Chapter 12 #2
“With pleasure.”
“Excellent! Now, then. Come into my study if you would and make yourself comfortable. Ah, yes, that’s Sunday’s sermon,” he said, hurrying forward to remove a pile of papers from one chair before regarding the stack of books on the other.
“Er… just… pop them anywhere,” he said, looking at his crowded desk with dismay.
Nat obligingly lifted the stack of books and set them down on the floor as the reverend moved piles of papers and sundry items on his desk to make a space for the arrival of the tea tray.
“It all gets in such a shocking muddle,” he said with a sigh as he said down behind the desk.
“My eldest daughter, Clemmie, used to manage it all for me, but she’s married now.
Not that I’m complaining, her husband is a splendid fellow and they’re very happy.
It’s just my youngest daughter with me now, and she is more of a dreamer and no better at organising than I am.
Perhaps I need a secretary. She keeps urging me to get one…
but you did not come here to listen to my domestic complaints. What may I do for you?”
“We’d like to get married,” Nat said, smiling at the fellow.
“Well, yes, I gathered that—oh! Do you mean to say you wish me to marry you, here in Little Valentine?” he asked eagerly.
“We do,” Meg agreed, touched by the sincere delight in the fellow’s eyes.
“Why, this is marvellous news! Simply marvellous! How delightful. Yes, indeed, I should be thrilled to do so. Now, when were you thinking of? I’m afraid the weeks before Christmas get rather desperately busy, but I could manage Boxing Day, if that suits you?”
“Oh. Well, it would, but we don’t have a special licence,” Nat replied regretfully. “By the time I’d gone to Doctor’s Commons and made the request, then waited for a response, even if they allowed it, which I doubt, we may as well have waited.”
“Ah, you say that,” the reverend replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But it just so happens I have friends, shall we say, in high places.” He grinned, looking for all the world like an elderly schoolboy, up to no good.
“Could you really do it?” Nat asked, astonished. “I assumed we would have to wait for the banns to be read, but I cannot pretend I wouldn’t like to do it sooner.”
“I never make promises I cannot keep,” Honeywell said solemnly.
“What do you think?” Nat asked, turning to Meg, who had wondered how much such an extravagant thing as a special licence might cost, but the excitement in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
“Perfect,” she said, quite unable to keep the smile from her face.
“Boxing Day it is, then,” Nat said, not taking his eyes from hers and reaching out his hand.
Meg took it, glancing shyly at the reverend, who was beaming with delight.
“A Christmas wedding!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “What could be nicer? I’m so pleased, and I thank you kindly for putting your faith in me. I shall do all I can to ensure the day goes off just as you would like.”
“We know you will,” Meg assured him, feeling rather dazed as she realised, in little more than a week, she would be a married lady.
Her future, which had seemed so dismal and hopeless, had suddenly become alight with hope and expectation. It felt like a dream.
The tea tray arrived, and Polly set it carefully down on the desk, but before Meg could offer to pour, the reverend got to his feet, rubbing his hands together.
“Well, never mind the tea, this calls for champagne!” he exclaimed, and hurried out of the door.
Polly sighed, shaking her head. “He does love a wedding celebration. I’d help yourselves to tea while you’re waiting, though. It will take him an age to select the perfect vintage for you.”
With this sage advice, the girl bobbed a curtsey and showed herself out.
It was sometime later before they left the vicarage, fortified by tea and cakes and several glasses of champagne.
Meg was delighted to discover this treat was shared by the entire household, including Polly, all of whom toasted the happy couple.
By this time, the sun had disappeared behind a bank of white cloud, and the first flutters of snow were drifting down.
Nat laughed, turning to watch Meg as she stared up at the sky.
“You’ve got snowflakes on your eyelashes,” he said softly, cupping her cheek with his gloved hand.
“It’s so beautiful. Do you think it will settle?” she asked, hoping she might get to see the entire village blanketed in snow.
“Well, it’s got a way to go, but it’s possible. I remember one year when the servants had to dig out the front door, it was so thick. Hawkney and Aubrey and I made the biggest snowman you ever saw. And had snowball fights, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she said, amused, slipping her arm through his as they walked “Can we make a snowman?”
“Certainly. Have you never done so?”
Meg shook her head. “No, though we had plenty of snow when I was a child, I assure you.”
