Epilogue

EPILOGUE

THREE YEARS LATER

Colin paced in front of his bedchamber, wringing his hands. He stopped in front of the door, listened closely, then kept walking until a wail pierced the silence. Dr. Vance’s voice came muffled through the door, and Colin couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Mercy was making a habit of needing the doctor on Christmas Eve. First, it had been because of the falling debris in the drawing room. The following year, it had been because of a terrible bout of illness that had forced her to remain bedridden despite the house being full of both Mercy’s family and Colin’s family. Then she had sprained her ankle attempting to tie a kissing bough high above the drawing room door. This year, she had decided Christmas Eve was the perfect day to have a baby.

He shook off the thought. Of course Mercy hadn’t chosen this day in particular to welcome their first child, but it was a little ridiculous that Dr. Vance had been required for the fourth Christmas Eve in a row.

Colin worried what next year might bring.

He closed his eyes and slumped against the wall. It had taken over two years for Mercy to become pregnant, and the anticipation of being a father had finally reached a head. He was going mad not being at her side.

The door to their bedchamber opened and Dorothy poked her head into the corridor. “Mr. Birchall?”

He lost the ability to breathe. “Is the baby?—”

A cry pierced the calm night air and sent a cold flush through his body. It was so young, so sweet, so… his . That was Colin’s child.

“Can I go to Mercy?” he asked.

Dorothy struggled to minimize her smile. “In a few minutes. She’s feeding the baby first.”

He nodded, and she disappeared to the sound of his child’s wails cutting through the quiet house. Waiting was agony. When the door opened again, he forced himself not to charge through.

“The doctor said you can go to her now,” Dorothy said.

Colin rushed into the room, his heart in his throat. Mercy lay on their bed, her cheeks and neck flushed, her copper hair sweaty and streaked against her cheek. But her eyes were bright, and she had never glowed quite like she did at that moment.

He hurried to her side, his gaze dropping to the bundle in her arms.

“She still needs to be cleaned properly,” Mercy said, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

She . They had a daughter .

“I’ll just be off now,” Dr. Vance said with a tired smile. “Baby is healthy. Well done, Mrs. Birchall.”

Colin shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Dr. Vance gave a nod before slipping from the room.

Colin perched on the mattress beside Mercy, looking down at the dark-eyed baby. She squished her face into a grumpy frown before it flattened out and her lips pursed. “She’s perfect,” he said. “What shall we name her?”

Mercy’s eyes met his. “How do you feel about Noel?”

“Noel,” he repeated, trying the name on his tongue. It was beautiful. She was a Christmas baby, so he supposed it made sense.

“She’s finished eating, Dorothy,” Mercy said, getting her maid’s attention. “If you could finish cleaning her now?”

“Of course, madam.”

Dorothy took the baby to the other side of the room, where bowls of clean water and rags were waiting.

“Do you recall our first Christmas together? The way you brought the Yule log into our room because I could not leave my bed?”

“How could I forget? It was the first time you kissed me.” He grinned. “Our wedding did not count.”

“No, I don’t think it did, either,” she agreed. “Well, when you were preparing the Yule log and lighting it, we sang.”

“‘The First No?l.’ I remember,” he said.

“That was the moment I realized how deeply I loved you, Colin, but it was also when I felt loved by you. That song will always be a particular favorite of mine.”

His eyes grew misty as he recalled that night, and he reached for her hand, leaning forward to kiss her gently on the mouth. “I think Noel is a perfect name. ”

“Do you? I worried you would find it strange. We’ll need to use it during the rest of the year too.”

“Why? We can change her name with the seasons, surely,” he quipped.

“My, my, Mr. Birchall. You are making jokes.”

“It comes with the relief of knowing you are all right, darling,” he said. Glancing over his shoulder, he moved aside to make room for Noel as Dorothy brought her back to them. “And knowing this little bundle has safely arrived.”

“Would you like to hold her, Mr. Birchall?” Dorothy asked, unsure whom to hand the baby to.

He nodded, taking the tightly wrapped baby into his arms. He felt a little awkward at first, uncertain how to position his hands. She nestled against his chest perfectly, allowing him to relax.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Noel. “Thank you, Mercy.”

“For what, exactly?” she asked, lying back against her pillows and closing her eyes.

“For being mine. For giving me this angel.”

She opened her eyes then. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to both of my darlings.” He leaned down to leave a lingering kiss on her lips before pressing a soft kiss to Noel’s forehead. Then he moved toward the chair near the fireplace and settled in, holding his baby so his wife could sleep. Colin had never felt more content in his life.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“What is a constant presence through thin and thick; my source of joy, the one I pick; a partner in life, come what may; who makes me smile and brightens my day? ”

He looked endearingly down at her. “You’ve gone soft, Mercy. That one is easy.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It’s clearly Mrs. Hoopes.”

Mercy laughed, her face alighting with amusement.

Colin smiled at her, nestling into his seat. “Mercy?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too.”