into the man’s hovel and sat cross-legged and openmouthed on the floor watching him when he was busy.
It was doubtful that Chandler had ever held in his hands a gold ring of such quality set with nine sapphires of such dark luster, and a diamond that must be worth a fortune in itself.
“Where did you get these ’ere, lad?” he asked in the middle of one particular night, not at all pleased at having been dragged from his slumbers and his two serviceable blankets. He held the ring in one hand, the diamond in the other.”
“It belongs to my guv’nor’s missus,” the child said. “I’m ’avin’ it mended for ’er. She sent me. She sent me a shillin’.”
“A shillin’?” The former jeweler frowned. “And sent yer in the middle of the night, did she?”
Nicky nodded.
“Did you steal these ’ere?” Chandler asked grimly. “I’ll whip the skin off yer backside if you did.”
Nicky began to cry. His tears were perhaps somewhat more genuine than was usual with him. “She’s pretty,” he said, “an’ she smells like a garden, an’ she brings me choc’lut when I’m in bed. An’ I’m ’avin’ it mended for ’er.”
“But she didn’t send yer, lad.” It was a statement, not a question.
Nicky shook his head. “It’s to be a surprise,” he said. “Honest, Mr.
Chandler. She lost the di’mond, an’ she cried, an’ I found it. I’m ’avin’ it mended for ’er. I’ll give you a shillin’.”
“I’ll do it,” Ned Chandler said with a sudden decision, looking ferociously down at the tiny child from beneath bushy eyebrows with a gaze that reminded Nicky uncomfortably of the earl. “But if I ’ear tell of a lady wot ’ad a ring stole, Nick, lad, I’ll find yer and whip yer backside. Understood?”
“Yes.” Nicky watched in silent concentration as the jeweler’s tools were unwrapped from an old rag and the diamond replaced in the ring.
“You can keep yer shillin’,” the man said, tousling the boy’s hair when the mended ring had been carefully restored to its hiding place. “And you make sure to give that ring back, lad. Don’t you be tempted to keep it, or I’ll be after yer, mind.”
“Take the money,” the boy said, holding out his treasure, “or it won’t be my present. Please?”
The man chuckled suddenly. “Well,” he said. “I’ll take it, ’cos it shows me yer must be honest. Off with yer then, lad. Be careful on your way back.”
Nicky grinned cheekily at him and was gone.
Christmas Eve. It had always been Estelle’s favorite day of the season.
It was on Christmas Day, of course, that the gifts were opened and that one feasted and sat around all day enjoying the company of one’s family.
But there had always been something magical about Christmas Eve.
On Christmas Eve there was all the anticipation of Christmas.
And this year was to be no exception. There was all the hustle and bustle of the servants and all the tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen, that of the mince pies being the most predominant. And there was Alma pretending to forget a dozen times during the day that the mistletoe was hanging in that particular spot, and standing beneath it.
Especially when Estelle’s unmarried brother, Rodney, happened to be in the room.
And there was Papa working everyone’s excitement to fever pitch, as he did every year, with hints dropped about the presents, hints that stopped just short of telling one exactly what the gift was. And Mama sitting with her needlepoint having a comfortable coze with Allan’s mother. And the children rushing about getting under everyone’s feet, and their parents threatening halfheartedly to banish them to the nursery even if it was Christmas.
And the men playing billiards. And the girls whispering and giggling.
And Papa tickling any child who was unwise enough to come within arms length of him.And Allan relaxed and smiling, playing the genial host.
And Nicky following the tea tray into the drawing room with a plate of cakes and pastries, looking fit enough to eat himself, and the pleased way he puffed out his chest when Estelle caught his eye and smiled and winked at him.
And the group of carolers who came to the door before the family went to church and were invited inside the hall and stood there and sang, their cheeks rosy from the cold outside, their lanterns still lit and in their hands. And the noisy and cheerful exchange of season’s greetings before they left again.
And the quiet splendor of the church service after the hectic day.And the Christmas music.And the Bible readings.And Bethlehem.And the star.And the birth of the baby, the birth of Christ.
And suddenly the meaning of it all, the quiet and breathless moment in the middle of all the noisy festivities surrounding it.
The birth of Christ.
Estelle was seated beside her husband, their arms almost touching. She looked at him, and he looked back. And they smiled at each other.
The drawing room was noisy again when they went back home, even though the children had been put to bed before they went to church. But finally the adults too began to yawn and make their way upstairs. After all, someone said, it would be a terrible tragedy if they were too tired to enjoy the goose the next day.
Estelle smiled rather regretfully at her husband when they were alone together. “It’s going so quickly,” she said. “One more day and it will all be over.”
“But there are always more Christmases,” he said.
“Yes.” Her smile did not brighten.
“Are you tired, Estelle?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Mm,” she said. “But I don’t want the day to end. It has been lovely, Allan, hasn’t it?”
“Come and sit down,” he said, seating himself on a love seat. “I want to tell you about Nicky.”
“About Nicky?” She frowned. And Allan wanted to talk to her?
One of his arms was draped along the back of the love seat, though he did not touch her when she sat down beside him. “I have been making some plans for him,” he said. “I spoke with him in my study this morning. He seemed quite agreeable.”
“Plans?” Estelle looked wary. “You are not going to send him away, Allan? Not another apprenticeship? Oh, please, no. He is too young.”
“He is going to live with his mother and his sister,” he said.
She looked her incomprehension.
“I am glad to say the orphanage was a fabrication,” he said. “To win your sympathy, I do believe.”
“He lied to me?” she said. “He has a family?”
“I am afraid he became the victim of a villainous character,” he told her gently. “Someone who was willing to set him up in life, buy his apprenticeship to a chimney sweep in exchange for stolen items from the houses that a climbing boy would have access to.”
Estelle’s eyes were wide with horror. She did not even notice her husband take one of her hands in his.
“I told him I would not tell you,” he said. “But I have decided to do so, knowing that you will not blame Nicky or think the worst of him. I caught him at it a week ago, Estelle, though I already had my suspicions.”
She bit her upper lip. There were tears in her eyes.
“The money from his stolen goods-or some fraction of it-was going to the upkeep of his mother and sister,” he said. “It seems the father took himself off some time ago.”
“Oh, the poor baby,” she whispered.
“I have spoken with the mother.” He was massaging her hand, which had turned cold, in both of his. “I had her brought here yesterday. I had from her the name of the villain who has been exploiting the child in this way and have passed it on with some pertinent information to the appropriate authorities. Enough of that. To cut a long story short, the mother has agreed that she would consider life in a country cottage as washerwoman to our house as little short of heaven. Nicky confessed this morning to a lifelong ambition to own a horse. I have suggested that he may enjoy working in our stables-when he is not at school, of course.
Somehow he was not nearly so enthusiastic about the idea of school.”
“So he is to live on your estate with his mother?” she asked.
“Yes.” He raised her hand to his lips, and this time she did notice as she saw it there and felt his lips warm
