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It Was Christmas Eve (standard:romance, 1065 words)
Author: PatriciaAdded: Dec 28 2003Views/Reads: 3265/2144Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Christmas Eve and a man is thinking. Set in the late 1800's.
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

As it turned out, she had remained virtuous after all, rumour to the
contrary, using her sultry looks and innuendo only as a goad to perk my 
flagging desire out from the doldrums.  It seemed that I had been 
spending far too much time with the concerns of business, not my sweet 
wifes' needs.  That, of course, will change. 

A knock at the door interrupted my reverie and I rose from my seat at
the table to answer it. 

It was my daughters' pauper, looking decidedly dapper in a morning coat
and hat.  I invited him in, as a matter of courtesy and because it was 
Christmas. 

"I can only stay for a moment, Mr. Templeton," he said, removing his
hat.  "My carriage is outside and I cannot tarry." 

This was an odd development, as this man had shown neither drive,
ambition nor capital in the entire time I had known him.  For him to be 
dressed in this finery, with a carriage (no less!) was unheard of. 

"I received a cable from my father last night, inviting me back into the
fold, so to speak," he explained. "I have come to collect your daughter 
so that we can visit with my parents on their estate." 

My eyebrow rose of it's own accord.  Estate?  All evidence to the
contrary, this man standing before me did not have two shillings to rub 
together. 

"He's been bedridden for a number of months and wishes to make peace
before he goes to his maker," he said, misinterpreting my expression, 
"which should be soon, if I'm to judge by the urgency of the message." 

An inheritance?  Could I have mistaken this young man as well? 

He looked at me with guileless blue eyes.  "I intend to marry your
daughter, Mr. Templeton," he intoned gravely.  "She is a wonderful 
woman and I will care for her in the style you would wish upon her." 

"You are well off then," I said, taken aback by his proposal. 

"Well enough," he said over my shoulder, his gaze distracted by my
daughter's appearance on the staircase.  I do admit that, all of my 
prejudice aside, she did look rapturously happy when this man was in 
the room. 

I wished them well and whispered that she should make careful note of
this estate.  Perhaps there could be some business there. 

I watched as my wife, also looking radiant, clasped my daughter to her
bosom in congratulation. 

Or perhaps the business could wait. 

It was Christmas. 


   


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