‘Ah, Mrs Hardwicke,’ Liam sighed, glancing up from his papers, welcoming the distraction though he was still not entirely certain he could trust himself around her, despite their weeks spent apart. ‘Come, please, sit,’ he added, with a wave of his hand.
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Rebecca smiled, taking a seat before him.
The woman had the indecency to look the opposite of what he felt. Sprightly, inspired, entirely herself. Full of life, unplagued by the darkness he knew she carried. Unplagued by longings like his, reassuring and yet heartbreaking.
Our distance has not affected you; how I envy you that, too.
‘I have come to discuss the arrangements for Christmas—if you have time, that is.’
‘Heavens, I’d quite forgotten it,’ he admitted despondently, rubbing the space between his brows with an ink-stained finger.
That explains the jolly mood...
‘We can discuss this at another time, my lord, if—’
‘Nonsense, I am quite in need of a distraction just now.’ He smiled faintly, gesturing to the mass of papers and ledgers strewn across the oak before him. ‘And it is only what, a sennight away?’
‘Indeed,’ Rebecca said, and he felt her studying him closely.
When he caught her gaze, however, she hurriedly opened her notebook, and stared down at it.
‘Well, Mrs Murray wished me to check that you would be happy with a cold dinner on Christmas Eve? And she wondered what you might prefer for Christmas Day? Venison? A goose, a turkey, or...? Unless you are dining away with friends, perhaps? Should we expect anyone?’
‘No, I mean... That is, I shall be at Thornhallow,’ Liam said, only realising it now.
His eyes turned towards the fire, and he remained lost in thought for a moment, before taking a deep breath and returning his attention to Rebecca.
‘A cold dinner will be fine. As for the day itself, well, I admit I don’t know... I’m unlikely to eat a turkey all by myself, nor a goose for that matter... Perhaps,’ he started, studying Rebecca in turn, gauging what her reaction might be. ‘Well, what are the staff planning? Will they all be here?’
‘Yes, we shall all be here,’ Rebecca said, surprised at his interest. ‘It shall be a goose for us, I think.’
‘Unless anyone has a preference for those infernal beasts, make it a turkey.’
‘My lord—’
‘Make it a turkey,’ Liam said firmly, raising his hand. ‘And have a plate of whatever is being had downstairs brought up, if you would be so kind, Miss Merrickson. It is nonsense to cook an entirely separate meal for me alone, and the staff deserve something special. I am quite sure they’ve eaten enough geese to last a lifetime.’
‘Very well, my lord,’ Rebecca conceded with a conciliatory smile. ‘A turkey it shall be.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Well, yes... About decorations...’
‘Must we?’
‘I was only thinking perhaps a little greenery, and—’
‘Do your worst, then, Miss Merrickson,’ Liam chuckled, his mood improving. ‘I see no point in attempting to dissuade you, for you shall simply go forth and do precisely as you please. And don’t pretend otherwise,’ he added, as Rebecca opened her mouth to retort. ‘We shall spend an hour negotiating terms and then one morning I shall descend and find you have turned the place into a paragon of festivity.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, turning her eyes back to her notebook, desperately attempting to hide a smile, but unable, however, to conceal a slight and very becoming blush. ‘Lastly, well, for St Stephen’s Day, that is, I was wondering...’
‘Ah, yes, of course, gifts,’ Liam said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.
He had forgotten that tradition as well. Drat. But, in truth, if anyone deserved gifts, it was his loyal little household. They had served him well, and the least he could do was make an effort.
‘Thank you, Miss Merrickson, I will sort that myself.’
‘Oh, yes, of...of course,’ she stuttered, her eyes wide. ‘You are certain, that is, you need not trouble yourself, I can assist—’
‘Miss Merrickson, I am quite capable, I assure you,’ he countered with a sly grin. ‘And, no, before you ask, it shall not simply be envelopes, do not concern yourself.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She nodded, closing her notebook.
‘You have finished with me, then?’
‘Yes, my lord. Unless there is anything you need, I shall leave you to your work.’
‘That will be all, thank you.’
Rebecca rose and curtsied.
‘Actually, could you have some coffee brought up? I feel as though I shall need it if I’m to continue wading through this mess...’
‘Of course, my lord.’ She nodded before disappearing.
Liam sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling.
Christmas.
He’d forgotten the mere idea of it. It had never been anything other than a dismal, stuffy affair after his mother had...become ill. His father had always insisted they celebrate at Thornhallow, though why he ever used the term ‘celebrate’, Liam wondered. It had been far from anything remotely resembling a celebration.
Shaking his head, Liam remembered the faces of the staff as they’d lined up in the hall, awaiting the grace of their lord. Grim, tight-lipped, heads bowed in fear. That was what his father had inspired. Fear. In everyone he met.
Liam had always vowed he would never be like him. With a man like that as a father, it was no wonder...
Hal...
She’d been the only warmth during the season. She would always wait to give him his gifts until after St Stephen’s, when their father would disappear back to the city until after the New Year. They would have their own private Christmas, and exchange homemade presents. His had always been dire in comparison to his sister’s. She’d been a masterful painter and a delicate knitter, while he’d barely been able to fashion something recognisable from chunks of wood, however hard Tim tried to teach him.
Perhaps he would give Tim a proper new carving knife.
Yes, he would like that, I think...
He could make little horses for his great-nieces and nephews, as he once had for Liam.
And Mr Brown? What shall we get you...
Liam went through the list of his employees, toying with ideas of what to get them. Lizzie arrived and set out his coffee, then disappeared again without a word. Liam barely noticed, so involved was he in his reverie of Christmas planning.
He felt...excited. For the first time in far too long, he felt excited by the prospect of Yuletide. It did not matter that he would be alone; all that mattered was that he might spread some joy, bring some pleasure to those who had faithfully watched over Thornhallow, and over him.
And what about you, Miss Rebecca Merrickson... What shall we get you, then...
Liam grinned, the idea already perfectly formed in his mind.
You will enjoy them, he thought, pouring himself some coffee. Yes, and I think that after all I shall enjoy this Christmas...