Anne Perry - A Christmas Promise

“Wot’s that wot you said?”

“A nativity scene? It is people creating a little play, like the first Christmas all over again. It’s very special, very holy. Come.” He looked at Minnie Maude. “Are you able to come too? It has to be done tonight, because this is Christmas Eve. This is the night when it happened in the beginning and created a whole new age, an age of hope, and a new kind of love.”

Minnie Maude nodded slowly, gripping on to Gracie’s hand.

“Can you walk a little?” Balthasar asked anxiously. “I can get you a hansom cab to ride in, but you will still have to walk at the far end.”

“I in’t got no money fer an ’ansom,” Gracie told him. “I could pay for an omnibus, if there is one, mebbe?”

“I shall pay for it, and tell him exactly where to go. But I think you had better wrap up the casket in the edge of your shawl. We do not want to draw people’s attention to it.”

She took the casket from him and obediently wound the end of the red shawl around it until the box was completely hidden. “I’ll bring the shawl back to yer after Christmas,” she promised.

“If you wish,” he said solemnly. “And I shall return you your own one, clean and dry. But if you prefer this one, we can leave matters as they are.”

It was a wonderful thought. This one was warmer, and far prettier. But it must also have been expensive. She resisted the temptation. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“As you wish. Now come. It is late and there is no time to spare. In less than an hour it will be Christmas Day.”

T he ride in the hansom did not seem so long this time. Minnie Maude sat very close to Gracie, and once or twice Gracie even thought she might be asleep. They rattled through the dark streets of the East End back through the heart of the city toward the West End and the nice houses. All the lamps were lit and the wind had blown away the earlier fog. Gracie could see wreaths of leaves on doors, lighted windows, carriages with patterns and writing on the doors. Horse brasses gleamed. There was a sound of jingling, laughter, and people calling out cheerfully. Somewhere voices were singing.

“I’ll be back fer yer,” the cabby said when he stopped. “It’s that ’ouse there.” He pointed. “Yer stay there till I come fer yer, you ’ear.”

“Yes, sir.” Gracie clasped the casket in one arm, and Minnie Maude’s skinny little hand in the other. Normally she would not have dreamed of pushing her way into a grand house like this, but she had a present to give to Jesus, and Mr. Balthasar had told her that this was the place to do it.

She and Minnie Maude walked over the cobbles and into the stables at the back of the big houses. There were lots of people around, all wearing smart clothes, ladies with fur muffs and woolen cloaks, and gentlemen with curly fur collars on their coats. No one seemed to mind them coming in.

“Wot are they all doin’ ’ere?” Minnie Maude whispered. “They’re just standin’ around out ’ere in the stable.”

“I dunno,” Gracie replied. “But Mr. Balthasar said it were ’ere, so it must be.”

There was a slight noise behind them and a ripple of excitement. The group nearest the entrance moved apart to allow passage through, and in the next moment a man in a long robe appeared. It was very plain, like pictures Gracie had seen from the Bible. The man had curly hair all over the place, as if he had forgotten to comb it. He was smiling, and he had a brownish-gray donkey by the halter. It had long ears and a pale nose, and on its back rode a young woman with hair like polished chestnuts. She was smiling too, as if she knew something so wonderful she could hardly contain the happiness of it.

The people standing in the stable yard held up their lanterns, and they all cheered. The donkey stopped by the open stable door, and the man helped the young woman down. She was clearly with child and she moved a little awkwardly, but she turned to touch the donkey gently and thank it for carrying her.

Gracie watched as if seeing a miracle. She knew what was going to happen next, as though she had already seen it before. In a few minutes the bells would ring for midnight, and it would be Christmas. Then Jesus would be born. There would be angels in the sky, shepherds coming to worship, and Wise Men to bring gifts. Would it still be all right to give hers?

She gripped Minnie Maude’s hand more tightly and felt her fingers respond.

Then the bells started, peal after peal, wild and joyous, the sound swirling out over the rooftops everywhere.

The stable doors opened, and the young woman sat in the straw with a baby in her arms, the man behind her. There were a couple of horses, who probably lived there, and the donkey.

Three men came from the back of the scullery doorway, dressed up like shepherds, carrying big staffs with curly tops. The bystanders were quiet, but they were all smiling and holding one anothers’ hands.

Next came the three Wise Men, each dressed more gorgeously than the one before. They had robes of reds and blues and purples. One had a turban wound around his head, another a gold crown. They all knelt before the baby and laid gifts on the ground.

Minnie Maude poked Gracie in the side. “Yer gotter give ours!” she urged. “Quick, or it’ll be too late.”

“Ye’re comin’ too!” Gracie dragged her forward, unwrapping the gold casket as she went and holding it out in front of her. Even here, among all this wealth and splendor, it shone with a beauty unsurpassed.

Gracie stopped in front of the young woman. “Please, miss, we’d like ter give this to the Baby Jesus. It oughter be ’is.” Without waiting for permission, she put it down on the straw in front of her, then looked up. “It in’t got nuffink in it,” she explained. “We in’t got nothing good enough.”

“It is perfect as it is,” the young woman replied. She looked Gracie up and down, then looked at Minnie Maude, and her eyes filled with tears. “Nothing could be more precious.” She was about to add something more when the donkey came forward through the straw and pushed his nose against Minnie Maude, almost knocking her off balance.

She turned and stared at him, then flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

“Charlie!” she sobbed. “Where yer bin, yer stupid thing? I ’unted all over fer yer! Don’t yer never do that again!”

“I’m sorry,” Gracie said to the young woman. “She thought ’e were lorst.”

“Well, he’s found again,” the young woman replied gently. “Tonight we are all found again.” She turned to the man. “Thomas, I think we should see that these two girls have something hot to eat, and to drink.” Then she looked at the donkey and smiled. “Happy Christmas, Charlie.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ANNE PERRY is the bestselling author of two acclaimed series set in Victorian England: the William Monk novels, including Execution Dock and Dark Assassin , and the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt novels, including Buckingham Palace Gardens and Long Spoon Lane . She is also the author of the World War I novels No Graves As Yet, Shoulder the Sky, Angels in the Gloom, At Some Disputed Barricade , and We Shall Not Sleep , as well as seven holiday novels, most recently A Christmas Promise . Anne Perry lives in Scotland. Visit her website at www.anneperry.net.

A Christmas Promise is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.