The winter season is London was often rather dry and lifeless for the likes of me, which makes it a wonder I came into town early, right before the beginning of November. I had a select group of friends I spent time with, but overall I found urban life to be dull and uninteresting; much like the city proper with its sooty windows, decayed facades, and filthy streets. I was all about the country, but there were times when duty and tradition forced you into positions you had little taste for. You did you best to carry them out even if they left a bad taste in your mouth.

                Much of my time I spent walking through the crowded neighborhoods and bustling commercial districts, seeing what there was to see and absorbing all I could despite my distaste for it. I was no great fan of the multitude of people here, nor of the massive variety of forms they came in. I'll admit it; I was stodgy and reserved and honestly, a bit of a bigot. There were entirely too many species crowded together here, and it tended to make me uncomfortable and edgy.

                Wolves were generally in the hierarchy here, though that had as many flaws to it as any other assumption one can make about life. I was part of the pack, though I tended towards thinking and acting well below my rank. I hated formalities and I hated people who dwelt upon them. I dressed as I liked, and I did as I liked, and anyone who didn't like it could very well kiss my…

                Terribly sorry. I do forget my manners from time to time.

                This year was no different nor did I expect it to be. I had gotten into the habit of visiting the numerous pawn shops that abounded in this great, sprawling metropolis. Their three golden orbs stuck out as a poignant reminder that money was often hard to come by, and sentiment for one's belongings only lasted until their stomach growled too loudly. Once there was nothing left to barter, many here became thieves or worse - resorting to begging or prostituting themselves to stay alive.

                Yes, I know my assessment of this place is bleak. It was just as bleak as every other time I came. Huddled creatures dressed in rags; filthy, dirty, and wretched. I never knew if I should show them pity or contempt. In the end, I ignored them, for neither emotion would have done them any good. Thus, when one of them caught my eye, you can assume there was something extraordinary about the encounter.

                I was at Fitzgerald's shop on Hamby Lane, looking to purchase my whist partners some novelty items as Christmas presents. Oscar  Fitzgerald was an otter. He had a trained eye for unusual trinkets, and thus was always good for supplying me with suitable oddities to give out each year. I was in the shop, and happened by chance to look out through his front window to the street. I nearly missed her standing there, for she was barely able to see into the window by herself.

                I commented to the proprietor about her.

                “Oscar, you had better watch your loose items. Someone is casing you out."

                He adjusted his glasses and stared through the murky panes.

                “Naw! She be a fine one gov. That be little Miss Viola. She's as much a fixture here as of late as any of me merchandize."

                “You don't say? What could she possibly have to pawn that she hasn't stolen?"

                The otter's face got a sour look on it.

                “Now see here gov. Not everyone is about stealing. She has been bringing in her treasures, as she calls em, to put up against something she wants from the shop."

                He reached under the counter and brought out a small cigar box. Inside were a variety of objects as one might expect from a child, but there were several military medals and an old meerschaum pipe that obviously had come from a male member of the family.

                “Her? You sell lollypops?"

                “No gov. She has her eye on this."

                He pointed to a dressmaker's dummy wearing an exquisite gown; white as snow with pearls sewn into the collar. It was obviously meant for a fine lady, and the fact that it was here raised my eyebrows.

                “Not your ordinary rags. How did you acquire this?"

                “Well gov, I ain't at liberty to say precisely. It's on the up and up, if you be thinking otherwise. Let's just say I got it from a lady down on her luck. Rather thought she'd be back for, to be honest, for it cost me dearly and I don't think I ever have hopes of selling it. Not to the crowd I get through here; yourself excluded of course. Thing's never even been worn."

                “Of course.  It is quite the piece of work. I'm sure it would have looked even better on the fine figure it was crafted to fit."

                “Aye gov, she was a looker at that. While gentlemanliness demands I cannot say who this fine creature is, I can say that if you were to go to the theatre district, you might very well have a chance of seeing her."

                I didn't have the heart to tell him my interest was precursory at best. I was much more curious why this waif; this slip of a kit would even consider trying to afford this dress. For one, it was meant for an adult, and while her mother no doubt bore the characteristic form of the average vixen, I doubted very much she had the financial means to have a place to wear such a gown. This was for the most formal of occasions, and I mean for the social elite. A commoner had no business even considering the possibility, not with the way modern British society was structured.

                A fraud is as easily detected in high society as is a lead farthing.

                Which got me thinking of the child.

                “Pardon me Oscar. I'll be just a moment."

                I stepped out the door, closing it purposefully. Digging around in my pocket until I found a shilling I walked by her, dropping it to the paving stones. It chinked as it hit, but I pretended to not hear it. I walked on by, head in the air as if I wasn't even aware she was there. I hear the scrabble of nails on the pavement and then a tug on my coattails.

                “Excuse me sir."

                I paused, more because I really had not expected her to be an honest sort.

                “Yes miss?" I asked, turning to stare down at her.

                “You dropped this sir."

                She held out her black-furred paw. A shiny silver coin lay in the palm of it.

                “Did I now? And you're returning it to me?"

                “Yes sir. It's only right."

                Since my wife had died four years ago, not much ever gave me a knot in my stomach. This did. A small child; one who could have easily grasped the coin and run in the opposite direction, one who could have spent it on something she very likely could never have had otherwise, was returning this small coin back to me.

                I took it from her outstretched palm.

                “Why thank you…?" I knew her name. She however did not have that bit of information.

                She made a little bow.

                “Viola!"

                “Viola? That is a lovely name. Well Viola, I'll tell you what. You could have taken this and I would have been none the wiser. Church tells us that no good deed goes unrewarded, and I for one agree. Here, this is for you, to do with as you please."

                Her eyes went wide.

                “Do you mean it sir?"

                “I have never been called a liar."

                “Oh sir, I meant no such insult, it's just that, well, no one has ever given me a coin before."

                “Then there is a first time for everything."

                She hugged my leg before turning and vanishing back into the pawn shop. I strained to see through the window, and caught a glimpse of her ears sticking above the top of the counter as she talked with Oscar. I really was hoping that she didn't think that coin was going to get her that dress. It was going to take more than a few pounds sterling to remove that from the store.

                She came out a few minutes later, humming happily to herself. She stopped, hugged my leg again and was off, happy as any child that had been given a bit of praise and a piece of candy. I watched her vanish around a corner before I went back inside. Oscar was looking like he had just won a ten note in a bet.

                “I told you so."

                “She's a rarity and not the norm."

                “Now that I'll give ya gov. She takes after her mum, she does. Nicest little vixen you could want."

                “It's a good thing I don't want her then."

                “Come again?"

                “Nothing. I am more interested in the child than in her mother."

                The otter adjusted his glasses, eyeing me severely.

                “Now you ain't one of them gents who belongs to that Hellfire Club!"

                His attitude and words didn't cut through my thoughts right way. When they did, I was as indignant as he was.

                “Good heavens no! Why would you ask that?"

                “They has a taste for young flesh, or so I hear."

                I snorted in derision.

                “Not my style really. No, I was just curious about her. Honesty is a rare trait, the excepted company excluded of course."

                The otter bowed slightly.

                “Of course."

                 “She has a mother, that would seem to be obvious. And a father?"

                “All children have a father, even if they don't knows who they are."

                “One of those is he?"

                “I'm not sure what you mean sir. Viola's father was a fine person. Died a few years ago of typhus. Left a business and a wife behind in addition to her."

                “Business?"

                “Yes. Perhaps you have passed it without noticing it. A little restaurant that goes by the name of McAllister's."

                I had seen it and had shrugged it off as likely to be uninteresting. My opinion just reversed itself. The food was worth a try just to give me a chance of observing this lady who had given birth to this amazing little kit. Therefore, my steps out of the pawn shop were purposeful and deliberate. I stopped before the door that lead into the interior of this eating establishment. It was clean; and I do mean clean. The exterior was in need of paint mind you, but otherwise it had the look of being freshly scrubbed down. The sidewalk was swept and the windows clean. Overall, it suggested that the owner didn't make a lot of money, but still maintained pride in their property.

                There was something to be said for that.

                And the aroma! I had failed before in passing to notice it amongst the myriad of others that plagued London. Of course, I had not lingered in front of this establishment either. The door was closed and still there came the sweet smells of bread, roast meats, and desserts which I had no doubt would add a few inches to the midline should the unwary epicurean linger too long within those walls.

                A growl in the vicinity of my stomach told me that I had either better go in or suffer the wrath of my hunger.

                The interior was much in the same condition as the outside; worn but clean and tidy. I stood there for a moment before a voice called out;

“Single or company?"

For some reason, I replied much like an imbecile would. I was trying to be funny, but it came across sounding like I was a fool.

“Single looking for company."

It wasn't clear to me if my lapse was from being hungry and having my olfactory senses invaded by this cornucopia of smells, or if it was the dulcet voice that was equal to those aromas in tone and quality that threw off my normal reserve. I was certain that given the proper training, the owner of this place might very well have make a name for herself as a singer or a high-end chef. Either one seemed possible from my brief assessment.

                The vixen came into view, and at first glance she looked nothing that would have matched her with her voice. She was dressed simply enough, and over top of her plain dress was a much worn and stained apron. She was dusty with flour, and her cheeks had a touch of something splashed across them. But the face she wore was bright, and the way she held herself declared her to be solidly independent.

                “What was that you said sir?"

                “Nothing. I was attempting to be flippant. I am here by myself."

                She smiled.

                “No matter. There are tables available, and I'm sure I can find one that suits you."

                There were many other diners already seated, but she found a cozy little spot that  I found quaint and yet completely reasonable. This was not like many of the fancy eateries I had been in, but it more than made up for it with its relaxed comfort and overall charm.  In a place such as this, you knew the people were here for the food, not to be seen so that everyone else spoke of their presence.  This was a place that was as rare a jewel as was the woman who ran it. Anonymity was not what I wanted precisely, but here I felt I could be myself.  I was going to have to talk to her about the possibility of holding our future whist games here.

                The menu was limited, but considering that she was likely handling all aspects of her business, this was no surprise. I made a simple enough choice and eased back in my chair to await the dish. To amuse myself, I watched her clientele with a jaded eye. They were more varied than her menu, but they were well behaved, clean, and quiet. The conversations, such as they were, were carried in soto voce. My ears were good enough to pick up bits and pieces, but overall it was nothing more than discussions of business dealings, daily trials and tribulations, and the occasional remark about the food or the one preparing it.

                I was quick to swing my gaze to the door when it opened. Only the upper portion of it was visible from my perch, but even then, I was surprised when neither head nor hat was visible, as if the entrant were a ghost.

                The door was closed purposefully, meaning it hadn't been a random wind that had blown it open. A second or two later I saw who had gained entrance; it was the little kit Viola. That she was connected with the owner now seemed indisputable. Up to this point, I had harbored a few doubts, but now it seemed that I was learning something new. There were truly a few worthwhile folks living in this city.

                One simply had to work a little harder to find them.

                I was able to catch snatches of conversation from the kitchen and pantry; an obvious discussion between mother and daughter. I could only imagine what was going on in the back; a fastidious vixen cooking, all the while listening intently to her child's adventures.

                I felt my face hurt.

                The corners of my mouth rarely turned upwards anymore.

                What was wrong with me?

                The food came out thirty minutes later; hot, steaming and enough of it to satisfy the most ravenous of appetites. I set to it while it was still capable of blistering my tongue. My eyes however watched her walk away with a different appetite in mind. I hadn't thought that way in a very long time. I was very nearly appalled at myself for such an in discretion. Dallying with another species was all well and good, but not something for a proper gentleman to consider. Yes, I knew fellows who would engage in such activities, but I had remained faithful to my wife, or rather, I should say, to her memory.

