Moss Manor, page 28
“Too late now,” he teases.
“Is it?” she asks with her hand on her hip.
Mr. Jackson looks down at the floor, not willing to press the issue.
“Who else knows?”
“Knows what?” His eyes return to hers.
“About today?”
He shrugs. “How should I know?”
“Honesty, Mr. Jackson,” she reminds.
“I’m not a boy and I’m not William. That was an agreement between the two of you.”
She bites back a smirk. “You most certainly are not a boy. You are an ill-mannered squid.”
“Says the spinster-devil pirate-witch,” he goads.
Lady Moss tries to hide her smile as she looks around for something for the flowers. She finds a decorative pot on a shelf and puts them in it.
“Anything from your family?” he asks, hoping to stay with her longer.
“Yes,” she confirms. “My father sent me the only picture of my mother.”
“You can get your portrait done now,” he replies.
“Yes,” she says. “He promises to visit when it’s finished. Probably more so to make sure we aren’t messing up the farm.”
Mr. Jackson grunts. “Probably tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
She lets out a light chuckle. “And me.”
“Still won’t talk to you about—“
“No,” she says with a huff.
“He might think differently after he sees what you’ve done here,” Mr. Jackson suggests.
“Father is more stubborn than me.”
“I’d say you’re about the same,” he goads.
She rolls her eyes. “The changes that have been here haven’t only been me.”
His head bobs from side to side. “I did most of the work.”
“Mr. Jackson,” she warns.
He smiles. “You had a decent idea or two.”
“You’re deplorable,” she sighs.
“Would you have me any other way?”
It takes her a second to reply, “No.” Her gaze falls to the floor. “I like you as you are.”
“Pardon?” he asks, putting a finger to his ear.
“I will not repeat myself,” she states with a playful warning tone.
They’re both quiet for a long moment.
“Once the rain lets up, we’ll be able to get more done on the Sutton Manor,” he reminds.
“I think it needs a new name,” Lady Moss states.
“What shall you call it?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs.
“If you ask William, it’ll be something to do with pirates.”
Lady Moss laughs which makes Mr. Jackson smile.
“My Uncle sent him a monocular telescope,” she says, removing it from the box.
“William will like this,” Mr. Jackson says, inspecting it. “It is beautifully made.”
“Uncle has an eye for gifts,” she states.
“As do you.”
“The cufflinks were William’s pick,” she reminds.
“And what of Lord Quincy’s pocket watch?”
“I was uncertain you would want it,” she reminds.
“And of the engraving?”
A soft smile pulls her lips to the right. “Well, I know you aren’t a man to show off so it only made sense to place it where it is.”
“Both were much-appreciated gifts, but you spent too much,” he claims.
“The pocket watch was at no expense,” she counters. “Besides, you’ve earned more than what it would be priced for if I sold it. Plus, the engraving barely cost a thing. And, William paid for the cufflinks.”
He takes a step toward her. “It wasn’t just from him.”
She nervously holds his gaze. “It made William happy. The boy never had the chance before to do such a selfless act. He was very pleased by your reaction.”
“Were they only from him?”
Her eyes cut away for a second. “Yes.”
He smiles, knowing that she’s lying. Mr. Jackson takes another step toward her, closing the gap between them. They stare into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to say something.
“Mama!” William calls from the other room. “Mama!”
Mr. Jackson steps back, giving them space.
Lady Moss turns toward the door and smiles when she sees him. “Yes, dear. What is it?”
“Come see,” he says. “I made my own pie.”
“I think you became the pie,” she chuckles.
Mr. Jackson grins at the sight of the boy. “I think he does better with his hands outside on the farm.”
“I think you’re right,” Lady Moss agrees. Without hesitation, she follows the boy back to the kitchen.
By dinner, Mrs. Doyle serves all of Lady Moss’ favorites, giving away that they know it is her birthday. They follow their meal with the pie William made, a mixed berry pie, which is one of his mother’s favorites, and two cakes that she is most fond of that Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. Sheldon have made several times since she arrived at the manor. The girls pitched in for a new set of trousers as a gift. The farmworkers purchased Lady Moss her very own saddle which is etched with Moss Manor on it. She insists that gifts were not necessary nor their need to spend their hard-earned money on her, but they insist that she is more than worthy.
As Lady Moss tucks William into bed, he says, “Here.” His hand extends toward her.
“What is this?”
“A gift,” he replies with a smile. “I kept the secret until now.”
“Where was it hidden?” She looks around the room, trying to decipher his pirate tricks.
“Not in here,” William reveals.
Her eyes narrow as she smiles. “Mr. Jackson, hm?”
“What are you blaming me for now?” he asks, suddenly at the doorway.
Lady Moss turns sharply with a jolt. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
“Come in, Mr. Jackson,” William insists, shifting on the bed. “Mama is going to read.”
They get settled on either side of the boy.
“Wait,” William says, placing his hand over the page. “You haven’t opened your gift.”
“Must I?” she replies. “I’ve had enough excitement and surprises for one day.”
“Please,” William begs.
