Regency Christmas Gifts Read Online Free Page A

mother, and closed it again. “But I am
not to complain.” That wasn’t enough. “Mr. Pettigrew does not
precisely shine in math.”
    Thomas wanted to laugh and then laugh some
more, delighted by the company he was keeping that had just dropped
in unannounced. He used considerable discipline to limit himself to
a smile at Mrs. Poole, who to his further amusement had pressed her
lips tight together to keep from laughter, too.
    “ Beth, you would have been welcome
in my quarterdeck lessons,” he told her. “What else? I also
keep—kept—the ship’s official log.” He waved his hand. “I was all
the time signing documents and doing boring stuff.”
    “ You kept the log?”
    Mrs. Poole’s interest equaled her daughter’s,
to his further delight. She put down her cup and given him her full
attention. “I had thought the captain did that.”
    “ A ship’s captain keeps a personal
log. Mine is—was—the official log. At the end of each voyage, I
took it to the Navy Board as the full and official record of all
that happened during a single cruise.”
    “ Mama could do that,” Beth supplied.
“She likes to write and draw and she doesn’t mind tedious
things.”
    “ Then I should turn her loose in my
bookroom to balance accounts and keep records,” he told
Beth.
    “ She would never disappoint you,”
the child replied.
    Mother and daughter looked at each other, and
Thomas saw a comradeship that touched his heart. From the few
things she had said, it was evident to him that it was Life versus
Mrs. Poole and Beth, with no buffer. They were all they
had.
    “ And now we truly must conclude this
delightful visit,” Mrs. Poole said, with what Thomas hoped was real
regret.
    “ We’ve been charmed,” Suzie said.
“Let me put those macaroons in a parcel for you to take along.” She
rose and left the room even as Mrs. Poole opened her mouth,
probably to object.
    “ So we leave you the brush and comb
to rewrap and send to another Mrs. Poole,” the widow said. “I hope
it was not to have been delivered in timely fashion.”
    “ Oh no,” he assured her.
“ That Mrs. Poole is an old dear who sold me this house and
most of its contents. Suzie found the set in the back of a drawer.
We thought she might want it.”
    She paused and took a deep breath, and he
witnessed the regrettable look of a woman forced to pawn her
dignity. Her shoulders drooped and her eyes wouldn’t meet his as
she said in a small voice, “I must trouble you for that five pence
I paid to claim the package.”
    He felt his heart break a little. Five pence
was such a small sum, but he had already deduced that there was
little between survival and ruin for Mrs. Poole and her daughter.
Her head went up then and she squared her shoulders, a sight he
knew he would never forget. He doubted that Beth’s father, holding
off the French Army at Corunna, was any more gallant than his
wife.
    Don’t cry, you idiot , he told himself,
as he reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a shilling.
“It’s the smallest coin I have.” He saw her open her mouth to
object and he overrode it with his senior-warrant officer voice.
“The other seven pence will be recompense for your efforts in
returning this parcel to me, and I will not have an argument, Mrs.
Poole.”
    She took the coin, and her expression told him
she knew exactly what he was doing. “You are so peremptory! You
must have been a trial to the midshipmen and subordinates,
Mister … no … Master Jenkins.”
    “ Fearsomely so, madam,” he told her,
pleased to hear the word ‘master’ applied to his name again. “Turn
it over to Beth. What would you do with seven pence?”
    Beth didn’t even have to think about it. “I
would buy watercolors,” she said promptly.
    You were born to command , he thought,
amused. No hesitating there . “What would you
draw?”
    “ Not here, Beth,” her mother said
quietly, then turned away because Suzie and maid had come into the
sitting room with