                That pedestal was not a place I wished to be jostled from. It had kept me out of trouble these last few lonely years and I didn't need some…

                Lonely…

                Damn!

                I was lonely. Everything I did was to relieve my boredom. And for what? She had been a good bitch while she lived, but she was dead and I was still living as though she were alive. The period of grieving was over three years ago. Maybe it was time to hunt for a new mate. Maybe there was some deeply seated longing that was finally making its way to the surface of my psyche. But this lady? I doubted she would show an interest in me unless she knew as the public knew me.  And that in itself would never do.

                I was never one to back away from a challenge. If I could get her to like me for who I was, not what I was, then she would truly be worth the effort - any effort - it would take to her mine. I reconsidered my words, even if they had only been in my head. She was not an object, like the baubles at the pawn shop. She was a somebody, and if I was going to have a chance, I needed to remember my manners, my training and first and foremost, my gentility. Having kept the company of males for the past few years had likely dulled my finer qualities when it came to the opposite sex.

                But then, why her? Was I simply latching on to the first female who seemed to be available? If so, then I was being foolish. I would have to confine my actions to muted gestures until I had the time to think this through.

                The food was a cornucopia of capricious flavors that was unlike the traditional British fare. Where she had learned to cook was the first question that entered my head. The second was whether or not she would be willing to teach my own rather wanting specimen of a cook back home. There was a quality to this plate that would have made the finest French epicure smile with delight.

                I finished every bit, leaving behind only that which coated the plate. I would have lapped it up like a cub would have done, but my position rather forbade me from such foibles. I pulled out my wallet, extracted a few notes and placed them on the table. It was far more than she was charging for her meal, but I thought; I hoped rather that she would not take my excess in the wrong way.

                She did.

                It was a good thing I was prepared for it. A lesser wolf might have slunk away with his tail tucked between his legs. I listened to her quiet discourse of not needing charity before I was able to say what I had been prepared to say.

                “Madam, if someone came in here unable to pay full price, I have no doubt that you would have the kindness to accept whatever it was they could pay. That is charity. Giving full price to a meal that was beyond my wildest expectations in such a humble establishment as this is only a matter of paying full market value for something intrinsically more worthwhile than many others I have paid far more for."

                I have oft heard the expression of having one's jaw drop, but I had yet to see it in real life. It is quite the thing to see. Her words that followed its abrupt snapping shut were less than what I would expect from a lady, but seeing her surroundings I could hardly fault her for them.

                “What garbage are you trying to pull here, mister? Money is hard to come by and people don't part with it for no good reason."

                “But my reason is sound. I paid you for the services you provided. They were admirable, nay excellent, and as such I think you should find pride in your work, and furthermore, that someone who has the means should show appreciation for it as well."

                She stood there with the cash in paw, trying to determine if my words were spoken truthfully. They were of course. Even if I had no other interest in her, I had spent money on far more frivolous things than a good meal.

                “Sir, why are you doing this? An honest answer please if your words carry any veracity, which from your earnest tone I believe them to do."

                I smiled. My face didn't hurt this time.

                “Honesty. Integrity. Quality."

                “Excuse me?"

                I had gotten her attention.

                “I'll tell you what. If you feel you have time later, we can discuss it over a meal. I know this great place, but seeing as you own it, it would hardly do to make you fix it, then sit and listen to me, only to turn around and clean up after it. Have you ever been to Donards?"

                “Sir, you jest. I could never set foot into that place!"

                “But I think that perhaps you could."

                “Finishing up here takes me until it is dark and then there is my child to look after."

                “Yes, Viola. I know. She is invited too."

                Her eyes narrowed.

                “What do you know of my daughter?"

                “As much as I know about you my dear lady. Which is not nearly enough. I wish to learn more. Your child exhibits exemplary behavior and good manners, something I find refreshing. Finding that her mother shows many of the same qualities, I find myself intrigued to know more about them both. And yes, before you say anything more, I am aware of the loss of your husband. It is to be regretted that this fellow died without spending many more years under this roof with two such exquisite creatures."

                She stood there for a moment, unable to grasp what I was saying.  Her tone was one of surprise, confusion, and downright gratitude.

                “Thank you sir, but really, how do you know my daughter? Has she been causing grief?"

                “Heavens no; leastwise none that I know of or could imagine. No, I happened to espy her through the window of a shop I was visiting, and the proprietor told me a little about who she was. He claimed her to be a well-behaved child, which I found remarkable. Please take no offense at my words, but urchins in the streets are more oft than not liars, thieves, and vandals. No choice really, but there you have it. Your Viola is as honest as they come."

                “Yes she is, but how did you come to this conclusion?"

                “I purposely dropped a coin on the pavement near here, to see what she would do. I was expecting her to grab it and run. Instead she returned it to me."

I was going to finish the tale with what happened afterwards, but I deemed it unnecessary considering what the child had done with it.

                “That's Viola. We take only what we earn, and nothing more."

                I pulled out my wallet with a smile.

                “In that case, I think you have earned more…"

                “Stop!" she cried, a little flustered and beginning to laugh nervously. “What is it you want?"

                “Dinner with the two of you. If you then prefer I not bother you after that, I will do so."

                “Just like that?"

                “I am a wolf of my word madam. I collect many things, and there are times a story is worth more to me than a trinket of gold. I sense you are a remarkable woman, and I will be richer for knowing you."

                They say that silencing a woman's tongue can be more difficult than any of the Herculean tasks. I beg to differ. Speak the truth in a confident manner and you can leave them speechless. When she said nothing, I added to my statement.

                “Tonight then? I will be here before closing to assist you with your work and see to it that you have the time necessary for me to learn all about you."

                I didn't give her a chance to argue. I slipped out the door and down the street; leaving I was sure, her standing there confounded and bemused. I felt my heart beating fast in my chest as I nearly skipped down the street. I was foolish and I knew it, for at my age I should not feel this way. But my first encounter with this fine specimen of foxhood had stirred in me feelings I had either suppressed or had ignored for too long.

                I felt a little more alive right now than I had in ages.

                Giddy might be the right word. It was undignified, but there you have it.

                I was there as I had promised, dressed in workman's clothing, with a proper suit to change into later. She was all flustered and tried to shoo me out of the kitchen but I persisted. I wasn't about to give up on her so easily, leastwise not until such a time as when I found out she wasn't fit for a male like me. That was a laugh really, for what I really wondered was whether or not I was worthy of her.

                I had a helper who didn't recognize me at first. Viola had heard about this strange gentleman (me) but failed to put two and two together. When she did, she looked almost embarrassed. She was wise enough to keep her voice down when he mother was near.

                “Hello mister. Why are you here?"

                “To help," I said deadpan as I washed the evening's dishes.

                She gave me an odd stare.

                “You are the one who let me keep the coin earlier today, right?"

                “I am. And we'll keep the gist of that story quiet won't we? No point in your mother finding out that you're saving up for a present for her."

                She gulped.

                “You know?"

                “It was none of my business, but yes I do know. It's very sweet of you."

                She looked suddenly shy and embarrassed.

                “I think she would look lovely in it."

                “I disagree."

                Her face almost welled up with tears.

                “Why not?"

                “Because your mother would make the dress, not the other way around."

                She had to think on that. It took her a moment to puzzle out my words, but when she did, she brightened like Trafalgar Square during those brief moments that the sun actually managed to penetrate the thick layers of clouds.

                “You like my mum?"

                “I can't say Viola. I know nothing about her. That's why I'm taking you both out tonight."

                “Yes. It sounds fabulous."

                “I doubt the food will compare to what she prepares, but if nothing else it will give you ladies a night on the town that you well deserve."

                “Why are you doing this for us?"

                “Honestly?"

                “Yes, of course."

                “I'm not quite sure. I was struck by your honesty for one. An honest child comes from a good home, and a home with only one parent means that one must be exceptional. I came here to eat to see if my assumption was even close to the mark."

                “And?"

                I smiled.

                “So far I have not been disappointed."

                “You do like her!"

                She shivered with excitement.

                “Shhhh!" I hissed, a little too forcefully I thought, “She doesn't need to get any ideas before I know my own mind. Do you understand?"

                “Yes. I'll keep quiet."

                “Good. If you can manage it, there might be another coin in it for you."

                “No, I couldn't accept that."

                I tousled her hair.

                “No, I suppose you couldn't. But I could always put one on your account at the pawn shop."

                She gave me a smirk and then wandered off to help sweep the floor.

                I had never done manual labor in my life, not like this. In the past I hunted, I rode and I wrestled. They were all gentlemanly things. Cleaning up after myself was something I did out of deference to my limited staff. But going out of my way to get my paws dirty was new to me. I found that it didn't bother me as much as I thought it might. No doubt it was worthwhile for the objective, which was to impress this lady and to get us to our destination on time. I could hardly expect her to move faster when I could see she was already pouring her entire being into keeping her business and family intact.

                It was then that I was tripped up by the horrifying thought that maybe neither she nor the child had a decent gown to wear. In my arrogance, I had failed to consider that money might have been so tight for her as to skimp on having anything more than those clothes suitable for her business. I might very well have put them into an embarrassing situation without meaning to.

                My fears were somewhat allayed, when, after all was finished in the restaurant, they went upstairs, leading me behind them. I was given a small room in which to clean and change. I was thankful I had grabbed one of my older suits. It was technically acceptable, though people would no doubt remark upon it. However, it fit far better with the ladies' attire than any of the fancier ones ever would.

                As I had declared, whatever dress this fine creature would have donned would have looked like the newest in the present year's style. Yes, my opinion was stilted. The garment was old, but neither dirty nor worn. It was obvious that she had gotten it a number of years ago and rarely worn it, likely having it reserved in some chest or closet. I could see why that would have been the case with her schedule. And Viola's was a bright little number, suitable for her age and looks. We might not have been the most fashionable trio heading out that night, but I think we were the happiest. It was my hope that they were as happy as I was in all of this.

                They were a bit surprised when a hansom cab was waiting outside their door. I held the door open for them, climbing in last but not before instructing the driver,

                “Donard's good man."

                The ride was going to take a good thirty minutes at least, enough time to break whatever ice needed to be broken, and for the lady to thaw a little against the heat of my impulsive decision. I knew it was an imposition, but I had no clue how else to get her attention. I knew that something like a meal at a fine eatery might be taken in the wrong light in her case, but I had had only minutes to formulate a plan. I had to cross my fingers that it didn't backfire on me.

                “So ladies…"

                And just like that my mind failed me.

                “Yes?"

                I shrugged.

                “I planned all this so quickly that I guess I didn't see far enough down the road to have any clue what I would discuss with you."

                Viola giggled.

                “How about telling why you invited us to a fancy restaurant when you don't even know us?"

                I nodded.

                “A good question, which I think I have explained already. Call it curiosity it you will. I have a distain for the typical pleasantries I am expected to maintain, and worse, to the people I do not hold in high regard. I prefer those who are closer to what I feel is a simpler aesthetic; not in the way one appears but rather in the way they are. I find it rare to come across the likes of you two. Maybe it was, before this day, that I did not care to look. A mere happenstance has cured my vision."

                The lady gave me those intimidating eyebrows.

                “Those of a lot of words to digest. You were drawn in by simple honesty?"

                “It is a rarer feature in the city landscape than you might believe madam."

                “Then you need to only look farther beneath your nose than you have been. There is as much good in London as there is disgrace."

                “Madam, is that a rebuke?"

                She paused, possibly thinking that she might have overstepped her bounds.

