by Dilly Court
‘I’m sure she will, Mama,’ Alice said earnestly. She watched her mother and Horace as they made their way to the table where Viola was supervising the distribution of the cake.
‘Your mother looks well,’ Rory said softly.
‘It’s hard to believe, but I think she’s really happy with Horace.’
‘Are you sorry that you didn’t go through with it?’
She glanced up at him and to her surprise she realised that he was being serious. ‘Of course not. I only agreed to it under duress, and even then I had no real intention of marrying him.’
‘And what about George?’
‘George?’ She followed his gaze and saw that George had arrived and was talking to Carrie and his mother. ‘I was never interested in George. He’s just a friend.’
‘But you want him to work for you, and that means you’ll see him almost every day.’
‘He wasn’t appreciated at Dearborns’. Martin and Rawlins made his life a misery.’
‘I would have done something about it had I known.’
‘I’m fond of George, but not in the way you’re hinting at.’ Alice glanced at the children, who were crowding round Viola as she handed out plates of iced cake. ‘I really ought to go and help my aunt. She’s outnumbered.’ She was about to head for the top table when Rory barred her way.
‘Wait a moment, Alice.’
‘I think we’ve said all there is to say.’
A slow smile lit his dark eyes and he held her hand, raising it to his lips. ‘Not quite, my love.’
‘I – I don’t understand.’
‘You will.’ He released her abruptly and moved forward, clapping his hands together. ‘Ladies and gentlemen and children, may I have your attention, please?’
A sudden hush fell upon the gathering. The children stopped eating, gazing at him with faces smeared with chocolate and dribbles of ice cream. Viola extricated herself from the crowd of small people, pushing her way to a gap between the startled partygoers.
‘What’s this all about, Rory? Is there a fire or a riot outside? I demand to have a good reason for this interruption.’
‘The best of reasons,’ he said, pointing to the red velvet curtains at the back of the tearoom. ‘There is something that is very close to the heart of the woman I love, and I want to share this tribute to her with everyone here.’
At a signal from him the waiter who had moved unnoticed to the back of the room tugged on the gold ropes. The heavy curtains slid back to reveal a life-sized tableau representing the Christmas card that Alice’s father had purchased to celebrate her birth.
A gasp of surprise and appreciation rippled through the onlookers and Alice’s hands flew to cover her mouth. She gazed at the festive scene, which was faithful to the last detail.
‘You did this for me?’ She looked Rory in the eyes and saw the reflection of herself surrounded by a halo of light.
‘I wanted to show you how much I love you, Alice. You once accused me of taking things too lightly and never being serious. Well, I’m serious now.’
A collective intake of breath was followed by silence and Alice felt rather than heard the fluttering of hearts as she glanced around at the expectant faces of friends and family. The small child on the tableau seemed in danger of toppling off the dais as she forgot herself and leaned over the edge, only to be yanked back by her stage mother. The waiters hastily drew the curtains and the tableau disappeared from sight.
Rory went down on one knee, clutching her hand to his heart. ‘I’ve loved you from the start, my darling Alice. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Alice caught sight of Flora, who was jumping up and down and waving her arms. ‘Say yes, Alice. Please say yes,’ she shouted.
Halfway between tears and laughter, Alice nodded her head. ‘Yes, Rory. I will marry you.’
He leaped to his feet and pulled her into his arms, kissing her enthusiastically to a roar of approval from everyone present. Releasing her gently, he put his hand in his breast pocket and took out a small shagreen box. He flicked it open to reveal the pearl ring. ‘I bought this for you as a Christmas gift, Alice, but it will have to do until you choose a more suitable diamond engagement ring.’
She gazed at the pearl ring with tears in her eyes. ‘I love it. I don’t want diamonds, Rory.’ She held out her left hand. ‘This ring means more to me than any precious jewel because you chose it for me.’
He slipped it onto her finger and drew her once again into his arms to a tumult of cheers and clapping.
Beth was the first to reach them and she wrapped her arms around them both. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ she said, misty-eyed. ‘Welcome to the family, Rory.’
He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you. I promise to take great care of your beautiful daughter.’
‘Congratulations,’ Horace said, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘But I’m not sure what Jane will say when she hears about this.’
Beth tapped him gently on the wrist. ‘It has nothing to do with Jane, my dear. Alice’s future happiness is all that concerns me.’
‘I’m glad you’ve learned how to stand up to Jane Hubble at last. She’s a prig and a bully.’ Viola elbowed Beth out of the way. ‘I wish you all the happiness in the world, Alice, my love.’ She spun round to face Rory and poked him in the ribs with the tip of her finger. ‘You will have to deal with me if you fail to make my niece happy, Rory Dearborn.’
