Margaret McPhee - A Magical Regency Christmas - Christmas Cinderella / Finding Forever at Christmas / The Captain's Christmas Angel

She had left the Manor without fanfare. Neither Susan nor Mary had come downstairs to say farewell to her. Only her aunt had seen her off, mouth thin with disapproval.

I dare say it will not take you long to realise the folly of your actions.

Outside the afternoon was drawing in, she had already closed the shutters and blown out the lamp. There was enough light from the fire and she couldn’t afford to burn lamp oil wantonly. For the first time in her life, she was alone. Utterly alone. And she had a horrible feeling that loneliness was very close, waiting to pounce.

The knocking on the door made her jump. ‘Come in!’ she called as she scrambled up from the settle.

Alex Martindale stalked in, a scowl on his face. ‘Why isn’t the door bolted?’ he demanded. The stern effect was rather ruined by a half-grown, black-and-tan setter pup, who rushed across the floor to her, all outsize paws, lashing tail and enthusiastic tongue.

‘Bolted?’ She stared at him while the pup licked her hands. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ He looked around. ‘Is something wrong with the lamp?’

‘No, nothing,’ she said. ‘Why should my door be bolted? It’s barely five o’clock.’

‘It’s dark!’ he retorted. ‘Or nearly so. Anyone could come by!’

‘Someone just did,’ she observed, patting the dog.

‘Who?’ he growled.

She stared. What on earth had him all on end?

‘You, of course,’ she said. ‘Who else would have bothered?’

‘Who else?’ he echoed. ‘Polly—Miss Woodrowe—any tramp could come by and see the light. Perhaps decide to find out who lives here.’ His mouth flattened. ‘And you’re here by yourself.’

‘Oh.’ She flushed. Felt a complete widgeon. ‘I see.’

‘Thank God for that. Now, will you promise to bolt the door in future?’

All her family’s concern had been for how her actions must reflect on them, how demeaning it was. His furious concern for her safety was as warming as the fire itself.

She nodded. ‘Yes. If you believe it necessary.’ And when she saw the relief on his face she warmed even more.

‘Good.’ He hesitated. ‘I won’t stay. I just wanted to give you this.’

He held out a parcel and she took it with trembling hands. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded. ‘Are you sure you’re quite all right here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And there’s nothing wrong with that lamp?’

‘No.’ She flushed. ‘I didn’t want to waste oil.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little disconcerted. ‘I see. Bonny—sit.’

The pup sat, her tail lashing, then, with a sigh, lay down and curled up beside the fire.

‘Bonny?’

He smiled. ‘An early Christmas gift from Lady Alderley. She thought a dog would be good company.’ He eyed the pup dubiously. ‘Which is probably true, as long as she doesn’t cost me my housekeeper. Mrs Judd is not entirely convinced and nor is her cat.’

Polly laughed. ‘But she’s lovely. And dogs are good company.’

‘True. You’re all ready for tomorrow?’

Her stomach twisted. ‘Yes. Everything is prepared.’

His head tilted. ‘Including you.’

‘Yes. Including me.’ She hoped.

‘No regrets?’

That steadied her as nothing else could have. ‘None.’ And suddenly it was true. She had no idea how this would turn out, but she had made her choice. The choice she had wanted to make. Even if it all came crashing around her ears in the end, for the moment she had her independence and that was golden. If loneliness was the price, then she was prepared to pay it.

‘May I open my present?’ she asked.

To her amazement, he flushed. ‘It’s not a present, exactly. Just something I had by me. You might find it useful, that’s all.’ He scowled. ‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all.’

Her hands were busy with the string and the paper which came apart to reveal a small, plain wooden box with a key in it. A small posy of inlaid flowers decorated the lid.

‘Oh.’ Her breath came out on a sigh of delight. Hands trembling, she turned the key and opened the lid to reveal two inner lids with little brass knobs. A slightly pungent fragrance drifted to her and she knew what he’d brought her.

She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘It’s a tea caddy. Thank you.’ It came out as a whisper, all she could manage.

He said, awkwardly, ‘It’s not a very good one. It’s just a hobby. But—’

‘You made it?’ Her hands closed on the little box as emotion choked her. She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Thank you, sir. It’s the loveliest gift I’ve ever had.’

She lifted one of the inner lids and saw the little wooden spoon, nestled in the tea. ‘And you made a spoon, too?’ She lifted it out, felt the silkiness of the wood under her fingertips, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

‘Two,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘One for each compartment.’

Heat threatened behind her eyes as she replaced the little spoon in the fragrant leaves and closed the lid. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t! Carefully she set the caddy safely on the shelf by the fire with the teapot.

‘Thank you, sir.’ There, she’d sounded quite steady.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said. The dark eyes watched her and her heart beat a little faster. ‘Is everything quite all right, Miss Woodrowe? You are sure you won’t feel lonely tonight?’

‘Quite sure,’ she said, her gaze going to the caddy.

* * *

Alex walked along the village street towards the rectory and his evening Office. Something rested, warm and glowing, near his heart. He’d made the caddy, just the caddy, last summer, intending it for Pippa, but it hadn’t seemed quite right for her and he’d set it aside. Seeing it on the back of his shelf the other day after showing Polly the schoolhouse, he’d known why he’d held on to the caddy; it was waiting for Polly. But he’d wanted to make something especially for her, and a tea caddy needed caddy spoons, didn’t it? That bare, bleak little room had haunted him while he carved them, but somehow, when he’d seen her face just now as she cradled the gift, the room had seemed full, glowing. Not bleak at all. He clicked his fingers and whistled for Bonny, who was exchanging greetings with the blacksmith’s old collie.

Davey Fletcher came out and called his dog. ‘Evening, Rector. Your Miss Polly all right, is she?’

‘Er, yes.’ No point denying where he’d been. His Miss Polly? It was natural that he should take an interest in Miss Woodrowe’s situation, wasn’t it?

‘Little bit of a thing to be setting up for herself,’ said Fletcher. ‘Still, it’s a good thing for the youngsters.’ He scratched the collie’s ears. ‘Reckon we’ll all keep a bit of an eye on her, eh, Rector?’

* * *

The scholars stood behind their desks, faces scrubbed and shining, gazing solemnly at Lord Alderley as he introduced Polly the next morning.

‘Miss Woodrowe has agreed to teach you and I know you’ll all do your best for her.’ He gestured Polly forwards. ‘In a way, she is like a Christmas present—one that you’ll have all year. We want all of you to learn to read and write, and do your sums so that you can get good jobs and do them well. And now I think if Mr Martindale will finish with a prayer, we’ll get out of Miss Woodrowe’s way and let her start.’

Alex stepped forwards and everyone bowed their heads as he spoke directly to God, thanking him for the gift of the children and—Polly blushed scarlet—for the gift of Miss Woodrowe, come at exactly the right time in answer to prayer for a teacher. She doubted that she was entirely what Alex Martindale, Lord Alderley, or even the Almighty for that matter, had had in mind. But here she was and here were the children, and she was going to do her very best for them. No matter that Aunt Eliot and her cousin Susan were standing stiffly at the back of the room with Lord and Lady Alderley. Polly had no illusions that her aunt approved of the situation—Lady Eliot was here because Lady Alderley had an interest in the school and would be present.