Regency Christmas Gifts by Carla Kelly Read Free Book Online

make up bedtime tales.
Through the years, her stories had been of princes and princesses,
and the occasional dragon or villain. Maybe in a few years, if the
workhouse didn’t separate them, she could tell her daughter of a
man with dark hair getting a bit gray around the edges, and dark
eyes, and wrinkles around those eyes that probably came from sun,
rain, and wind, and the stress of grave national emergency, for all
she knew. She couldn’t tell such a bedtime story now. Something
told her she would cry, an emotion she gave up years ago, because
it solved nothing.
    She had sat too long woolgathering, and now it
was snowing, a rarity this close to the coast. She watched the big
flakes settle on her dark cloak and admired their intricacy. Maybe
she and Beth could go outside after their bread and milk and study
the snowflakes.
    She hurried down Carmoody Lane and stopped in
surprise to see smoke coming from her chimney. “Beth, you know
better than to start a fire,” she said out loud. “It isn’t that
cold yet.” She hurried inside her house and stopped in open-mouthed
amazement. There was Thomas Jenkins sitting at the table, book open
on the table, drawing an angle with a compass while Beth
watched.
    They looked over at her with uniformly guilty
expressions. “I’ll get you some more paper,” Mr. Jenkins said,
while Beth chimed in with, “He wanted some warmth and said he would
get us more coal.”
    Mary Ann wanted to clap her hands at the
pleasure of seeing the sailing master again. She had wished for
years and not one wish had come true. Yet here he was. She took off
her cloak and bonnet and stuffed her mismatched gloves in her
reticule.
    “ I didn’t expect to see you again,
Mr. Jenkins,” she said, which was no way to greet the man, but she
hadn’t had a lot of practice.
    “ Here I am anyway,” he said simply,
and she had to swallow down tears at such an unvarnished comment.
Here he was. For just a little while, she could forget her fears
because she was back in his orbit again.
    Oh dear, it was time for dinner, and she had
nothing beyond their usual bread and milk. She opened her mouth to
apologize for the paltriness she was about to inflict on him, when
he spoke first.
    “ I delivered the package to Mrs. Myrna Poole,” he said, emphasizing the Myrna. “I took a
moment before Beth returned from school to visit with Mr. Laidlaw
next door. I have invited him for dinner in my favorite restaurant
in Plymouth—it’s not so far—and I extend the invitation to you two
ladies, as well. Do say aye.”
    “ Aye,” she said with no hesitation,
which made the wrinkles around his eyes deepen.
    “ Good! I’ve been leading people
about for so many years that I probably would have hauled you along
anyway, if you had told me nay.” He turned to Beth. “We had better
clear the table and give your mother a chance to freshen herself
before we drag her away.”
    Mary Ann took the suggestion and went into the
bedchamber she shared with Beth. She washed her face in the
blessedly cold water she poured from her pitcher, happy to tamp
down her high color and warmth. Did I wish for this ? she
asked herself, and marveled.
    A glance into her dressing closet assured her
that nothing new had materialized since this morning. She had
another dress, but it was scorched on the side and she hadn’t yet
figured out how to hide the narrow burn streak. Her two other
dresses were fit for their own burn pile. She found a lace collar
that she smoothed out with her fingers. The brooch she used to pin
it had been traded to an apothecary for medicine when Beth had the
croup last year. She found an ordinary straight pin to tack it
together.
    The image in her mirror looked back at her with
anxious eyes, but at least the straight pin didn’t show. She looked
every one of her thirty-two years, but she had no more remedy for
that than for the scorch on her other good dress. Hopefully, the
restaurant wouldn’t be too grand.
    She returned to