“Well, we must add it to the list of things to make your perfect Christmas,” he said firmly as he led her back to the hall, which was lit up and glowing with welcome. “Providing the weather plays along. I can’t be held responsible for everything, you know.”
“Foolish man! As if I would. Good afternoon, Howard!” she added, greeting the butler as he opened the door for them.
“Miss Bancroft, Mr Ashford. I hope you had an enjoyable morning?” he enquired politely, as a footman relieved them of their coats and hats. “I am to inform you that his grace requests your presence in his study.”
“What? Right now?” Nat objected, scowling. “Devil take him, what does he want?”
“I could not say, sir, but I believe the dowager duchess is with him,” Howard replied apologetically. “Shall I announce you?”
“No, don’t bother with that,” Nat grumbled, taking Meg’s hand.
“What do you think he wants?” Meg asked, a leaden sense of foreboding settling in her stomach.
“I don’t know, and if my grandmother wasn’t with him, I’d make him wait. As it is, we’d better see at once.”
Meg nodded, following as he led her along the corridor. She glanced up at the illustrious portraits gazing down from the walls, generations of Seymours and De Veres looking at her with what felt in that moment like contempt.
“Nat.” She tugged at his hand.
He turned. “What, love?”
“Don’t get cross,” she said suddenly. “For your grandmother’s sake, if nothing else. I know you and Hawkney don’t get along, but he is trying to protect his family. Remember that if… if it turns out to be something unpleasant.”
Nat stopped outside the door to Hawkney’s study and took her hands in his. “You’re frightened.”
“I am rather,” Meg admitted. “It’s just… it’s all too much like a dream, Nat. This place, the reverend and the snow and, most of all, you. The dowager was right, there is magic here, but… but what if it isn’t for me? What if I’m an imposter or—”
Her words were cut off as Nat pressed his mouth to hers.
“Have you quite finished talking absolute twaddle An imposter, indeed! I never heard such rot. It is like a dream, but not the kind where you wake up with a start and realise you’ve been sleeping.
The kind that a person gets to live, because it’s real and true and he’ll do just about anything to make certain of it.
Now, come along, let’s get this over with, whatever it is,” he grumbled, towing her towards the door.
“Yes, Nat,” she said, smiling as relief coursed through her.
It didn’t last long, as the moment she entered the study and saw Hawkney’s stern countenance and the dowager’s worried frown, she knew it would be awful.
Meg attempted a small smile for the dowager, who nodded in response but did not return the expression.
She sat beside the fire, as upright as ever, both hands grasping the silver-topped walking stick she sometimes used.
Hawkney got to his feet. “Nat. Miss Bancroft,” he added, his tone chilly.
“What’s this about, Hawk?” Nat demanded.
The duke hesitated, something that looked very much like regret in his eyes as he turned to his cousin. “I know you won’t believe this, Nat, but I am sorry. Truly sorry.”
Nat guided Meg to a chair and stood close beside her, folding his arms. “Oh?”
Hawkney sighed. “Nat, Miss Bancroft is not what she purports to be. In short, I believe her to be a fortune hunter. At the very least, she is a thief. After some investigation, I discovered from a friend that she was recently in service to a cousin of theirs as a governess. She stole a valuable book and—”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Meg exclaimed, too relieved to stay silent.
“I beg your pardon?” Hawkney said, his tone glacial as he stared at her. “You expect me to believe you are pleased to have your despicable character revealed to my cousin and my grandmother after the great kindness they have shown you and—”
“Shut your mouth, Hawk, before I put my fist in it,” Nat growled, clenching his hands as if to illustrate his intention.
“Nat! You promised,” Meg reminded him, reaching out to grasp his sleeve.
Nat glanced down at her and made a frustrated rumbling sound.
“Devil take it! Very well. In that case, Hawk, shut your mouth before I make you look like an idiot. I know all about the book and that Meg was a governess. It’s how we met and, yes, I lied to you.
Aren’t you shocked? Are you going to call me out for my despicable character now? ” he asked, lips curling in a sneer.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop all this nonsense,” the dowager said, banging her cane on the floor. “Didn’t I say you had it all wrong, Hawkney?”
“I have as yet heard nothing that disproves any of what I’ve been told about Miss Bancroft. Nat has only confirmed she was a governess in the employ of a family who accuse her of theft.”