Author: Robin Everett

After Edith’s departure to Casablanca, Marigold changes her name to “Mari” – as she believes her mother wishes. Mari and George have a whirlwind romance. They feel something so real for each other – as though they were meant to be together – as if they’ve always been connected. They spend their time together in London dancing in dance halls, eating in eateries, and strolling in parks. Soon George is ready to introduce Mari, the love of his life, to his family. When Mari and George arrive at the gorgeous estate home to which George is the male heir, Mari is astounded. It’s practically a castle! Although she knew George was an aristocrat, she did not expect such grandeur.

Mari is adored by George’s family – that is his mother and grandparents, for George’s father died tragically in a car accident the day he was born. George explains to his family that Mari’s father was killed in the War and her French mother, an aristocrat, died of the fever in India. George’s grandmother, Lady Cora, sighs and smiles, “Poor child. There must be something we can do.”

There is! George asks for Mari’s hand in marriage! Mari agrees without the slightest hesitation, knowing that her mother would be so proud.

As a house-warming gift for George’s family, Mari presents a small painting by Prince Kurigan. Its heavy coral brush strokes, aqua splattering, and fuchsia squiggles look a bit out of place in the traditional estate home, but George is sure that his mother will embrace it – as she is fond of all things modern.

Indeed, Mary – George’s mother – observes the painting with pleasant surprise. His grandfather, Lord Grantham looks confused, but it is the look on Charles’ grandmother’s face that is the most interesting. Lady Cora, who is quite an art connoisseur, blushes intensely when she see the painting. Doing his best to be polite, Lord Grantham suggests that the painting be hung in the sitting room for everyone to enjoy. Lady Cora quickly suggests that it might be more appropriate in a more intimate setting. Lord Grantham, thinking that Lady Cora is merely trying to spare him from having to look at the garish picture, good-naturedly says, “No, no – it belongs in the sitting room.” And he takes down a painting of a classic landscape and replaces it with the modern Kurigan.

Pleased, George suggests that he give Mari a tour of the estate. As soon as they exit, Lady Cora explains to her husband that the painting is a picture of his mother, the Dowager Countess, as a young woman IN THE NUDE!

“Nonsense!” laughs Lord Grantham, “Just because one loathsome art critic convinces you that you have an eye for art in order to make you swoon and sway for him, you think you are an expert in the interpretation of this ‘art’ – something that any child could paint? If only you were so confident in your own needlepoint – which is a much finer art than this sorry excuse for home décor.”

Whilst Lord Grantham is still chuckling to himself, Carson – the butler – announces the presence of Lord Grantham’s mother: the Dowager Countess, who nearly faints when her eyes fall on the painting.

“Mother, it’s ghastly, I know,” Lord Grantham sighs, “but we must get on in these modern times.”

Ignoring her son, the Dowager Countess urgently asks, “Where did you get that picture? Why is it hanging in the sitting room for all to see? Apparently you believe in the deficient decency standards of these modern times and have no respect or common courtesy for the mother who raised you! Exposing me like that! Take it down immediately.”

Lady Cora sends Lord Grantham a knowing smile, and an embarrassed Lord Grantham quickly removes the picture and secrets it away.

Meanwhile, George and Mari stroll on the grounds hand-in-hand, George showing her the gardens, gazebos, tenant cottages and farms that he will soon share with her. When they arrive at one of the tenant farmhouses, she has a passing sense of déjà vu. But it couldn’t be; she’s never been here before.

Halfway around the world, Edith disembarks from a small plane on the tarmac of a small airport in Casablanca. Wearing a smart dress suit and a fashionable hat, the brim dipping slightly over one eye, she searches the crowd for her true love, Michael Gregson. Their eyes meet and they rush into each other’s arms, embracing each other as though they would never let go again. Eventually Edith pulls away and straightens her smart outfit. Michael pays a porter to take Edith’s luggage to her hotel and helps Edith into his chauffeured car, suggesting that they should go to Tony’s restaurant and bar to get a bite to eat and catch up on all the lost time. While he’s finalizing details with the porter, Edith asks the driver, “Tony? Who is he?”

The driver replies, “Tony? Who is he? Mademoiselle, he’s the kind of man that, well, if I were a woman and I were not around, I should be in love with Tony. But what a fool I am – talking to a beautiful woman about another man.”

