Page 22

“Yes, I do not argue that point, but⁠—”

“Close your eyes.”

William obeyed, shutting his eyes with the knowledge that it was futile to fight whatever was to come. The quiet of the smithy disappeared into a melee of merriment, and he could hear Dr. Hadley. Opening his eyes, he found that he and Caroline now stood in a dining room observing a Christmas feast.

Dr. Hadley sat at the head of the table, with his sons and their wives. Mrs. Hadley sat to his left, instead of the customary distance at the foot of the table. She was dressed in a fine velvet gown, with a lacy fichu draping her décolletage and matching the mobcap adorning her fair hair.

Through the door, William could see a second table in the hall where children sat eating their Christmas pie.

The tables were loaded with plates, serving dishes, and gleaming silver. Wine had been poured, and a large Christmas goose had been carved. Hadley’s eldest son finished telling an anecdote, and both men and women burst into laughter.

Caroline squeezed his hand and nodded her head to Dr. Hadley and his wife. They had their heads bent together, and Caroline drew him forward so he could hear what they were saying.

“You invited the blacksmith, and he declined?”

“Yes, Martha. I practically chased him down the street to deliver the invitation.”

Martha was a cheerful, buxom woman who took part in charitable works about town. Her blonde hair was now streaked with gray, but her blue eyes were still lively with humor and intelligence. She had been a friend of William’s mother, who had died when he was a boy, and she had always made a point of seeking him out to ask after his well-being. Shame at his lack of interest in the generous woman suddenly presented itself, to William’s dismay.

“I worry over little William.” William nearly snorted—he was twice the size of Mrs. Hadley. “He has not been the same since he returned from the war. I fear his mother would be most disappointed in me for allowing such aloofness to develop in her sweet boy. It is high time he finds himself a wife. A friend. Anyone.”

“I quite agree. But what am I to do? Every holiday I invite him to join us, and every holiday he declines.”

Martha peered over her shoulder toward her grandchildren, who were eating the feast with gusto, smiles on their little faces as they chattered together. “I just wish he could experience the joy of family. He was such a happy boy before he left to fight Boney. He never smiles anymore. It quite distresses me to think of the change in him. William is a good man.”

Dr. Hadley nodded. “That he is. He runs an honest business and has created work for our men and boys.”

William turned away. Why was Caroline doing this? He had finally rediscovered his living essence, but now he was to be confronted with the consequences of his self-imposed isolation. He tried to pull his hand from her clasp, but she would not let him. She broke off from her low humming.

“Close your eyes, William.”

He did so emphatically, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, nor to ponder his inadequacies. Inadequacies such as being alone today while Dr. Hadley enjoyed a feast with loved ones. The doctor was building a veritable legacy with the sheer number of family and the seasonal elation to be found in this home.

William thought they would return to the smithy, but the sound of festive merriment was replaced by a crackling fire blended with the distant sound of waves crashing on rocks. His eyes flew open to discover Uncle Albert and Aunt Gertrude sitting at their dining room table with a small feast laid out. A third place had been set, but there was no evidence of a guest.

Just as before, Aunt Gertrude appeared sad. She had appeared sad since learning of the death of Charles, her only child. William had not seen her cheery in some years.

“I had hoped that this year he would come. He is all we have left.”

Uncle Albert exhaled deeply. “Perhaps it was a mistake to leave Chatternwell.”

Aunt Gertrude nodded. “It was. William has not been the same since …” She struggled to a halt. “We should have stayed for his sake. Do you think … he knows we love him?”

“I do not know, dear. You told him he was invited, I presume?”

“Every holiday. I told him there is always a place laid for him, if he ever changes his mind and finds the time to join us. I … I just want him to be happy again.”

William was stricken. He did not mean to cause his last remaining family any more pain than he already had.

Once again, he felt his eyes moisten, admitting to himself that his conduct had been selfish. He had not stopped to think that his beloved aunt might need him, that he had a responsibility. His life had been spared, while Charles had sacrificed his. It was William’s duty to be there for his relations, to bring them some peace and not to be a cause of concern.

It was hard to stomach that his uncle and aunt had retired to Cornwall three years earlier, and William had yet to visit them.

Turning to Caroline, he pulled her firmly around by the hand so she stood in front of him.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded.

“No man can live alone, William. You must cherish the support of your friends. You must cherish the family you have left. You must accept that they are there for you, and you are there for them. You deserve to be loved.”