Page 63 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

Nat concentrated on his cravat, casting a surreptitious glance at Jenkins to see how this had been received.

“Lose me, sir?” Jenkins repeated, his eyes almost on stalks. “And have some… some inexperienced fribble dressing you—in foreign parts? Good heavens above. How could you think it? How could you believe I would abandon you, that I would allow my own personal feelings, my own digestion and comfort to—”

“Excellent! So you’ll come, then?” Nat interrupted, knowing that once Jenkins had gone off on a soliloquy of this nature, it might be some time before he could be calmed down again.

“I will follow you wherever you desire to go, sir,” Jenkins said solemnly.

Nat hid a grin and slapped the fellow on the shoulder. “Good man, and you never know, you might like it.”

Jenkins groaned.

“Can I look now?” Meg demanded, possibly for the tenth time, for Betty had covered the mirror with a sheet and refused to allow her a peek so far. She fidgeted on the stool in front of the dressing table, desperate to see what wonders Betty had managed this time.

“In a minute!” Betty muttered, her mouth full of hairpins.

Meg knew the dress was lovely, having been dying for the opportunity to wear it since the moment she had laid eyes on it. It had a white satin slip, elegantly trimmed with white crepe, and delicately adorned with little red silk roses. She was wearing it with the lovely pearls Nat had provided her, and a Spanish corsage of crimson sarsnet, beautifully trimmed with silk. It seemed at once light and simple, yet seasonal, and Betty had secured some red silk flowers to put in her hair, which had been styled a la grecque.

“There!”

Betty stood back, gesturing for Meg to get to her feet, and then hurried forward, smoothing out any creases in the skirts and giving a tweak here and a little adjustment there.

“Now can I look?” Meg demanded, beside herself with impatience.

“You may,” Betty said grandly. “And if it don’t knock your eyes out, there’s something wrong with you.”

Meg laughed as Betty swept the sheet from the looking glass, but her laughter died, replaced by a little gasp as she surveyed the elegant creature looking back at her.

“Oh, Betty,” she whispered, quite stunned. “Is that really me?”

Betty came and stood beside her, regarding her handiwork with satisfaction. “It is, miss, and a little bit of me, if you don’t mind my presumption.”

“I don’t. Not in the least. You’ve worked a miracle,” Meg said, close to tears.

“Don’t be daft. It ain’t no miracle when there’s such a pretty face and figure to work with. Now, then. That fellow of yours will be here any moment, so don’t go sobbing and ruining all my work.”

“I won’t,” Meg promised, sniffing and laughing. “Thank you, Betty. I’m so very glad Nat recommended you. You’ve been such a blessing.”

She reached out and hugged the girl, who looked quite overcome herself. “Now stop that or you’ll set me off,” Betty said crossly. “You just have a wonderful time, and I’ll look forward to hearing all about it later.”

As if on cue, Nat knocked at the door and Meg took a breath. “Wish me luck.”

Betty snorted. “I think you’ve had your fair share of luck, miss. You don’t need any more. Run along, now.”

Meg hurried to the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the corridor. Nat’s eyes widened as he saw her, a slow smile curving over his mouth.

“Nathaniel Ashford, you are a lucky dog,” he said, shaking his head. “You look perfectly edible.”

Meg blushed, though the rather illustrative description did not displease her.

“You look splendid too, Nat. So very handsome,” she said admiringly, feeling suddenly a little shy. Nathaniel Ashford was always a handsome fellow, but the elegant evening clothes he wore elevated him to such a degree he took her breath away.

“Well, I wanted to do you proud, and Jenkins wouldn’t have let me do otherwise,” he added with a laugh.

“How did he take the news of our intention to travel?” she asked anxiously, knowing Nat had been concerned he might give notice.

Nat smiled. “I need not have worried. I’ve no doubt he’ll complain every step of the way, about the food, the weather, the accommodation not being what he’s used to, and heaven only knows what else, but he’s devoted to me for some strange reason.”

Meg squeezed his arm, gazing up at him. “I don’t find it at all strange.”