Back in London, Rosamund invites Edith to join her for tea. In the comfort of Rosamund’s stylish home, Rosamund hands Edith a charred note. Confused, Edith carefully opens the letter. Tears stream down her cheeks as she reads that Michael Gregson is alive and wants to reunite with her in Morocco. Edith alternates between joy and disbelief. Yes, it’s true. Astonishing! Michael IS alive!!

Then Edith remembers with dread that his wife – her dear friend Luna – is alive as well. And Luna is not a lunatic, as Michael believes. What is she to do? Does she reveal that fact to Michael? Does she tell heartbroken, dying Luna that her husband is alive? Or . . . . .

Edith decides that Michael has been through so much, it would be unkind to tell him that his wife is alive, but dying. As for Luna: revealing that Edith, her best friend, is the “other woman” who destroyed her life, would be unkind. It would be too much for anyone to lose a husband and a best friend. Kind-hearted Edith determines to keep the secret locked deep in her heart.

When Marigold arrives home from school, Edith quietly tells her that her father is alive and wants them to join him in Morocco. Marigold is devastated. “Why now?” she cries. “Now that I have fallen in love with the man of my dreams!?! Why, why, why? Oh, Mother, how can you follow your heart to your true love when it means separating me from mine? I’m nearly 18 years old! If I don’t marry soon, I’ll be an old maid!!”

Edith quite agrees. For all of Marigold’s life, Edith had one destiny for Marigold: to marry – the dream that had always eluded Edith. Edith agrees to let Marigold remain in London with dying Luna, so she can marry. Besides, it might be too much of a shock to Michael if Edith shows up in Morroco with his grown daughter. Best to break it to him gently, she reasons.

Edith sends word to Michael that her love for him is eternal and that she will be leaving in the morning for Morroco. Edith explains to Luna that her long lost brother – thought to be dead – is in fact alive. He is in need of care, so Edith must go. (Edith also implores Marigold to stick with this story to spare Luna the angst of knowing that Edith is leaving her for a man. Marigold is confused, but agrees to perpetuate the lie.)

That evening, Edith’s last evening in London, is dark and stormy, but Edith greatest desire is to see the young man her sweet Marigold is destined to marry. So as Marigold attends yet another debutante ball, Edith stands in the cold rain, under a tattered umbrella, peering through the window with pleasure as all the beaus are vying for Marigold’s attention. To any ordinary passerby who watched Barbara Stanwyck in “Stella Dallas” every night, this night would seem like any other. But that ordinary passerby would be wrong. It is no ordinary night. Tears of joy trickle down Edith’s weathered face as she watches Marigold place a red rose in a handsome young man’s lapel. That must be Marigold’s beau, George. The young man clasps Marigold’s hands with adoring affection. But while Edith’s heart is warmed with the joy of seeing her daughter in love, Edith’s feet, head, and hands are far from being warmed, so she heads home in the rain to pack for Casablanca.

Back in her modest apartment, Edith takes the “Best Friends” locket from its hiding place deep in her dresser drawer. She tries to pry-out the picture of Luna, but is unable to, so she just places a picture of herself over her best friend’s portrait and gazes longing at the locket – with her portrait next to Michael’s – reflecting on their destiny.

The next morning, Marigold wishes her mother bon voyage at the port, where Edith hands her a locket that bears the words “Best Friends.” Marigold opens the locket as Edith explains that the man in the picture is Marigold’s father. Edith beseeches Marigold to keep the locket hidden from Luna because, Edith lies, Luna once had a similar locket and seeing Edith’s would just upset her.

Before stepping on the gangway, Edith turns and delicately waives to Marigold, uttering a simple utterance that will forever change Marigold’s life: “Marry.” Then Edith strolls aboard the great ship. As was often the case in the early 20^th century, there were no speech bubbles, text messages, or emoticons, so Marigold misunderstood the meaning of her mother’s request and thought she meant for Marigold to go by her abbreviated name: Mary.

When Rosamond arrives at the Dower House in Ripon, the butler, Sprat, joyfully ushers her to the sitting room to have tea with her mother, the Dowager Countess of Grantham. Sprat pours tea, then lingers. “Thank you Sprat. That will be all,” the Dowager Countess nods, hinting to Sprat that the conversation will not begin in earnest until his curious ears leave the room. Sprat sighs as he exits the room. The Dowager Countess rolls her eyes, feigning exasperation, with pleasure.

