O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,187

drifted into an uneasy sleep.

When next he opened his eyes, it was to the sound of a growling stomach, the sight of leafy patterns of frost on his window… and a painting resting on his easel.

The painting he’d thrown into the Seine the night before.

“It’s not possible,” he whispered, sitting up. “It’s not bloody possible.”

For a while he simply sat and stared, frozen in place by fear rather than the cold. Every single event of the previous night had now been thrown into question. Had he imagined everything? Had he even gone out at all, or had he been in his bed the whole time? Had the entire encounter been a dream? He threw back the covers and approached the painting, his eyes searching for signs of damage.

There were none.

Chapter Two

That afternoon, on the narrow, cobbled slopes of Montmartre, Josiah sold the Seine painting to a bejeweled elderly lady for six francs. “You have talent,” she’d said, obviously well-pleased with her purchase.

That night, having filled his belly for the first time in days, he wandered back to the Pont au Double. The wind had lost much of its bite, though it still nipped at his ears and nose. He’d thought for a good while before deciding to return. In the end, he’d done it simply to prove to himself that the previous night’s encounter had been some kind of mental breakdown. Or, preferably, a bizarre lifelike dream. In any case, he needed to reassure himself of his sanity.

He crossed the bridge and sat on a bench in the nighttime shadow of Notre Dame. The vantage gave him a full view of the bridge as well as the surrounding area. He could see anyone approaching. Anyone who came near. With the temperature being a little more agreeable, there were more people about.

After a while, as usual, his gaze drifted up to the cathedral’s rose window. And, as usual, his thoughts headed north, to England. To Yorkshire. And the magnificent manor house on the edge of the moor. After tonight, he told himself, he wouldn’t come here again. He no longer wished to be reminded of home. Perhaps his nostalgia had helped to trigger the illusions of the previous night. Besides, what was the point of being reminded of Highfield? He had no intention of ever going back there.

“The old lady got a bargain,” a familiar voice said. “You could easily have asked ten francs for that painting.”

Josiah felt the blood leave his head. “Please,” he said, not daring to turn. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t understand what’s happening. Am I going mad?”

There followed a soft sigh. “No, Josiah, you’re not going mad, I promise you. You simply need help, which is why I’m here. I mean you no harm. Quite the contrary. But you have to trust me.”

Josiah laughed. “I don’t even know your name.”

“You will, when the time is right.”

He turned, then, to see the gentleman sitting beside him, his face in profile. “Maybe you should stop speaking in riddles,” Josiah said. “It’s hard for me to trust someone who won’t even answer my questions.”

There followed a nod. “A fair point, sir. All right. Ask me a question. Anything at all. Something no one would know but you.”

“What would that prove?”

“That I know you. That I’m not exactly a stranger.”

“Very well.” Josiah pondered for a moment. “Do you know why I come here so often? And always at night?”

“Yes, I do. It’s because of the rose window. It reminds you of the one at Highfield Hall. The one that is lit by candlelight every night. The candle is lit in memory of—”

“Enough!” Josiah shook his head and gave a nervous laugh. “This entire thing is absurd.”

“To remain here is absurd,” the man replied. “Besides, Christmas is the perfect time for a family reunion.”

Josiah groaned. “I told you last night. I can’t go home! Not like this. I’m a complete failure. I’ll look like the fool that I am.”

“That is merely your perspective. As I told you last night, I can change that if you’ll allow it. One night. That’s all I ask. If, by morning, you’re still adamant about staying here, I’ll leave you alone.”

“And if I ask you to leave now?”

“Please do not do that.”

“But if I should ask it.”

The man gave a sad smile. “Then I will leave, but with much regret.”

“One night, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Josiah scratched his head. “After all, what do I have to lose?”

The gentleman stayed silent for a moment.