Page 50 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Now, Izzy, let me introduce you. Of course, you know Lady Della, but I think you have not yet met Miss Lavinia Seymour, and this her cousin is Mr Nathaniel Ashford, and his fiancée Miss Bancroft, and this… why, forgive me, my dear, I’m afraid we have not been introduced!” the reverend said in consternation.

Miss Percy laughed good-naturedly and held out her hand. “No, but I feel I know you already, Reverend, for everyone speaks so fondly of you. I am Miss Percy, no relation, but fortunate enough to be a guest for the holiday season.”

There was a deal of chatter as everyone exchanged pleasantries and settled themselves down, and then a rather plump, older lady came in hefting a heavy tray, with the little maid following her and carrying another with cups and saucers.

Nat leapt to his feet, taking the tray from her.

“Oh, thank you, sir. Very kind, I’m sure. Yes, just there would be grand,” she said approvingly, as he set it down on the coffee table in front of Miss Honeywell.

“Heavens!” Lady Della exclaimed with delight, seeing the sumptuous display of cakes and biscuits just as the reverend had promised. “We shall never be able to walk home. Perhaps I should anticipate the trouble and order the carriage to collect us.”

“Faint heart, Della,” Nat said reprovingly. “I have never known you to resist a challenge.”

“No, very true, but Madame Auguste will be terribly cross if she needs to remake the gown I ordered,” she replied with an expression of horror.

Nat laughed, and the afternoon progressed pleasantly, with convivial chatter, and the delicious cakes enjoyed by all. Yet throughout, Nat was aware of Meg sitting close beside him, so close he could have reached out and taken her hand. He found himself more than tempted to do just that. Especially when the reverend turned the conversation to their coming nuptials.

“So, have you thought anymore about having the wedding here in Little Valentine? That is, if you are certain you do not want a large and fashionable event?” he asked, his eyes twinkling as he no doubt remembered the force of Meg’s objection to that remark.

Nat felt Meg stiffen, tension singing through her, and remorse weighed heavily upon his heart.

“We’ve made no plans as yet, sir,” he said, so she did not have to reply. “It’s early days and my family are still reeling from the idea that I may not be such a rackety fellow after all. I suspect they are yet to be convinced, if you want the truth. They like her well enough to hope she escapes my wicked clutches.”

“Oh, piffle,” Della said, giving him an impatient look. “We all adore Meg and can’t wait for her to be a part of the family. So why dilly dally? Indeed, I heard Granny tell you just that last night. She told you to marry Meg as soon as possible before you mucked everything up and made her run away.”

“Nathaniel would not do such a thing!”

Nat looked at Meg in surprise, startled by the force of her words.

She blushed, instantly mortified, yet she held her ground, putting up her chin. “I beg your pardon, Della. I know you did not say so,” she apologised, before turning to Nat. “But I do not understand why you, and everyone else, insist on talking like you’ve more hair than wit. They’re the foolish ones if they cannot see how perceptive and witty and… and interesting, you really are.”

Nat gazed at her, stunned. No one had ever stood up for him so before, and yes, it was only tea at the vicarage, and perhaps not the place to make a stand, but he had heard the sincerity behind the words and believed she had not meant to say anything. The words had seemed to burst from her as if they’d been brewing for some time. Perhaps they had. She had scolded him several times for his self-deprecating ways, had she not? It stood to reason she’d notice the habit the family had of poking fun at him, no matter it was not malicious.

There was a rather tense silence.

“Well, my dear, I think you have the right of it,” the reverend said warmly. “I do not see the young man before me being so very foolish as to let you get away from him. Not when you are clearly so well matched, and when you both positively glow with the pleasure of being in each other’s company. It is always a joy to me when I see such a happy match. You’ll do very nicely, of that, I’m sure.”

Meg glanced up at him, looking stricken. Nat hurried to fill the gap once more.

“If she got away from me, I should certainly think myself a fool, sir. You are right there. But I think we have more than outstayed our welcome and had better be making our way home before dark. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

The next ten minutes was filled with the usual fuss of ‘thank yous’ as everyone bundled themselves back into coats, hats, and gloves, and then a round of goodbyes, but finally they were out of the door and walking back up the hill to the hall.

Nat dawdled, allowing Della, Vinnie, and Miss Percy to get ahead of them. He held Meg’s hand firmly upon his arm so she could not escape him, though he was certain he could sense her desire to rush off ahead with every step.

They walked in silence for a while, until—

“I beg your pardon,” she burst out. “I know I ought not to have said anything, but it makes me so cross to hear everyone speak about you like you are a fool. Why do you let them do it?”

“I don’t know,” he said ruefully. “I suppose it’s just easier. I’m not clever in the way you are, love. We both know that. But I don’t think I’m stupid, I assure you.”

“And I’m not clever in the same way you are either!” she exclaimed. “We are all different. I have an exceptionally good memory, but I’m not the least bit creative. I saw the little drawing in your notebook, you know, before you slammed it shut. It was extraordinarily good. You’re very talented.”

Nat felt a surge of embarrassment, praying she’d not had time to read his notes. Still, the drawing had been decent. “Well, not bad for an amateur,” he allowed with a smile. “Hopefully good enough to illustrate my journals and make sense of them when I return home.”

“Good enough to publish your own book when you’ve gathered all your information,” she said firmly. “You ought to think about it. You could do it as an illustrated diary of your travels. And being entirely selfish, that way I’d get to read them myself too,” she added with a smile, though he heard the wistful note to her voice with a sensation like a skewer driving through his heart.

“I’m sorry too. That you were embarrassed, I mean. It’s devilish awkward, isn’t it?” he said, glancing down at her.