The Perfect Kiss (37 page)

The Lady’s sisters were there, each one more beautiful than the last, and the ones called Miss Cassie and Miss Dorie were her bridesmaids, with the vicar’s wife matron of honor and the vicar being best man.

The vicar’s father-in-law was there and all, in his wheeled chair. Granny’s poultices had brought up a lovely tumor and once it busted, the old man was on the mend again. And there was a gaggle of young flower girls and pageboys—the lady’s nieces and nephews.

Something odd happened in the service. After the bishop had declared them husband and wife, and let no man put them asunder, he held out his hands and said, “And let us now all
rejoice
,” and the bride fell to giggling and couldn’t stop for ages.

When the bride and groom came out of the church everyone chucked rose petals. Word had gone around they were her favorites, so everyone had been saving them for the occasion. Lovely they were, too.

A small squabble had broken out among a few of the women after the bride passed by with her veil back so you could see her proper. Mrs. Parry reckoned her buttermilk was responsible, but Mrs. Tickel reckoned ’twas her lemons that done the trick. Granny shut them both up—it was water from Gwydion’s Pool, she said—and Granny knows!

After the church there was feasting and music and dancing—one party for the villagers in the castle courtyard and one inside for the toffs as well. Grand, it was.

But the best thing about the wedding was the end. The bride and groom came out from the castle, all ready to go off on their honeymoon, and what do you think was waiting for them? A camel! A proper one with a hump and all.

The beast got down on its knees and the Wolfe and his Lady climbed up on it—the Lady giggling fit to bust and kissing her new husband like she’d been bathed in Gwydion’s Pool and all! And then the great beast rose to its feet and off it went with the Wolfe and his Lady, riding off into the sunset, laughing and waving . . .

Alexandria, someone said they were off to. Up past Shrewsbury, someone said that was.

Epilogue

Live well. It is the greatest revenge.

THE TALMUD

 
 
 
 
 
 
“EVEN THE EMINENTLY SENSIBLE SWALLOWS GO
FROM
ENGLAND
to
Egypt in the winter,” Dominic said. “And yet we go the other way around! It’s freezing! Why you wanted to leave glorious, sunny Egypt to come back to cold and gloomy old Wolfestone is beyond me!”

She smiled from her nest of rugs. “You’ll see.”

She peered out of the window eagerly. “Look, there’s Granny Wigmore’s. And there’s a sign hanging at her gate. What does it say?”

They pressed against the window to read it.

GRANNY WIGMORE POTIONS TO THE GENTRY

Grace giggled. “Potions to the gentry! What on earth does that mean?”

The coach and four reached the open iron gates and passed without a pause between the two snarling stone wolves.

As they turned the last corner, Wolfestone came into sight, blazing with light in the late December gloom. Candles burned in every window, the doorway was festooned with greenery, and the wolf ’s head knocker was surrounded by a wreath of fresh holly and ivy.

“What the devil—?” Dominic began.

The door was flung open and golden light spilled out, welcoming them. Sheba came first, a streak of white, wriggling and ecstatic at her master’s return, followed by a throng of happy well-wishers. For a moment Dominic wondered whether his honeymoon had been a dream—all of Grace’s family was here.

But he and Grace had watched the moon rise over the pyramids. And they’d sailed into Venice at dawn. They’d kissed in front of the Sphinx. Not a dream, but a dream come true.

“Happy Christmas, Dominic,” Grace told him as they were swept inside. To Dominic’s amazement, all of Grace’s family was there, even the children. And every single one of them hugged or kissed him as if it was perfectly normal, as if he was part of their family.

“I hope you don’t mind us invading you,” Prudence told him. “But we always have Christmas together and Grace told us she wanted to spend her first Christmas with you here at Wolfestone.”

“You’re most welcome,” Dominic managed to say.

The inside of his house was festooned with greenery. A huge yule log was burning in the sitting room. The air was filled with the scent of pine and spices.

“Hot mulled wine coming up,” declared Gideon as he plunged a red-hot poker into a large bowl of spiced wine.

“Dinner will be in an hour,” Prudence told them. “I’m so glad you got here in time. We were worried that snow might prevent you from getting here.”

After dinner the whole family sat around the fire, watching the yule log burn and singing Christmas carols. Dominic didn’t know the words. Ten-year-old Aurora watched him for a while, then climbed off her father’s lap and plopped herself on Dominic’s, saying, “Here, Uncle Dominic, I’ll help you,” and for the rest of the evening she showed him the words from her little book of carols.

It was a scene of perfect peace and family togetherness and as the last carol came to a close, young Jamie Carradice called out, “Look, everyone, it’s snowing!”

Through the windows they could see snow drifting down light and powdery. And it was Christmas Eve.

Dominic passed the next day in a daze. He spent what time he could in the library, going through the correspondence that had accumulated in his absence.

After church, everyone came to dinner. Frey brought Melly, rounded and beautiful, glowing with early pregnancy. Sir John came in a bath chair, declaring his determination to live to meet his first grandchild. The house rang with children’s shouts and laughter.

People hugged Dominic and kissed Dominic and gave him presents. And he ate like he’d never eaten before.

And after dinner there was snow to be dealt with—a snowman to be made and snowballs to be thrown. The air was filled with the sounds of shrieks and giggles and splats. And after that it was back inside for hot chocolate and Christmas cake.

Dominic’s first English Christmas, with a family that made it clear he was a valued member, and in the house he’d hated most of his life but which had, miraculously, become the home of his heart.

