Father Christmas by Barbara Metzger

Author:Barbara Metzger
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The glow of Christmas continued. On Boxing Day, when all the tenants and servitors came to toast their lord’s health and receive his blessing, and his largess, in return, Leland wanted his cousins at Ware. It was important for the boys to meet those dependent on the Warringtons, the duke felt. Graceanne felt this was foolish, when the boys weren’t remotely likely to inherit, but, as the duke pointed out, this was part of their heritage, too, prospective noblemen or not. Every man from titled gentleman to yeoman farmer should know the source of his income, respect it, and care for it. That’s what this day was about.

Respecting the source of her income, Graceanne accepted, although she was nervous about the reception she was likely to get from the duke’s tenants—and their wives. So she dressed with extra care and took her place near the duke and his aunt in the Great Hall, shivering despite the warmth from the two huge fireplaces. Milsom handed her a glass of sherry.

Once the visits began, she realized she had nothing to fear. She’d known most of these people all her life. They weren’t suddenly going to think ill of her for appearing at the duke’s side; most thought it about time she and the boys took their rightful place. She didn’t receive one slighting remark from the women, not one suggestive leer from the men, except from His Grace, after he’d raised his glass one time too many. After the tenth or twelfth farmer’s toast, Graceanne and Milsom made sure Leland’s cup was filled with the children’s punch, not the potent lamb’s wool.

The boys had a wonderful time, helping hand out presents, playing in the snow with the tenant children, being introduced and admired by everyone. The old-timers told Graceanne the twins were the spitting image of His Grace as a lad, and a rare hellion he was, too. They told Ware that it was good to see children in the old fortress, good to see a new generation of Warringtons running up and down the ancient halls. Continuance, that’s what one old gaffer called it, so they toasted continuance, and Ware was well satisfied. The water closet wasn’t working properly and Willy’s ball was missing, he’d have the devil’s own headache on the morrow, but his line had continuance. And the physician reported that Aunt Eudora would make a full recovery.

* * *

The week after Boxing Day, Leland called at the vicarage often, going sledding with the twins once before the snow melted, making sure the rocking horses were delivered, consulting about Duke the dog’s training. He brought a collar and leash his stableman had crafted, fruit from Ware’s succession houses, a box of toys from his own nursery days. When Graceanne protested that he should save such treasures for his own son, he replied that since that son was not even a twinkle in anyone’s eye, the twins may as well enjoy the stuff rather than let it molder in an empty nursery.

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