Page 43 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
As they continued to unpack the basket, laying out loaves of bread, fruit, and jars of preserves on the only table the house had, Thomas carefully approached the ailing woman.
“Can we go find your husband for you?” he asked. The question was meant to be kind and helpful. But the lip of the little girl who had spoken to Clara, who had shared the cookies with her siblings and then gone back to sit beside her mother, trembled violently.
Agnes’s face clouded with betrayal and sorrow.
“He’s gone. Left us,” she said softly.
Clara felt her heart clench painfully at the woman’s words. To be deserted by a husband, left with children to fend for, and in a state of health that would make even the simplest tasks monumental was a predicament that twisted her insides with anguish.
Thomas and Julian exchanged glances, and Clara knew they were both thinking the same thing. Agnes was far too ill to be left in her current condition, and the children could not be left alone, were their mother to die. If they were…
Clara glanced at the five children, whose faces were untouched by any semblance of Christmas cheer. She saw their young hopes crushed under the weight of their reality, and that their eyes were bereft of the innocence that should have been their birthright. The youngest appeared to be about six months old, and the oldest seemed to be the little girl, and the only one of the children to speak to any of them since they arrived. Her throat knotted at the unfairness of it all.
Just then, Julian cleared his throat.
“I will speak with Dr. Simmons, my family’s physician,” he said. He’s staying in a neighbouring village for the holidays. The Hawthorne’s local doctor is occupied elsewhere, but perhaps Dr. Simmons can help. I’ll ride out to fetch him.”
Agnes started to protest, no doubt to remind them that she had no money. But Julian walked over to her, patting her frail shoulder gently and giving her a warm smile.
“Do not fret,” he said. “I will take care of everything.”
Clara’s heart pounded in her chest at Julian’s words, her eyes lifting to meet his. She saw the serious intent in his gaze and felt her own gratitude well up so strongly it almost overwhelmed her. There was no question in her mind now about the depth of Julian’s character. Here was a man willing to go to great lengths to support those in need. Even a woman who could not afford the medical care she clearly desperately needed.
“That would be a great kindness,” Agnes said, a glimmer of hope flickering in her worn eyes.
Julian nodded.
“I’ll leave at once,” he said.
Clara’s concern split in that moment. Agnes needed help urgently. But the idea of Julian traveling in the ice and snow made her fearful for his well-being.
“You’ll go now?” she asked nervously.
Julian turned to her, his eyes locking onto hers, and she felt as though he were glimpsing into her very soul.
“It’s a necessary task, Clara,” he said softly, using her name with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine. “One that I must see to immediately.”
Clara nodded, swallowing.
“Yes, of course, you’re right,” she said.
Before either of them could speak again, there was another tug on her skirt. This time, it was a little boy of only about four, and he said nothing, but he looked up at her with tired, hungry eyes. As she turned back to the children, kneeling to offer them a smile and a small toy from the basket, Clara felt the stirrings of a deeper commitment within her. Whatever happened, she would do all in her power to see this family through their hardship. And, just perhaps, she wouldn’t have to do it alone.
Chapter Twenty
Julian stood within the confines of a home that defied the very definition of the word. Broken beams supported a sagging ceiling, and the air bore the pungent aroma of sickness and despair. Before him, Agnes, a woman with a face sallow and drawn, lay on a makeshift bed, her labored breathing permeating the silence.
Clara, standing at his side, looked nothing like the lady who had graced the ballrooms of London with her airy laughter and sprightly steps. Her eyes, once lively, were now awash with worry but also alight with a determination he had never seen before.
The barefooted children latched onto Clara, their eyes frightened and pleading.
“Miss,” one said softly. “Mummy has gotten worse. Is she going to die?”
For a fleeting moment, Clara’s lips quivered, but she composed herself quickly.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she said with a warm smile. “We’re going to get help for your mother.”
Julian was surprised at how calm she sounded. The lyrical cadence with which she spoke offered a reassurance that Julian himself craved. He was no stranger himself to death and illness, but the sight of Clara navigating human suffering with such grace and fortitude stirred within him a wave of admiration, and vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years.
