The Hope of Love - Meara Platt
Chapter One
Wellesford, England
December 1815
“Will you join us for Christmas supper, Miss Billings?” Lady Poppy, Countess of Welles, asked, clutching the books she’d just purchased from Felicity’s bookshop.
Felicity smiled at the newlywed countess, genuinely touched she’d come to the bookshop in person to make the request when she could have merely sent a footman to deliver the invitation or not invited her at all. What other humble shopkeeper could boast of friendship with a countess? It still amazed Felicity that she was also friendly with Olivia, the Duchess of Hartford, and Penelope, sister to the Earl of Welles.
Those three lovely ladies seemed to have taken her in as one of their own, and she truly adored all of them. She shook her head and laughed softly. “I would love to.”
“We’ll see you at Sherbourne next week then. I was hoping you weren’t otherwise engaged. It will be a small gathering, only about thirty friends and family. Don’t lace your corset too tightly, for there’ll be plenty of food.” Poppy gave her a quick hug and hurried out, climbing into her waiting carriage, a sleek, black conveyance embossed with the Welles family crest. “I’ll send our carriage around to pick you up. It won’t do to have you walking through the snow. Feels like a big storm brewing, doesn’t it? I can feel it in the air. I don’t want you ruining your gown and slippers. You’ll stay over, of course, if the festivities run late.”
Felicity had followed her to the door and waved as the carriage rolled off, laughing with pleasure when Poppy stuck her head out the window and continued to chatter about the party even as the driver turned the corner and her conveyance rattled out of sight.
Now alone, Felicity inhaled the chill air, letting it out in a soft breath that formed a vapor in front of her lips. Snowflakes were beginning to fall, and the scent of freshly baked raisin cakes from Mr. Holland’s bakery across the street carried in the air.
For the most part, she enjoyed this time of year, loved the bite to the air, the scent of chestnuts roasting on the fire, and the smiles on everyone’s faces as they hurried past on one errand or another. The festive suppers were also a treat. Her favorite dish happened to be roast goose, but it wasn’t something she ate other than at Christmas.
Often, she ate alone. This was the part she enjoyed least, for holidays were a time for family and she had none. Sometimes she would return to the Birdsong Orphanage to share the holiday meal with the other orphaned girls, but she hadn’t been able to visit much lately. Her bookshop, The Bee Hive, had become a favorite meeting place for the ladies of Wellesford.
Duchess Olivia often jested that the place was abuzz with activity. Felicity hadn’t wanted to suddenly close up shop and leave for a week to travel to the orphanage when everyone was counting on her to be here. Besides, as a businesswoman, she knew it was folly to close her shop the week before Christmas when it was always the busiest time of the year.
“Miss Billings!” the vicar, Adam Carstairs, called to her as he ran by on his way to the vicarage. “Did you just get your invite to the big house?”
She waved to him. “I did.”
Although she kept her voice cheery, she could not hold back the bittersweet feeling now taking hold of her. She’d been raised in the orphanage, had never known her parents or ever been told who they were. So, while everyone rushed about town purchasing little gifts and making preparations for their family celebrations, she had only herself and the books on her shelves to keep her company.
She had just sent off a box of woolen mittens, hats, and a few books for the orphans, and knew she would receive a note of appreciation in response. It would be enough to sustain her until next year. She supposed it was not in the spirit of the season to wish, just once, that she’d be the one receiving a gift.
It wasn’t for the gift, but for knowing someone was thinking of her.
The vicar paused beside her, his breath short. “I’m glad you were invited. I was hoping the Sherbournes would think of you. I’ll be there as well. They’ve invited the Plimptons and the doctor, of course. He’s everyone’s favorite. And I hear the dowager duchess Matilda will attend as well.”
He tossed off the names