By Liz Curtis Higgs
“A great tale of redemption and recovery that may hot your middle in the course of the Christmas season—or any time of year!”
—Francine Rivers, best-selling writer of Redeeming Love
Wrapped in a cloud of steam, the engine rolled to a cease, the screech of steel opposed to steel filling the frosty air. Snow blew around the railway platform and round Meg’s calfskin strolling boots. the elements certainly used to be no longer enhancing.
She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and candy mincemeat truffles displayed underneath a bell jar.
Later, probably, whilst her urge for food back. in the mean time her abdominal used to be twisted right into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier requested as she passed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg was once shocked to discover her palms trembling whilst she lifted the cup. “All i would like is a secure trip home.”
“On an afternoon like this?” the round-faced girl exclaimed. “None however the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
“A Wreath of Snow glows with heat, attraction, and beauty. an excellent read.”
—BJ HOFF, writer of The Riverhaven Years series
Christmas Eve 1894
All Margaret Campbell desires for Christmas is a secure trip domestic. while her plans for a festive vacation along with her family members in Stirling fall apart underneath the burden of her brother’s bitterness, the younger schoolteacher wishes not anything greater than to come back to the scholars she loves and the city residence she calls domestic.
Then an unforeseen detour areas her within the course of Gordon Shaw, a good-looking newspaperman from Glasgow, who struggles less than a burden of regret and disgrace.
whilst the key in their shared heritage is printed, will it depart them tangled in a knot of remorse? Or may well their previous carry the threads that might bind their destiny together?
As hot as a woolen shawl on a chilly winter’s eve, A Wreath of Snow is a young tale of affection and forgiveness, wrapped in a party of all issues Scottish, all issues Victorian, and, particularly, all issues Christmas.
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Extra info for A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella
Gracie did her work and kept out of the way. When 32 Gracie & the Emperor-pp 31/3/03 3:13 PM Page 33 she finished the washing-up that night, she wiped her hands on her dress and looked towards Mrs Pratt. ‘See you tomorrow, Gracie,’ she said. So she still had a job. Once again, she began the long walk home. As she took a shortcut across the lawn, a lamp flickered on the path to the Pavilion and she saw a short, stout figure, followed by the lamplighter with a lantern. She turned and ran faster, till she was hidden among the trees.
She said. ’ ‘Why? ’ Gracie screwed up her face. ’ She put her head down and hurried towards the marquee. ’ he called after her. ’ she snapped. But who? Hester, and Alice and William Kendrew, and after that it was hard to think. She couldn’t help turning back, just once, to steal another look at the game. ’ cried Bonaparte, as he ripped off his blindfold and pointed at Betsy’s anklelength pantaloons. ’ Being poor wasn’t all bad, thought Gracie. At least she didn’t have to wear things like that.
Nobody was allowed there without his consent. This day she found him tending his special patch of lawn. A chair stood beside the crown in the grass. ‘Boney sit here,’ he told Gracie. She frowned at the chair. The gardener tapped himself on the chest. ’ 35 Gracie & the Emperor-pp 31/3/03 3:13 PM Page 36 ‘Toby work too. ’ She shook her head. ’ ‘He ask me. ’ Gracie shuddered. There was something sinister about this place. ‘I’d better go,’ she said to Toby. ‘You be right, miss,’ he said, and she could feel the hug in his smile.
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