‘There’s no danger of that,’ he assured her, but was caught off balance and almost bowled over by Flora, who flung herself at him.
‘I’m so glad,’ she cried, hugging him. ‘You really will be my uncle now.’ She let him go, only to throw her arms around Alice. ‘This is the best day of my life.’
Alice kissed her fondly. ‘And there’ll be many more to come, darling Flora.’
Molly pushed George and Carrie out of the way as they attempted to add their congratulations. ‘As I’m young Flora’s aunt I suppose I’m part of this family too.’ Her tone was harsh, but she was smiling. ‘Where’s the champagne?’
Flora put her head on one side, eyeing her aunt with a knowing look. ‘You’ll have to behave yourself then, Aunt Molly. You’re not going to spoil things for Alice. This is a happy ending like they have in storybooks.’
Rory slipped his arm around Alice’s waist. ‘This isn’t the end – this is just the beginning.’
I’ve always loved Christmas – I start looking forward to it in September when the evenings draw in and there’s a touch of winter in the air. I think my fascination with the festive season must have started when I was very young as I could recite the whole of ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas’ when I was two years old – although I had to take my late mother’s word for that – and I can still reel off most of it. I love Christmas films, especially It’s a Wonderful Life and my favourite story, of course, is A Christmas Carol by my all-time favourite, Charles Dickens. I have several copies of the book and I think I’ve watched every movie version ever made. I always have tears in my eyes at the end of both Home Alone films when Macaulay Culkin is finally reunited with his mother, and I still love pantomime. I was in one aged twelve, dancing in the chorus and understudying the cat in Dick Whittington. The girl who played the cat was a real trouper and so I didn’t get to wear the furry cat suit, but we did get paid five shillings for each performance. We toured church halls in north east London and once ventured south of the river. I remember that it snowed on the way home – very Christmassy.
All that aside, I’m a pushover when it comes to buying Christmas decorations for the home and the tree. Tinsel, glass baubles, Lametta … they bring out the magpie in me and I have a cupboard under the eaves filled with treasures waiting to be brought out once a year.
I’m quite traditional in my preparations too. I make the Christmas cake in October and douse it in brandy before wrapping it up in a blanket of cling film and foil for all the lovely flavours to mature. I used to make the Christmas puddings, b
ut to be honest the shop-bought ones are so good these days, it’s easier to buy them. I start buying presents and put them away – but that sometimes backfires and I can’t find them – and above all I love choosing Christmas cards. It was this that first inspired me to write my first Christmas book.
I researched the history of Christmas cards and discovered that the first card was commissioned by Sir Henry Cole (the first director of the Victoria and Albert Museum) and illustrated by his friend, John Callcott Horsley, in 1843. Only one thousand were printed in the first run and hand-coloured, but the cards cost a shilling each, which was roughly equivalent to five pounds today. The central illustration of three generations of a family, including children, raising a toast did not go down too well with the Temperance League, despite the scenes on either side depicting the poor being given food and clothes. Even so, the idea caught on, aided by the Penny Post and the introduction of lithographic printing in 1873, which enabled cards to be mass produced in colour. The Christmas card as we know it today was born and I, for one, love them.
If all this sounds very materialistic and worldly, I haven’t forgotten the real message of Christmas – Peace on Earth and Goodwill to All Men – and in the immortal words of Tiny Tim, ‘God Bless Us, Everyone.’
Dilly
If you enjoyed this novel, you’ll also love these other heartwarming tales from Dilly Court
A powerful and compelling novel with a heroine to touch your heart.
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About the Author
Dilly Court is a Sunday Times bestselling author. She grew up in North East London and began her career in television, writing scripts for commercials. She is married with two grown-up children and four grandchildren, and now lives in Dorset on the beautiful Jurassic Coast with her husband. The Christmas Card is her thirtieth novel.
To find out more about Dilly, please visit her website and her Facebook page.
www.dillycourt.com
/DillyCourtAuthor
Also by Dilly Court
Mermaids Singing
The Dollmaker’s Daughters
Tilly True
The Best of Sisters
The Cockney Sparrow
A Mother’s Courage
The Constant Heart
A Mother’s Promise
The Cockney Angel
A Mother’s Wish
The Ragged Heiress
A Mother’s Secret
Cinderella Sister
A Mother’s Trust
The Lady’s Maid
The Best of Daughters
The Workhouse Girl
A Loving Family
The Beggar Maid
A Place Called Home
The Orphan’s Dream
Ragged Rose
The Swan Maid
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