                “Yes it is. People go about placing others in niches. The poor wish they were rich just so that they could have a little respect in addition to the more common comforts one dreams of."

                “You mean they wish they had money."

                “Respect. It is sad that money is the only thing that seems to grant you recognition, Mr…"

                Again, my impulsiveness had left a gap between us. She knew not my name and I knew not hers.

                “Call me Robert. And your name madam?"

                “Mrs. McAllister will do."

                “Seems a bit formal."

                “As it will remain. I don't know your game, but whatever it is; I intend not to play it by whatever rules you have devised."

                “It is no game I can assure you."

                “Can you now? Then begin with the assurances."

                She was being purposefully difficult and I could not fathom why. I only desired to get to know her better. I had to assume that I had moved too quickly and in doing so dashed any hopes I might have had to connect with her. I was a perfect stranger and she had no reason to think any good of me, and yet, I thought that maybe she was hoping for something that was going to guarantee my present and future conduct.

                “What could I offer that you would accept?"

                She sighed.

                “Very likely nothing good sir. I am sorry if I am spoiling this evening for you, but the fact is I have not found it in my heart to seek out companionship in a long time. Others come to me, and I find it a little unsettling."

                “That sounds very like my case. I have avoided any contact of a personal kind. I have just come to the realization that perhaps my house has been the lesser for it."

                “House?"

                “I live across town. Quiet neighborhood. I stay mostly to myself."

                “I see. And what brought you to my part of the city?"

                “I visit pawn shops. Call it a weakness. I find them interesting."

                “Oscar?"

                “Yes, he is the one."

                She fell silent as she thought out her next words.

                “And my daughter?"

                “I saw her though the window and made a disparaging remark. Oscar corrected me and I then set out to prove I was correct. I was wrong."

I smiled at Viola.

                She smiled back.

                “Did I hear you correctly. Did you say you were wrong?"

                “I did. I was."

                “Then you should surely see honesty all around you. You are at least honest about yourself. Few folk are willing to openly declare they are wrong."

                “I do not look. Call it purposeful blindness if you will. It is far easier to assume the worse in people than it is to look for the specks of goodness."

                “Aye, it is. And we are worse off because of such attitudes."

                “Then you do not like me?"

                She leaned back against the cushions.

                “I know not who you are. You seem sure of yourself, but then again, some of what you do is as if you are a child. I would say that you mean well, but your senses have been dulled. I would like to see how really sharp you can be when you put your mind to it."

                “A challenge?"

                “Yes. You have an interest in me I can see, and I may not be against it. However, I have been approached before, perhaps not in such a manner as this, and I have turned down every one of them summarily.  I did not marry lightly the first time, and you be assured that a second time will be much more serious a matter to me considering I have a child to look after."

                I gulped.

                “I said nothing of marriage."

                “No you did not. But do you think me so unwise as to not understand the nature of relationships between a male and a female?"

                “But I said nothing of marriage!"

                “And again, I can agree that you did not. Had you thought it?"

                My face gave me away. She saw it did.

                “So you see, it is easy for a heart to jump at the brightest ray of light. How will it fare in full sunlight?"

                I did not know then that she spoke of herself, not of me. Conceit clouded my ability to discern a person's words. Or maybe it was love. No, it could not be that.

Could it?

                No. It was just simple infatuation I was sure of it. That in of itself was no bad thing. Even if this relationship failed, I will have felt better for knowing her. She was remarkable, as I think I have said already. She was brave too, for she was going with me, a stranger, on an outing that she knew not how it would end. To tell the complete truth, I was feeling nervous about it myself. I may have bitten off far more than I could chew.

Despite this feeling, or maybe because of it, this was now a challenge that had to be met. There was no turning back.

                The muted sounds of the streets carried through to us, and I found myself listening to them more now than at any other point in my life. Funny how the voices of the other species suddenly didn't grate on my ear. Being hidden from my sight, I could only hear them as fellows. And they didn't seem so different from me. Everything from paper boys hawking the evening editions to the lamp lighters going about turning on the lights, and the street vendors trying to sell the last of their wares before they headed home. They were all just trying to get through life the best way they knew how. Most of them had to trying far harder than I ever did.

 I was neither better nor worse than them, only luckier due to my birth into society. It was largely unfair, but then, I had responsibilities that came with it. Those outside on the street had a certain freedom that I envied. True, I tended to shirk my duties, but no one was any lesser for it. Much of what they did supported the fabric of society as a whole, even if it was largely overlooked. Some could say the same about me. Me?

 It suddenly dawned on me that I had not replied to her comment.

                In my head I thought - Full light? Yes, I am curious to see what happens. Will it grow, flower and bloom, or become seared and wither."

                Outwardly I had nothing to say that held any relevance. There were few words to be said that had any real meaning at that moment. The ride lapsed into silence for even Viola understood that there was something unusual afoot.

                Donards was palatial when compared to McAllister's, but it was hardly the fanciest spot I had ever eaten in. It was a good compromise, though even then, the society here might not appreciate our trio, and less so if I was recognized. We were shown to our table, given our menus, and left to make our selections. I doubted much of it came close to what she was capable of preparing but that wasn't the point. Or maybe it was. Let her see that atmosphere was often there to make up for inferior culinary skills.

                Thankfully, few diners even looked our way. If I had been announced, then there would have been a full-scale assault upon our spot, but as neither the clientele nor the present wait staff knew who I was, it proved to make for a properly enjoyable evening.

                Viola was hardly able to contain herself, and yet she did a remarkable job of maintaining a quiet dignity that places like this relied upon. Her mother was in awe of the surroundings, remarking upon the fineness of the china, the silverware and the crystal. She served off of low grade porcelain, plain tableware and used tin cups for her drinks.

                I could only imagine what her offerings would look like decorating the place settings here.

                The food was good. They would never have stayed in business had it not been.  Mrs. McAllister noted however, that the main reason she was enjoying her meal as much as she was, was the plain fact that she had not had to prepare it, nor would she be required to clean up after it was finished. I chuckled at her assessment.

                “I do suppose you tire of drudgery all day?"

                She nodded as she answered.

                “Yes, a lady can get tired of the same routine day in and day out. But enough about me. You have been pretty mum about yourself."

                She leaned forward expectantly.

                “What's to tell?" I said, “I'm a widower these past four years. I live alone for the most part."

                “For the most part?"

                “I have a few servants."

                “Oh do you now?"

                “I have a few. Mostly they do as they will, for I am not one to dwell on formalities."

                “A high-class wolf with a few servants, no wife and no life. Sounds rather monotonous to me."

                “It is actually."

                “And if you have been in London all this time, why did chance bring you to my corner of it this day?"

                “Several reasons." I was about to mention the country house, but decided that it might not be the best thing to discuss at the moment. “I have been there before, without reason to notice much more than those places I was seeking out. It was only by mere happenstance that I saw Viola, and the rest is history."

                “History? I think not. This is still the present. If you wish to discuss history, tell me more about yourself."

                “Are you sure you want to know what I have to say?"

                “I'll tell you what. You may tell me whatever you're comfortable letting go of, as long as it's the truth."

                “Hmmm. Well, I grew up with money, which is probably obvious."

                “A bit. You never have divulged a business or profession."

                “I have none. I rely on the family inheritance"

                “Go on."

                “Life used to be interesting before. That it could be again is a new-found hope."

                “And you think this involves me? How?"

                I sighed.

                “I cannot say that I know. I guess I saw promise in you."

                “Hope? In me? For you?"

                Her tone was questioning.

                “I understand that it makes no sense to you. It still doesn't to me."

                “So then, you go to all of this bother and yet you don't have any idea why?"

                I felt small and meek.

                “Yes."

                The look on her face was indecipherable.

                “Good."

                “Good?"

                “You could have lied and made up some story. You didn't. You are at least honest enough to say when you have no comprehension of your actions. Again. I can see why you might shun the company of your peers."

                “Why?"

                “Because I could see you saying things that would likely raise their ire. As for me, I think that your interest is at least sweet, if not completely warranted. I have a feeling that we will find that we are not meant for each other."

                I sat a little straighter in my chair.

                “Why?"

                “If you think that you can talk me into;" she paused remembering that her daughter was present, “talk me into something involving a mere façade of a relationship, then I must tell you I have no interest in it."

                “Façade?"

                She made a face.

                “If you wish to know me that way, without benefit of knowing who I am, then I will halt your advances now. I will not be accused of stringing you along."

                I was struck for the moment with confusion before puzzling it out. I think I turned red under my gray fur.

                “Madam, I assure you that my intentions are honorable!"

                “Yes, I'm sure they are. But they are privy to you, not to me."

                “True. How might I remedy this?"

                “If you mean what you say; if you really desire to know who I am, then come back in a week's time."

                I felt a knot in my stomach that was not due to the food I had eaten.

                “As you wish. Might I ask why?"

                She nodded daintily.

                “Of course."

                “Then I so ask."

                “A week will allow me to assess my feelings. You seem very nice, but you are as closed as an oyster. I believe what you have told me, but there are so many things that you are withholding that I deem to be vital to me. If you feel that my interest in you would be for the sake of money, then you could be correct. However, I am not so foolish as to imagine money alone is worth risking myself heart over."

                “You wound me madam!"

                “I think not. You are not so foolish either. We are both old enough and wise enough to understand the implications of emotional commitments. As you have made a play at showing that you are well off financially, I now need to ascertain if you have qualities that go beyond your monetary means."

                I held my tongue. She was completely correct, and furthermore, I found that the more she spoke plainly, the more I was falling for her. She wasn't a flutterer or a flighty type; she was plain, simple, and no-nonsense, and as such, totally fascinating to me. She understood that I had means and yet, even while answering honestly that she found that attractive, she was still willing to forego it if she found me - as a person - to be objectionable. 

                “Mrs. McAllister. I will accept your terms."

                “Just like that?"

                “What would you have me do? It is undignified of a gentleman of any species to behave irrationally. Your suggestion makes complete sense. I may find, over the course of the proposed period, that my feelings are merely silly schoolboy infatuations."

                I saw her stiffen imperceptibly.

                It made me relax. She was already worried about losing me. That meant I had less of a chance of losing her.

                Or so I hoped.

                Things could change in one week's time.

                I saw them home, took the cab back to my house on Willowman Lane, paid my fare and went inside. There were no servants here, only myself and the usual collection of spiders and such vermin as dwelt in such old places as this.

                I got ready for bed, not bothering to get a fire going in the fireplace. I felt warm inside, and once I was wrapped up in my blankets I had a feeling my dreams would do well towards keeping me comfortable. I did feel a bit silly about all of this. I hadn't acted this way even while courting my wife. Our marriage had been more out of an arrangement than spontaneity, and while I can say nothing bad about her, love was always more outside of what we had. We were always civil and decorous, but rarely exuberant and gregarious. Those were long lost traits from my more youthful days.

                I was feeling more like a youngster now than I think I did even back when I was.

                And I slept the sleep of the dead for the first time in a very long while.

                And yet, morning found me depressed. I wanted nothing more than to take a drive across town and have breakfast prepared by those fine, delicate paws. I knew however that if I did, I would be breaking our little pact. With nothing in the house and no one to fetch something for me, I dressed and went to a little place several blocks away. While I sipped my tea and read the morning paper, I contemplated my life in increments. I had done those things others had expected from me, and in doing them made myself a name. It was a good name, and even now, after leaving much of British society behind, my name was still known to many ears. Since the death of my wife, I had found it all to be intolerable. Only those closest to me really knew how I hated my station, and since I didn't go out of my way to show it they were generally able to cover my tracks. For all that the nation knew, I was still carrying on with a stiff upper lip.

