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The carriage rumbled toward the little church in town.

She was going to concentrate on the task at hand. Ambrose Hunt was going to be a problem for another day.

The vicar’s residence was built beside the little parish chapel, a modest stone building standing near the edge of the village of Griffin. By the time Marina arrived, the distant church bell had already sounded, its gentle chime floating across the crisp morning air.

“Your Grace,” the elderly vicar greeted warmly, rising from behind his desk. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Marina hesitated before smiling. A few weeks ago, most people would have whispered spiteful words as she passed. But here she was, being addressed by a title that came with so much weight.

She smiled at last and curtsied to the vicar. “Forgive me for arriving without warning, Vicar Worthington. My husband received your message and asked me to see you in his stead.”

“Ah, I knew it would be quite inconvenient to ask him to come, when he cannot stand the sun for long periods, but I must rush away to London tonight and as you can see, we are packing.”

Indeed, a maid was rushing about, packing belongings into a portmanteau. “My curate will need to hold service this Sunday and I will have to go over his service with him, therefore I have no time and this is an urgent matter.”

“I was concerned you would be displeased, given my reputation.”

“As a Christmas Witch? I put no stock in such tales. The villagers might, but I do not and I counsel my flock not to either. Now, as you know, your husband has long been involved in helping the local children.”

Her heart warmed at this, for until now she had only Ambrose’s and Mrs. Dalton’s word for it.

“He told me.”

“I hear that you were quite eager to help children, when you lived in London. Before…”

“Yes, and I dare say I was quite involved with children even in my years in exile. Not in the way I would have wished. A witch must at least see to the local children’s entertainment,” Marina remarked lightly, lifting her teacup. “For years, I have been their favorite source of mischief and amusement. I fear they shall be dreadfully bored now that I have abandoned the neighborhood.”

“I doubt they shall recover quickly from your absence,” he responded with a chuckle.

“I am certain. Now, my husband told me this was a matter of some urgency?”

“Indeed. We have a number of families struggling this year, more so than usual, and I wished to discuss the matter with His Grace.”

“He has authorized me to assist with reasonable requests,” she said, but the vicar shook his head.

“It is more than I could demand of him, generous though he has been. The trouble is, the orphanage building is in a state of disrepair. It must be torn down and rebuilt; that is all there is to it. I cannot demand such a sum from His Grace.”

He had said reasonable requests, and building a whole new orphanage on top of the usual needs was surely not reasonable. The vicar cleared his throat.

“I had thought that perhaps His Grace might consent to something else. An event perhaps, at Griffin Manor.”

She sat up.

“Perhaps,” he said, rubbing his chin. “A gathering that brings the people together might accomplish even more if we asked for donations, or an entry fee. A Christmas ball, perhaps. Something memorable enough that it might bring people here.”

“That sounds rather lovely,” she admitted, “and it would be good for Emma as well. She ought to have children around her as she grows. Children closer to her own age. I know she is merely an infant now, but it might foster relations with other parents.”

The thought of company, of a ball, of people who might see her as something other than the woman whose husband had died at the altar, excited her. She might even make friends.

Her gaze flickered briefly toward the window.

The vicar smiled approvingly. “Indeed, it would be wonderful. My only worry is that His Grace might not agree. His presence would mean a great deal to the village. The people know very little about His Grace beyond what they hear from others. If they were to see him here, among the children and their families, perhaps the rumors would be dispelled, but he has never been open to such suggestions before. I had hoped that, with so urgent a need, he might reconsider.”

He made a good point. Ambrose barely tolerated gatherings, disliked Christmas festivities, and had shown no enthusiasm for anything involving celebration. And now she was expected to persuade him not only to attend a Christmas ball but to host one in his home. Good heavens.

Still, she could not tell the vicar no. If she did, then she would be letting down children and families in need. If she agreed to give money, she did not know how much.

She had always adored balls, Christmas balls especially. And Griffin Manor would be alive again.