Epilogue
It turned out that the Duke of Crestfield had never actually disliked Christmas.
He had disliked shame and pain and embarrassment, but once he had realized that he refused to carry those things forward, his love of Christmas, once again, came to the forefront.
He planned almost all year-round for it.
How he loved doing it, as did his darling duchess, Phoebe. They worked together. Now, his mother still did assist, as did his sister, but it was really himself and Phoebe who took the reins now.
They visited every house upon his estates and every small cottage. They spoke to the little children that lived in those rooms. They spoke to the parents, the grandparents, to the single aunts and uncles, discovering what they hoped to receive for Christmas.
His pride returned.
And, of course, they quickly were able to deduce what was needed too. Whether it was more wool for socks, more coal for fires, or more food for larders, it was always taken care of.
He returned to this role as if he had never left it and there wasn’t anything perfunctory about the way he did it now. Every visit was one of hope and joy. Every smile lit his heart with hope. Every laugh of a child made him believe in the power of Christmas.
His clever Phoebe employed many older ladies who had lost their husbands in the making of dolls. And he had found older gentlemen who could no longer work the fields, but who were quite able to make little wooden toys.
And so, not only were they able to employ people, they were able to give presents to all of the children on his estates.
Shawls were given out to the ladies, scarves to the men, and, of course, baskets full of wonderful and luxurious goods. Not just bread and ginger nuts and necessaries, but also tea and chocolate for the making of hot chocolate.
They loved sharing their love because he had realized, in the end, that the Briarwoods were correct. It was important to have a day of hope.
Yes, so many of the other days of the world were full of pain, but people needed something to look forward to. People needed something to give them motivation, to make it through the hardest parts of their lives.
And he wondered if he had had that over the years, would he have been so miserable for so long? Would he have felt so empty?
Would he have been able to find joy much sooner? He would never know. He did not need to know because he had Phoebe now, and soon they would have a child.
Phoebe’s belly was round with their baby this Christmas.
He had tried to convince her to rest, but trying to convince Phoebe to rest was like trying to convince a racehorse not to run.
He held her hand as they rode in their carriage across his estates a week before Christmas, because there was one thing that was true. He would not keep Phoebe from her family.
He did not wish to stay away from them either.
So, they did most of the fetes on his estates beforehand. And then they took the thankfully short trip from his home to hers, to celebrate, to dance, to make merry, to put on plays, and to celebrate a family that was unlike any in the entire world.
The End