                Would life with this creature be any better? That was indeed the question I was asking myself. The mere palpitation of the heart and the butterflies in the stomach were not enough to declare there to be any true feelings. It was hell being old enough, educated enough and wise enough to press against an emotional response such as was coming over me. Such feelings were meant to be felt and expressed, not contained and analyzed. But youth was gone. And yet... One sage once said that you were only as old as you felt.

                He was wrong of course, but I'd like to think his heart was in the right place.

                I took a walk through the city all the way to the palace, down to the Thames, and then hailed a cab to take me to the club, where my card playing compatriots were waiting patiently.

                “Robert," said one of them, “Where have you been? It's unlike you to be late for a round of cards."

                “I had need for air," I said.

                “In London? You'd best return home for that. The miasmatic atmosphere here will only fill your lungs with smoke and your nose with soot."

                “Fine. I had need to clear my head."

                “Again, you would be better served in the pastoral setting you claim as you own."

                “My difficulty stems from my presence here, and so it shall be alleviated from within its confines as well."

                Another of my friends snorted around the stem of his pipe.

                “One gains knowledge from books, wisdom from age. The only thing a man needs to clear his head of are those matters illogical."

                “You may be more right than you know," I said.

                He pulled the pipe from his mouth, blew a few rings of smoke at me and smiled.

                “We know all about living an ordered life. There is only one thing that causes chaos to a bachelor. Who is she?"

                “Who is who?"

                “Tut tut! The only thing to throw a man off his routine is a female. And I know you all too well Robert. It must be quite the female to throw you off your guard."

                “Is it that obvious?"

                There were several chuckles from around the table.

                “You do look a tad bit distracted. We were wondering when you might break out of your cocoon."         

                “My what?"

                “Cocoon. Shell. Call it what you will, but you have been the urban hermit as of late."

                “Urban hermit?"

                “I think the term is applicable. You wander about the city hoping to be unrecognized. You leave your footman and your valet and your butler back home and wander about like a well-dressed vagrant. You are happy that no one knows you for who you are. I can only assume that your vagabond ways forced you to cross paths with a female who like everyone else, knows not who you are."

                I had to smile.

                “Deal the cards and we'll talk."

                We each held our hands and made our bets.

                I figured I had little lose in regards to my money or my dignity. I told them what there was to tell. Their reaction was mixed.

                “You know of course there will be a public outcry."

                “Robert, what is she like?"

                “Dear boy, why are you sitting here when you could be with her?"

                My answers were as follows;

                “I don't give a damn about the public. She is wonderful. Because she wanted time for us to think it over."

                To the last answer I was given yet another question.

                “Think it over? You only just met."

                “Yes, I know. I think maybe I reacted too strongly. It's been so long that I believe I may have jumped the line."

                From another chair came this bit of advice.

                “You know my adage. What will be will be. Just follow your heart. If you feel she is worth whatever it takes to get her, then do it. There is no worse regret than the regret of losing something because you failed to put forth the required effort."

                “My thought precisely," I replied. “However, there is no point in pushing too hard. She is not of the type to be pressured into anything. She seems to know her mind as well as I know mine."

                “Good god! You two sound like you were meant for each other. However, you had both better wear scarves to protect your necks from each other's teeth."

                “Not funny Nigel."

                “Robert. Be serious. A fling, tryst, even an affair can be excused. You are aware of the consequences of your little dalliance should it become known? I am not only speaking to you as a friend, but I am siding with this lady, whom I believe should have been informed of your station the moment you showed the slightest interest in her. If you have any real feelings for her welfare, even in the slightest, then you would do well to abandon any lingering interest in her. There are at least twenty eligible socialites who would better fit your position than this, a mere commoner."

                “Mere? She may be a commoner, but she is far from common."

                “Fine. Describe her."

                “Independent. Sagacious. Honest."

                That assessment garnered me a few looks.

                “Robert. The mere fact that she is vulpine instead of lupine is enough to get your knighthood revoked. This I feel has already occurred to you."

                “It has. But why do you mention it?"

                The one called Nigel scratched his ear.

                “Men in lust will tell of a lady's charms; her walk, her face, her breasts. Men in love tell of the deeper sides to their amorous others."

                “Well, she is rather lovely, whether she is working or cleaned and dressed."

                “My point. You mention this after the fact. Therefore those details aren't as important to you as who she is. This makes the matter quite serious."

                “So what would you have me do?"

                “My advice? Go back at the end of the week, apologize for any trouble you caused and never think of her again."

                “Your advice is not worth following."

                “Correct."

                “Then why did you give it."

                “For the sole reason of divining your purpose. It seems to me you have intentions towards this poor lady. I think it only fair to her that she knows what she is in for. You are no simple wolf off the street. I know you wish for others to accept you for who you are; an admirable desire but one that is fruitless at the end of it. She will know eventually…"

                “Yes she will, though I think I will not divulge that secret if she turns me down. That information would only place her in a false position and give her an eternity of grief."

                “An eternity? I like you Robert but you do flatter yourself immensely. If she is the lady you say she is, then she will make up her mind and stick with it. Lord knows more females should be that way."

                I puffed out my chest.

                “That's rather insulting don't you think?"

                “You know me. I am a confirmed bachelor to the end. To quote our beloved bard, I say this; “Why, in faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise."

He eyed me saucily and continued.

                “Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?"

                I cut him off with my own verse, for I knew the play well. This was not about nothing.

                “Can the world buy such a jewel?"

                He laughed at my reply, though it was obvious.

                “Aye, and a case to put it in! In all seriousness Robert, you have the case already. Are you sure this is the one you wish to have in it?"

                I downed my sherry.

                “That remains to be seen gentleman, that remains to be seen."

                The next day started very nearly the same way. I was growing fidgety in my impatience.  It dawned on me in a belated manner that while I was effectively banned from seeing her, there had been no limitation on sending communications. I grabbed up my stationary, stared at the name and family crest, and put it back into the pigeonhole in my writing desk. There was no point is advertising who I was at this point. I walked to the nearest stationer and obtained a sheaf of plain white paper and returned home. I wrote out a short note, filled with pleasantries, asking how she was.  Once I was satisfied with my wording, I sealed it, took it to the local post and sent it on its way.

                I didn't hear back until the next day. I assumed I wouldn't at all. The letter in return was filled with grave humor.

                Dear Robert.

You have found a way around the restriction. Good for you. You will forgive me for not writing anything fancy or flowery. You know I am busy and what little time I do have I devote to my dear Viola. I too hope you are well. If you are trying to feel out my present sentiments, then I must disappoint you. I said a week and a week it shall be."

Mrs. McAllister, nee Richards

The writing was as to be expected, but there were little splotches of ink showing a poor quality quill. There was the start of what appeared to be the letter “P" near her signature, but its import was lost to me. But at least she answered. Apparently, she found this method to be within the constructs of the agreement. We had not laid eyes on one another, so the truce was still sacrosanct.

I fired off another each morning until the week was up, and she in turned answered each one, except for the last. I did not know if I should have taken that as an omen or not. I was to see her that day, and perhaps she felt that sending off another missive to be a waste of ink and paper.

I dressed in my normal about-town clothes, took a cab to within five blocks of my destination by tapping the ceiling and declaring this to be my stop. I paid the cabman and set off to finish the journey on foot. Instead, I lingered on the corner, debating my decision to continue with this. The warnings I had been given by my compatriots; those had been mulled over to the point of nervous distraction. I recalled what my mother had told me once. I could not remember what it was in reference to, but she said to me;

“You'll never understand the nature of something unless you give over to it."

I was sure she hardly meant something as encompassing as this, but the words still rang true. Either I devoted myself to this lady, or I would never know the extent of my failure or my success. Yes, there was a chance of failure, but wasn't giving up before you started the worse kind?

                I passed another stationer and on a whim, entered. It was like many others, including the one I had used previously; but I wasn't there for me. I found that even if all I had was silent correspondence with her, it would be better than nothing at all. I purchased a box of paper, several bottles of ink, several pens, and a box of sealing wax. On an impulse I also purchased a small curio for Viola. Not having had an opportunity to have cubs of my own, I had no idea what sort of thing would interest a kit. My own childhood had been rather rigid. Toys were hardly a luxury, but they were kept to a minimum. I hoped that it would do as at least a modest gesture of graciousness.

                With these tucked under my arm and my scarf around my neck (the wind was rising and the temperature dropping), I made my way to her establishment. I shivered a little in the stiffly blowing air as I strode the cobblestones of the empty street. Winter might not yet be here according to the calendar, but Mother Nature abided by her own rules. It wouldn't be long before the ground was draped in a thick covering of white. It would be a far better hue than the dismal tones presently adorning the city. Though, it didn't seem quite as bleak as of late.

                Funny thing that.

                I happened to pass by a telegraph station, which gave me another idea. My stop there was brief, and I hoped the message that I sent was worded aptly enough for those on the other end to understand their import. There was a chance that my sudden inspiration would never come to fruition, but being prepared for any contingency was a family trait. With that done, I made up my mind to finish this stroll to my intended destination.

                I entered the restaurant, nodded towards the proprietress, and took the same table I had occupied before. She saw me, smiled slightly, nodded to acknowledge my presence, and then went back to preparing whatever dish she was working on. I set my package on the spare chair and waited for her to appear.

                She did eventually, but she acted as if I was an old regular, ignoring me for the better part of a quarter hour. She arrived with a quaint old teapot and a matching cup. She poured out a measure of the contents, which was immediately recognizable as being Earl Grey tea.

                “Special treatment?"

                “And why not?"

                “Well, I thought with the wait that perhaps you were feeling less than chartable to a poor soul such as I."

                “Poor? I'll assume you are referring to your lack of companionship and not to your pocketbook."

                “I was."

                “Good. Drink your tea. Your food will be out soon enough."

                “But I haven't even ordered yet," I protested.

                “I took the prerogative of presuming to prepare something special."

                “Did you now? How very bold."

                “I would have said thoughtful, but I think that I like being considered bold."

                Without another word she slipped away. I turned to watch her go, finding myself impressed with her walk, and feeling a little jealous of her handsome tail.  I felt a stirring in a place long dormant, and I had to wonder what she might be like in bed. It was hardly the thought of a gentleman, but since I kept it to myself, I found no shame in it. I was male after all, and while not in my perfect prime, was still young enough to consider the physical benefits of having a partner. To put it simply; I was not above my baser instincts.

                I heard a little chuckle to my right and espied an old hedgehog watching me watching her.

                “She is a right fine one. I've been coming in here for the past three years. Between the mistress there and the food, it's a tough coin toss to predict which one wins out."

                His casual assessment was amusing.

                “So my good man, have you ever proposed to her?"

                “What? Me? Oh no. Not that others haven't though."

                “To what effect?"

                He pointed his stubby fingers towards the kitchen.

                “She is still single, is she not?"

                “So it would seem."

                The hedgehog stood and waddled over to my table to be within whisper range.

                “Seems to me you have her eye. That is a good start if you have an interest in her."

                “I do, do I? This is only the second time I have been in this place."

                 He snickered.

                “Maybe. In that case her attitude is all the more curious. She has given the toe of her shoe to some within the first few minutes of hearing them talk. You she brings a pot of tea and goes back to prepare a meal not on the menu."

                “And how would you know that?"

                “Because she gave you no chance of making up your mind upon something else. I would suggest then that she has an interest in you. She doesn't fuss for many. Her little girl mostly, and this place as a whole."

                “So you think she could be prepared to lavish as much attention on me as she does her business and her child? Ludicrous."

                He chuckled.

