1821

The Dowden Manor

Lady Adelaide Dowden carefully lowered herself down so that she could be on eye level with the small boy in front of her. It was her nephew, Alistair’s sister’s son. In front of the fire, Serena and James sat on a settee, holding their daughter and cooing at her. The child favoured Serena in terms of looks, but in terms of temperament, she was as opinionated and jubilant as James. 

Addy rested a hand on her swollen stomach, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to catch her breath. As excited as she was to be carrying her and Alistair’s firstborn, she also missed her morning rides on Ares. But such was life. 

Alistair wouldn’t think of agreeing to let her go on these excursions. But he’d been fussing over her for the past few weeks since they’d learned from the physician of her delicate condition. Ever since then, he’d fretted night and day. It was both endearing and amusing at the same time.

“My dear,” he had come to watch her from the doorway. “Is something amiss? Do you feel unwell?”

“Alistair, I am quite well. I just became dizzy for a moment.” 

“Aunt Addy?” Emily wailed; her voice shrill. 

Her mother, Belinda, shook her head, laughing. “Let your aunt have a rest, my dear. Come over and sit beside me?”

Emily stuck out her lower lips in a pout, but she obeyed, leaving Alistair to guide Addy to the nearby armchair and lower her into it. 

“Addy, when are Mother and Father going to arrive?” James called from his seat next to Serena. Serena had only just begun to show her pregnancy, and she had been under the weather most of the week. Today, she still appeared pale and quiet, nibbling on a piece of gingerbread to help with the sickly feeling.

“They sent a letter—they hope to arrive this evening.”

“Splendid!” James grinned.

In the window stood Eloise and Captain Crawford cooing at their newborn daughter in the captain’s arms. She was a beautiful little girl who they named after Eloise’s mother, Agatha.

Eloise tickled the baby under her chin, earning a sweet laugh from the child. “She is beautiful, just like her mother,” Captain Crawford declared, wrapping his arm about his wife.

Addy called to James, “Ready to resume our task?”

“Very well,” James smiled, rising. She directed him, Alistair, and Captain Crawford in placing a wreath upon the mantle, and then another garland higher up above a portrait of Addy and Alistair. 

Not for the first time she rested a hand on her belly, wondering if she would give birth to a girl or boy. If it were a boy, they would name him after Alistair’s father. And if it were a girl, she’d like to name her Diana, in homage to Addy’s independent ideals. 

Once they finished hanging the wreaths, Alistair clambered down from the ladder and handed Addy a Christmas rose he’d plucked from one of the boughs. Tucking it into her hair, he kissed her hand, grinning. “A flower, from your beloved prig.”

“Oh, Alistair, I don’t think you’re a prig. Only sometimes now. It’s a wonder you tolerate me and my silliness.”

“I have a penchant for silly women like you.” Alistair drew her into the privacy of the dining room next door, and in the darkness, he kissed her. 

“What is this about?” Addy grinned against his lips.

“Imagine a kissing bough hangs above us.”

“But there isn’t one there, I don’t believe. Unless you had one hung?”

“Pretend I did. Perhaps I did.” 

Addy giggled as he planted more kisses on her face, from her forehead to the bridge of her nose and finally upon her lips. Then they returned to the bright drawing room where Belinda’s children ran to and fro. 

That night, Christmas Eve, Addy woke suddenly. Alistair stood at the window in the silver moonlight, and when he heard her stir, he turned and smiled. “Good night, my dear.”

“Can’t sleep?”

He nodded. “I worry about you and the baby night and day. And sometimes at night, I struggle to sleep. What if we are missing something in our preparations?”

“We are not,” Addy replied firmly. 

Alistair chuckled. “We are hardly changed in some ways, no?”

“You and your fussiness, and me and my madness.” 

Alistair laughed again, shaking his head, and kissed her brow. “I simply wish to keep you and our child safe throughout this.”

“Pray do not fret,” Addy whispered. She touched his face softly. “We will be safe. I am strong.”

Alistair nodded, chewing on his lip, his eyes dark and pensive. “Indeed, you are.”

He held her, wrapping his arms around her and together they gazed out at the Dowden estate, most of it visible from their window. It was the reason Alistair selected this room, so he could see the entirety of his domain. “The vicar and his wife will join us tomorrow, after the morning Christmastide service.” 

