Page 69 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

He shook his head. “She was never spoken of, I’m afraid. As far as any of us knew, she simply disappeared. No reason was given, though I suppose we all made assumptions. I believe her father, who was my father’s younger brother, tried to find her in the months after she left, but he failed. As far as I know, he never knew that she had married, let alone that she had a daughter. I wish he were here to explain himself to you, but he died some years ago, and your grandmother long before he went.”

Meg nodded, finding she felt rather strange. “I… I think I’d like to sit down,” she said with a little laugh.

“Come, love,” Nat said gently, guiding her to the settee and sitting close beside her, keeping a firm grip on her hand.

Mr Fairchild sat too, looking rather uncomfortable. “I’m afraid it’s a lot to take in.”

“It is,” the dowager said crisply. “Hawkney, I think we all need a brandy.”

Hawkney, rather to Meg’s surprise, made no comment at this rather peremptory demand and submitted to pouring them all drinks.

He handed the first one to Meg, his austere gaze meeting hers. “I would like it clarified that I had no part in this. I did not know Mr Fairchild’s real identity until this morning, or I would have made my feelings known.”

“Yes, yes, we all know you disapprove of anything that smacks of intrigue,” the dowager said, waving this concern away much like she would a small gnat.

Hawkney’s lips twitched, so slightly Meg might not have noticed if she’d not been looking at him, but he said nothing, and returned to handing the drinks around.

Meg sipped hers, trying to absorb all she had heard. “So, do I have more family?” she asked cautiously.

“You do,” Mr Fairchild replied, looking rather more at ease now that she looked less like swooning. “Quite a number, I might add. I must also tell you I had a look through the family archives upon receiving her grace’s letter and found this. You are the image of your mother, you know.”

He got up and handed Meg a miniature, upon which were painted the delicate features of a girl who looked very familiar. Her serious grey eyes met Meg’s, but laughter trembled upon her lips. Meg’s breath caught. She had no very strong memories of her mother, and no painting or likeness of her. Emotion thickened her throat and for a moment she could not speak.

“Thank you,” she managed when she had composed herself enough to speak. “This… This means so much to me.”

Mr Fairchild nodded, clearly pleased. “There is something else that belongs to you,” he said, his voice low. “Your grandfather was never the same after your mother left. We all suspected he grieved the loss of her until the day he died, though he never spoke of her. I believe it was for this reason that he never spent her dowry. I have discussed it with the family, and they agreed to leave it to my discretion, but I have no hesitation in telling you this money belongs to you. It is rightfully yours, and I will ensure it is delivered to you, or to your husband, at least, without delay. It is not a vast sum, but I believe it to be in the region of three thousand pounds.”

Meg blinked. Three thousand pounds. Not a vast sum. She bit back a bubble of something that might have been hysteria. It was more money than she’d ever seen in her life before or had ever dreamt of. She turned to Nat.

“I have a family,” she said, the words trembling. “And… And a dowry!” She gave a little hiccoughing laugh and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Then that is all yours, love,” Nat said simply, taking her hand and pressing it to his own lips. “Yours to do with as you wish.”

“Can I meet them?” she asked abruptly, for this was more important than any amount of money, as wonderful as that news was. That she might bring something other than herself to her marriage was a weight that she had not realised had burdened her quite so heavily, but to have a family was beyond anything.

“Of course you may. I assure you they will be all eagerness to meet you,” Mr Fairchild replied with a laugh. “I understand you will stay here for a time, while you find your own property before leaving for an extended honeymoon?”

Meg nodded.

“Then perhaps in the early spring, you might come for a visit. We hail from Somerset, just outside of Bath. There is a good deal to see and do in the area, and it is a beautiful place in the spring. I would be delighted to show you around,” he added hopefully.

Meg glanced at Nat, not wishing to make plans that might interfere with his own, but he simply smiled at her, his delight in her happiness as great as if it were his own.

“Whatever you want, love.”

“I would like that very much,” she said.

Mr Fairchild sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh before raising his brandy glass to her. “Well, then. I think this will be a very merry Christmas after all. I admit I was rather put out to be missing the celebration with my family, but now I shall have so much to share with them we will celebrate all over again upon my return. Your very good health and blessings upon your upcoming marriage,” he added before taking a drink.

Meg laughed, so touched by this sentiment, she hardly knew what to say, until a thought struck her. “Mr Fairchild?”

“Oh, call me George! We are cousins, are we not?” he said cheerfully, relaxing now he had explained everything.

“George, then,” she said, happiness bursting in her chest. “I wonder, would you mind very much if I asked you to give me away when Nathaniel and I get married?”

George paused with the glass of brandy at his lips, his jovial expression falling away so quickly Meg wondered if she had offended him. But then his eyes became far too bright, and his voice was rather thick as he answered. “Oh, my dear cousin. I should be honoured to do so, if you think you would like it.”

“I can think of nothing I would like more,” Meg said sincerely, and having endured as much as her heart could stand for one day, burst into tears.