                “You are correct sir. All her time is occupied between the aforementioned subjects. I could hardly see how she would ever have time for a third."

                “I see. I thank you for your evaluation of the situation.  Now, if you don't mind, I would like to drink my tea while it still hot."

                “Of course good sir. And good luck."

                I ignored the last part. I believed in luck, but I felt you made your own. Relying on fate was a poor choice over choosing a path and following it.

                The plate that came out, nay the platter, was a feast for an ursine…like those Russian fellows one sometimes sees in the waterfront district. There were half a dozen soft boiled quail eggs, and apparently, those that had laid them as well for there were an equal number of pan-seared birds that had been dredged in seasoned flour. There was a generous portion of saffron scented potatoes (which made me raise an eyebrow), a slab of cured ham, and half a loaf of bread, carefully sliced.

                Add to that the honey, the butter, and the jar of chutney, one would have thought that she was feeding a family.

                I looked up at her, smiled with genuine warmth, and said;

                “You seem to have gone out of your way for a single customer."

                “Mayhap I did. I'm only sorry I don't have something finer on which to serve it."

                “I believe that like an artist and his canvas, your masterpiece is best served upon a background of white. If the taste is even a third of the aroma madam, then I would unequivocally declare you the best chef in London."

                Her face broke into a grin.

                “So say you; what benefit would that be to me?"

                “None I guess. It would be counterproductive in the long run!"

                “Is that so?"

                “If everyone found out about this place, there would be a run on it and then how would I ever get this kind of treatment?"

                “How indeed," she said quietly. “Now eat. If you're still hungry I can fix something to fill in the empty corners."

                I was going to protest until I saw her smirk. She had baited me and I took it. It was refreshing to have someone look upon me as an equal. That I had money was likely a factor, but I think that it was only one. She seemed to have a good mind. That she would want to better her life, and along with it the life of her child was logical. And yet I had to think that she saw more in me than just that. I had hopes to that idea.  It was a warm scarf around a cold heart. It was the reason I was here.

Lord I was going soft.

                The corners of my mouth were going to be getting a workout this day.

                The food was to die for. Yes, I suppose that sounds melodramatic, but her cooking was more akin to continental cuisine than the standard British fare. Even with the standard accompaniments, the meal was one of the best I had ever been served. And despite the volume set before me, I managed to finish the whole thing down to a small pile of bones and a tiny mound of mottled eggshells. It was a repast that was simple, elegant, and completely unforgettable.

                She pulled up the other chair and nearly sat upon the package - which I had already completely forgotten about. She began to hand it over to me but I waved her away.

                “That is for you."

                “Me? Dare I ask what it contains?"

                “There is no secret and even less of one if you simply open it."

                Her eyes lit up upon seeing the contents.

                “I was half expecting something less useful."

                “One could say that the gift has as much value to me as it does to you, for I am full of hope to receive it back over the course of the next year."

                “I see. How ingenious. It is good quality stock, and the ink and pens make this a mighty gift. And this?"

                “For Viola. I must admit that I am a poor gift-master when it comes to little ones."

                “She will adore it."

                “You'll accept it then?"

                “From you? Of course."

                That got me wondering if she had taken part of the week to try to investigate who I was. I couldn't see how she would ever find anything with only a first name, especially considering that I rarely used my surname. I therefore had hopes it was only because she had taken a liking to me; me as she knew me and not me for what I was.

                “From me?"

                She shrugged.

                “Are you looking for some hidden meaning in that? You seem a gentleman of high standards and one a lady can put faith in. You might very well have purchased a necklace or some other bauble to dazzle my eyes with. You instead bought something we could share in. Yes, I know that it is hardly something to write home about…"

                She paused to let her humor sink in.

                “…but it is well meant and much appreciated."

                “Home. Home is where the heart is."

                “I agree."

                We heard a heavy sigh and both turned to stare at the hedgehog. He pulled his head down into his shoulders.

                “Terribly sorry!"

                Mrs. McAllister and I both let out undignified barks of laughter.

                The weeks leading up to the Yuletide season seemed to fly by on the wings of a swallow. We conversed mostly by post, for my presence was a disruption to her business. She wrote her letters at night and I penned mine in the mornings. I learned more about her, but I must confess that I still was rather tightlipped about my own identity. After seeing the amount of effort she put into her days, I felt like a wastrel. I could come and go as I pleased while she was attached to her livelihood, unable to go anywhere or do anything because of it. And yet, she seemed happy enough.

                Did she need someone like me disrupting her life? I don't believe that need was a good word choice. I had already disrupted it. At some point in our tenuous relationship I was going to have to broach the matter of who I was, and that was going to make or break our present status.

                Then there was little Viola.

                She had learned many valuable lessons from her mother, but the formal schooling she was getting was hardly what she was capable of comprehending, of that I was certain. On the other hand, being female, she was hardly expected to be on par with her male classmates. I had never questioned such an attitude before. Now I found it appalling,

                If I was going to be able to do anything about her prospects, I was going to have to start soon. Whether that was going to occur would largely be dictated by what happened over this upcoming Christmas holiday.

                There was of course an argument.

                She intended to leave her place open for those who were less fortunate. In London, even if merely restricted to this neighborhood; that comprised a fairly substantial number of citizens.

                I countered by offering to take her and Viola out to the country for the holiday.

                We ended up compromising.

The meal would be on the day of the eve, and the next morning would see us at the train station. Since she was so adamant about being a Good Samaritan, I felt obliged to follow suit. I had donated to various charitable causes over the years, but always with the respectable air of a philanthropist, not with any direct involvement that demanded my presence. It seemed that I was going to have to break that long tradition and get my hands dirty, so to speak. I had done it once and survived. Another round would hardly hurt me.

                And I did it. I decided to make several purchases, both for private matters and for her charitable event. I paid the tab at the butcher, the green grocer, and the wine shop. I even bought a cask of good ale, a full set of new china, silverware, and an array of glasses. I told her to donate her old wares to anyone who desired them. After arguing for thirty minutes, I pointed out to her that I was not returning the items, and if she so chose, I would set them out to be taken instead.

                She finally saw the wisdom in my suggestion.

                Word of mouth is a powerful tool. With the aid of neither sign nor flyer, those within a mile walk knew of the generosity that could be partaken of at McAllister's.  The restaurant was inundated with the cold and destitute. They were common enough in their numbers, and surprisingly civil in their attitude. I had rather imagined that such wretches would be at each other's throats but contrary to my skewed view, they behaved as well if not better than some of my peers.

                She cooked with a passion; nothing fancy and nothing spectacular, just pots of beef stew packed to the brim with vegetables. There was bread and wine and ale, and I made everyone's day a little brighter with the addition of a tuppence with each plate of food. We were given blessings more often by those in attendance than I ever was by any bishop or priest. When one can see charity in action it is much more satisfying than merely doing it for the sake of impressing your friends.

                I was in tears more than once that day, though I hid it well enough. Viola, the dear little thing that she was, ran hither and yon, greeting newcomers and doing her best to clear tables to make room for them. Many simply stood along the walls, eating and drinking to their heart's content. It was enough to make a wolf examine his life. There was obviously much more that I could do with my days than I had been. The question was whether or not I could do it alone. She seemed like the catalyst I needed, but would my newfound generosity fail without her?

                I quailed at the thought. I didn't want to go back to the way things were.

                I lost count of the huddled bodies that came through that door. By the time we had run out of hot food and sent any remaining breads and uncooked vegetables with the last of them, we were exhausted. There were still the dishes to finish and the place to clean up, by which time I was ready to drop. She however, still was going strong. I refused to show my fatigue and kept pace with her.  When it was over we sat at a table, Viola sitting across from us, we enjoyed a mug full of mulled wine.

                “Robert?"

                “Yes?"

                “Thank you."

                “I assume you mean for helping?"

                “Yes and no."

                “An ambiguous answer."

                “Yes, for helping with paying for it all. Yes, for assisting me with dealing with everyone."

                “But?"

                “It isn't a but. I wanted to thank you for caring. I was watching you. You did well to hide your emotions, but not from me. You cared. It would be a better world if more of us cared. I have always felt that going just a little out of your way can make someone else's day a bit brighter."

                “Yes, I can see that."

                Viola piped in.

                “Mum says that doing unto others is the only motto you need to live by."

                I nodded.

                “She has a point. If everyone did that, just think how bright each day might be."

                “Yep!" Then she got a sad look on her face as if she were remembering something uncomfortable.

                “Is there a problem Viola?"

                She shook her head.

                “No. I just remembered something. It's alright."

                I knew better, as did her mother, but there were times when pressing someone on those things that bring them sadness only makes the sadness deeper. I had an idea of what it was, but mentioning it was out of the question. Tomorrow would hopefully raise her spirits. It was Christmas, and a train ride out to the country would undoubtedly elevate her mood once again.

                After the mugful of wine I felt slightly inebriated. We had been so busy we ourselves had forgotten to eat and thus had drank on an empty stomach. There was little left in the kitchen so I was prepared to shrug it off, get something elsewhere on my way home. The child, the sweet thing that she was, insisted that I stay, but I was going to have none of it. Several things happened to intervene before a full-blown argument could erupt. Outside, the weather had grown decidedly colder and a light snow was blowing, obscuring the street. I was feeling more fatigued than was my want and as such I stood on wobbly legs. I still intended to leave. It was Viola who adamantly suggested again that I stay, in that innocent way she had.

                We both looked at her in surprise.

                My protest was immediate.

                “I could never do that!"

                “Why not?" she said with her eyebrows raised.

                “Because it wouldn't be proper."

                Her mother agreed.

                “Viola dear, there are only two bedrooms upstairs. There would be no place for him to sleep. Besides, he will need to pack for this trip he has proposed."

                I was a little tipsy and my tongue loosed in a manner that was not typical for me.

                “Oh, I can manage just fine. I can sleep in the clothes I have on. I can stretch out on the floor if it comes to that."

                She took immediate exception to the thought.

                “I will not have you put yourself out in such a way. I can figure something out."

                Viola spread her arms and said;

                “Why not just have him sleep with you?'

                Such innocence. She was likely not aware of the nature of a male and a female in the same bed together. I answered with the only answer I knew to give her.

                “Your idea has merit. There is however a matter of proper behavior. It would be considered bad form for us to act in such a manner."

                “You're just sleeping! What would be wrong with that?"

                How does one explain such a thing to a child?

                I looked to her mother for support, but she had a look that told me she was considering the matter. I nearly panicked. I would never trust myself with her, snuggled under the blankets with that lithe form pressed up against mine. Mind you, I was not against the possibility of engaging in a little physical interaction, but not here and not now. She could see the distress I was in carried over in my expression.

                “Darling, I think that is a fine idea. Robert can return to his home tomorrow when it's light out again and perhaps we can accompany him. It might be interesting to finally see where he lives. From there we can go to the station together."

                She looked at me with a defiant stare. She was just daring me to counter her idea. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I think it was much more than that. I really did want to stay. But I had no intention of sullying her with anything that smacked of being a mere tryst. I felt very strongly about that. Call it my upbringing, but I wanted her to know that my intentions were pure.

                “Your idea is acceptable to me," I said. “I will bow to your deference."

                Viola clapped her little paws.

                “Yeah!"

                I think her mother was ready to follow suit, but she wisely acted the part of the mature lady.

                The master bedroom was small by my standards. The bed was even smaller than I had expected. There was no choice with such a piece of furniture but for the occupants to be quite cozy and intimate. I was quick to point that out.

                She smiled at my discomfiture.

                “What would you have me do? I have no bolster to place between us. Are you against sharing a bed with me?"

