It Happened At Christmas (Anthology) by Penny Jordan & Helen Brooks & Carol Wood

Author:Penny Jordan & Helen Brooks & Carol Wood [Jordan, Penny & Brooks, Helen & Wood, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Man-woman relationships, Anthologies (multiple authors), Household employees, Fiction, Romance, Love stories; American, Christmas stories; American, Historical, General, Short Stories, Love stories
ISBN: 9780373837175
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-10-09T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

CONTRARY to what Connie had expected when she woke up on the morning of the harvest supper, after just a few hours of troubled sleep, that day and the ones following it went quite smoothly on the whole. The intense awkwardness she felt around Luke began to fade after a little while, although she continued to be careful they were never alone if she could help it.

It helped that he had reverted to being his usual cool and withdrawn self. At least most of the time it helped. In the daylight hours, when she was thinking matter-of-factly. But when she was in bed at night, Flora snoring gently beside her and the rest of the world fast asleep, she found herself wishing he had shown some reaction after their eventful meal together. Disappointment, even annoyance, anything to show he cared just a little. But that was the thing. He didn’t. And he probably didn’t consider the evening had been eventful at all.

When these thoughts came she berated herself for her continuing inconsistency and muddled thinking. If he had shown some sign of disappointment or irritation and repeated his request, where would that have led her? Into a worse mess in her head, most likely. At least this way it was easy to continue in her role of housekeeper and nurse to his mother, which provided a roof over their heads. She couldn’t ask for more. And Luke was a fair and generous employer. She knew from the other workers on the farm that some farmers paid their employees monthly, thereby cheating them out of a month’s wages in the course of the year, but Luke paid his people every week—and handsomely too. Even the children who had specific jobs to do once they were home from school and at weekends received payment—ranging from sixpence to a florin in some cases—and her present eight shillings a week meant she had been able to buy Flora and the lads new boots and coats for the winter already. They lived rent-free, and logs were provided for fuel—oh, yes, she couldn’t ask for more.

She did, though. In the dark of the night. And then every morning she would recant her feverish prayers of the night before and resolutely count her blessings. Till the next time.

At the end of September she and Flora and her brothers accompanied the rest of the workers on the farm to the annual Michaelmas Fair on Sunderland’s town moor. Shortly after arriving there they joined forces with some labourers and their wives and families from a neighbouring farm some miles past Hawthorn Farm. Connie knew the folk vaguely, she caught sight of them every Sunday morning when everyone attended the parish church on the outskirts of Bishopwearmouth, but as she always had to get back to the farm quickly in case Luke’s mother needed anything she never dallied after the service to talk to anyone. A smile and brief nod was all she’d indulged in before.

During the course of

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