Chapter 14 #2
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.
Midnight mass was something Nat knew he would never forget as they joined the rest of his family.
Meg looked glorious in the scarlet redingote he had bought her, turning many heads as he walked her down the aisle to the family pew, all the time aware that the next time they did this they would say their vows.
The church was packed with neighbours and friends greeting each other, and so many smiling faces it was clear this was an event much looked forward to by the town.
Nat could hardly doubt it, nor the affection in which everyone held Reverend Honeywell as he appeared and led them all to begin the service by singing the first hymn, Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
As the town’s voices mingled and rose, Nat experienced a surge of joy, a sense of what Christmas really meant, and that he realised he had long ago forgotten.
His recent Christmases had often been spent in some dreadful gambling den, or revelling with the demi-monde, drinking too much and assuring himself he was having fun.
This though, being here, with his family, surrounded by people he cared about, in a place that had always been special to him, even after so many years, this was the magic his grandmother had spoken of.
There was magic here, or something special at least, that he could not put his finger on.
He only knew that he wanted to make his life here, with Meg, and close to the people he cared about, even if they did occasionally make him want to tear his hair out.
“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, taking advantage of the bustle as people took their seats again.
“Merry Christmas, Nat,” she replied, her grey eyes shining in the candlelight, before they turned and gave their attention to Reverend Honeywell’s Christmas sermon.