“Alright,” she says with a sigh. She tugs at the ribbon and unfolds the fabric. Lady Moss smiles as her fingers pry open the object—a double-sided picture frame. Her eyes enlarge when she sees a picture of William in it. “It is perfect! Thank you!” As she hugs the boy, she glares at Mr. Jackson.
The man shrugs his denial.
“We can get a picture of both of us for this side,” William states.
“I think that is a splendid idea, dear,” she agrees.
“Where will you keep it?” he asks.
“Well, it could go on my vanity,” she says. “Or, shall I keep it on the table next to my bed?”
William shrugs, happy with either choice.
“It is a most thoughtful gift,” she states, kissing the side of his head. “I will cherish it forever.”
It takes some time for William to fall asleep, longer than usual. The boy typically falls asleep within a few pages even for the most exciting stories.
“Good night, Mr. Jackson,” she bids softly when they’re in the hallway.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What do you mean?”
He takes something out of his jacket pocket and offers it to her.
“What have you done?” she asks nervously.
“I didn’t want to make a fuss about it so I waited until now,” he says.
“The flowers were—“
“Just a distraction,” he admits sheepishly.
She hesitates for a moment but unwraps the item. “It…it is beautiful.”
“To replace the one that broke the day we met,” he says timidly.
Her gaze lifts to meet his. “You…you remembered?”
Mr. Jackson nods timidly.
“To be truthful, my fall did not break the filigree comb,” she shares. “It was already cracked and missing a piece.”
He shrugs as he has trouble looking her in the eye.
“I did not mind the loss of it,” she adds. “It was a gift from my Aunt when I first arrived to live with them.”
Lady Moss takes a step toward him, rises on her toes as she leans forward, and kisses his cheek. It takes a second for her weight to shift back, causing her to linger longer than expected.
“Thank you. I will most definitely cherish this one.”
“Happy birthday,” he says gruffly.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Moss Manor is filled with voices as the fireplaces burn to keep the cold, winter chill away. It has already begun snowing and Lady Moss is waiting for her family to arrive. Mr. and Mrs. Warren, along with little Eleanora, have already reached the manor. William is playing with Great Uncle John and Mr. Warren as they join him on his seafaring adventure. William has the monocular telescope, the one he got on his birthday, and is currently in search of land as Mr. Warren desperately paddles their sinking ship.
“They’ll be here soon, Miss,” Nydia assures.
Lady Moss smiles and nods before returning her gaze out the window. She sent Mr. Jackson and Mr. Joel down the road in search of her family. It is an hour before dinner and they were supposed to arrive sometime after lunch.
“You think they rode the whole way, Abigail?” Mrs. Doyle inquires, bringing in tea.
“Knowing my father, yes,” she replies with a sigh.
“It’s grand to have the manor filled with so much life,” Mrs. Doyle states. “Not that you and William aren’t. I—“
“It is alright,” she giggles. “I know what you mean.”
“It’s different than a ball,” Mrs. Doyle adds. “More joy and laughter when it’s close friends and family.”
“Indeed,” agrees Mrs. Warren as she bounces Eleanora in her arms.
“That it is,” she replies, glancing at everyone in the room.
“They all are coming, are they not?” Mrs. Warren checks.
“That is what was mentioned in his letter,” Lady Moss sighs. “Knowing Father, anything is possible.”
“It is almost Christmas,” she reminds. “It would only make sense they all come. There isn’t much to do on the farm with the weather.”
“Father always finds something,” Lady Moss shares. She darts up when something catches her eye out the window. She runs to the front door a second later.
Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. warren are quick to follow.
“Papa,” Lady Moss calls, rushing to the carriage. Her happiness expands when she sees two of her brothers and their wives.
“Papa’s in the next one, I believe,” James states, hugging his sister.
Lady Moss hugs and kisses the others before heading to the next carriage.
The family is full of commotion as they filter into the house one after another. Lady Moss beams with pure joy at the fact that her entire family has come for the holiday.
The next few days find the manor full of life from before the sun rises to well after it sets. More snow powders the ground, but not enough where the children aren’t happy to run around outside during part of the day.
As the night of Christmas Eve arrives, everyone gathers around in the large dining room, chatting and laughing well after their bellies are full. The children play as the adults converse which includes the majority of the workers. At some point, they venture into the parlor where Mary plays the piano and sings Christmas songs with Bridget and the children.
Lady Moss sits back in awe, watching the people before her. She never knew she could be as happy and joyful as she is in this exact moment. Her first Christmas at the manor was the start of something new. She had lost a husband but gained a son in less than a year.
A smile spreads from ear to ear on Lady Moss’ face, grateful for the friends and family surrounding her. The heat in her cheeks deepens when she catches Mr. Jackson looking at her. He tips his drink slightly along with his chin before taking a sip. She returns the acknowledgment.
As the evening wanes, the children whine about going to bed. After seeing to the children, the women return downstairs, except Lady Moss. She takes a moment to herself, pleased with the echoes of everyone’s voices bouncing around the rooms and halls.
