O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,103

maid’s words.

“Do not admonish her,” Timothy said. “She speaks the truth.”

Rose nodded. “Just because we know it to be the truth does not mean we need to give it more power by speaking about it. It is enough that we have been thrown from our home along with the trash.”

“Have you ever been to Whitmore, Rose?” Timothy asked.

“Only in Mama’s stories. But she spoke so vividly about the place, I feel as if I have been.”

“Tis a magical place,” Jen assured them. “The cottage is just feet away from the sandy shore. And the water…” She sank back against the leather squab, finding a comfortable position. “There will be plenty of fish and clams and oysters.”

“Yes,” Rose agreed, fond of baked fish of every kind. “And fresh air, salt air.”

“Rose?” Timothy sat up straight and gazed at her. “I am sorry to have cost you so much.” He stared down at his leg, the far-off look of regret darkening his blue eyes.

Rose sniffled but refused to cry. How many times must she tell him she could never blame him for anything? “You are innocent, Timothy, an angel. The Earl of Brentley must live with his callousness for the rest of his life. We will find our places in Whitmore, I promise.”

Two days later, travel-weary and in desperate need of freedom from the cramped space in the carriage, they arrived at their cottage on the outskirts of Whitmore in the early afternoon. The footman placed their bags on the cobblestone walkway, bowed to Rose, then quickly departed.

“Well.” Rose folded her gloved hands together and slowly spun around, taking in their surroundings. Incredibly, the cottage appeared to be in fine shape. The white picket fence was freshly painted, the walkway swept clean, the two large windows at the front of the cottage were free of grime, and if she weren’t imagining it, smoke billowed from the chimney.

Just beyond the gate, as Jen had said, the waves rolled onto the shoreline, fierce and gray as she expected it to be in winter, but beautiful. Gulls flew overhead, calling to each other, swooping down into the water for food.

Together, they walked to the door of the cottage and opened it, leaving the bags outside.

Rose swallowed as she crossed the threshold. The welcoming scent of freshly baked bread and pastries filled the air. There was a roaring fire in the stone hearth in the drawing room, candles lit throughout. There were fine carpets, framed portraits and other artwork hung on the walls, newer furnishings, and even a pianoforte in the corner.

“I cannot believe what I am seeing,” Rose said, looking at Jen. “Is this the way you remember the cottage?”

The maid considered it for a long moment. “Perhaps some of the furnishings are newer, but I remember the earl telling yer mother often enough to do whatever she wanted with the place, to spare no expense.”

Her answer did not satisfy Rose. “How long has it been since my mother visited the cottage?”

“Four years.”

“Well,” Timothy said. “Someone knew we were coming.” He grinned as he took in the pleasant environs, moving deeper into the house. He wandered to the next room, off the back of the drawing room. “Rose!”

Thinking him hurt, she rushed to his side, afraid he had fallen. But instead, she found herself in another well-appointed space, a bedchamber, masculinely decorated, and obviously meant for Timothy. Yes, as much as she appreciated whoever had put in such careful effort to make the new home welcoming, she feared the inability to repay the costs.

“We owe someone our sincerest gratitude,” she said, peering through the single window in her brother’s chamber that overlooked the back garden. Though the flowerbeds were not filled with colorful blooms due to the winter season, the hedgerows were maintained, and there were three white-washed benches arranged under the loveliest tree. Even statues of a mermaid and dolphins!

Rose shook her head as she returned her attention to her brother. “Three hundred a year could never afford such extravagance, Timmy.”

Her brother grinned. “You haven’t called me Timmy in a long while.”

“I haven’t smiled so much in a long while, either.”

After discovering the kitchen had been fully stocked, including the prettiest set of china dishes and other such luxuries, Rose braved going above stairs with her bags where she found a perfectly fashionable lady’s bedchamber with a small sitting room and a comfortable chamber for Jen. As downstairs, a fire roared in the hearth, and there were marble statuettes on the mantelpiece of various