                I drew in a deep breath.

                “Do you wish for me to be completely honest?"

                “I do."

                “I would like nothing better than to, to…to treat you like a lady. We have yet to make any claims on each other."

                “Then I claim you."

                “You still don't know all there is to know about me."

                “And whose fault is that?"

                “Mine. I was hoping to wait until tomorrow to finally tell you what I think you should know."

                “Tomorrow? As you wish. I suppose you have your reasons."

                “I do."

                “Then I will await your explanation tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the bed. If you wish to occupy the floor I will not stop you. I also will not stop you from sharing the mattress with me. The choice is yours."

                I sighed again.

                “It is a magnanimous offer."

                Despite the chill in the room, she proceeded to strip down in front of me. I felt the stirring awaken into a full-grown lust. It was hardly the proper way for me to be under the circumstances. She was completely naked. She turned, showing me what she had to offer. Then with a wink she slipped under the sheets.

                I was at a loss. Should I strip down as well?

                I think she was hoping that I would.

                So I did.

                I climbed into the chilly sheets and lay on my back, arms behind my head as I waited to see what would come of this.

                “You are ill at ease."

                “I am a little, yes."

                She took my arm and pulled it away; slipping her own in its place and having mine cradle hers. She draped her other across my chest and snuggled in close. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with the electricity of her touch. She was bold. Bolder I dare say than I was.

                “Robert, I have feelings for you. It is said that you can have love at first sight. I have never believed in such nonsense. That is until I met you. Even my first husband wooed me for a full year before I agreed to take his hand in marriage."

                “Let's say I believe you. Why did you send me away for a week?"

                She ran her nails across my chest, leaving little furrows in my fur.

                “I wanted to see if your face would fade from my memory. As it is, it seems familiar, though I have never been able to place it. Then you began to write. No one has ever taken that much of an interest in me. All they have wanted is to be where you are now. And here you are, and you would think I was some disfigured hag."

                I nearly shot up in anger.

                I kept my calm.

                “I act as I feel is proper madam. We are not yet pledged to each other, despite your words. Call it a matter of my upbringing, but I would never think to take advantage of a lady."

                Her fingers went lower. I stiffen in more ways than one.

                “Oh yes you would. Look at you! I'm getting wet just thinking about having this inside me. Do you know I haven't been with a male since my husband died?"

                “And I have not been with a lady since my wife's passing."

                “And you would turn aside a willing lady?"

                “I would. If we could but wait until tomorrow."

                “Do you promise?"

                “On everything I have. You are a pearl of great price, worthy of all the love and respect I can give you."

                She jerked up to look at my face. I think that perhaps she thought I was giving her some rehearsed line, penned and refined just for this moment. The fact was I had said it in earnest. Love knew no bounds and I was under the impression I was only now learning what it was.

                “If you so promise, then I would be remiss to tempt you any further."

                “Thank you. Please understand that I find you very desirable."

                Her fingers played a moment longer on my cock.

                “Oh, I know what you think of me. Know too what I think of you."

                She took my other hand and placed it between her legs, simultaneously rolling farther onto my torso to give me a kiss. She was wet, and impulsively I ran a finger up inside her. She gasped as I did. Her smaller size belied what I think I already knew. The difference in our species and relative size was going to make for a tight fit. I nearly broke my promise right then and there. I find it unlikely she would have minded.

                She held her position for a moment before breaking from our kiss and easing back against my arm.

                “Are you sure?" she asked.

                “Yes."

                “Just so you know; I have no care for who you are. You could give all of your money away and I would still care for you."

                “Would you? Maybe I'll do just that. But tomorrow will be soon enough to make such decisions. Let us have our first Christmas together and see what the future holds."

                She sighed.

                “You drive a hard bargain. I hope that's not the only hard thing you can drive."

                 I turned to her.

                “I promise that I will show you everything I can. You may change your mind and if that is the case then I don't wish for you to have any regrets."

                “I don't think I could regret spending time with you, or sharing myself with you, even if you turned out to be one of the Peaky Blinders gang." She looked over at me. “You're not like that…right?"

                I chuckled.

                “No. Something you may find far worse."

                “You are being serious, aren't you?"

                “I am. So you will forgive my desire to keep a little distance between us for the time being.  I wish you to see what I am. I promise nothing shall be held back from you after tomorrow. Consider the information I have been withholding as a gift."

                “You are very mysterious Robert."

                “I am, yes."

                “Then I will await your surprise."

                She wiggled out of my arms and rolled over on her side.  I very nearly rolled to face her. Something rather engorged told me that was a bad idea. I rolled to the opposite side. A moment later she was snuggled against my back. I cannot tell you how pleasant it was.

                “You don't mind if I share in your warmth," she asked quietly.

                “You'll forgive me for not taking the preemptive position and spooning you. We both know what would happen."

                She pinched my nipple hard.

                “Robert, you are too damn proper for your own good."

                “Madam, after tomorrow; after you see know what there is to know, then you will once again be faced with this choice. I will still be willing then. If you are of the same mind than I will gladly do my best to make your after-copulatory walk that of saddle-sore horseman. “

                “That is a promise I will make you keep you know. Nothing will dissuade me from you."

                “So you say. Until tomorrow then?"

                Her sigh ruffled the fur on the back of my neck.

“Until tomorrow."

Sleep did not come easy for either of us, despite our fatigue. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to roll over and give in to my emotions. She would not have stopped me had I done so, but I had my reasons.  I could wait until the next day. Then, if she still felt as strongly I would acquiesce.

In the morning we were awakened by Viola, who seemed to take no notice of the clothing on the floor.

“It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

It took me a moment to ascertain where I was. Then the embarrassment hit home. I was with the child's mother, naked, and… she wasn't even noticing at all.

“Yes dear," cried her mother. “It is. Go get dressed and we'll do the same so that we can be off on this little trip Robert has planned."

“Yippee!" she cried and off she went.

Her mother got up and locked the door.

She was still naked, and the room was no warmer than the night before. Her nipples stuck out like hard little buttons on her white chest. Her dark arms and legs were a subtle contrast to her red fur. Overall, she was a far cry from the normally muted tones we lupines wore. Her tail swung back and forth as the peculiar pelvic structure of the female kind went into motion. A rise appeared under the sheets.

She was quick to notice.

“Too late now. You had your chance last night."

I wasn't sure if she was angry, upset or simply stating a fact.

“I assure you it will be worth the wait, which ever decision you make."

“Robert, you are an odd one. Maybe that's one of the things I find attractive about you."

“Not my money?"

“Have I ever asked for a penny of it?"

“You have not."

“I find that idea of having financial independence appealing. But I would not prostitute myself out because of it."

I thought of last night.

“Then you really like me for who I am?"

She climbed on top of me, keeping the covers in place. Her face was inches from mine.

“Yes. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

“I guess I have been hoping for it, but I hardly think I have had the right to expect it."

She leaned down and kissed me. I think it was no accident that she rubbed the space between her legs against the lump in the bed."

“Robert, you are unlike most males. A lady gives you a free pass and you turn it down. Trust me when I say that there is nothing in the world that could turn me from you."        

“I believe that you believe that. Time will tell."

She eyed me warily.

“What aren't you telling me?"

“This afternoon; evening at the very latest. When we reach our destination."

She got up and began dressing. I watched her as she donned her best dress, and pulled together an old valise with everything she thought she might need. Only when she was properly clothed did I rise and pull on my things. She watched me dress much as I had watched her. Her smile was enigmatic.

“What?"

“Nothing much. I had forgotten how much I liked having a male around."

“The sentiment is shared. I had forgotten the delights of sharing a life with a female."

“Then there is hope for us, isn't there?"

It was question.

“I would like to hope so."

“It is Christmas."

“It is."

“I'll take you as a present."

I chuckled.

“Well, I'll tell you what. Let me wrap myself first and then, if you wish, you can undo the trappings."

“Deal!"

                Viola had her own little bag of belongings, and once the place was locked tight, we hailed a cab to my house. The ride there was preternaturally quiet. I didn't have much to say, and what I did have to say was going to wait until the train ride at least. Viola seemed subdued, but inquires into her mood proved fruitless.  Once it pulled in front of the place I called home, the ladies craned their heads to stare at all three stories of the brownstone. The neighborhood was hardly what I could afford, but I preferred keeping a low profile.

Viola was awed.

                “You live here?"

                “If you call it a life, then yes. I spend some of my time in it. I hardly use much of it. It's far too large for a single person. It's an echoing cavern most of the time."

                They came in with me, staying on the first floor as I ascended the staircase to my bedroom. It didn't take me long to get my bag for I had packed it a week before.  I dallied a few moments to not be obvious about it. I had a large trunk in addition to my bags and I made a bit of a racket coming down the stairs.

When I got to the bottom I found them looking at the paintings on the wall. I had nearly forgotten about them. I nearly panicked until it dawned on me that most of them were ancestors unrecognizable to all but a few. There was only one of me and that one was fairly nondescript.

                Viola pointed to it.

                “You had a picture done of yourself?"

                I made a face.

                “Yes I did. Do you think it ugly?"

                “No! You look very refined in it."

                “Refined?"

                I stared up at it even as it stared back at me.

                “One might say that. It is at least a good likeness."

                Her mother agreed.

                “That it is. But I prefer the real thing."

                 I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, kissing the top of her head.

                “You would."

                The cab took us straightaway to the station. The train was full of those heading to see family and friends in the country. Our compartment was shared with a few others.  I could have chosen to have a private one, but that seemed presumptuous under the circumstances.

                We sat in silence for a while as the engine rumbled to life, jerking the cars along like a child with a pull toy. Soon the open landscape I had grown up with replaced the crowded confines of London. As the train chugged along on its northeasterly course, I recalled many such similar trips in the past. None of them gave me as much joy as I felt this one was going to. It was a feeling I never wanted to lose. There was still a chance it might. The lady deserved to know.

                “Excuse me gov."

                It was the otter sitting on the other bench.

                “Yes?"

                “Where might you and the family be going?"

                I was about to answer him that we were not a family. Then it dawned on me that he assumed it despite the obvious fact that I was not Viola's father. I wasn't even sure our two kinds could produce offspring together."

                “St Clemens village."

                “Ah! That is much farther than we are going. Don't think I've ever been there. Heard its nice country. Suffolk isn't."

                “Yes it is."

                “Going home for Christmas?"

                His question put me on the spot. Thankfully Viola raised her paw and blurted out.

                “We're going on a holiday!"

                The otter twisted up his whiskers.

                “Never heard of no resort there."

                I cleared my throat.

                “There is an inn there that is quiet. It will be a perfect place to celebrate the season. I made arrangements ahead of time."

                “Did ya now? Good for you sir, good for you. I wish you the best of the season."

                “And I to you."

                There was other idle chatter, but thankfully they vacated their seat an hour into the ride. As the train rumbled out of the station, I was hit with questions.

                “An inn?"

                “Yes. I have been there in the past. While their food will never measure up to yours, the place is idyllic, and we have the whole place to ourselves."

                “The whole thing!"

                “It's not all the large. Legend has it though that it has sat there for over four hundred years."

                “Sounds intriguing. What else do you have planned for our Christmas?"

                 “A walk through the countryside. Good wine. Maybe a few presents."

                “Presents?" blurted out Viola.

                “Yes. I think that perhaps I have just the things for the two of you. Time will tell if my choices have been made wisely."

                “But we didn't get anything for you!" came the protests.

                “I was aware of that possibility. To be honest you are giving me what I need more than anything else. Good company."

                They fell silent, but only for a moment. The lady spoke up.

