“I heard in church from their neighbour Mrs Whidley,” said Charlotte, “that Fred discovered a purse full of guineas beneath their door this morning.”
“Really?” said Marcus with eyes wide. “Do you think old Grimslee has seen the error of his ways?”
Dinah sniggered.
“No.” Charlotte swatted his arm. “I think the spirit of Christmas has been engaging in dawn visits to local tenants as I also heard that Widow Brockbank has been offered work in the stillroom of Shawdale Manor which means she may remain rent-free in her cottage.”
“Has she?” Marcus widened his eyes further. “I wouldn’t know. Though I was led to believe Widow Brockbank has a formidable pride and would not stay in the cottage rent-free without paying some dues.”
Charlotte tutted. “Next you’ll be kissing the foreheads of babes.”
He leaned down, lips close. “Oh no,” he murmured. “The sole person I shall be kissing is you, Charlotte. Who has brought such warmth and joy back into my life.”
“Oh, such romance.” Dinah broke her hold to clasp her hands together and sigh. “You told me, Miss Webster, that a governess’ life was just lessons. That she never attended grand dinners or glamorous balls or had time for romance. Now my novel can include them all.”
His beloved laughed and how it filled his soul.
And Marcus made a new vow to replace the one he’d made as a young man on his knees that misty dawn in London.
A vow that every Christmas would be thus – a time for merriment, feasting, thankfulness and love.
With Charlotte by his side.
QUITE CONTENT,Marmaduke sat by the fireside, warming his toes.
It had been quite a day.
Just this afternoon, the thoughtful young duke next door had invited him to this manor house, taken him to his study and asked him for permission to marry Charlotte.
He’d had to ponder a while as his sister, Mary, had been here only yesterday, but the duke had shown him a miniature of Charlotte from when she’d been a tot and, of course, he remembered her.
Lovely girl.
And without a shadow of a doubt, she should wed him. After all, Charlotte had always been besotted with that boy next door.
Marmaduke himself would also move into this manor house which had caused him some consternation as he disliked change, but then the duke had reminded him of the rose garden. He could look for Martha whenever he wished. And young Miss Dinah Lovecott had said she would help him.
Smiling, he waggled his stockinged toes in the warmth from the flames and–
“Uncle Marmaduke?”
He peered up into bright joyous eyes. “Yes, Mary?”
“I had a thought last night. So…” A wicker basket was placed in his lap. “Merry Christmas, Uncle.”
“What on earth is this?” For the basket had a will of its own as it waggled and wiggled. He flung open the lid and saw…
“Martha!” And he brought forth the mewling black kitten. “Where did you find her?”
She kneeled at his side. “This is Martha then, Uncle?” she whispered.
“Well, of course.” The little kitten squirmed in his arms but appeared to like his woollen blanket best. “Rescued her from a river in India and brought her back with me. Always hid amongst the rose bushes in the maharaja’s palace.”
“Oh, Uncle.” And he was enveloped in a fearsome hug.
He returned her embrace, and in that moment, a brume lifted and all was clarity. This was Charlotte. Who worked so hard for them all.
“Thank you, my niece,” he murmured, “for all that you do for me.”
