The Silver Coin

by Andrea Kane

  “Upstairs. She said Holly and I could stay here for a little while.” Holly flashed rum a beatific smile, her cousin's drawing clutched in her hands. “Please don't be angry, Wells. We just wanted to see what you were celebrating. And to ask Lord Ryder if the Girards were coming to Kent for Christmas. Oh, and I wanted to show Mama this.” She waved the sketch in the all

  Wells tried, and failed, to look stern. “Very well. But it's late. You and Miss Holly can visit for ten min­utes.”

  “Well, perhaps fifteen,” Hibbert interjected, then glared defiantly at Wells, who scowled back, gearing up for another disagreement.

  Royce rose from his seat at the head of the table. “We'd all like to see the sketch, moppet. Come in.”

  Beside him, Lord Ryder rose, as well, ruffling Holly's hair as she walked by. “Your daughter is delightful, Chadwick,” he praised Royce. “As beautiful and talented as her mother.” He turned to gaze fondly at Joanna. “And Holly is as dazzling and fiery as you, Anastasia. It's astonishing to have two sets of such enchanting women in one household.”

  “I have to agree.” Royce caressed Holly's cheek. “Damen and I are lucky men. Our wives and daugh­ters are incomparable treasures.” He took the draw­ing, placed it on the table so that Breanna and everyone else could see.

  “The pond,” Breanna murmured, smiling. “It's lovely. You've captured it all, right down to the two ducklings we saw there last week. We'll have the drawing framed. You can hang it in the sitting room for everyone to admire.”

  Joanna's heart lurched with pride, but she was care-fro to let Holly act out her part.

  “Thank you, Mama,” Holly said with all her cousin's grace and presence. Joanna was a natural lady, just like her mama. Also like her mama, she was an incredibly talented artist. She took great pride in her drawings, as Holly well knew. Bearing that in mind, she received her Aunt Breanna's praise with all the pleasure Joanna was feeling. “Ifs one of my favorites, too. Can we go into Town this week and pick out a frame?”

  “I don't see why not.” Breanna glanced at Royce, who nodded.

  “How does tomorrow sound?” he asked.

  “Perfect.” Holly beamed, but her mind was already elsewhere.

  Joanna knew exactly where.

  “Papa,” she chimed in, addressing Damen. “Can I go with them? I haven't visited the House of Locke­wood since Cody was born. Mr. Graff promised to show me how to count the money like you do at the end of the day,” she added, referring to the head gate­keeper at the bank. “Now that I'm older I'll really ap­preciate it. Mama can come, too,” she suggested, sweetening the pot. “She can bring Cody. He hasn't even seen where you work yet.”

  Damen couldn't hide his amusement. “I see your point. But, tell me, what if he decides to do some of that yelling you were referring to? How will my clients feel about that?”

  “I'll accompany Miss Stacie and the children,” Wells offered at once. He gave a conspiratorial wink to the girl he believed to be Holly. “I'm sure that be­tween us, Miss Holly and I can keep Master Cody amused enough to limit his shouts.”

  “And I'll help Miss Joanna pick out a frame,” Hib­bert announced to Royce. “My taste is exceptional, and you and Lady Breanna will have your hands full keeping Master Quinn from turning the shop into a woodpile.”

  “A fine plan,” Royce concluded. “Consider it done.” He grinned as the two girls tried to restrain themselves from jumping up and down. “Now, I'd suggest you both go upstairs and get some rest. We don't want you falling asleep dining your excursion.”

  Without a word of protest, the two girls hugged their parents—both sets, so as to avoid figuring out who was supposed to be hugging whom—and curt-d to Lord Ryder. Then, they started to the door. Abruptly, Holly stopped, deciding that so grand an evening deserved an equally grand conclusion. She touched Joanna's arm, then gestured for her to low.

  Joanna complied, and the two girls walked back to Hibbert and Wells.

  “Would you take us up?” Holly asked, her expression innocent. “Miss Carter might not have waited up and Holly and I can't fall asleep without a story.” Wells beamed. “Of course, Miss Joanna. I'd be delighted.”

  “You, too, Hibbert,” Joanna piped up. “I want to hear all about how you and Uncle Royce met Monsieur Girard.”

