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The laugh she gave was brittle. ‘There you are, then. I’m fine. But you can give me some advice.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Do you think I should marry Prince Frederick?’
Talk about a loaded question... But Gabe sensed that if he didn’t answer now Kaitlin would never ask again. ‘He has a lot to offer. He’s a prince, and he seems like a nice guy. You would have a more than comfortable life, and you were brought up to be a princess. You’d do an amazing job. Your children would be well off and privileged. You’d have fame and fortune and the opportunity to do some good.’
‘In other words you think it would be a good alliance?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you, Gabe. I needed to hear that.’
Her voice had regained a level of serenity, yet he felt a qualm twinge.
‘I’ll see you soon.’
Gabe dropped his phone into his pocket and dismissed the doubt. His reasoning was spot-on—an alliance with Prince Frederick of Lycander would ensure Kaitlin’s happiness.
A glance at Etta showed her with her head discreetly bent over the mistletoe decoration as she deftly threaded red beads into place. Brain whirring, he walked across the room, re-seated himself and picked up his own creation.
‘Kaitlin is coming to the fair,’ he said. ‘I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention your role in researching the new family tree to her.’
His sister knew as well as he did that his parents had no interest in their ancestors, and he didn’t want Etta’s suspicions to be aroused. Especially now she had served her purpose.
Emotions seethed in his gut—emotions he had in lockdown even though the name of the man who might found a new Fairfax dynasty reverberated in his brain. Matteas John Coleridge.
Enough.
A small frown creased her brow and he could sense her curiosity.
‘OK. I won’t say a word.’
‘Appreciated.’
‘No problem.’ Another bead was threaded, and with the air of breaching a conversational chasm Etta said, ‘So, you never got round to telling me why you are so Bah humbug about Christmas.’
Reprieve over.
‘I’m not Bah humbug. I’m just indifferent. Christmas hasn’t ever been a big deal in our family. When I was a child I thought the best bit was the Church service in the morning—I loved the ritual of it...the words...the tradition. But after that it was always business as usual. The staff all used to have the day off, but Sarah always left us something to heat up.’
The awkwardness of those childhood Christmas lunches would live with him for ever.
‘You must have enjoyed the presents? All children love to open their stockings.’
‘My parents didn’t do stockings. Their view was that presents should be functional, and we all understood that it was more important to put money back into the estate rather than accumulate useless clutter. They forbade us from giving them presents or giving each other gifts as well—they always said the best present we could give them was the forfeiture of our pocket money.’
Etta looked as though she were picking her words carefully. ‘I get that the estate is important, but presents don’t have to be expensive...’
‘Inexpensive gifts came under the “useless clutter” umbrella, I guess.’
In all honesty the lack of presents hadn’t been an issue. What he’d hated was the lack of any enjoyment. There had been no sitting down to watch a film or play board games, no laughter, nor much conversation, even. Though he knew he had little to complain about—he’d been fed, clothed, warm and safe.
‘It’s no big deal. There were times when we entertained over Christmas—that was much more festive.’
Although soon enough Gabe had understood that each occasion served a purpose, or forged an alliance, all with the idea of furthering the House of Derwent. So he and Kaitlin had learnt how to perform, how to charm and behave as befitted a Derwent, and that way he’d finally won his parents’ approval—the holy grail that all three children had always craved.
‘Tell me about your childhood Christmases.’
