Page 62 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

Nat hid a smile. “Yes, Gee-Gee.”

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 23rd December 1815

The next morning, Meg stretched luxuriously in bed, relishing the warmth and the comfort as Betty came into the room, bearing her breakfast.

“It’s snowed, miss!” she exclaimed, smiling at Meg as she set the tray on her lap.

Meg smothered a yawn and hauled herself upright. “It has? Oh, not so much people can’t get here?” she asked, for as much as she wanted it to snow, she wanted nothing to spoil the dowager’s ball, for the old lady was so looking forward to it. Apparently, it had been many years since she had entertained on such a scale.

“Well, I hear there’s a lot of folks who travelled yesterday and are staying at the hotels in town, but it’s not that thick yet in any case. It’s still coming down, though,” she added, shaking her head as Meg set the tray aside, jumped out of bed, and ran to the window.

“You’ll catch your death, miss,” she complained, snatching up Meg’s robe and hurrying to put it around her shoulders as Meg tugged the curtains open.

“Oh!” Meg gazed down in wonder at the beautiful scene set out before her as Betty manoeuvred her into the dressing gown. The gardens below, the treetops and, farther in the distance, rows of higgledy-piggledy rooftops, all looked to be dusted with icing sugar, glittering in the winter sunshine.

Though she did not know how it had happened, this ridiculous escapade she had entered into against her better judgement had become her reality. Every morning since arriving here, Meg had leapt from the bed and run to the window, tugging open the curtains, as if fearing she had dreamt it all. Yet every morning the sea greeted her, serenely blue or stormily grey, reassuring her she really was the luckiest person in the entire world. This morning, however, it seemed beyond anything anyone could wish for.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as she gazed at the beautiful view, feeling such gratitude for the gift she had been given the sensation seemed to burst inside her.

“What’s that, miss?” Betty asked, looking up as she plumped Meg’s pillows. “For heaven’s sake, come away from those draughty windows and get back into bed. You’ve not even got your slippers on!”

Meg laughed and darted back into bed, shivering and rubbing her feet against the mattress to chase away the chill.

“There, drink your chocolate and eat your eggs before they’re stone cold. I’ve been looking at Belle Assemblée. That Lady Della is so very kind, for she lent me her copies specially, and I’ve seen such a pretty style for your hair. You’re going to look spectacular! Just you wait.”

“I don’t think I can,” Meg said in wonder, sipping her chocolate. “I’ve longed to go to a ball since I was a little girl, and I’d given up ever having the chance to do so. I can’t really believe it’s going to happen.”

“Well, it better had, or the dowager will throw a fit. Her lady’s maid told me she’s beside herself with excitement. She’s going to wear the Seymour rubies tonight, and they’ve not had an outing for years.”

“How splendid. I do hope she has a wonderful time. She’s such a dear, and she’s been so very kind to me,” Meg said as Betty bustled about.

“Well, you just eat that breakfast, and then I’ll have the footman fill your bath. It’ll take time to wash and curl your hair, thick as it is, so don’t go planning on doing anything else today. I’m going to make you such a fine lady, you won’t know yourself.”

Meg hid a smile, for she didn’t think that would be half as difficult as Betty seemed to believe.

“If I might say so, sir, whilst I had reservations about the young lady to begin with, from what the staff have said about her below stairs, it appears you have made a wise choice. She seems to be becoming a favourite, though her maid, Miss Betty, is a pert little chit who ought to mind her elders,” he added sternly.

Nat laughed, though experienced a surprising swell of pride at discovering how popular Meg was with his grandmother’s staff. “Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure, Jenkins,” he told his valet with a grin. “I do hope not, at any rate, for you’ll be working together, remember. Unless you secured that job with my cousin,” he added, for the sheer enjoyment of provoking the fellow.

Jenkins returned a look of pained tolerance but said nothing, simply handed Nat a crisply ironed cravat. Nat took it, placing it carefully about his neck as he watched his progress in the looking glass.

“Even my mother seems to have come round to her, now she’s at outs with Miss Percy,” he observed with a grin. “The poor girl was so ill-advised as to refer to the Marchioness of Hertford as an older lady.”

“Oh dear,” Jenkins said, understanding at once that, as the marchioness and Lady Louisa were dear friends and of the same age, she would not have taken this kindly.

Nat continued, deciding he had better take the bull by the horns and get it over with.

“By the by, Jenkins, how do you feel about foreign travel?”

Jenkin’s eyebrows went up. “Foreign?” he repeated, much in the same way he might say decomposed or malodorous.

Nat slanted a look at him via the mirror. “Yes, Jenkins, foreign, as in France, Italy, Spain… that kind of thing.”

Jenkins looked so utterly appalled that Nat’s heart sank. He had known Jenkins would be pigheaded about it, holding as he did strong opinions about travelling out of the south of England, never mind farther afield.

“I have never felt the need for foreign travel, sir. I cannot imagine why anyone would.”

“Ah. Well, you may need to rethink that, or else see if Hawkney will have you after all. For once we’ve found ourselves a house, or a decent plot of land, Meg and I intend to spend at least a year travelling. So if you don’t fancy it, you’d best let me know. I’d give you a marvellous reference, of course, but I should be sorry to lose you.”