Page 57 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

Her own grief was heavy enough to bear. And the only thing to help her shoulder it was hope. Perhaps, in time, her absence would outweigh Kit’s passing and its consequences. Then he would see that love was the only thing that truly mattered, and return to her. Love and hope must sustain her until then.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Snow had been falling steadily since early morning, turning the dirty streets of London pristine under a fluffy white covering. Maria sat in the window seat overlooking the park, little Jane on her lap, laughing and trying to catch the snowflakes. Children ran and slid out in the park. Two little girls were lying in the snow making snow angels while their brothers engaged in a snowball battle. Everyone was happy and laughing, even Jane.

But not Maria. With Christmas scarcely a week away, and all the Christmas cheer to gaze at right outside her door, she’d have thought she would be more firmly in the holiday spirit than she was presently. She’d settled into the London townhouse, in fashionable Belgravia, with a minimum of fuss. Of course, as Kinellan said, when one could pay, one could get one’s way.

She smiled, recollecting his droll expression when pronouncing that adage. In the week they’d been in London she’d grown very fond of Jane’s amour. The lucky woman had better hold on to that one with all her might. Not that Jane was in any danger of Kinellan straying from her. He had eyes only for her cousin. Lucky woman.

Bouncing little Jane on her knee, Maria stubbornly refused to think of Hugh again. Not that her resolve meant very much. She thought about him at least three times every day, which meant he was not occupying all of her time as he’d done on the first days of her residence. Then the only time she’d not thought about him had been when she dropped into an exhausted sleep. Now the sharp ache in her heart whenever she brought his dear face to mind, had been replaced by a dull one. Perhaps one day, years from now, it would disappear entirely. She didn’t quite believe that, however.

The biggest problem currently was that she had too much time on her hands. She spent most of her days gazing out the window, thinking about things she shouldn’t. Like ice-skating. One day a group of young people had gone by the window, chatting merrily, their skates slung over their shoulders or tucked neatly under an arm. Instantly, she’d been transported back to that day skating on the dowager’s pond—and the luscious interlude in bed after Hugh had rescued her. She’d sat in the window for an hour until Jane had dragged her in to tea. But she had no appetite.

With Christmas only a week away, she really should rouse herself. Some evergreens around the house might put her in a more festive mood, but decorating was for parties and she wasn’t cheerful enough for anyone. She had asked her parents to join her in London, but her mother said the journey would be too much for her father. They had begged her to come and bring the baby, but Maria had postponed that visit until after the New Year. Irrational as it might be, she wanted to celebrate her first Christmas as an independent widow here, in her home. Unfortunately, it would be a very lonely holiday. Jane and Kinellan were here, her cousin promising to remain indefinitely. The marquess’s response had not been in the spirit of the season, but had expressed his own sentiments very succinctly.

Still, they would be here to celebrate little Jane’s first Christmas with Maria. The house should look more festive. “Nurse.” Maria had only to raise her voice slightly and Nurse Celeste appeared. A young woman who had not been a nursemaid before, but who had helped raise five brothers and sisters into their adult years, Celeste seemed genuinely fond of her charge.

“Here, take her, Nurse. She probably wants a bottle and a nap.” Maria stifled a yawn. “As do I, I’m afraid.” Well, not the bottle, but the nap, definitely.

“Very good, my lady.” Celeste picked little Jane up in well-practiced hands and headed off to the nursery.

Sighing, Maria rang the bell for more tea. What else was she to do? Still in mourning, she couldn’t attend parties or balls. A concert might do, but she’d never enjoyed music as most people did. And books had begun to pall. Everything she wanted to do, lay miles away in the country—rides and walks in the woods, friends to visit, tenants to check on. None of those were available to her here, save the rides and walks, although instead of the woods around Kersey Hall she would have to substitute Rotten Row or some of the carriage haunts in Hyde Park. Certainly not the same as the unrestricted avenues around the Hall. Perhaps this afternoon she and Jane could at least walk in the small park opposite. Anything to keep her from moping around.