  Hibbert stood up tall. “That's one of my favorite stories, as well. It would be my pleasure to share it with you, Miss Holly.”

  Holly placed her hand in Wells's, and Joanna did the same to Hibbert.

  The small entourage left the room, the girls beaming secretly at each other.

  Royce waited until they'd gone.

  Then, he leaned back in his chair, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “That was amazing.”

  “An exceptional performance,” Damen agreed, his own laughter rumbling from deep in his chest. He shot his wife a pointed grin. “I wonder who they could take after.”

  “We had nothing to do with this,” Anastasia denied a t once, trying to speak between peals of laughter.

  “That's true.” Mirth danced in Breanna's eyes. “They did this entirely on their own.”

  “With no tantalizing stories from you to encourage them,” Royce teased.

  Anastasia and Breanna exchanged glances, and dis­solved into giggles.

  “They're going to be unfit to live with,” Anastasia said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “They not only fooled Wells. They fooled Hibbert, too.”

  “Has anyone ever fooled Hibbert?” Breanna asked her husband.

  “Now that you mention it, no.” Royce rolled his eyes. “God help us.”

  Lord Ryder was gaping from one of them to the next. “May I ask what you're talking about?”

  “Certainly,” Royce supplied. “Forgive our rude­ness. What you just witnessed was a clever imperson­ation. Two, actually. The girl you thought was Holly was, in fact, Joanna, and vice versa. They were very convincing, if I must say so myself.”

  Ryder blinked. “Are you saying your daughters just switched places? And that they actually had us ... well, some of us fooled?”

  “That's exactly what I'm saying.” Royce grinned. “And if Hibbert ever finds out he was duped, he'll never be the same.”

  “I doubt the girls will tell him,” Breanna pointed out. “They'll want to savor their secret.”

  “I agree,” Anastasia said.

  Royce arched a questioning brow. “Shall we tell them we figured them out?”

  “No.” Both women spoke simultaneously.

  “I guess we have our answer,” Damen replied with a smile.

  “I guess we do,” Royce acknowledged. Breanna reached over to take her husband's hand, Stacie and I had our dreams. We've realized them all. Let our daughters have the same. Dreams can carry you a long way. As our grandfather always knew.”

  Upstairs, the two girls giggled as they changed into their nightgowns. They kept their voices low, since Wells and Hibbert were positioned outside the door, waiting patiently to be summoned for storytelling. “We did it,” Holly hissed. “We even fooled Hibbert and Wells.”

  “That's even better than our mothers did,” Joanna declared proudly. “They only had Wells to fool.”

  “Let's keep pretending until we go to sleep. That way it will really be an accomplishment. We'll have fooled Wells and Hibbert for an even longer time, and without a roomful of people they can say distracted them—if they ever find out about our game. Which they won't. But if we ever do decide to tell them ...” Holly dimpled. “Think how smug we can be.” “Okay.” Joanna's eyes sparkled, the notion of best­ir Wells and Hibbert as appealing to her as it was to Holly. Her self-satisfaction, however, was short-lived, another, far less enticing, thought occurred to her

  “We can pretend until we go to sleep,” she clarified, wrinkling up her nose. “But tomorrow I'm being me. I don't want to spend the day at the bank.”

  “That's fine with me. I hate galleries, and I couldn't choose one frame from another.” Holly responded without
hesitation. “So we'll switch back by morning. ”

  “Agreed.”

  Squirming into her nightgown, Joanna wandered over to the window, staring out across the grounds that her mother had gazed at for so many years of her life. But what she saw held none of the fear and lone­liness her mother had known as a child, nor the terror she'd known as a young woman of twenty-one.

  What she saw was the true magic of Medford Manor, the magic her great-grandfather had hoped to convey to Anastasia and Breanna along with the coins, a magic he hoped they'd pass on to their chil­dren and their children's children.

  High above, a silvery moon shimmered in the sky, and golden stars twinkled alongside it, the gold and silver hues dousing the world in light and love.

  Holly came to stand beside her cousin, propping her elbows on the window sill and reveling in the same wonders as Joanna.

  The two girls saw safety and security. They saw the place where they'd been born, the place in which they were growing up, the place they'd always come back to no matter what changes life wrought.

  They saw exactly what their great-grandfather had always prayed they would see.

  They saw home.