“Good, good,” Alistair murmured in her ear. “Now, let us return to bed.”

The next morning, Addy’s parents arrived. They’d been travelling frequently as of late, and they had visited Spain only last week, and then they had taken a ship around the Mediterranean. Addy’s mother held her at arm’s length, fixing her with a gentle smile. The tension of the past several years had eased, and in its wake, a new understanding began to form. A stronger connection was growing between them, step by step, as mother and daughter. 

Then she kissed her father’s cheek, before stepping back to stand beside her husband. “My mother shall be here before long. She is rather tired often these days,” Alistair said to them. His expression denoted his concern for his mother. She had been more in need of rest lately, and they had called several physicians to check her. All of them said the same thing. She missed her late husband dreadfully. And as time wore on, the pain also mounted.

Everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, joined a few minutes later by his mother. Together, they carolled, excitedly discussing what the rest of the week would hold. 

***

Tears leaked down Addy’s face as she stared down into the little face. Her daughter had at last arrived, and it made her heart ache with a pride and joy she scarcely knew to be possible. The door burst open and Alistair strode in, his face shining with exhilaration. “Addy!” he cried, rushing over to the bed where she lay, their infant in her arms. “Is it really—”

“A daughter,” she finished, nodding. “Meet Diana.” 

“Diana,” he echoed, awe in his voice. She held out the baby to him and he received her, holding her with a gentleness that warmed her heart. “Our daughter, Diana. She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”

Addy flushed as her husband leaned over to press a kiss on her cheek. 

But his smile couldn’t disguise a hint of sorrow. His mother had passed only a month earlier, and it grieved them both that she’d never been able to meet her granddaughter—her only granddaughter. They both knew though that Rosalind Dowden had gone to be with her beloved husband. Still, it hurt to know she would never meet Diana.

“Diana Rose. Our Christmas Rose,” Alistair grinned, his eyes moist. 

“Now, I imagine she will be somewhat headstrong. Don’t you?”

“Oh, but of course. How could she not be, with a father like me?”

“And a mother like me,” Addy laughed.

She stared down into her daughter’s little face. She bore some resemblance to Alistair, around the eyes. But her mouth was all Addy. So was her expression. “I didn’t know it was possible to love this much,” she whispered, shaking her head. 

Alistair nodded, cupping his daughter’s little face. He gave the baby his forefinger, and she gripped it in her fist. “She’d got immense strength,” he chuckled.

“She will be an excellent rider, I think,” James declared, stepping into the bedroom. Along with him came Serena, their son in her arms. He was a few months older than Diana, and when Diana began to fuss, so did he. 

“I believe Eloise and Crawford will arrive soon. Everyone is eager to meet the little girl. And Mother and Father will be here soon as well. I am sure they are anxious to see their granddaughter.” 

Later yet, after everyone had retired for the night, the house settling, Addy slipped out of bed and stole across the room to peer into the cradle where Diana slept. It was difficult to believe she was the mother to this darling little girl. She started slightly when a hand touched her shoulder. “Addy, how is she?”

“Sleeping,” Addy replied. “Very peaceful. Very sweet.” 

“If Belinda’s children are anything to go on, we shall have a time of it with this little one.” 

“Are you up to the challenge?” Addy smirked.

“Oh yes. Very.”

Alistair pressed a kiss into her curly hair, before drawing her back to the bed where they perched, unable to look away from their daughter. She truly was perfect in every sense of the word.

Early the next morning, Addy woke up restless. She rose, tied her hair back, slipped on a cloak, and kissed Alistair on his forehead, and then Diana on the cheek. She tiptoed down the winding corridors, across the garden, until she reached the stables. 

There, Ares was saddled for her, and off she rode. It had yet to snow this year, and she didn’t mind. She loved the way mist settled over the hills and forests on mornings like this; it was breathtaking to see. She rode on and on until she came to a perfect rise in one of the Dowden farm fields, watching the sun crest above the horizon. 

A little over three years ago, she had gotten married. And she had sworn she wouldn’t. She’d been so desperate to remain unmatched, to guard herself. And though she still valued independence, she knew it did not need to come at the expense of peace, and joy. 

She blew out a breath, watching as a little cloud of frost appeared in the air. 