Jane accompanied the entry of the tea tray. “Why so gloomy, Cousin?” She seated herself across from Maria and helped herself to a biscuit. “We must do something to raise your spirits. You don’t want to go to church on Christmas Day with a Friday-face, now do you?”

“No, but I cannot seem to find anything to raise my spirits. Christmas at home with my parents was always a joyous time of year. We made a big outing of going into the woods to bring in the greenery. Mama’s sisters and their children would come to the house for Christmas dinner, so there would be lots of conversation and stories. We children played games like blindman’s bluff and find the slipper. Then of course there was the snapdragon.” Maria bounced up in her seat, excitement in her for the first time in days. “Oh, that was so much fun, even with the burned fingers.” She laughed and sighed. “Why can’t it be like that this Christmas?”

“It can be, my dear. But in order to do so, you will need to invite your friends to Christmas dinner. Better yet, ask them to come several days before Christmas and make a house party of it. You have the room here.” Jane gestured to the townhouse, which had six bedrooms.

Maria’s excitement ebbed as quickly as it had surged. “But I don’t have any friends to invite.”

“Nonsense.” Tasting her tea, Jane made a face and hastily added more sugar. “You have Charlotte, Elizabeth, Fanny, and Georgie. Who could ask for a livelier group once you add in husbands, children, and three more babies? Little Jane will be beside herself with new playmates.”

“They are really your friends, Jane.” Maria’s shoulders slumped. “I was always the outsider in their little group. I’d never have met them had you not invited me to Charlotte’s party in the first place.”

“But you have become one of us, my dear. Doubly so, as we called ourselves The Widows’ Club. You have had a much worse time of it than any of the rest of us.” Jane set her cup down and took Maria’s hand. “We were a comfort to one another during the darkest days of our lives, and we will be the same for you, no matter the sorrow.”

“Do you truly think they would come?” Hope flared in Maria’s heart. The women of The Widows’ Club had taken her in once. And although they had disapproved of her marriage to Alan, they had all supported her when they heard about his death, sending cards of condolence and letters to help her through her grief.

“Why don’t you write to them today?” Her cousin smiled and helped herself to another biscuit. “I heard from Elizabeth just before we left Kersey Hall that she and Georgie were to travel to Blackham Castle for the holiday, although Elizabeth was not particularly sanguine about passing the holiday with Lord Blackham. They will likely be quite happy to alter their plans and come to London instead. And Charlotte and Nash are not even a day’s journey from Town.”

“I suppose there might be a chance those three would come.” Now that the possibility of a merry Christmastide was within her grasp, Maria didn’t want to get her hopes up too high. To have the plans all fall apart would hurt abominably. “But I doubt we can expect Fanny to journey so far in such weather.” The snow outside had thickened until she could scarcely see the trees in the park.

“You forget, my dear. Kinellan is here.” Jane’s smile grew wide and wicked. “I will ask him to write to Lathbury suggesting they come as well. I will almost guarantee that barring a blizzard, Lord and Lady Lathbury will appear with their children and his young sisters. You will have a house full of Christmas cheer in less than a week.”

Suddenly the prospect of spending the yuletide in London seemed joyous once more. She might not have the one person with her she wished for most, but she could have friends and family with her to celebrate a new beginning to her life. She rose from the window seat, turning her back on the snowy scene. “I will write them all directly so the letters can go in the afternoon post.”

“Very good, my dear.” Smiling with anticipation, Jane picked up a lemon tart. “Nothing like friends and food to guarantee everyone will have a good time.”

* * *

Saunders opened the door to Hugh’s office early one afternoon and handed him a letter, sealed with a black wax wafer. “This just arrived in the afternoon post, Mr. Granger.”

Even though he’d been expecting this announcement for weeks, the black seal sent a shiver of dread coursing through Hugh. “Thank you, Saunders.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The compassion in the footman’s face somehow made the news Hugh was about to receive real in a way it had never been before.

Hugh nodded and Saunders slipped out.