“Mama,” William calls, entering her room.
“Yes, dear?”
“Can…can you see to everyone getting these?” His hand reaches out in her direction.
“Of course,” she confirms, looking at the names of the staff members on each envelope.
“I wrote a letter to Mr. Jackson too,” he states.
“Did you?”
“Mm-hm. I want to thank him.“
“That is most kind.”
“I want you to read it,” he states. “The one for Mr. Jackson.”
“I don’t dare,” she refuses politely. “It is for him and—”
“But, I need you to read it first, before he reads it.”
“Why is that, dear?” she replies, lowering to be level with the boy.
“Because I want to know it won’t make you upset.” William hesitantly holds her gaze.
“Why would it make me upset?” she asks, concerned by the boy’s apprehension.
“Because….” William looks down at his feet for a few seconds. “Because…I…I would like to call him Papa.”
“You do?” she barely mutters.
William nods. “He has been much like a father to me…like Mr. Barton is with the twins. Like Uncle James and Byron with my cousins.”
“That is true,” she agrees, sweeping her fingers along his hairline.
“I…I wish for Mr. Jackson to be my Papa,” William says bashfully. “I know that Grandpa Moss approves of him as does Great Uncle John and Mrs. Warren.”
“They do,” she agrees.
“Mrs. Warren said that he is a great Papa to me and would be a great husband for you.”
“Did she now?” Lady Moss chuckles.
“Grandpa Moss said so too,” he adds.
“I see they’re meddling,” she snickers.
“He loves me,” William states. “He told me so.”
“I’m glad he did,” she replies. “I’ve seen it since you first joined us here at the manor.”
“I love him too, as I love you,” William adds timidly.
“I’m not surprised dear, nor does it make me upset,” she states.
“Well, if he loves me, then perhaps he loves you too,” William says. “You said that you would only marry a man who loves us both.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
William nods as a smile emerges on his face.
“Well, dear,” she says with a sigh. “I—“
“Do you love him?” William inquires.
“I love everyone who resides in this house and who are visiting,” she declares.
“Do you love him where you would marry him if he asked?”
“Does your letter request him to propose?” she inquires.
“No,” William admits. “Though, I could change it.”
She giggles. “You are the sweetest boy. Regardless, if I marry Mr. Jackson or any other man, I am most fond of you calling him Papa.”
“Honest?”
“Most honest,” she affirms.
“Why don’t you propose to him?” Williams asks suddenly.
Her eyes widen as her brows raise. “Women do not propose, dear.”
“Maybe women should?” he suggests.
“I’ll take it to the women’s advisory board,” she chuckles.
“Really?”
“Mm-hm, though I cannot guarantee the response you so desire.”
William shrugs. “If you at least inquire, I’m happy.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, it’s time to get back to bed.”
William takes her hand and has her follow him across the hall. She tries to wrangle the boys who are still too excited to sleep, so Lady Moss bids them goodnight once more without a second thought of the matter. Before she makes her way back downstairs, she tucks the letters in her pocket, intending to slip them under everyone’s door after they’ve gone to bed.
“Are the boys too rambunctious?” Mary inquires as Lady Moss enters the parlor.
“Of course,” Lady Moss confirms. “They’re boys, cousins, and it’s Christmas Eve.”
“They’re good boys,” Bridget states. “They’re just excited. The boys kept talking about how eager they were to come to see their cousin.”
Lady Moss nods. “William has been on about it since your letter.”
Henry suddenly enters the room and kisses his sister’s cheek.
“How I’ve missed you, Henry,” Lady Moss declares.
He drops the logs he brought in from outside to put on the fire.
Mr. Jackson enters and adds to the log pile.
“Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Moss states. “A kiss is due.”
Mr. Jackson stands and looks at the man. “Why am I to kiss you?”
“Not Father,” James laughs. “Abigail.”
Before Lady Moss or Mr. Jackson have the chance to object, Mrs. Warren points to something over Lady Moss’ head. “Mistletoe,” she says with a devious smile.
“I am not a girl,” Lady Moss objects.
“You aren’t married either,” Mary reminds.
“To refuse a kiss would mean you will not receive any proposals for at least a year,” Bridget reminds.
“That’s silly nonsense,” Lady Moss counters.
“Is it?” Mrs. Warren goads.
“There have been many years when we were young girls, Elizabeth, where we did as such and we never received a proposal.”
“Perhaps you did but your Aunt disposed of them,” Mrs. Warren snickers.
“Don’t be absurd,” Lady Moss quips.
Mr. Jackson moves as if he’s going to walk past her. He stops, kisses her cheek, and then continues by. Everyone in the room stares in utter disbelief while several bite back a snicker or smile. Before Lady Moss has the chance to move inside the room completely, Mr. Jackson returns with another round of logs. He leans over and kisses her cheek once more.
“Looks like Abigail was vying for a second kiss,” teases Mary.
Lady Moss finds the closest seat open and doesn’t comment, flushed by what had transpired. Iris and the other girls giggle to themselves as Mrs. Doyle and the other married women curtail a grin.
