Beatrice shook her head. “Look inside one.”
Emeline chose the blue and opened it. And then she gasped. “Oh. Oh, my goodness. I’d almost forgotten.”
She looked from Melisande to Helen to Beatrice. “How…?”
Tante Cristelle leaned forward. “What is this?”
“It’s the fairy-tale book that my nanny used to read to Reynaud and me when we were children. Forgive me.” Emeline dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips. “I gave the original book to Melisande to translate.”
“And I did,” Melisande said in her steady voice. “And when I was done, I gave the translation to Helen to transcribe. She has such an elegant hand.”
Helen blushed. “Thank you.”
“She gave me back the sheets of papers—she’d made four copies—but for a long while I did not know what to do with them,” Melisande said. “When Beatrice married Reynaud, I gave them to her to bind into a book. But I had no idea she’d made four books.”
Beatrice smiled. “Each of us worked on it, so I thought each of us should have a book of the fairy tales as a memento.”
“Thank you,” Emeline said softly. “Thank you, Melisande and Helen, and you as well, Beatrice. This is a wonderful gift.” She cradled the blue book against her breast and glanced at the gentlemen. “For so long, all I had were memories of Reynaud, and this book was one of the best. Now I have him back again. I’m so grateful.”
Beatrice had to dab at her own eyes. Reynaud was back, and she was grateful as well.
The door to the sitting room opened at that moment, revealing the magnificent form of the butler. “Dinner is served, my lord.”
“Ah. Good,” Reynaud said. He strode to where Tante Cristelle sat and bowed to her. “I know ’tisn’t the done thing for a gentleman to escort his wife to dinner, but we are still newly wed. Might I have dispensation this once?”
That old lady glared at him with steely pale blue eyes, but then they softened. “Tch. Silly boy. But it is Christmas Day, after all, so I forgive you.” She waved her hand at him. “Take your wife. All of you, take your wives. And you”—she crooked a finger at an alarmed Uncle Reggie—“you may escort me!”
Reynaud offered his arm to Beatrice as their guests assembled to be led in to dinner. She placed her fingers on his sleeve, and he tilted his head toward hers. “Have I wished you a Merry Christmas yet, madam?”
“You have,” she said. “Several times. But I don’t grow weary of hearing it.”
“And I’m afraid I’ll never grow weary of saying it.” His obsidian eyes danced. “Now or in the future. So let me say it once again, the first of many more: Merry Christmas, my love. Merry Christmas, my darling Beatrice.”
And he kissed her.
Epilogue
At the Goblin King’s awful words, Longsword fell to his knees before him. He drew his magical sword and laid it on the ground at the Goblin King’s feet and said, “I will give you my sword, though it means my own death, if you will only let my wife go.”
The Goblin King stared, so shocked his orange eyes nearly popped from his head. “You would forfeit your life for this woman?”
“Gladly,” was Longsword’s simple answer.
The Goblin King turned to Princess Serenity. “And you, you have decided to sacrifice yourself for all eternity for this man?”
“I have already said so,” the princess replied.
“ARGH!” the Goblin King cried in frustration, tearing at his green hair. “Then this is True Love—a terrible thing!—for I can have no truck with so powerful a force as True Love.” He bent to pick up the sword but hissed as the mere touch of the metal burned his evil flesh. “Bah! Even the sword is tainted by love! This is a most dissatisfactory turn of events!”
And the Goblin King, provoked beyond endurance, vanished back into the crack in the earth from whence he came.
Princess Serenity came and sank to her knees before her husband, who still knelt in the dust.
She took his hands and said, “I do not understand. You hated the Goblin Kingdom; you told me so. Why, then, did you seek to prevent my sacrifice?”
Longsword raised his wife’s hands to his lips and kissed them one at a time. “Life without you would be worse than an eternity in the Goblin Kingdom.”
“Then you do love me?” she whispered.