Regency Christmas Gifts (8 page)

“
You’re not even going to wish me
Happy Christmas, gel?” the old screw asked.

“
It slipped my mind,” Mary Ann said,
feeling surprisingly serene. “I hope you have the Christmas you
deserve.”

She left Lady Naismith stewing over that one,
and did not look back. As she walked home, she passed sweet shops
with proprietors sliding marzipan and candy chews into cone-shaped
twists, a poulterer’s with forlorn-looking turkeys slung up on
hooks, and a linen draper’s with handsome swatches of fabric ready
for customers with a good deal more money than she had.

She spent a long moment in front of a
clothier’s bow window, admiring a white rabbit-fur muff that Beth
would probably moon over, if she were there. It saddened her that
Beth has quit asking for anything, and angered her that Bart
Poole’s darling, brilliant child had learned to appreciate colored
pictures, instead.

But at least there would be colored pictures
this year. She cast her cares to the wind and bought a slice of
beef for dinner to accompany the cake they had hoarded. They had
decided to leave it alone until Christmas Day, to eat with the beef
and potatoes, courtesy of Mr. Laidlaw, that would constitute a
respectable dinner.

Tonight it would be milk and bread again, but
that was no hardship. As soon as it was dark, they would join other
carolers at St. Luke’s and stroll and sing of new babies and a
virgin mother and carpenter father who probably didn’t have much
between them and ruin, either, if they had to spend the night in a
stable. Afterward, the vicar had promised hot chocolate and
biscuits, and a little something for his students.

Beth was finishing up her painting when Mary
Ann opened the door. She looked over her daughter’s shoulder,
admiring the bouquet of roses, perfect for some day in January when
winter seemed to be hanging on and on. Her own watercolor was
finished and dry, so she slid it into a paper sleeve with Happy
Christmas on the front and painted holly and ivy sprigs. They could
walk to 34 Notte Street tomorrow and deliver them in person as a
small token of friendship.

When Beth finished, Mary Ann took her
watercolor pans next door and touched up last year’s Christmas
drawing of beef roast for Mr. Laidlaw, making the beef medium rare,
with that tinge of pink he liked. In no time at all she had added
dripping pudding, and then in the background, a slice of
cake.

“
Done! I hope you have a Happy
Christmas,” she told the landlord as she cleaned her brush and
dried it.

He nodded to her from the depths of his
ancient, rump-sprung chair, wrapped in a blanket and looking about
as content as a man could. “Same to you, missy,” he told her.
“Let’s have a better new year.”

He said the same thing every year since Mary
Ann had arrived at his doorstep dressed in black, with a
tear-stained face and an infant in her arms. She said the same
thing she always said. “Let’s do.”

By the time Mary Ann and Beth finished supper,
the sky was black with only a few tinges of light low on the
horizon. By the time they reached St. Luke’s, snow was
falling.

The vicar and his wife were dab hands at
organizing caroling parties. In no time they started out, two by
two, to sing to anyone in Haven who was kind enough to open their
door and listen. One of the older girls, proud and careful, carried
the collection box, counting on Christmas generosity to make a
little difference in the lives of the poor.

We’re not there yet
, Mary Ann thought,
her hand on Beth’s shoulder. Where they would be in a week was
anyone’s guess, but it was Christmas Eve, and not a time for worry.
Feeling like a lion tamer with a whip in one hand and a chair in
the other, she forced her fears back into a corner of her mind and
told them to stay there through Christmas.

They sang first for the merchants on Haven’s
modest High Street, which earned a few coins and marzipan for the
children. They sang past Haven’s great houses, where the doors
remained shut. The proverbial butcher, baker, and candlestick
makers were more receptive audiences, along with the constable, who
shook his cudgel at the bigger boys and made the older girls
shriek.

The choir had just finished “A Spotless Rose,”
when Mary felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked around in
surprise, her fist raised, to see Thomas Jenkins.

He gave her fist a shake. “You’re
ferocious.”

“
You frightened me,” she said
honestly, and relaxed when he crooked out his arm and pulled her
arm through. She looked at Beth, pleased to see Susan Davis walking
alongside her daughter.

She stopped and turned to face him. “You are
supposed to be at a boring, crowded party.”

“
I couldn’t even get Suzie to go
with me. Whatever charm I ever had must have been shot off in the
war.”

“
Really, Mr. Jenkins,” she murmured,
happy to be towed along, even happier not to feel alone as she
usually did on Christmas Eve, and discouraged and frightened at
what the new year would bring.

“
In fact, Suzie and I are here to
kidnap the two of you and take you back to Plymouth for Christmas
Day. We decided to start tonight, didn’t we, Suzie?”

“
We did,” his sister said, “so there
will be no disagreement. We have a pretty room for you and Beth,
and my ’tween-stairs girl will have a fire lit.”

“
I daren’t protest,” Mary Ann
said.

“
I wouldn’t,” Suzie told
her.

Two more houses and they were back at St.
Luke’s. While Beth drank her hot chocolate and the grownups enjoyed
wassail, Mary Ann smiled to see Thomas clink enough coins in the
collection box to make the vicar gasp.

“
A naughty lad is Thomas, flaunting
his alms before men.” Suzie stood beside her. “I must scold him. Do
you know, my dear, he bullied me to leave Cardiff and certain ruin
and housekeep for him in Plymouth?”

“
I’m not surprised,” Mary Ann said.
“Ruin?”

“
I had the merest pittance from my
husband and a house in need of repairs I could not afford,” she
whispered back, her eyes on her brother, who was talking to the
vicar now. “He made the repairs, sold my house for a profit, tucked
the money into some sort of fund for me, and spirited me away. He’s
that sort of brother.”

He’s that sort of friend, she
thought.

