Page 3 of Enchanting By Candlelight (Sweet Christmas Novella)

Anthony stood on the terrace in his room. It overlooked the mountains and the lake below. If there was any place he might consider for his final path to healing, this was certainly it. The air was crisp and clean, and nothing but tranquility as far as the eye could see.

All during his years on the ship, fighting under Admiral Nelson, one of the finest men he’d known, he had never imagined the tragedy that awaited them all at the Battle of Trafalgar. Not only did Horatio perish from enemy fire, but that was also when Anthony had been severely injured trying to hold off the enemy’s embarkment by manning one of the ship’s carronades. He’d been cut down by a bayonet, but his efforts hadn’t been in vain. With the assistance of his fellow comrades, they had won a major victory for England that day, although it was bittersweet with the loss of their commander and so much more.

Anthony knew the battle ahead was far from over, for many of the men—and especially for him. When he’d been taken below deck to see the surgeon, he was told that he would never see out of his right eye again. When he’d heard that, something inside of him had died alongside his commanding officer. He’d immediately thought of the letters he’d carefully kept in a bundle close to his bunk, the ones that had come from an infatuated child. But her kind innocence had helped him through the worst.

He soon realized that he couldn’t continue to fan her childish dreams and stopped writing back, because he would never be able to offer her anything more than a ruined shell of a man. He would never be whole as he had been. It was best to let her hate him, rather than pray for his return and be disgusted by his monstrous appearance when he did. He would have to break his promise to a girl whom he had hoped would one day become his bride.

But no longer.

It had taken him weeks to recover, but those days encompassed the wounds that others could see. The personal ones ran a lot deeper than that. He’d soon fallen into a deep despair that he didn’t dare pass on to anyone else. No one could help him, and he wasn’t about to become a burden. He had to face these demons alone. He’d pushed everyone away because he thought it was for the best.

For years, he’d wandered in his own misery, traveling from one part of England to another, until he’d finally settled in the small town of Braithwaite, not far from where he was now. Of course, only his family knew that he’d managed to put together a quiet life for himself in this rugged part of the country. It was so different from anything that he’d known before, that he’d decided to stay, much to the initial dismay of his mother. She had always wanted him to remain near London and return to the social whirl, but it was the last thing he needed. The peace he’d found here was worth more than any debutante with her enticing dowry that he might have wed. He hadn’t told his mother that he was a working man now, she would surely faint from the idea that a gentleman was doing such menial labor, but becoming a fisherman and spending hours upon the sea had done wonders for his torn soul.

He had decided that he wouldn’t darken any doors in London once he’d reconciled with his family, but that was before he’d received word from his sister that Jacob’s mother had passed. On impulse, he’d gone to see his long-time friend. It had been a stilted reunion at first, but they soon started to laugh about the antics from their youth and he remembered what it had been like to be… normal. It wasn’t until Jacob had invited him to spend Christmas with them in Cumbria that Anthony had been taken aback. He might have declined the offer, except Jacob mentioned her. Miranda—the girl he’d left behind with a broken heart.

Once he’d learned that she had mourned her mother quite heavily, Anthony knew he had to make amends for all those lost years. She had been the one bright light in his dismal world, and he had the opportunity to help ease her pain now…if she would let him.

He pondered their initial meeting and couldn’t decide if it was the shock of seeing him again that had caused her to falter, or the shock of him. For a long time, he’d worn a patch over his eye, but it had started to become a bother, so he’d dared to discard it. People were wont to stare at him either way, so they might as well solve their curiosity by finding out what had been hiding beneath the leather strap for so long.

He expelled a heavy breath. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy for Miranda to see him either way. He certainly didn’t blame her if she refused to do so. He had treated her badly, and for no other reason than his own upset.

But that didn’t keep him from praying for a Christmas miracle.

