"Eve!" He called, banging through the front door of Bonchurch, bringing the winter wind with him.
"Master Much." Said a round woman in an apron. She took his coat calmly and set his bags down. "God Bless Ye This Christmas –"
"Eve." Much breathed, grasping her hands. "Please, I'll bless you a hundred times too if only you'll tell me." He smiled his crooked smile, and for a minute he looked like himself again. "Where is Eve?" A twinkle seemed to shine in the maids eye as she bowed her head.
"Upstairs, Master." She smiled. "I believe she is-" But Much was gone. Tearing up the stairs, not even stopping to admire the new residency, he pushed through all the doors, passed all the servants in bouts of "Merry Christmas" and finally came to a room where a woman was changing a bed. She turned around at the disturbance. A very tired, very out of breath man met her, dark circles under his green eyes and his cap askew on his long blondish hair. His jacket was slipping down off his shoulders, away from a thin green scarf round his neck beside an old withered wooden tag bearing a circle and a bow. And he was smiling a crooked smile.
"There is justice again." He whispered, his eyes full. "You cannot be working for the sheriff, because he is dead." He took a deep breath. "And I said I would return…did I not?" He stood in the door, breathing hard. The woman could only nod, her mouth closed and her eyes wide. Eve all but ran across the room and buried her face in Much's shoulder. He clutched her close and tight, vowing never to let her go again.
"There is justice again…" He whispered. "And I swear to you…whatever heart I have left in me. Whatever part still works…." He pulled her close and kissed her long.
"It is yours."