VII

"Are you certain?" Mr. Merriman looked dubiously at the requested articles. He did not carry them in his own store, and it had raised a few eyebrows for a widower with no daughters to search out the lady who could make such feminine accessories.

"Oh, yes, sir."

"And what would you need with these, my lad?"

Ben hesitated. He did not think of how he would explain such a purchase. "Oh, it's not for me, sir. But... you know that I have sisters."

"Aye, I did not think of that. These are very fine, Ben. Whichever sister receives these must feel very blessed indeed to have such a giving brother. You've spent nearly all of what you've made in these past months, including your Christmas tips." He raised his eyes at the extravagance. "Shall I wrap them with a ribbon?"

"Oh, would you?" Ben beamed, "I think she would like that very much."

Ben ducked his head in embarrassment as Mr. Merriman praised his thoughtfulness for his sister's present to a fussy old woman who came in after his parcel was wrapped.

He felt a little guilty for not telling the whole truth, but the gift was not for his sister.

All around Williamsburg, the signs of Christmas were beginning. Rose bustled about, asking Ben to taste this or that pudding, and sample a slice or two of pie for the master. Mr. Merriman did not have fancy balls to attend like many others with wives and children, but he did have business with the men in the town and was invited to sup with their families most winter evenings. He was not home often, and teased Rose that she must have baked such delectable treats solely for Ben's sake.

She huffed and denied the allegations, but not without muttering the importance of the lad enjoying proper Christmas feasts, even if he could not spend the winter season socialising with his family and loved ones.

Mr. Merriman wondered that he did not have more friends in town. There were more than several boys his age that were always together, and though a little shy, Ben was of a kind and friendly nature and it seemed odd that nearly a year had passed without his finding a friend.

Mr. Merriman broached the subject one chilly evening in the storeroom. Ben sat hunched on a barrel, feet swinging against the sides as he hummed to himself and took inventory of the stock. The candle was almost out, but Ben was determined to finish his task before bedtime. The cloak he wore made his shoulders look monstrous, and Mr. Merriman surmised it was given to him by his father.

"Are you not lonely, Ben?"

"Sir?" Ben looked up from the figures.

"Don't you ever play with the other lads about town? I should think you'd have made many friends by this time."

Ben did not believe in making friends with those who were mean to Lissie, but he said nothing aloud in case the matter should cause Mr. Merriman further distress.

"No, sir. I'd rather keep to my work."

Mr. Merriman laughed. "Be sure not to work too hard! I don't wish to keep my apprentice chained to the books. Make time for friendships. 'Tis an important part of life, and you'll not regret it."

"Yes, sir." Ben bent his head and continued his counts.

-x-

Winter was making it more difficult for Lissie to find hiding places to meet Ben. In the spring and summer, she didn't have to go much further than the borders of Jiggy Nye's pasture where plenty of trees made shaded groves for them to play in. But once fall arrived, and the leaves dropped one by one from their trees to leave sad and naked branches, Lissie began to venture further and further from the post and the pasture.

There was a spot by the creek where evergreens remained, and it became their new shelter from unkind eyes and curious neighbours.

Lissie came in the simple woollen dress she'd made with the material Ben provided. Jiggy Nye believed she'd found the dress in the chest of old garments, and she was in no hurry to correct him. The mittens Ben had commissioned Miss Manderly to make, she hid beneath a loose floorboard in a dark corner of Jiggy Nye's house when she was not sneaking them outside to wear in the cold. She had a tattered shawl over her head to warm her ears and neck, and for a moment Ben doubted his gift. He should have chosen something more practical, such as a winter bonnet or a larger cloak. But she would have to hide her gifts no matter the use she would receive from them, and the larger the gift the harder it would be to keep Jiggy Nye from noticing.

Along with his parcel, Ben brought hot potatoes he'd roasted under the pig Rose was preparing for supper, with bread, and apples, and a bit of cheese. He wished he could bring Lissie some of the roast pig as well, but Rose would certainly have known if he'd carved some of it off.

He had managed to bring chocolate for her to drink, keeping it warm by filling an empty sugar bowl with a lid. He had so much to carry that he found it necessary to hide a basket under his cloak, which he produced as soon as they were situated.

Lissie was in awe over the chocolate.

"'Tis so pleasant, and warm, and... and rich!" she exclaimed, "And do you always drink from such large cups?"

Ben stifled a chuckle. "No, this is a sugar bowl. I didn't want to bring the whole pot, or I might have been caught." He turned grave and pushed the wrapped parcel towards her. Mr. Merriman had bound it with a green silk ribbon, and it matched the colour of Lissie's shining eyes.

"The money I saved wasn't enough to free you..." he said, regret flooding his tone, "but I wanted to do something..."

Lissie blinked and set the sugar bowl down in the fresh blanket of snow. Ben was thankful that the parcel was wrapped in such a way that enabled her to open it without the removal of her mittens. Her hands shook as she pushed away the paper to reveal a pair of fancy dancing shoes. The colour was yellow like the sunshine, with red, and pink, and purple roses embroidered on the toe and heels.

"I remembered you said their shoes were pretty. I thought... maybe you'd like..." he kept his head down as he stared at them, fiddling with his cloak. "Maybe you can't wear them."

"They are the most beautiful things I have ever had," she breathed, and she was crying softly. He moved closer to wrap her in half of his cloak so that the pot of chocolate was sitting comfortably between them. She burrowed in the warmth of his closeness, taking shelter from the cold, her new shoes peeking cheerfully up at her.

"I think you are like the angels in the Bible," she murmured. "You are so good to me, Benjamin Davidson."

Ben wiped his own tears with the back of his gloved hand and swallowed hard. "And you to me, Lissie Nye."

Author's Note:

Okay, I caved. I'll start posting this twice a week from now on. Mondays and Fridays. You're welcome! :)

Also... I love Ben a lot. If I had a Ben, I would want him to buy me the pretty silk velvet ballet moccasin slippers from The Victorian Trading Company. I don't ask much!