Rochelle L. Sharpe

Chapter Five: First Meeting.

The sleigh stops outside of a little thatched cottage with a white picket fence surrounding it. Poplyn finally leaves our shoulders, jumping onto the back of the sleigh. Olen opens the door, taking Ashlyn’s hand as she steps out. I follow her and Olen grabs our bags.

The door of the cottage opens, drawing my attention to it. A woman steps out onto the stone path that has been cleared of snow. She is tall and imposing, chin tilted high, wearing a white fur coat that trails to her boots. Mid-forties, if I had to guess, with Ashlyn’s chestnut hair. Ashlyn looks a lot like her aunt, though her aunt’s eyes are blue where Ashlyn’s are hazel.

“Aunt Lynda!” Ashlyn opens the gate and rushes into her aunt’s arms. I follow at a much slower pace, stopping behind Ashlyn.

Olen steps around us to take the bags inside.

Ashlyn’s aunt tucks some of Ashlyn’s hair behind her ear. Her voice is tender as she says, “I am so glad you came.”

“Me too,” Ashlyn whispers.

Ashlyn half-turns, smiling at me, before stepping up beside me and linking my arm. “And this is my neighbour and friend, Samuel Evans.”

Ashlyn’s aunt raises an eyebrow at our linked arms. I reluctantly untangle myself from Ashlyn to offer her aunt my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I expect her to give my hand a weak squeeze, a slight touch, but she slips hers into mine and gives it a strong shake. I’m the one raising my eyebrow now, impressed.

“My niece has mention you on occasion during our correspondence. I am glad you could join us.”

Her accent sounds more British than Australian. Refined.

“Thank you, Lady Swan,” I say, calling her by the name Ashlyn told me to call her.

“Please, call me Lyndaria.”

I nod and her eyes flit back to Ashlyn.

“Let’s get you inside and out of this cold.” She holds out her hand, and the two women link arms, walking toward the house.

I follow behind, not a hundred percent sure Lyndaria is glad I could join them. Maybe she is like Poplyn and wishes Ashlyn was still with the prince? Speaking of Poplyn, where was the little elf? I glance over my shoulder at the sleigh, but he is no where to be seen. I shrug. Fine by me. This trip would be a lot more pleasant if that little biter disappeared until we were going home.

Just as I’m about to enter the cottage, he appears out of nowhere, making me jump.

He wags his little pointer finger at me. “No weapons in Lady Lyndi’s house, hand over now.” He holds his palm out to me.

I open my arms wide. “I don’t have any weapons.”

He screws up his nose. “You trick?”

“No. I don’t carry a weapon.”

“What kinda man not have weapons?”

“Poplyn!” Ashlyn calls from inside. “Let Samuel in.”

Poplyn grumbles something but steps aside.

Olen slips past me. “I’ll return the sleigh to the stable and tend the horses,” he yells over his shoulder.

Ashlyn appears beside Poplyn. “Why don’t you go and help Olen.”

Poplyn marches after Olen, continuing his muttering.

Ashlyn smiles at me, waving me in.

I take off my Akubra and step into the cottage, running my hand through my hair.

It’s a quaint little cottage with one big open space containing the kitchen, dining and sitting area. A fireplace roars against the back wall. Wooden furniture and antique style lounges fill the space, not a piece of technology in sight.

 Ashlyn has removed her coat, so I take mine off.

“There is a coatrack on the wall there beside the door,” she tells me.

I place my snow jacket on one of the empty hooks, resting my Akubra on top.

Lyndaria has her coat off and is wearing black pants and a cosy green cardigan, looking much more like someone from back home.

Lyndaria gestures to a small table between two lounge chairs. On it there is a tray with bread, cheese, nuts and some sort of berries, and two glasses of what look to be apple cider. “Please, help yourselves to refreshments.”

Ashlyn goes and sits in one of the chairs, so I take the other.

Ashlyn doesn’t attempt to eat. Even though I had a big breakfast, I am feeling a bit peckish and I can’t resist a good cheese. I hesitate, not seeing any cutlery. What will Lyndaria think of me if I use my fingers to eat?

I grab the cider instead and take a swig. It’s crisp and fizzes in the mouth, a nice apple cider. I wonder if Lyndaria makes it herself. She doesn’t seem like the cider making type.

Lyndaria takes a seat across from us.

“You said it was important for us to come,” Ashlyn says, concern sweeping across her face. She twists her hands.

Lyndaria’s lips curl into a shy smile, her cheeks reddening just the slightest. It softens her features. “About that.” She takes a deep breath. “Over the past year, I have gotten to know someone.”

Ashlyn’s concern turns to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I have found my love.” She pulls a ring out of her pocket and slips it onto her left hand. “We are getting married.”

Ashlyn gasps and jumps to her feet. Lyndaria stands and Ashlyn grabs her hands, admiring the ring. “Oh! I was so worried you were ill and that’s why you wanted me to come this Christmas.”

“I am sorry to have frighten you, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh, Aunt Lynda, I’m so happy for you!” She pulls her aunt into a hug.

“Thank you, dear.”

The two part.

“So, who is the blessed man?” Ashlyn asks, returning to her seat. She grabs one of the berries, popping it into her mouth.

I take her lead and pop one in my mouth too. It’s a little tart but then turns into sweet syrup on my tongue. I haven’t come across a berry like it before.

 Lyndaria sits, grinning from ear to ear. “His name is Hemlin. He is a baker in the village. The most handsome baker you have ever seen, and his pies are the best you’ve ever eaten.”

We’ll see how they compare to an Aussie meat pie. Nothing beats an Aussie meat pie.

Ashlyn slides forward in her seat. “When do we get to meet him?”

“He is coming for luncheon.”

Ashlyn claps, letting out a little squeal. I’ve never seen her like this. She often goes around looking like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. I guess saving one does that to you.

“So, when is the wedding? In the spring?” She looks at me. “We’ll have to come back for it.”

I nod, more than willing to be her plus one.

Lyndaria’s grin fades as she bites her lip. “A bit closer than that. We are planning to get married at eventide on the winter solstice.”

Ashlyn’s eyes go wide. “Wait. This year?”

Lyndaria nods. “On the twenty third.”

Looks like we won’t need to come back for the wedding. I’m doubly glad I offered to come along on this trip.

“I don’t have a suitable dress!” Ashlyn shrieks this like it is the worst thing in the world.

“I have arranged for my seamstress to visit this afternoon for a fitting. I’ve had her working with your last measurements, so has something almost complete, she just has to check if it needs adjusting.”

Ashlyn relaxes and I smirk. I can’t wait to see Ashlyn in a fancy dress. I’ve only ever seen her in jeans, and I can’t imagine her being any more beautiful than she already is.

Ashlyn narrows her eyes at me. “What’s that look for?”

I throw up my hands. “Nothing.”

“Don’t look so smug, you’re going to have to wear a suit.”

Right. I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t have one.”

“Hemlin can take you into the village this afternoon while Ashlyn has her fitting,” Lyndaria tells me.

“Thanks.” I’ll wear anything they want as long as I get to be by Ashlyn’s side.

There is a knock at the door and Lyndaria straightens. “That must be Hemlin. He’s early.”

Judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t mind a bit that he’s early. She gets up to answer the door.

Ashlyn stands, so I do, stepping up beside her.

“I can’t believe this,” Ashlyn whispers. “I never thought Aunt Lynda would ever get married. She’s never shown interest in anyone before.”

“She’s never met a handsome baker before.” I wink at her, and she chuckles.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze.

“Me too.”

(Stay tuned for chapter six!)

© Rochelle L. Sharpe, 2025.