looking forward to spending time with his family. He would rather be searching London for his mystery woman.

After he returned he would begin his search for the woman. How hard could it be to find one woman in society.

Surely she will attend some of the same parties I do, but then again this is the first time I have ever seen her.

Simon's visit to his mother was rather boring. It wasn't as if he didn't want to spend Christmas with his family, but he was anxious to return to London to begin his search. He dreamed of their brief encounter every night and thought about her during the day.

His sister, Caroline, went on and on about the accomplishments of her two unruly children. Her son, Thomas, a rambunctious three-year-old, was always getting into mischief. The boy was the very image of his father which wasn't saying much. Caroline's daughter, two-year-old Emma, just drooled over everyone. Still, he found her sweetness hard to resist. He wanted one just like her someday. Soon! If possible!

At Christmas dinner, Caroline informed the family that she was increasing again. Simon silently groaned. That information was enough for him to lose his appetite.

Simon's youngest sister was not yet out in Society. She would make her debut in the Spring. He got the impression that she wasn't looking forward to it as most young ladies were. Emily had always been most at home with her beloved books, dogs, and horses.

One afternoon, Simon planned to go to the nearest tavern with his younger brother. John was four years younger than Simon, but they looked so much alike they could have been twins. They were the same height, the same dark hair and had the same twinkling blue eyes. Their facial features were very similar with the same nose, mouth, and eyebrows.

His mother, Beatrice, called him to her sitting room before he could make his escape.

Simon found his mother lounging on a settee near the fire. She was in her late forties but never seemed to age. She had the same youthful appearance he remembered from his own youth.

You wish to see me, Mother. John and I were just going out for a while, Simon said.

Your taverns or bawdy houses can wait a few minutes. Beatrice grinned.

Simon's gasped was exaggerated. Mother, you are not supposed to know about such places.

Oh, poo, Simon. Of course, I know about taverns and bawdy houses. I pulled your Uncle James out of such places in his youth.

Simon's gasp was real this time with his jaw dropping in shock. You are talking about Bishop James Tellison? Uncle James?

What other Uncle James do you have? It was before he found his religious calling. This has gotten me off the subject that I wish to speak to you about.

Go ahead, Mother, I'm listening. Simon's mind was still on his Uncle James. The man who was still sleeping upstairs.

You are nearly twenty-eight-years-old. It is time you married and produced an heir and more than one. You will need a spare or two. Your father married me when he was twenty-six.

Simon thought his mother was jesting until he saw her eyes. She wasn't smiling.

Mother, I am not father. John is my heir at present, so I'm not worried about the title. I will marry when I find the right woman and not before. Simon thought of his mystery woman from the Braxton Ball for a second.

All right, Simon, I will make a deal with you, Beatrice said, with a smile.

What sort of deal?

Simon eyed his mother suspiciously for a moment before she answered, You must wed by your thirtieth birthday. That will give you two more years to carouse or do whatever young men do.

Simon had always came out the loser every time he made a deal with his mother before. This time might be different. It would give him two years to find the girl from the ball. Surely, he would be able to manage to find her in all that time. Meanwhile, the pressure for him to wed would off his shoulders.

You will not mention marriage for the next two years, mother? Not a word? Not even a subtle hint?

Not a peep until Christmas Day two years from now, Beatrice agreed. Meanwhile, I will work on your brother and don't warn John.

Simon laughed. We have a deal, Mother, but I would not be a good brother if I didnt even hint at what you have in mind.

Very well. Hint away. Now off with you. Enjoy yourself while you can. Beatrice waved her hand at her beloved eldest son.

Simon found his brother pacing the foyer. What took so long?

Not what, who, our dear mother wanted to chat. Simon had to chuckle.

Did she give you the marriage lecture about your duty to marry and produce an heir, John said, with a laugh.

Something like that. Heirs in the plural. Oh, yes, you know mother so well.

The butler, Higgins, helped the brothers on with their winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves before they left the house.

Their horses were saddled, ready and waiting for them once they were outside.

Simon glanced up at the dark skies and held out his hand. Soft snowflakes landed on his palm.

Are you sure you are up for this? Simon was having second thoughts about traveling in this weather even for the few miles to the village tavern.

Oh, yes. As much as I love Caroline and her children, there is just so much of their mischief I can take.