                “St Clemens? Why have I heard of that place?"

                I cleared my throat.

                “I couldn't say. There is plenty of fine land there, and plenty of places for grazing. As the otter said, it is lovely country."

                “Yes. But I think I've heard mention of that village."

                “Well, it is possible."

                That was all I would say.

                We all napped on the way, taking a chunk out of the tedium. I would have been more engaged in conversation, but the fact was that what I wanted to say; nay what I needed to say was going to have to wait until the last possible moment. Yes, I could have told her the truth right from the start, but doing so might have ruined it all. Now; well now she had some idea of the person I was inside. Let her take the rest of the news seasoned with what she knew of me. It was the only chance I think I was going to have with her.

                Viola was plastered against the window, watching the passing scenery with unabashed interest. It was the first time she had ever left London, so the novelty of it was completely unfettered. Me; I had made the trip more often than I cared to say. I therefore spent much of my waking hours staring at her; the lovely Mrs. McAllister.

                Funny how she had yet to reveal her first name to me. Then again I had not asked it of her. I felt she would tell me when she felt it was appropriate, just like the information I was hiding. In the meantime it did seem a little awkward for me, for how could one not think of her as still being married, even if it was just to a memory?

                Would she consent to lose that name in place of taking mine? Mine came with a lot of baggage.

                Eventually she said something about my devotion to looking upon her.

                “What are you seeing that you have not seen before?"

                “One might very well go to the Louvre and inspect the great works of art time after time, hoping to see something you missed in the past."

                “I am not work of art!"

                “Au contraire! I beg to differ with you. You are as lovely a creature as any sculpture of Venus."

                She did an amazing thing. She blushed. Right through the fur I could see the color rise to her cheeks.

                “You flatter me beyond my worth."

                “I haven't a battery of enough words to do you justice."

                She hid her head for a moment before looking back up."

                “Mere blandishment?"

                “Truth."

                There was a tear in her eye.

                “Robert? Will you…?"

                I pressed my finger to her lips. My lips would have been better there but the finger was going to have to do.

                “Do not ask it. It is not your place."

                “Please?"

                I finally did kiss her.

                “The day is far from over. It will be Christmas until midnight. There is time."

                She sniffed back another tear.

                “The answer will be the same regardless."

                “We shall see."

                The little station at St Clemens was decorated for the season. The stationmaster was there to greet us. He eyed me curiously but thankfully held his tongue. The old badger was wise in the ways of the world and thus knew his place. He loaded several crates that came off of the train in addition to our belongings, strapping them securely to the carriage. The ride to the inn was barely a quarter of a mile and hardly arduous, but the scenery was, as I said, most beautiful.  Off to the north, situated on a rise in the land sat an immense manor house. The snow on the roof gave it a vagariously elfin appearance.

                The inn too was coated with a light powdering of winter precipitation, accenting the old shingles on the roof like the scales on a dragon. The sign, like everything else, was frosted with the a coat of white.

                “Coventry House Est. 1489"

                The place was old, stolid, and quaint as most such places were. Lights burned in the interior, giving it a rather wholesome, if antiquated look. Our bags were unloaded and taken inside, where we found the proprietor all agog at our arrival.

                “Hello! Hello! Welcome! Welcome!"

                He turned to me to say something but a stern look cut off his words. I held out my paw.

                “Glad to meet you again. Roger isn't it?"

                “Aye sir, it is. You have a good memory."

                His attitude was one of dubiety.

                “Yes, well this place has always been memorable to me," I answered, tilting my head toward my guests.

                “Very good sir. Shall I take your bags upstairs?"

                “Yes please. We have traveled fairly lightly, so you shouldn't have too much to worry about."

                I turned about looking for the trunk.

                “Damn!" I cursed. “The trunk is missing!"

                I stepped outside, but the carriage was gone. I could see it swaying as it worked its way out of town and towards the manor house. I re-entered the inn with a look of chagrin.

                “It would appear that we will be without some of our belonging."

                The innkeeper rushed to the door.

                “I can chase him down if you like sir!"

                “No. I'll not have anyone go out of their way on Christmas. I'm sure we'll see it again soon."

                “Well sir, if I might suggest such a thing. The owner of the manor has opened the house up to the villagers. There is a party there this evening if you wish to attend. “

                Again he gave me a look.

                “I don't know. What do you think ladies?"

                Viola's answer was precisely what I expected.

                “Oh can we? The house looks incredible!"

                Her mother was a little more reserved.

                “It does. But would we be welcome? We are after all strangers."

                The innkeeper guffawed.

                “Ma'am, this is Christmas. No one is a stranger; just a friend you haven't yet met."

                I approved.

                “Hear, hear! Why not? You just might like the place. It certainly looks interesting from the outside."

                “Do you think we should? I was hoping for some food, to be honest."

                Again the innkeeper came to the rescue.

                “Well ma'am, I'm told there will be a minor feast served there. Most if not all the village will be in attendance. I too was hoping to be spared cooking."

                I shored up his plea.

                “I agree. If the house is throwing a party for everyone, then I think we should attend."

                She was still unsure of the propriety of us making a presence there.

                “Who owns the house?"

                The innkeeper smiled.

                “The lady doesn't know?"

                “No. This is only my third time outside of London."

                “I see. That is the Chatham Estate, home of the Seville family for several hundred years. I rather thought everyone was aware of it."

                “The Chatham Estate?"

                “There is no other."

                She swooned a little.

                “Yes please. I don't think I will ever have another opportunity such as this. I would love to say I was inside such a place."

                I nodded.

                “Done. We shall walk there together."

                We were shown to our rooms, clothing was unpacked and a bath was drawn. Viola went first, followed by her mother. I was invited in on the latter to wash those parts she claimed to be inaccessible, but I demurred.

                “I feel confident there will be time for that later."

                She frowned a little.

                “How long do you intend that we stay?"

                “After tonight, I will leave that up to you. We may return whenever you like."

                “Promise?"

                “If you asked me to fetch the moon I would put forth every effort to bring it to you."

                She teared up.

                “Robert?'

                “Yes?"

                “Remember. You have until midnight."

                “I remember."

                I left her to finish cleaning up. Viola was already in her dress, playing with the little china doll I had purchased a few previous.

                “Mr. Robert?"

                “Yes dear?"

                “Thank you for bringing us out here."

                “You're welcome. But I noticed that you looked sad a few times recently. Can I ask why?"

                She dug her toe into the floor.

                “I was hoping to be able to get that dress for mum."

                “Yes. That. I would hardly wish to bring someone down on Christmas, but you do understand that everything you put towards it was never going to be enough."

                She sniffed a little.

                “Yes, I guess so. But I thought she would look so lovely in it."

                “I can't argue with you there. But I think you need to put it out of your head. Enjoy the day out here in the country and have a good time. I think that the dress will eventually find someone suited for it."

                She sniffed again.

                “Yes. But I put so much towards it."

                “Did you really? What a wonderful thing to do."

                “But I wasn't able to get it for her."

                “They say it is the thought that counts. I'm sure that if she finds out what you did, she will be thankful for having such an attentive child."

                “Are you trying to make me feel better?"

                “I am."

                “Thank you. I just want her to be happy."

                “A worthy cause if I ever heard one. I think however that we will worry about this later. Time grows short and I need to clean up a little myself. You will excuse me."

                Her mother was done, sitting in front of the mirror fretting over her hair. I came in, kissed the top of her head and then moved down to her cheek.

                “You look lovely you know. You put to shame a hundred other females of far greater fame than yourself."

                “You are a handsome liar."

                “I am no such thing. I am a plain liar."

                She turned to me.

                “Why do you torture me so?"

                “What?!"

                “I am willing to be yours. You know this. And yet you act as though you are some sort of…criminal. Why do you think I would disown you?"

                “Let us attend this party. Try to enjoy yourself there. I will do the same. If I don't explain myself sooner, I will do so on the way back to the inn. Agreed?"

                “If you say so. I wonder at why you are being so mysterious."

                “Because I feel I must. All will be revealed before the stroke of midnight, I promise."

                I cleaned up, again deferring her offer to a later date, only this time in the reverse. I assured her I was quite capable of handling my own bath. When I came out dressed, she seemed mildly disappointed but in true British fashion she held her tongue. She held my paw and we went out for the brisk walk to the manor. I found her company; dangling on my arm and whispering in my ear to be most charming. She seemed thrilled at the prospect of visiting a real British landmark. Chatham Hall was filled with some one hundred plus rooms, three stories tall and filled with enough British history to overflow four volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica. 

                A light snow was falling and dark had settled in as we carefully made our way with a knot of locals to the estate. There was much murmuring going on, and I did my best to ignore it. It seemed that the house had not been open for such a public demonstration within the lifetime of the oldest person there. It was quite the phenomena and everyone was taking advantage of what they figured was a once in a life time experience. With all of this commotion I was prone to believing that the house had long been dark and silent.

                Maybe my lady friend was right. Either way, it seemed we were destined to be there this eve.

                The lights were on in every lower room, and a few twinkled in the upper story, turning the place into a wonderful beacon for the holidays. As we grew closer, wreaths were visible hanging on the door and windows, and the lamp posts were wrapped in red ribbon. There was someone at the door, greeting the villagers one by one. As we came to the entrance, he turned to us and smiled.

                “Welcome to Chatham Hall. Our lord wishes you a Merry Christmas, and he will be with us shortly. Go in! There is plenty to see and even more to eat!"

                The aroma coming from inside was palpable.

                It might even have rivaled her cooking.

                Inside was a wonderland, if that term was proper for an interior. The ceilings vaulted high overhead, and the place was filled with antiquities, art, and historic furniture. There were tables set out, covered with every known variety of bread, roll, pastry, and tart.  Viola oohed and aahed, asking if she could try some. I looked around to see if there was anyone to ask, and seeing that there wasn't, told her to make a selection, but not overdo it. I was pretty certain there was more to this than just what was laid out. I could smell meat cooking, and that meant a full meal ahead.

                Her mother wandered about, her rapt gaze swinging back and forth as she tried to absorb her surroundings. It was a lot to take in, and I believe she was trying to commit as much of it to memory as she could. Me, I found her more alluring than the house. I doubted there was anything in it as lovely as she was. I was prepared to tell her that too; at the right time.

                We wandered the corridors until the sound of a bell signaled that it was time to eat. A few maids swept through the place gathering up everyone and guiding us to an enormous hall. In addition to the impossibly long dining table therein, other arrangements had been made to accommodate the influx of locals to the hall. Candles were lit, plates were set, and overall there was as much a feeling of camaraderie and joy as one could hope for on Christmas. Much like the joy she had given only yesterday to so many poor folks of the city, here was a similar act for the residents of the countryside. I was prone to think hers was more impressive.

                She did all of the cooking herself. I found it unlikely that was the case here.

                There, at the head of the long table were three spots reserved. I had to assume the head position was for the owner of the house, one for his wife, and the third perhaps for a child. Looking around the room I saw row after row of paintings, much like I had in London, many of them surreptitiously decorated with bits of ribbon and boughs of pine and holly. One majestic one, showing what one would presume to be the master of the house and his wife had so much draped across the top as to obfuscate the image below. It hardly mattered. He was bound to make an appearance shortly.

                We were just looking to be seated when the old badger from the station came up to me.

                “I beg your pardon sir, but I seem to have made off with one of your pieces of luggage."

                “Oh hello! Yes you did. I assume it's here?"

                “Yes sir. I do hate to pull you from the table, but would you be so kind as to examine the contents to make sure they are intact. I would find it dreadful to be accused of impropriety in regards to my duties."

                “I would never do such a thing."

