Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

On Christmas morning, Mercy walked into the church on her husband’s arm and immediately found her mother sitting beside Grace. They made their way to the pew near the front of the building. “Merry Christmas,” she said, unable to dampen her smile.

Mama stood, reaching for her. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

Colin seemed loath to release her, but he did so, allowing her to embrace her mother, then Grace.

Mama stepped back to allow them room to sit on the same pew, but she was watchful, her eyes narrowing. She glanced between them. “Something has changed.”

Mercy decided not to respond to this. That her mother could clearly see a difference between one-sided attachment and confessions of love was not lost on her, but she did not wish to point out how she had been dishonest on her wedding day. While she had not loved Colin yet, not truly , she had cared for him then.

Now, however, her heart was near to bursting with returned affection, which felt wholly different. To be loved in return was a joy she had not expected to experience.

Colin settled beside her on the pew. “Must we sing today?”

“Papa is expecting it. You ought not to have expressed your interest in his violin if you did not wish to be pulled into the choir.”

He muttered something unintelligible, but given the dimple popping in his cheek, she could see he was genuinely happy.

Mercy rested her hand on the bench seat between them as her father took his place in front of the congregation and welcomed them to the Christmas service. She felt Colin’s hand come down over hers, and despite the layers of gloves separating them, warmth coursed through her body at the touch. A smile fell over her lips, and she relaxed into her place beside Colin, holding his hand throughout the sermon.

“Who would have known it, Mercy?” Mrs. Hoopes asked, her eyes wide, her head subtly shaking. They stood in the churchyard, the snow creating a blanket of white over the tombstones and the rock wall that ran the length of the perimeter. It was cold, and Mercy could already feel her nose turning red and her patience ebbing.

She looked behind her, but Colin was still speaking to Mr. Fairfax, who had apparently recovered enough to attend church this morning, looking very much the worse for wear. His skin was pale, dark circles pooling beneath his eyes.

Mrs. Hoopes’s attention was direct, recalling Mercy to the conversation at hand. “Can you believe it was only last month we had spoken of Grace’s engagement? I did not believe it when I heard you were going to marry Mr. Birchall, but everything seems to have come out all right, hasn’t it?”

Mercy gave a stiff nod. “He has proven to be an excellent husband.”

“I do not doubt you have been a wonderful wife, Mercy. You have always had such a caring disposition. If not for you bringing your mother’s jelly, I do not think Mr. Hoopes would have recovered enough to sing today with the choir.” For all her gossiping, Mrs. Hoopes sounded distinctly authentic in her gratitude.

“We are all grateful Mr. Hoopes felt able to sing today. ‘Angels We Have Heard On High’ was a beautiful addition to the service.”

Mrs. Hoopes preened. “Thank you, Mercy. Or shall I call you Mrs. Birchall now?”

Mercy could not dampen her smile, feeling the soft push of forgiveness entering her heart. “I do like my new name very much.”

Mrs. Hoopes leaned in slightly, wearing a conspiratorial grin that was more endearing than the situation warranted. “Very well. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Birchall.”

Despite herself, Mercy liked that exchange very much. She returned the season’s greeting and moved to search for her husband. She didn’t need to look far. Colin was still speaking to Mr. Fairfax.

Grace approached and took her hand, pulling her away from the crowd of lingering parishioners before she was forced to approach the men. “I was wrong.”

“About what?” Mercy asked, her eyes darting to where Colin stood only a few feet away, his back to her .

“You.” Grace shook her head and frowned. “I thought you were only marrying Colin to ruin my engagement.” Her cheeks went pink. “I can hear how silly that sounds, to say nothing of the fact that it is not in your nature to act so bitterly.”

“It was not an unreasonable thought, given the timing,” Mercy said with what she believed to be a healthy dose of charity. “I’ve long admired Colin, but I did not share my feelings with anyone. You could not have known.”

Grace gave a soft scoff. “I should have seen it earlier. He clearly adores you.”

“Clearly?” Mercy asked, surprised by her choice of words.

Grace’s dark eyebrow lifted suggestively. “Do not think I missed the way he helped you into your coat before we left to deliver Mama’s shortbread, or the way he held your hand during Papa’s service. That man very obviously adores you. I am glad you’ve found love, Mercy. Forgive me for refusing to hear reason.”