She was too shy to walk beside Thomas Jenkins
on the way home, busying herself with Beth, who didn’t need any
attention. At the house, it was pointless to argue with either
brother or sister. She bundled up their nightgowns into a bandbox
the former inhabitant of her three little rooms had left behind and
tucked the watercolors under her arm, along with their gifts for
each other, wrapped in brown paper.

The cake and beef came along, too.

She sat next to Thomas in the post chaise, too
shy to speak, while Suzie and Beth carried on a more animated
conversation across the narrow space dividing them.

“
Cat got your tongue?” Thomas
whispered in her ear as they began the descent into
Plymouth.

His face was close to hers and she didn’t mind.
“Every year I think something might happen,” she whispered back.
“It finally did. I intend to enjoy tomorrow.”

It was his turn to look away, and she wondered
if she had offended him. His arm went around her shoulder next, so
she didn’t think he was too upset. Since the chaise was such a
tight fit for four people, she naturally leaned into him,
remembering that nice place under a man’s arm where a smallish
woman fit well. She closed her eyes, determined to remember every
single minute of this evening and the next day.

The bedchamber was just as Suzie predicted, the
walls painted a crisp white, with lace curtains, a fire in the
grate, and a woolen comforter on the bed. Beth stared at Mary Ann
and her eyes filled with tears. Mary Ann folded her child in her
arms. “Let’s just remember everything. It will keep us warm a long
time.”

Uncertain what to do after Beth slept, she went
downstairs and into the sitting room she remembered. Thomas sat on
the sofa with his shoes off, stocking feet propped on a hassock,
reading his beloved Euclid, and Suzie wound a skein of yarn into a
ball. She sat down next to Thomas and looked around at the room,
which had been decorated with holly and ivy. A lace-covered table
in front of the bow window held presents, so she excused herself,
went upstairs, and came down with her few gifts, adding them to the
pile.

She looked close at an apple on a tripod of
twigs, stuffed with—she leaned closer for a sniff—cloves. Sticking
from the top was a green sprig. She turned around to see Thomas
watching her, a smile in his eyes and his finger stuck in
Euclid.

“
Go ahead. Pick it up,” he told her,
setting the book aside. “We’re not so much for Welsh customs, but
this one always reminds me of my childhood, what there was of it
before the war.”

She held up the apple, enjoying the fragrance.
“What on earth is it?”

“
Calennig
,” Suzie told her.
“Little children like Beth take them around to the neighbors, sing,
and get small candies in return for
calennig
.”

“
What is it for?” Mary Ann asked.
She took another sniff.

“
Fertility,” Thomas said, and she
set it down quickly as he started to laugh. He patted the sofa.
“Join me.”

She did as he asked, but not as close, which
made him laugh some more. “For heaven’s sake,” she said finally,
and slid closer. She turned her attention to Suzie, who was winding
yarn again. “Are there any other Welsh customs I should know about?
Your brother is disreputable.”

“
I know, I know,” she soothed.
“Nothing here beyond Welsh spoons and a kissing ball.” She pointed
to the mistletoe tied with red twine and hanging from the ceiling
between the sitting room and the dining room. “Our ’tween-stairs
girl is already trying to maneuver the constable’s son in here for
the kissing ball.”

Mary Ann’s face felt hot, even though the room
was a pleasant temperature. There must be a massive change of
subject somewhere, but all she saw were a brother and sister
comfortable in their house and with each other.

“
How did you get to sea?” she asked
Thomas.

He put away the Euclid for good, his face
serious almost in a night and day sort of way, after his good humor
over
calennig
. “I owe it to my mam and Suzie,” he said, and
passed a hand across his eyes, as though it was a memory tender
even now, after probably thirty years. She had no idea how old
Thomas was.

“
I was ten, and Da said it was time
for me to go to the pit. He mined coal in Glamorganshire, like
everyone else.”

“
That’s young,” she said, tucking
her legs under her and leaning back. If they could be casual, so
could she. The atmosphere seemed to require it here at 34 Notte
Street.

“
Not in a coal mine, ten isn’t
young. I was old enough to pick up the coal my father mined and put
it in his numbered basket. Two weeks I was down there from black
morning to black evening, and crying in my bed every night. Da was
angry.” He blew his sister a kiss. “What does Suzie do but conspire
with our mam. I played sick one morning. After Da gave me a
whipping and left, they scraped together a pound between them and
my aunt next door and told me to run away to sea. I
did.”

“
That’s young, too,” she murmured.
“I suppose there is more to this story.”

“
Aye, lass,” he told her, and
touched one of her curls that had escaped from her widow’s cap
before he realized what he was doing. “Oh, sorry. There’s more.
I’ll tell you some day, but look over there. Suzie is
yawning.”

She turned a little to face him. “Your father
was a hard man.”

“
I thought so at first. I may have
hated him for a while. He was a desperate man, my dear, trying to
provide for a family. I understand him now, and I certainly don’t
hate him.”

“
Did he know of your success?” she
asked.

“
Aye, right before he died.” He
touched her hair again. “Your eyes are drooping.”

She struggled to sit up and he helped her with
his hand on the small of her back.

“
Now if this were Wales, I would
probably get up at three of the clock, stand in the hallway
upstairs and sing hymns and carols. I won’t.”

“
I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she
said, shy again.

“
Go to bed, Mary Ann. Think good
things.”

I
t wasn’t three a.m., but she
woke up to singing. Beth still slept next to her, so Mary Ann got
out of bed carefully and opened the door a crack, because her shawl
was still in the bandbox.

Brother and sister stood in the hallway,
singing, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Mary Ann clapped her
hands and opened the door wider. In another moment, Beth sat up and
rubbed her eyes, then leaped out of bed. Mary Ann grabbed her
before she could run downstairs and closed the door, after telling
Thomas and Suzie they would dress quickly.