‘Ah, yes, of course, gifts,’ Liam said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.
He had forgotten that tradition as well.Drat.But, in truth, if anyone deserved gifts, it was his loyal little household. They had served him well, and the least he could do was make an effort.
‘Thank you, Miss Merrickson, I will sort that myself.’
‘Oh, yes, of...of course,’ she stuttered, her eyes wide. ‘You are certain, that is, you need not trouble yourself, I can assist—’
‘Miss Merrickson, I am quite capable, I assure you,’ he countered with a sly grin. ‘And, no, before you ask, it shall not simply be envelopes, do not concern yourself.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She nodded, closing her notebook.
‘You have finished with me, then?’
‘Yes, my lord. Unless there is anything you need, I shall leave you to your work.’
‘That will be all, thank you.’
Rebecca rose and curtsied.
‘Actually, could you have some coffee brought up? I feel as though I shall need it if I’m to continue wading through this mess...’
‘Of course, my lord.’ She nodded before disappearing.
Liam sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling.
Christmas.
He’d forgotten the mere idea of it. It had never been anything other than a dismal, stuffy affair after his mother had...become ill. His father had always insisted they celebrate at Thornhallow, though why he ever used the term ‘celebrate’, Liam wondered. It had been far from anything remotely resembling a celebration.
Shaking his head, Liam remembered the faces of the staff as they’d lined up in the hall, awaiting the grace of their lord. Grim, tight-lipped, heads bowed in fear. That was what his father had inspired.Fear.In everyone he met.
Liam had always vowed he would never be like him. With a man like that as a father, it was no wonder...
Hal...
She’d been the only warmth during the season. She would always wait to give him his gifts until after St Stephen’s, when their father would disappear back to the city until after the New Year. They would have their own private Christmas, and exchange homemade presents. His had always been dire in comparison to his sister’s. She’d been a masterful painter and a delicate knitter, while he’d barely been able to fashion something recognisable from chunks of wood, however hard Tim tried to teach him.
Perhaps he would give Tim a proper new carving knife.
Yes, he would like that, I think...
He could make little horses for his great-nieces and nephews, as he once had for Liam.
And Mr Brown? What shall we get you...
Liam went through the list of his employees, toying with ideas of what to get them. Lizzie arrived and set out his coffee, then disappeared again without a word. Liam barely noticed, so involved was he in his reverie of Christmas planning.
He felt...excited. For the first time in far too long, he felt excited by the prospect of Yuletide. It did not matter that he would be alone; all that mattered was that he might spread some joy, bring some pleasure to those who had faithfully watched over Thornhallow, and over him.
And what about you, Miss Rebecca Merrickson... What shall we get you, then...
Liam grinned, the idea already perfectly formed in his mind.
You will enjoy them, he thought, pouring himself some coffee.Yes, and I think that after all I shall enjoy this Christmas...
Chapter Twelve
‘Come in,’ Liam barked, grateful for the interruption, but frustrated by the Sisyphean nature of his work. ‘Yes, Thomas, what is it?’ he asked in a less aggressive tone when he glimpsed his butler’s apologetic expression. ‘Come, man, if it is important enough for you to interrupt, I suspect you should not be wasting time.’