When he closed his eyes, Anthony kept seeing the child she’d once been, and when she’d walked into the hotel, he had noticed some of the characteristics she had always carried, like her curly, chestnut hair and those bright, green eyes that sparkled with life. He noted that a bit of that sparkle had dulled somewhat, likely because she had become a disillusioned woman.

He clutched the railing in front of him. Oh, yes, that part had certainly changed. Her curves were perfect, made for a man’s hands. And had things been different, if he hadn’t been hurt and buried his head in the sand like the coward he was, he might have been granted the chance to court her upon his return from the Navy. He could have greeted her with a hero’s welcome. Although he had been noted for his service to Crown and country, it was nothing compared to the prize he would have in Miranda Applegate.

With one last glance out at the scenic, winter view before him, Anthony told himself that he had one opportunity to repair things with Miranda. If he failed, then he wouldn’t bother her any longer. He would leave the hotel and fade away into the night without a backward glance. He told himself he should do that now, but he owed her too much to go now. He had to try to earn her respect, at the very least. He might not have much in this life, but he did have his honor.

It might very well be all he had left to give.

But it was hers.

Miranda told herself that she was prepared to see Anthony again, but when she inspected her appearance in the mirror later that evening, she wondered if she hadn’t been fooling herself.

She had dressed in her finest gown, a violet satin with black lace trim. She thought it was one of the few half-mourning gowns that complimented her features, but when she’d stared at her reflection with a critical eye, she suddenly felt so drab. And it didn’t matter how many times she tried to style her hair, it wouldn’t do anything but fly around her head, in an uncontrollable mess.

Frustrated, she finally pulled it back into a simple knot and pinned it at the nape of her neck. At least she didn’t have to pinch her cheeks to add any color, because her anger was high enough to offer enough.

She grabbed her reticule and left her rooms but stopped abruptly over the threshold when she saw Elaine standing on the other side, her hand poised to knock. They startled each other and began to laugh, which helped to ease some of Miranda’s earlier tension.

With a sheepish expression, her sister said, “Jacob wanted me to come and check on you since you were running late.” She didn’t mention about how they likely all thought Miranda might not appear since Anthony was there.

It was nice that Miranda had a supportive family who would help her over any hurdle. They had always been there for her when she needed them most.

“I had a slight altercation with my hairbrush,” she teased. “But everything is fine now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Nevertheless, her sister knew her almost better than she knew herself and threaded her arm through hers as they headed down the hall. After a moment, she said quietly, “I know it must be difficult to see Anthony again.”

“Nonsense.” Miranda lifted her chin in case there was any doubt. “It wasn’t as if there was anything between us. I was a child when I saw him last.”

“I know how much you adored him,” Elaine pointed out.

“I shall always care for him because he was such good friend to Jacob. I appreciate his loyalty to our family.”

“But you wrote to him—”

Miranda stopped walking, forcing Elaine to do the same. She looked at her steadily. “Please don’t think anything more of it, Ellie. Whatever I might have felt toward Anthony—or rather, Mr. Gravehill—has long since passed. He is merely an acquaintance now. Don’t fret over me.”

Elaine lifted a brow. “And yet, you nearly fainted when you saw him.”

“The journey was tedious,” she returned firmly. “And I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “You are hardly in your dotage, Randie.”

“And yet, there are days I feel much older.” She paused. “Especially after Mama passed.”

With a comforting squeeze to her hand, Elaine’s blue eyes were sympathetic when she said, “It will be difficult for us all not to have her with us this year, which is why I think it’s best we spend this time away from London. Even if we used to spend most of the holiday at Jacob’s estate, there are too many memories all around to haunt us. A change of scenery will no doubt, help to ease any doldrums we might be feeling from her loss.”

Miranda smiled. “No doubt it will.” As she offered the assurance, she wasn’t certain anywhere would keep her from feeling the pang of her mother’s absence this Christmas. She had been the closest to their mother in her last days, since she had stayed with Miranda.

