A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [38]
Chapter Eleven
Released from time, from memory, from the magic of the past, or perhaps caught in some sweet mixture of the three, Vicar Michael Carroll stood at the back door of a building he did not recognize. He felt a new man. He wasn’t sure what he was suddenly doing on the steps of this lovely town house, or how he’d gotten there.
He looked around for Jane. She was nowhere to be seen, but his heart pounded with the same vigour he had just felt. He wasn’t sure if what he’d seen had truly happened, or if it had been a dream, but either way he yearned to find Rebecca, to walk up to her right now, again, a lifetime later. He would approach her with that same surety and change history again.
A sound on the street made him turn: a slowly approaching carriage. The curtain on the window was flung aside, the glass opened, and a snow-white face beamed an expression of joy up at him where he stood on the steps. She waved.
Mrs. Rychman’s eerie eyes were shaded from the winter glare by dark-tinted glasses, and she turned to someone behind her and uttered a sort of admonition. “I have to tell him something,” she insisted, and soon the door was flung open and a firm male voice barked for the driver to stop.
Before her husband could help her out of the carriage, Percy had lifted up her skirts, disembarked from the carriage and trotted up the stairs to Michael’s side. Professor Rychman exited behind her, standing tall and imperious, his black hair, frock coat and carriage a stark contrast to the white of his wife and the snow on the street.
“Hullo, dear girl,” Michael said, squeezing her hand, “I’m not sure what has happened, but Jane told me you were at hand, so I’m sure I owe you some sort of—”
“The town house is unlocked,” Percy blurted over him. “Your key on the table. The headmistress’s key is in her office, with a letter from the academy board explaining the change in quarters. You must have a home, Vicar,” she added earnestly. “A fresh new start, with no memories but those you two now make. The spirits told me so; they insisted upon it. You must have a home free from the haunting of memories gone by, and you shall make new memories to inhabit these bricks. Spirits understand the need of such things: hearths and homes, it’s why they haunt them. There is very little more important.”
“Indeed,” Michael said, having never thought about such a detail. “Most sensible.”
“Merry Christmas!” Percy cried, throwing her arms around him. She released him, lifted her skirts and scurried back toward her husband, who awaited her with a small smile tugging at his mouth.
“But . . . where did this home come from? To whom do I owe . . . ?” He stopped short.
Percy waved her hand as if it didn’t matter.
“This building is the property of Athens Academy. How it was paid for is none of your concern,” Alexi said, his tone all business, though Michael knew there was warmth beneath. “As Percy said, the board voted to give the headmistress better lodging. Go on, Vicar, we’ve all got Christmas merrymaking to do. We’re hosting a New Year’s celebration at the Rychman estate, don’t you know. Do come with your fiancée.”
“My fiancée . . . ?” Michael registered the words, processed them and stepped back a pace. Then he grinned and nearly jumped in the air.
“Go on, she’ll be here any minute!” Percy squealed, and dragged Alexi back to the carriage. He gladly helped her up, and they started off.
Michael entered the front hall of the town house. There were spicy scents and warm, alluring lights. Ignoring the stairs that ascended, surely, to bedrooms and studies, he entered the main room to find it well furnished and decorated, with a blazing hearth.
“My God,” he murmured, staring at the painting above the mantel. Josephine was right: she was painting more beautifully than ever. Her distinct style was no longer limited to guardian angels, as required by the Grand Work, and now her subjects were free and entirely her own. Tumbling masses of sumptuous flowers, bursting with both colour and life, threatened to spill directly onto the mantel