Page 56 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Yes, Nat,” Della said slowly, speaking to him as if she feared for his sanity. “I literally just introduced your fiancée, I believe the getting married part was implied.”

Nat laughed, hearing Meg give a choked sound at the same time. After that, there was no help for it. He laughed and laughed, and though she fought admirably to hold on to her composure, Meg gave in and laughed too. Della and her guests looked on in appalled fascination as they laughed until they wheezed and whooped, unable to breathe, tears running down their faces.

“S-So sorry,” Meg managed, taking Nat’s arm and dragging him towards the door. “I… can’t think what c-came over us.”

And then she went off into a peal of laughter as Nat took over, pushing her towards the door and out into the hallway, leaving Della to assure everyone that as far as she knew insanity did not run in the family bloodline and was not infectious.

Chapter 12

The holly bears a prickle, as sharp as any thorn.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 18thDecember 1815

The next couple of days passed in a blur of happiness for Meg as she and Nathaniel snatched every moment they could together. It seemed, however, that a conspiracy was afoot, for suddenly everyone wanted to be around them. Perhaps their happiness was infectious, Meg thought ruefully, for the entire household was in excellent spirits as the Hall readied itself for Christmas.

Meg regarded herself in the looking glass, admiring the deep red merino redingote. It fitted beautifully and was lined with a lush gold satin. The matching bonnet sported three plumes, dyed to match the coat.

“Oh, you do look a picture, miss,” Betty exclaimed, standing back to admire her.

“Thank you, Betty,” Meg said, wondering if a person could burst from happiness. How was it possible to feel this way, to have her life change so dramatically? She had gone from being utterly alone to finding such a man she could not have imagined him had she been given the task of describing a hero. He was just too wonderful to be real, and yet he was, and he loved her. As if that were not enough, she would gain a family through Della and Aubrey, and the dowager duchess. That such a woman had championed her seemed beyond anything, and she knew she would be in the old woman’s debt for the rest of her days.

“Betty,” she said, wanting everyone to share in her joy. “Would you still like to be my lady’s maid when Mr Ashford and I are… are married?” she asked, hardly able to say the words out loud they seemed so extraordinary.

Betty’s mouth fell open in a little ‘o’ of wonder, then her cheeks turned bright red and her eyes filled with tears. She reached for her apron and buried her face in it. “Oh, M-Miss Bancroft, I would like that above all things!” she exclaimed, or at least, Meg thought that was what she said, for it was hard to tell between the hiccoughs and sobs that punctuated every word, and the apron that muffled her mouth.

“Well, that’s settled, then,” Meg said, pleased, her suspicions confirmed when Betty dropped the apron and gave in to emotion, throwing her arms about Meg’s neck and sobbing on her shoulder.

“Thank you, miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I won’t never let you down, I swear it.”

“There, there, Betty, dear. I know you won’t,” Meg soothed her, giving the girl a hug.

They both leapt as a peremptory knock sounded on the door. “Come along, slugabed! Surely, you’re ready by now?”

Meg laughed and ran to the door, finding her breath catch as she tugged it open to see Nat standing there. Lord, but he was handsome, his blue eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ready, are you?”

“I am.”

He grinned and made a turning motion.

Meg rolled her eyes but turned in a circle for him. She had not yet worn the lovely red coat and thought it rather suited her.

“Beautiful,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I am a lucky fellow. You’ve not changed your mind?”

“No!” she exclaimed, for he asked her every morning now, just for the delight of seeing her get exasperated with him.

“Just checking. A fellow needs to be sure of such things,” he said, tucking her hand comfortably into the crook of his arm.

Meg laughed as he escorted her down the stairs. The scent of pine and spices filled the house, growing stronger as they descended. The reason for that became obvious as they discovered the footmen bringing in great swathes of greenery. Boughs of fir, holly and ivy, rosemary and laurel were piled in the entrance, swiftly borne off to other parts of the house to decorate mantelpieces and to bring some festive colour to every corner of the hall.

“Della and Gee-Gee adore Christmas. When we get back, you’ll be roped into tying red ribbons and studding oranges with cloves, mark my words,” he warned her as they made their way around the mountains of greenery.

“I can’t wait,” Meg admitted. “Papa was never very fond of Christmas. I always decorated anyway, but it isn’t quite the same if you’re doing it alone.”

“You’re not alone now, Meg. You never will be again,” he promised her, his laughing eyes becoming suddenly serious. “I want to give you everything you never had before, everything you could wish for.”

“You don’t need to do a thing. You have already given me so much,” she exclaimed, shaking her head in wonder. “I couldn’t be happier.”