They walked into the private dining room together, and Miranda found that she was grateful for the support. As if eager to lay her eyes on him again, he was the first face she saw. He was standing and talking with her brother, his face in profile. From that angle, he almost looked as he had the last time she’d seen him at her parents’ Christmas party before the war.

However, as he turned his head upon her arrival, the sight of that white eye and the dreadful scar he would always carry with him was still quite shocking. Her heart ached for him, yet again, and she knew his recovery had been fierce.

She averted her gaze as her sister-in-law, Catharine, approached and greeted her warmly.

“Hello, Miranda. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you when you arrived.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” she replied. “How is Mary doing?” Jacob had written her before she’d left London and told her that their youngest child had been suffering from a case of the croup. It had struck when they had been traveling to Cumbria, but with love and care from her parents, Miranda had no doubt she would recover soon enough.

The relief in Catharine’s voice was proof enough of her assumption. “Better.” She glanced over to where the three-year-old toddler was playing with her twin siblings and Elaine’s daughter, Elizabeth, who was a year younger. “She’s actually starting to act like herself again.”

“That is very good, indeed.”

Catharine turned back to her. “We have much to be thankful for.” She put a hand to her stomach. “And with another one on the way…”

Miranda gasped in delight and reached out to hug her brother’s wife. “Congratulations! I know my brother is thrilled to be expanding his family.”

As if he’d heard his name, Jacob walked over and joined them. Anthony followed as well. “What’s going on over here?”

Catharine glanced at her husband. “I told Miranda our news. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m thrilled for you both,” Miranda said honestly. Although she always felt the pang of not having her own children, she was starting to accept the fact she would be alone.

“Do you have any children, Miranda?”

She looked at Anthony, and although he was reduced to seeing out of one eye, it was just as direct and piercing as she recalled. “No. I do not.”

He studied her carefully, and she had to wonder what he was thinking. “Have you not been married?” he asked.

She smiled tightly. She found it uncomfortable to admit that she had given up all of her dreams in lieu of the fantasy that would never appear. “No. I’m content being the spinster aunt.”

“Not a spinster. You can’t be more than nine and twenty. Still plenty of time to find a husband and settle down.”

She straightened her spine. “I find I no longer have the inclination to do so. I already have a household that I manage to run quite well in London.”

Something sparked in that green eye. “Do you?”

Tension crackled in the air, and Jacob had the grace to intervene. “Miranda is quite well known in most literary circles. She is a prominent author of children’s stories.”

A dark eyebrow raised at that. “Is that so?”

She had the sudden feeling she should defend herself, so she said, “Yes. I am. I write anonymously, but I am paid just the same. It is a way I can showcase my talents with both watercolors and verse.”

Catharine’s eyes brightened. “The children have been looking forward to your next book.”

“I shan’t disappoint,” Miranda promised with a smile. When she glanced at Anthony again, his focus was still fixed on her. It was rather unnerving to say the least.

“Shall we eat?” Jacob announced. “I believe dinner is ready.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Elaine’s husband, Daniel, said with a broad grin. He walked over to Miranda and offered her a gallant bow, and then held out his arm. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Applegate?”

She laughed and set her arm on his. “I should be delighted, kind sir.” She had liked Daniel from the first time he had come to call on her sister. She always had adored a man with a sense of humor. At one time Anthony had been delightful as well, but something told her those days were gone with the war.

It was a shame. It was one of the things she’d first adored about him. The first time she’d met Daniel, she’d told Elaine that she thought he was the one. She’d even taken note of how he’d regarded her sister, and his devotion had been real. Together, they had started a family that had made a world of difference in Elaine’s demeanor. They balanced each other perfectly.

Miranda had once thought the same about Anthony. They had always had nice chats when he came to visit with Jacob during leave from school. Other than her siblings, he’d been the only other person she could open up to when something bothered her. But even then, he’d been so much more.

She withheld a sigh and pasted a smile on her face, determined to make it through the rest of the meal without allowing melancholy over the past to bring her down.