Thundering hoofbeats rose from the field she overlooked on her hill.  Squinting down, she recognised that horse, and that coat. Sure enough, the rider advanced up the hill until he was standing just a few feet away. “Lady Dowden,” Alistair grinned, dismounting. She hurried into his arms. 

“How was Diana when you left her?”

“In good hands. Gemma is attending to her.”

“How did you know I would come here?” Addy smirked, giving Alistair a teasing nudge. 

“It’s your favourite spot on our land.” Alistair wrapped an arm around her, and together they watched the sun rise high above the treetops.

***

“Mamma!” Diana called, racing in from the terrace. A glance at her skirts told Addy that her daughter had ventured too far, mired herself in a large puddle, or something or other.

On her heels came little George, named after Alistair’s father. George loved to tag along with Diana, curious about all that she did. It was heartwarming, to say the least, even if it mortified Diana to no end. “Mamma, when will cousin Jack and Maria be here?”

“Before long, my dear,” Addy said softly.

“With Aunt Eloise and Uncle Will?” Diana added.  “Uncle James and Aunt Serena?”

“But of course. They always come for Christmas,” Addy smiled, eyes widening as the infant growing inside her gave a kick. Well, she’d certainly inherited that tendency from Addy. The thought made her laugh inwardly. 

“And the Malcolms will come as well?” 

“Yes, they shall. And so will their daughters. Will you show them about the grounds?” 

“Really?” Diana did a little jig right then and there. “I can scarcely wait.”

“I can. You all leave me out dreadfully,” George grumbled. Diana groaned

“Yes, take your brother along. Please,” Addy urged her daughter. 

“Fine. May I go wait on the steps?”

“Of course, go on,” Addy nodded and turned her attention back to the new wreath she’d begun for this Christmas. She had also had the boxes of ornaments brought out for use this week to decorate the tree. 

Diana appeared in the doorway, panting. “Grandmother and Grandfather just drove up.”

“Wonderful!” Addy beamed. “Why don’t you bring them into the drawing room.”

While it wasn’t nearly as extravagant as Aunt Worthington’s, it was everything Addy wanted it to be. It was cosy and warm in the winter. And she loved the nights she and her husband shared in front of the fire, the scent of spruce and fir strong in her nose on winter nights like these. It brought back memories of that Christmas when everything had changed.

Now, Christmas was her favourite holiday, because of what it had brought her. That night, Addy, Alistair, Serena, Captain Crawford, James, Eloise, Mother and Father, and all the children sat around that fire and told stories. Addy shared her favourite tale of their early days—how she and Alistair had met—and she never tired of telling it. 

“You and Papa knew each other when you were children?” Diana giggled, leaning into Addy’s arm. 

She always loved the story of how her parents fell in love. 

“We weren’t the best of friends as children,” Alistair chuckled. “But that all changed when we met again.”

“I remember always trying to keep the peace between them,” James spoke up, his hand interlaced with Serena’s. “Seems as if I was always trying to break up a silly quarrel between them.”

“But you and Papa don’t quarrel any more,” said George, tilting his head curiously.

“No, not any longer. Sometimes we might disagree, but we’ve learned a great deal about loving one another, despite our differences.” 

“Indeed,” Alistair agreed. Addy flashed him a soft smile, her heart lifting. She proceeded to talk about their first meeting after years of not seeing each other. She relayed the memory of how on the steps of Aunt Agatha’s and Uncle Richard’s home, she’d expected Alistair to make some sort of remark about her, one which she would answer in kind. 

But instead, it had just been the beginning of something almost too good to be true. 

She gazed around the room then, reflecting that she would have never had this if she had clung so tightly to independence that she would surrender love. 

Captain Crawford and Eloise sat together on the nearby settee, watching their daughter Agatha roast nuts with the other children over the leaping flames. James and Serena’s daughter, Margaret, perched beside James, asking him to tell their love story all over again, earning a grin from him. 

Addy’s parents shared the other settee, also surveying the cosy scene. And in the corner stood the Christmas Tree, shimmering and beautifully bedecked in an assortment of ribbons and bows and garlands and lace. Addy leaned her head against Alistair’s arm. No matter what happened she couldn’t wait to face the future with those she loved. 

The End