That night in bed, he held his wife tight and gave thanks for the greatest gift of all—Grace.

The next day was Boxing Day and it turned out Grace had also left instructions about that, before they’d left on their honeymoon: a party for everyone on the estate.

“And we give each family a Christmas box,” Grace explained to him. She showed him. “In each is a little money and perhaps some food or clothing—a little something to help them through the winter months, and to give thanks.”

Dominic saw the box with “The Finn Family” written on it. “Don’t give that one out until last,” he said and hurried off to the library. He found the official-looking letter with the government seal on it and slipped it into the Finns’ box.

The villagers came and the party was a great success. Dominic let Grace give out the boxes; the villagers loved their Lady; it was right that she gave out the boxes.

Granny came up to fetch hers. “Not sure I need no box, though I’ll take it with thanks. Did ye see me sign? I got toffs coming from London to ask me advice and buy me potions!” she told them proudly. “Pay a fortune they will, for herbs I pick for naught! That Sir John, he writ letters to everyone!”

“That’s marvelous, Granny!” Grace hugged her.

Jake Tasker came diffidently up to receive the box for his family. It was a lot smaller than the others. He took it from Grace and shook it, frowning. Suspicion writ large on his face, he opened the small box and took out a key.

“What’s this?”

Dominic stepped forward and looked at it. “Looks like the key to the estate manager’s house.”

Jake gave him a hard look. “And what would I be wanting with a key to Mr. Eades’s house?”

Dominic said, “The house doesn’t belong to Eades, it belongs to the man who is managing my estate.”

Jake frowned. “But I’ve been doing that.”

“Exactly.” As the realization dawned on Jake’s face, Dominic grinned.

Dominic raised his voice slightly, well aware that all the tenants in the hall were stretching their ears to follow the conversation. And this was news they all needed to hear. “Besides, Mr. Eades won’t be needing it. In fact Mr. Eades is not allowed to have any keys where he is.”

“Where is he, m’lord?” shouted Grandad Tasker.

Dominic looked around the room, at the eager faces of all the Wolfestone people. The people whose fates were tied with his own.
His
people. He announced it loud and clear: “Mr. Eades is rotting in Newgate Prison, awaiting trial for what he did to you all—us all. Most of what he stole from the estate has been recovered and will be used to make improvements on everyone’s land. Wolfestone estate is going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

A huge cheer went up.

After the noise had died down, Dominic continued, “And I’d be well pleased if Jake Tasker would accept the position of estate manager permanently.”

Jake shook his hand fiercely and said over the renewed cheering, “I will and all, m’lord. Thank you!”

There was only one box to go. Billy Finn waited with his mother and brothers and sisters, eyeing it excitedly. Every box that had gone to a family with children had contained sweets as well.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Finn,” said Grace as she gave the gaunt woman the box. Mrs. Finn opened it and bemused, took out the big, official-looking letter. She looked fearfully at Grace. “It ain’t an eviction, is it?”

“No, of course not,” Grace reassured her. “I don’t know what it is, but I promise you no one on the estate will be evicted.”

Mrs. Finn looked at it anxiously. “Nothin’ good ever come in a letter that looks like that. Is it a lawyer’s letter?”

Billy took it from her hand. “Let me see it, Mam.” He opened it, frowned over the heavy paper with a government seal on it, then unfolded a much smaller, more ordinary piece of paper. He read a few lines, then looked straight at Dominic and asked with a mixture of hope and truculence, “This be a joke or not?”

“It’s real, Billy,” Dominic said quietly.

Billy swallowed and said to his mother, “It’s from the governor of New South Wales, Mam. And a letter from Da.” When the exclamations had died down, he read:

“My darlin Annie, I hope this finds you and the nippers well. I’m writin’ to tell you I’m a free man. I been pardoned. Lord D’Acre writ a leter to the governor and told him I were wrongly convicted. He told him I never did nothing wrong at all.”

Mrs. Finn gave a great sob and hugged the nearest child. Billy continued, his voice a little husky:

“I can’t go back to England, but New South Wales ain’t what we feared. They be short o’ farmers here and they need food, so I been granted land. I’m a farmer, Annie, on my own land.”

“His own land!” The murmur ran through the crowd.

“Life here be clean and good, so I am saving money to bring you and the children . . .”

Annie started sobbing and clutching the children. “All that way! It’ll cost him a fortune.”

“Look in your box, Annie,” said Dominic quietly.

A hush fell as Annie slowly opened her Christmas box. In it was a purse of money. When she opened it and saw how much it was, she nearly fainted.

“It will buy you and the children a passage to New South Wales. Or you can use it to support your children here, if you don’t want to go.”

She raised a glowing, tear-streaked face to him. “Not want to go? Not want to go and be with my darlin’ Will again? Oh, we’ll go all right, m’lord, as soon as we can.” She grabbed his hand and tried to kiss it, but Dominic would have none of it. “Thank you, thank you, m’lord.”

“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “I’m only putting right the wrong done to you through my father’s lack of care.”

Billy folded the letter and turned to face the marveling crowd. “See—I
told
you he was a good ’un!” he yelled jubilantly.

 
 
THAT EVENING DOMINIC AND GRACE, ARMS AROUND EACH other, walked slowly up to bed, stepping in the hollows his ancestors’ feet had made. Dominic looked down at her. His heart was almost too full to speak.

“Look up there,” Grace told him.

He looked up and there above them was the Wolfestone gargoyle, his wise old face wreathed with mistletoe.

“I think he wants us to kiss, don’t you?”

And so they kissed. And it was a perfect kiss.