Page 67 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Up you come,” he said, laughing softly as he reached out and knocked on the bedroom door.

A few moments later, a drowsy-looking Betty appeared, her expression turning to one of wry amusement as she looked at Meg.

“Betty!” Meg exclaimed, deciding in that moment that she loved everybody. “Betty, I had such a wonderful time. Did you have a wonderful time, Nat? I had a wonderful time!”

“I had a wonderful time too,” he agreed. “And I cannot wait to spend Christmas with you. But I think you might want a lie in tomorrow. Get some rest now. Good night, love.”

“Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” she exclaimed, and performed what she believed to be a most elegant bow, but Betty grabbed her as she lost her balance and pitched over sideways.

“You need your bed, miss, and no mistake,” she said firmly, closing the door as she said over her shoulder, “Good night, Mr Ashford.”

Chapter 14

'Twas the night before Christmas.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 24th December 1815

Meg awoke late, and with the distinct feeling her head had suffered some terrible misfortune before she’d laid it on her pillow.

“Here you are, miss,” Betty said, after plumping her pillows. “Tea and toast. You get that down you and you’ll feel much more the thing.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Meg said faintly.

“Don’t be daft. You’ve a busy day, remember, for you volunteered to pack the Christmas hampers with Lady Della.”

Meg made a pained sound, touching her fingers to her head. “I did, didn’t I?”

She stared at the breakfast in dismay. Resolutely, she picked up a triangle of buttered toast and took a bite.

“That’s it, miss. You finish that, and you’ll be right as a trivet. I’ll lay out your green gown and flannel petticoat, for that’s nice and warm. You’ll be wanting a shawl too, though. It’s freezing today and you’ll find the storerooms downstairs are chilly. The snow’s gone for now, but I reckon there’ll be more before nightfall.”

Rather to Meg’s surprise, by the time she had finished every crumb of her breakfast, under Betty’s watchful eye, and washed and dressed, she felt almost herself again. Well enough, at least, to keep her promise to help with the hampers.

Making her way below stairs upon the instruction of Howard, she found Della already hard at work.

“Good heavens, how do you do it?” Meg asked her, astonished to see Della looking as bright and fresh as always and clearly having been up for some time.

“You’ve never had a season, have you?” Della replied with a laugh. “I can do half a dozen balls in one week at the height of the season and then be up in the mornings for walks in the park or riding or picnics. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“Gracious. I never realised how fortunate I had been,” Meg said in surprise. “Just think, all these years I so longed for parties and society, and I would never have survived it.”

“Of course you would. You just need to build up your stamina, that’s all. Now, if you would be so good as to bring a jar of calf’s foot jelly—vile stuff, but Granny swears by it—and a jar of the strawberry conserve and add one of each to every hamper. Then there’s just the meat and dairy and the cake and biscuits to add.”

“How many hampers are there?” Meg asked, wide-eyed as she looked around the room and saw what looked to be a military campaign in action.

“Five and fifty,” Della said promptly. “And there’s a ham, tea and sugar, butter, cheddar, a fruitcake, a pork pie, a jar of pickles, the two jars you’ll add, and a box of shortbread in each one,” she said, ticking the items off on her list.

“They’ll be given out tomorrow?” Meg asked.

Della nodded. “We usually get the mummers mid-afternoon, and we give out many of the boxes then. The rest will be delivered during the day or on Boxing Day to those too elderly or sick to come to the house.”

“The dowager is a generous soul.”

“She is. The mummers will get money too, and Hawkney says she loves them to come, for they tell her all the town gossip,” Della said fondly. “And if she hears of anyone in need who hasn’t been provided for, she’ll see to it, you may be sure. Though don’t think it’s entirely charitable, for she adores interfering. Reverend Honeywell told her about a large family all crammed into one little cottage, over on the other side of the town, near the Dog and Duck—you’ll have not been there. She’s at war with the landlord now, for she says his rent is too high for what amounts to a hovel and she’s demanding he makes repairs or sells her the property so she may do so.”

“I can well believe it.” Meg smiled, glad to know the dowager was so active in her charitable enterprises.

Della nodded. “She adores it, and a good row livens her right up.”