The Best Gift ~ by Mortie

Marianne was rightly uneasy.  She did not know what to give a man for Christmas, not a man such as her loving and well loved husband.  She had given him her love not even a year before; it was all he had asked for and she gave it willingly.

That day, that sweet spring day, with the first flowers of the season in her hands and the fresh green grass on the hillsides she married him, Colonel Christopher Brandon, a man nearly twenty years her senior and yet filled with tenderness and passion and love.  The look in his eyes drove any thought of previous loves from her mind, and on that day she pledged her love to him and no other.

Since then it had taken time, as she had expected, to fully understand her husband, for their minds and hearts to become as one, but once that day came, as it did in late summer, such rejoicing was seen that had not been seen in many years.

Now it was winter.  Marianne and her Colonel had been married for nigh on six months, and Marianne could not light on the perfect gift for her dear husband.  She had been to every shop in the village and had had craftsmen and women come to the mansion at Delaford to show their wares, but nothing was good enough or could meet her standards of perfection.
 

“Oh, Elinor, what am I to do?” Marianne wailed one afternoon, safe within the Delaford parsonage.  “Christmas is but days away and I have nothing for Christopher.  What am I to do?"

Elinor regarded her sister with a kind eye.  She had been married to Edward for two years all ready, and as a parson’s wife had seen enough to know that soon Marianne would be giving her husband a greater gift than any Christmas trinket.  Elinor had seen it in herself not so long ago.

“I’m sure the Colonel will be pleased with whatever you give him,” Elinor said.

Marianne sighed.  “What did you give Edward?” she asked, “For your first Christmas?”

“A new set of gardening tools and a promissory note for chickens.”

“How dull!” Marianne said, then corrected herself.  “I’m sorry, Elinor.  I’m sure that Edward enjoyed his gift.  But Christopher is not Edward, and I’m quite certain that he would not get the same pleasure from a shovel and garden shears.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.”  Elinor poured out a cup of tea for her sister and one for herself, noting how Marianne’s lip curled at the smell.  “Are you well?” she asked.

“No,” Marianne said.  “I seem to be- My stomach is upset.  The thought of eating anything right now turns my stomach. I should be going home.  Have you no suggestions for me?”

“I do have one,” Elinor said. 

Christmas dawned clear and bright, a heavy mantle of white spread across the once-green hills.  Delaford House looked much like it was made of gingerbread.  Frost licked the windows and ice sparkled in the trees.

Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret were at the house, with Mrs. Jennings and Sir John, and Elinor and Edward close by at the parsonage.  They were all still asleep, however, as Marianne crept down the hallway to the Colonel’s bedchamber.  Her mother was awake and moving about, perhaps gathering her own gifts for exchanging later.  Marianne was silent as a mouse as she passed.

Christopher was dressing as she entered, the valet passing her in the door.  Marianne picked up his coat, a splendid velvet in a rich brown, the perfect colour to bring out every shade in his hair, and held it up for the Colonel to shrug on.  His back was to her and Marianne took the opportunity to smooth out a few wrinkles at his shoulders.  He turned and upon seeing his wife a light suffused across his face, softening lines and rendering his appearance years younger than his six-and-thirty.

“My darling!” he said, dropping a light kiss on her lips.  “To what do I owe this honour?”

“I have something to tell you.  For the last two months I have been running all over God’s creation trying to find the perfect gift for you, and it has been very near impossible.”

“Marianne, that wasn’t necessary.  I have everything I could wish for!”

“No, you don’t.”

She paused and let the Colonel consider what she said.  Two small lines appeared on his brow, which Marianne smoothed away.

“There will be a lot of changes for us, in the new year,” she said.  “Have you guessed?  You’re going to be a father!”

The Colonel sat down quickly, all but unable to comprehend his wife.

“Are you sure?” he asked.  An expression of wonderment spread across his features.

Marianne beamed.  “Yes.  Is that not wonderful, Christopher?”

“It is,” he said, “And the best gift a man could receive.”

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