Page 31 of Married By Twelfth Night
Richard pointed to the crate. “We scrounged up a few items to see if they would be of any interest to your family,” he explained. He slid out some old sheet music, yellow with age. “This is an original composition by my great-uncle. I thought Ruth might like to see if it was any good.”
“Would I ever?” She accepted the pages with a careful touch.
He dug out the next item: a small box. “We thought this was a box of jewelry, but it was beaded fishing lures. Bridget was devastated. I have plenty of lures, so I thought Mr. Steele might like these to use on our pond this summer.”
Papa would be overjoyed. He loved to fish but always felt like he was overstepping if he asked to fish at Belside more than once or twice a summer.
“I will accept them for him,” Mama said. “Did you rescue a prize for me too?”
“Mama!” Grace said with a laugh.
“I did, indeed.” Richard held up a small framed likeness of Callis Hall. “I think my grandmother painted it, but I can barely read the signature. Anyway, it ought to belong here with your family.”
“How lovely,” Mama cooed. "It does look like your grandmother’s work. I only knew her for a short time, but she was a talented woman."
Grace realized she was the last one to receive a gift, but she would not be so presumptuous as Mama. He didn’t need to bring her a gift. In fact, after the way she had treated him all these years, he had no reason to.
“Is that it?” Tobias asked, as if reading her mind.
Richard shot a glance at her and smiled. “One left.” He dipped his hand in the dusty crate for the last time and pulled out a book.
Whether it was boring or not, she would make herself read it. It was the thought that counted. She extended her hand and accepted it. “Thank you, Mr. Graham. This is most thoughtful.”
She opened it to a random page and discovered it blank. It was a journal, not a book.
“I’ve seen you write in your journal before, and thought you might like it.”
She stroked the smooth leather cover. “I filled the last page in my journal weeks ago and have been wanting a new one.”
“Filled up with silly riddles, perfume recipes, and a million ways to get out of trouble, no doubt,” Ruth teased.
She hadn’t been wrong. This was the exact gift she needed. Practical, useful, and perfect for her. Warmth settled around her, and she looked up to meet Richard’s gaze.
He leaned against the crate, watching her reaction.
“It is most thoughtful,” she assured him. “A true treasure.” She added the last bit with an exaggerated emphasis to make him smile. It worked.
“In that case, the deliveries have been made, and I must return to our attic scavenging. I will see you all tomorrow evening.” After a bow, he turned around to leave. No one said anything about the dust line on the back of his jacket, but they shared a few snickers behind their hands until the door closed after him.
That night, Grace opened her new journal to write in it only to discover someone had already written a riddle. Intrigued, she read:
A boy you loathe, handsome though he be,
With charms that grow, a grudging kindness you see.
Through chance and time, disdain shall bend,
For in his heart, you’ll find a friend.
Who am I?
She grinned and ran her finger over the line about friendship. Richard had surprised her. He was making a real effort to change. Perhaps she did not despise him so very much. Even if he did call himself handsome in his riddle. Her scoff was part laugh. That was so perfectly like him.
And more than a little bit true.
Chapter 13
When the carriage arrivedat Callis Hall for the card party, Richard assisted Bridget out into the cold night, sheltering her tall, willowy form the best he could while they hurried up the steps. The wind was especially brisk tonight, and it chased them all the way inside.
