The Bairn of Brianag

"Oh, Jessie!" she said, and I could hear the tears that she suppressed. I looked at her and smiled; she smiled back, and took her handkerchief from her pocket to dab at the moisture. Our eyes held for a long moment; then at last she picked up her work again. "I suppose you are right," she said, taking stitches. "I must finish this quickly, for I want to present it to Mama for her Christmas gift."

I turned my attention back to James; his iris-blue eyes, identical to his father's, held mine as if he shared his mother's worry for me. Suddenly tears welled into my own eyes; I wiped them on his blanket. I would not weep. I had wept enough; I had suffered enough; all through my own folly and waywardness. Being at Brianag was all that I needed. I was forgiven. My future was secure. Brianag was holding me safely. I had no more tears for Robbie Stewart.

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That week there were parties to give and to attend, gifts to hide and remember; the days passed swiftly. On Christmas Eve there was a ball; though not as large as the Midsummer and Harvest balls, the drawing room was comfortably full of people. While the musicians rested, we played and sang hymns and carols; mine and August's and Cathy's voices blended into the melodies of Baloo, Lammy and Oh Come, Oh Come, Immanuel. I was completely caught up in the spirit of the night, wishing for nothing, utterly happy.

The reveling went on until midnight, and then our guests departed. Everyone kissed and cried, "Happy Christmas!" to one another as the carriages drove away. Those of us remaining sat near the fire for a time, talking of Christmases past and of plans for the coming year. At last, we went up to bed, with more hugging and kissing and Christmas wishes.

The following day there was a luncheon, with more guests arriving early. We spent the day playing games and singing, children running about with new toys, cake and sweetmeats in their sticky hands. The weather was cold and clear, and Cathy and I, along with several guests and Kevin and John, bundled into our cloaks and hoods and went for a carriage ride. The short day was soon over, and as I watched the sun set over the swamp, the naked branches of the trees stark against the darkening sky, I hugged myself with delight. It had been the most wonderful Christmas of my entire life.

That evening as we sat by the fire, John said that he and Catherine would return to Grant's Hill within the week.