Mercy pulled Grace in for a hug. “I love you, Grace. To think, a few weeks from now your husband can hold your hand during Papa’s service.”

Grace grinned. “I cannot wait.”

“But the man is ridiculous,” Mr. Fairfax said, scoffing. He spoke loudly enough for both women to hear him, and Grace and Mercy looked his way in unison. “You cannot expect me to believe you are glad to have him for a father-in-law.”

Mercy’s stomach dropped. Did Mr. Fairfax realize how his voice carried? She counted it a blessing Papa was still inside the church, likely caught up speaking to another parishioner .

“That is precisely what I expect, for it is the truth,” Colin said sharply. “Furthermore, I will assume your illness has addled your good sense and will give you the opportunity to rephrase your sentiments.”

Mr. Fairfax’s face turned dark red, his eyes darting between Colin and Sophia. He took his daughter by the arm. “Good day, Mr. Birchall,” he said stiffly, withholding an apology. They walked away together.

Colin let out an irritated huff.

Grace gripped Mercy’s arm and leaned close. “He is a good man, Mercy.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her heart bursting with warmth. “He is.” She left her sister’s side and approached Colin.

When he glanced down at her, he was frowning. The expression quickly shifted to one of delight, as though he was happy to see her. “Are you ready to leave?” he asked. “I need to find your father and invite your family to dine with us tonight, though I imagine it is too late for them to accept an invitation.”

“We should have done so weeks ago.” She was certain Cook had already prepared a veritable Christmas feast, but it could not hurt to extend the invitation.

“Indeed,” he muttered, reaching for her hand. She liked that he seemed to always want to be touching her. It made her feel wanted in a way she had not experienced before in her life.

Yes, Mercy had always been needed, but being wanted was far superior.

They walked to the other side of the church, where Mama was speaking to Mrs. Brooks.

“You needn’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Brooks was saying. “You can hardly be blamed for missing the knitting circle when you’ve had two daughters to marry off in such little time. Surely you are exhausted beyond all measure. Now, do tell me when Mr. Raybourne is expected to return? He has not left Grace jilted, I hope.”

Mama gave a tight smile and noticed Mercy waiting behind Mrs. Brooks. “If you will excuse me.” She circumvented the gossiping old biddy and came to Mercy’s side. “Sometimes it is better to pretend you did not hear a question at all.”

“It is certainly effective,” Mercy said, noticing Mrs. Brooks’ confusion as she left to find other willing ears.

“We understand we have waited too long to extend the invitation, but we were hoping you would join us for dinner this evening,” Colin said, his thumb rubbing over the back of Mercy’s gloved hand while he spoke.

Mama looked between them. “We wouldn’t wish to impose.”

“We have more than enough,” Mercy said. “I’m certain Cook has already made an effort?—”

“She’s made nothing,” Mama said, shaking her head. “The poor dear is ill. I’ve given her some of my restorative jelly, of course, and set her up with a tea tray, but she’s abed. Whatever has been traveling around Millcombe finally made its way into our house. I wasn’t certain what I was going to do for Christmas dinner.”

“Then you will spend it with us, I hope,” Colin said.

Mama turned a wide smile on him. “We would love that, if you are certain it is not an imposition.”

“I am certain,” he confirmed.

Mama appeared relieved. “Lovely. What time shall we be there? ”

“Come whenever you’d like. Dinner is at six, but perhaps we can play bullet pudding or charades beforehand.”

When Mama walked away to find Papa, Mercy leaned back, appraising her husband. “You hate that game.”

He looked in her eyes, where she detected a sparkle of amusement, but his face remained passive. “Do I?”

“Yes, emphatically. You believe it is for children, if I recall correctly.”

“You might.” He tugged a little on her hand, causing her to step closer, her shoulder butting up to his side. “Yet my aunt gave me some advice I feel I ought to heed. All her other advice worked well for me in the past, anyway.”

“What advice was that?” she asked.

“To allow myself to become a little messy.”

Mercy shook her head, her smile widening. “Very well. I’m certain Grace would play with us. It is only a pity your sister is not here to witness it.”

Colin released her hand to slide his arm around her waist, apparently not heeding the crowd of parishioners around them or what anyone might think. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Honora will have her chance. There is always next year.”

Mercy leaned into her husband, feeling for all the world like everything had worked out exactly as it was meant to. She couldn’t have been happier.