                “No sir, I'm sure you are too much a gentleman. But still…"

                I looked to the ladies.

                “Can you carry on without me for a few moments?"

                “Yes. Go do what needs to be done. We shall be here when you return."

                I bowed and followed the old badger out of the room.

                I did not return for what might be considered a lengthy amount of time. In reality, I thought the matter was handled rather quickly. I was just returning to the dining room in time to hear one of the servants announce the lord of the manor. I walked in quietly and discretely, my freshly donned black suit and tie as crisp as the winter snow. I had a wrapped parcel under each arm as I walked to the head of the table. Viola's eyes went wide as did her mother's as the realization sank in.

                I simply smiled.

                “Welcome one and all to Chatham Hall. Most of you recognize me, and I thank you for your patience in maintaining this little charade. Seeing as it is Christmas, and seeing as I have more of a reason to celebrate this year than many in the past, I wish to extend my holiday cheer to you all."

                I swept my paw towards the fine Mrs. McAllister and her child.

                “I would like to introduce you all to this lovely creature, and her equally lovely daughter. Some of you have likely made the logical jump to a pending conclusion to this eve, but it is no sure thing. Would you two please come to the head of the table and have a seat on either side of me?"

                They came up at no more than a creeping pace, suddenly ashamed of their attire when compared to mine. It was to be expected under the circumstances. Viola took a hurried seat while her mother hissed in my ear.

                “Robert? Lord Robert Seville?"

                “I told you that you might wish to reconsider."

                “You are the Lord Seville?"

                “I am the last Seville. Therefore I am the only Lord Seville."

                “And you worked in my kitchen?"

                “Yes."

                She looked ready to faint.

                “Look at me! I'm just ordinary!"

                “I have been. If you are embarrassed by your dress, don't be. You have the looks to make any gown a shimmering dream."

                She balled up her fist to hit me, reconsidered, and instead sat down.

                “Ladies and gentleman of St Clemens and its environs; allow me to delay your meal for just a few moments longer. I wish to ask a question of this fine vulpine, and I wish to have all of you serve as witnesses."

                I turned.

                “Mrs. McAllister, would you be so kind as to be my wife?"

                She looked as though the world was suddenly changing to multiple shades of the rainbow. The color drained from her cheeks, then returned with a vibrant pink glow.

                “Why didn't you just tell me?"

                “Why? Tell me you don't see it."

                “Fine, I see it. But how can I be…be the wife of one of the most famous and rich wolves in all of England?"

                Viola answered her question in a quiet little voice.

“By saying yes mum."

The few who heard her chuckled and passed along what she had said down the line to those out of earshot. Soon the room was filled with quiet mirth. I smiled as well, for her words rang with sincerity and honesty. I waited a moment until the hubbub faded before turning to her with a questioning look.

                “Well my dear. What is your answer?"

                “I already gave it to you."

                She looked like she wanted to crawl under the table and back out the door.

                I looked about the room.

                “Vicar Morris? Do you have the document prepared?"

                “What?" cried my wife-to-be.

                Again I smiled at her surprise.

                “I could think of no better present to give you than this. It might not be a grand formal wedding, but from what I have gathered about you, I think you would prefer to avoid such fanfare, considering who I am and who you will become."

                “You seriously expect me to marry you today?"

                I paused.

                “Is there a problem?"

                I could see her debating internally. She was ready before to lay with me but now, this was a matter much more involved. I had told her there was more to me than I was telling her, and that it was for good reason. Money was one thing but unwanted fame was entirely another. She was now going to be the wife of the Lord of Chatham Manor. As such, she would earn the ire of countless females hoping they might have a chance of replacing my dead wife. I had not a single iota of interest in any of them. They were mere vultures flocking to get first dibs. This woman was independent, smart and dedicated. She had seen something in me just as I had seen something in her. I was offering her a life most only dreamed of, and yet I could see that she was considering the drawbacks alongside the benefits.

                She looked up at me and then stood.

                “Ask me on bended knee."

                There was a slight gasp from the room.

                I had no qualms about doing what she asked.

                “Mrs. McAllister, would you do me the favor of accepting my paw in marriage?"

                I thought she was going to swoon and fall to the floor.

                “Yes."

                The room erupted into cheers.

                “But…"

                Few heard that part.

                “But what?"

                Again she was nearly in tears.

                “This dress is hardly fit for a wedding to such a person as yourself. It's old, dated and barely respectable enough to be worn in this great place."

                “Oh, is that all?"

                I pulled out one of the boxes and handed it over to Viola.

                “For me?"

                “Yes dear. I think you will find it to be a gift of great value."

                She opened it and pulled out a white dress.  She held it up and turned it around.

                “Thank you Robert! It's beautiful!"

                “Oh, that is nothing. I got you that as an appropriate gown for you to be the flower girl. The truly valuable items are under the paper."

                She shuffled the contents inside, coming out with a tired old cigar box. She flipped it open to see all her treasures from the pawn shop. Her eyes went wide.

“But these were supposed to go towards…"

“I know. Have you any idea how much I had to give Oscar to get this box back? He considered them to be worth more than anything he had in his shop."

“But I was so hoping to use them to get mum that gift."

“I know", I said, winking.

I handed the other package to my wife to be.   

“Do you know, this entire time I have not once asked for the thing you have kept from me."

She held the box for a moment without tearing at the paper. Then, with careful deliberation, she pulled the wrappings away and opened it up. Inside was the dress; as in the dress. She pulled it out with an exclamation of complete surprise. She ran her hands along the seams, through the lace and over the opalescent gems strung into the collar. She stood up to make a careful examination of it, turning it over and over in silent inspection.

“Pearl," she said with a hoarse whisper.

“Pearls," I corrected.

She turned to me.

“No. My name is Pearl."

“Is it now? Then how appropriate."

“I cannot accept this!"

“If you cannot accept a simple gown to get married in, then I don't see how you can accept the paw of the one offering it. First you complain that your present outfit in unfit, and then you claim the one given over as being more suitable is also unfit. You cannot have it both ways."

“Robert!"

“Pearl." I replied as straight faced as I could manage.

“You win. Where shall I change?"

“I rather hope you do not change my dear. I fell for you just the way you are."

This time she did punch my shoulder.

“I meant the dress!"

“Mary will show you upstairs. But only after everyone eats."

“How can I eat now?"

I pushed her gently back into her chair.

“With your mouth as everyone does. We have time, and I would think you would hardly desire the risk of soiling your wedding gown."

“But you are in your suit!"

“I am. I have more. Until recently I have found them a bore. Now perhaps I will have more of a reason to wear them." 

And so it was settled. It was perhaps the happiest that old hall had been in many a long year.  I personally had not been to it in nearly two months, and so having everyone do their best to treat me with casualness and equality had been only due to the efforts of my staff.  My note had been largely clouded for I wanted no one in London to get wind of my plans. Had I told the telegraph operator who I was, then my words would quickly have made it to the papers. I owed them a debt of gratitude for all they had done. I was hardly deserving of it.

The food was excellent, and I had ordered cases of wine brought up from the cellar. It was fit for royalty, but were not these people equal to that? Just because they had not been born into wealth and position did not lessen them any. They worked hard to make my life better, and in the past that of my predecessors. Could I not afford to grant them one day out of the year as special?

The answer was that I could.

When the feasting was done, Pearl and Viola were shown to the rooms on the second floor. Upon finishing their garment change they came down the staircase; I was there to follow their progress. They were like two of heaven's angels descending from the sky, lighting up the steps with each footfall. Neither was a debutante, and yet they carried themselves with the grace of the antelope dancers at the ballet. I was glad she had agreed to this marriage. Even if she had not, I considered myself fortunate for even knowing her. She had restored my faith in the belief that my fellows still had some good left in them. I saw too that my former perception was my own; not an accurate view at all but a muddled, opinionated keyhole peek at those I had come to despise.

She had redeemed me.

She truly was an angel.

They reached the bottom and I held out my paw. She took it with her own, holding Viola's with the other.

“You are a wonderment." I said.

“Do you really think so?"

“No. I happen to know so. And you too little one. You are a perfect, miniature copy of your mother."

Viola did a proper curtsy. I wasn't even aware she knew how.

“Thank you! And you look quite handsome in your suit. But then mum says you look handsome out of it too."

I fought back a laugh. Pearl looked like she was ready to die of embarrassment once again.

“Did she now? Well, that is indeed a great compliment. I have been told in the past that the suit makes the wolf, but having a clearer assessment like yours makes me feel that much better."

“She likes you a lot you know," she replied solemnly.

“I do know. And I like her a lot too. I would even go as far as to say that I love her."

She turned to her mother.

“See. I told you so."

“Yes you did dear. Now please refrain from any more outbursts until after the ceremony!"

“Yes mum."

She turned to me.

“Might I ask where the church is? I don't relish walking in the snow wearing just this."

The vicar was just in front of us. His grin was enormous.

“There is a church in the village to be sure madam, however we will be using the manor house chapel."

Viola turned to me.

“You have your own church in here?"

“Chapel dear. Not a church."

I had not stepped foot in the place for years. The servants had been good enough to remove every last speck of dust that had settled there in the interim. Had it been daylight, the windows would have shown portions of the family history interspersed with various religious motifs. As it was, they were lit from the inside with candles and lanterns. I was certain they made for a sight from the outdoors.

 The place was draped with red, green and gold and as much care was shown here as throughout the rest of the house. I had to wonder if it was from the pure excitement of having a new mistress in the house, or if it was the promise of raises to all the staff. Either way, they outdid themselves.

The vicar had us sign the marriage license before officiating. From there on it was a blur. I knew I repeated the vows he spoke, but all my eyes and ears could take in was her. I had loved my first wife. Please do not take that follows to mean otherwise.

This was that tingly, sweaty palms sort of feeling that comes either when you are very young or very, very lucky. As I held her paw, I knew I was the luckiest wolf in all Great Britain.

I now pronounce you wolf and mate came all too quickly. I almost wanted him to do it all over again. Then she was turning to me, and I met her lips in as passionate a kiss as I have ever given and received. We were locked together for so long I finally felt a tug on my pants legs. Pearl felt one on her dress.

It was of course Viola.

“Save it for the honeymoon, will you?" she said saucily.

“And what do you know about honeymoons?" I asked with all seriousness.

“Not much. Mushy stuff happens."

“Mushy stuff huh? Who told you that?"

“Mum did."

“She isn't wrong. Love makes even the hardest heart grow soft and mushy."

Pearl protested.

“You weren't hardhearted!"

“Perhaps and perhaps not. I still feel that I am a different wolf on the inside now. And I have you to thank for it."

“If you insist. When we first met, I found you interesting. You were not a regular, nor did you fit the bill to be one of them. Yes, I was interested when you said you had money for I crave a little stability in my life. Good deeds and good will are part of who I am, but I have never been so unwise as to not see the bigger picture."

“Did the picture look like this in your imagination?"

She kissed me again.

“Never in a million years."

“I would give all of this up to be with you."

“Would you? And work beside me in my little kitchen?"

“I would if you asked it."

“Hmmmmm."

I actually thought she might.

“You know Robert, I think not. I'll have to figure out a buyer for it. I believe that this will be a full-time job right here."

                “You may find it so. There will be some downsides to this as well, but I will stand beside you the entire way."

                She leaned in and in a quiet voice said;

                “This lady will desire more positions that that."

                 I felt a bulge form in my trousers.

                “This gentleman is more than willing to oblige."

                Viola made a face.

                “Mushy stuff!"

                And we laughed until we cried.

                Tears have never felt so good.

               The story continues here (Friends Only)

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