I prepared to go to the printers, I realized how conceited I must appear. Then I knew that out of my love for you—which I was still not fully aware of—I must have your poems bound. I should like to share you and your incredible talent with the world. I've sent a copy to a London publisher, and I had enough copies made to present them to members of our respective families as Christmas gifts."
She did not want to bawl in front of him, but she could not help it. No one had ever done anything for her in her entire life. Only Mama had ever given her a Christmas gift. Nothing could have affected her more profoundly. There in black and white read The Golden Bough and Other Poems by Mary Arbuckle .
She flung her arms around him and wept into his fine woolen coat.
* * *
As he and Mary were leaving the church on Christmas morning, Jonathan glimpsed Archie on the back row. But where was the lad's mother? He hoped to God she hadn't not availed herself of the holiday to get a nip of gin. When they drew abreast of the lad, Jonathan was stunned to realize the woman beside Archie was his mother. Layers of grime had been removed from her skin to reveal a complexion nearly as pretty as Mary's ivory skin, with a hint of rose upon the woman's cheeks. Even the woman's hair was clean and tidily arranged. He recalled that Glee had bought her a new cloak for Christmas, and she must be excessively fond of it for she'd worn the blue woolen cape-like thing all through the Christmas service.
What a lovely Christmas this was proving to be!
A short time later he and Mary, along with Mrs. Arbuckle and his own mother, were greeting Thomas and Felicity Moreland and Lord and Lady Sedgewick at Winston Hall. Children were scurrying all about. His precious little niece was thrilled to be with her Moreland cousins. The fact that all three of them were male in no way prevented her from following them about.
Glee had spread out a blanket for the babies to crawl up. Sedgewick's older son and daughter were down on their knees playing with their new twin siblings. The twins—a boy and girl—looked nothing like each other, but each looked remarkably like their elder brother, who was a miniature version of his blond and burly father.
Though Glee had desired that baby Gregory crawl with his cousins, Jonathan's mother was reluctant to have the babe removed from her lap. Jonathan had never known his mother could act so foolish. She kept remarking on how strong was the family resemblance. "I see your dear Papa's face in the little darling," she said. More than once.
Later, whilst they were sitting in the Moreland's opulent dinner room eating the Christmas goose from heavily gilded plates beneath a row of sparkling chandeliers, a heavy knock sounded at the front door. Thomas got to his feet. "I've given most of the servants a Christmas holiday. Allow me to get the door."
A moment later, he returned, a letter in this hand. "A special messenger brought this for Sedgewick."
Lord Sedgewick's brows lowered when Moreland handed it to him.
Why would someone send a special messenger on Christmas Day? What could be so bloody important, Jonathan wondered. All conversation ceased as all eyes went to Sedgewick. When he finished reading, he shook his head in bewilderment as he handed the letter to his wife.
"Pray, what is it?" Felicity asked. "Is everything all right?"
"Indeed it is," a stunned Sedgewick said. "This may very well be my best Christmas ever."
The man already had a wife he loved most potently and four lovely children. What else could a man want, Jonathan wondered.
Sally Sedgewick erupted into tears, burying her face in her hands, her husband drawing her into his chest. "There now, love. Everything will be wonderful from now on."
"You must tell us," Felicity demanded.
George Pembroke, the Earl of Sedgewick, regarded his elder sister. "It's a letter from Mr. Johnson's solicitor with specific instructions that it be delivered to me on Christmas