“So, my dear, what pleasantness brings to you visit me today?” the Dowager Countess asks her daughter.

“Mother, I must know: Do you know the whereabouts of Edith?” Rosamund counters.

The Dowager Countess replies, “Heavens Rosamund! Stop talking in riddles. Get to the point.”

Slowly and firmly, Rosamund asks, “Do . . you . . know . . the . . whereabouts . . of . .Edith?”

“Well, let’s see,” answers the Dowager Countess pondering with an air of innocence, “about 16 years ago, she left a note saying that she was leaving. I don’t believe that the note said where she was going.”

“Mother, I know where she is and I’m wondering if you know as well. Perhaps your friend, the Russian Prince, mentioned something to you?”

“Oh, why yes – I do remember, vaguely, someone mentioning something about Edith,” the Dowager Countess says – feigning recent recollection.

“Mother, have you told Robert and Cora that you know where their daughter is?”

“Oh dear, Rosamund. I have not told them. I know Edith wants to remain separated from the family, so as long as she is managing, I will honor her wish. I’ve been giving Kurigan a small sum every week to pass on to Edith and Marigold. She believes the money represents a portion of the proceeds from sales of his paintings. My dear, it is best that we hold the secret in our hearts. Besides, it’s always good for a Crawley to have one or two secrets tucked away,” she says with a wink.

After dressing for dinner, Rosamund and the Dowager Countess join the rest of the Crawley family for dinner at Downton Abbey.

Dinner is delicious, but uneventful. No one reveals a scandal. No one utters a curse word. No sauce is accidentally spilled. Then the Crawley family retires to the sitting room, lounging about.

Mr. Carson enters sitting room. “I’m sorry to intrude My Lord, M’Lady. But a letter has arrived – for Edith. I thought you would want to see it at once,” Mr. Carson says as he hands the note to Lord Grantham.

Lord Grantham opens the envelope, reads the note, takes a deep breath, looks up, and exhales as his eyes meet Cora’s. “It’s from Michael Gregson. Apparently, he had to fake his death in Germany. He escaped to Morocco and wants Edith to join him there.” Reading from the note, he continues: “I know much time has passed, and I would understand if you moved on and married another man and raised a family. I know I should wish that for you, but my deepest hope is that you have continued to hold me in your heart as I have never ceased holding you in mine. All my love, Michael.”

Amused, Mary laughs, “The one man who loves Edith wants her to be a spinster, and every other man who’s met her shares that sentiment. It’s dreadfully hopeless.”

The Dowager Countess, cautions, “Mary, stating the obvious makes you appear dull.”

“Oh Granny,” Mary continues smugly, “I daresay we should avoid dredging-up the whole ‘lost Edith’ thing again. Let bygones be bygones. Besides, she’s been on her own for so long, she has probably forgotten how to properly use a fish fork. If Michael saw her now, he would hardly want to keep her.”

Lady Cora replies, “Mary, we’re talking about long-suffering love, not dinnerware. But I don’t like the idea of Edith running off to Morocco. Isn’t it full of foreigners?”

Always helpful, Tom interjects, “They’re actually called Moroccans, and since they are now a French protectorate, I’m sure you’ll find that they are quite civilized.”

The Dowager Countess chuckles to no one in particular, “How, exactly, does one where a fez-beret?”

Robert, Earl of Grantham, ends the conversation, “I quite agree with Mary. There’s no point in disrupting our lives trying to track down Edith again. It’s time to move on – for us and for Gregson.” And with that, he tosses the note into the fireplace, where it gently glides down, landing just to the side of a flaming log.

“What’s that?” the startled Dowager Countess exclaims, “I thought I saw a black llama through the window.”

While everyone except the Dowager Countess and Lady Rosamund rush to the window, the Dowager Countess flicks the note from the fireplace with her cane. It lands near Lady Rosamund, who cautiously tamps the red-hot edges with her shoe, then carefully places the charred note in her petit purse, unobserved by the llama-seekers.

After several minutes of looking out the window for the llama, the group returns to the sitting area. It would not have been astonishing to see a llama, since several tenants were raising alpacas and llamas – thanks to the foresight of Tom and Mary into a growing trend of exotic pets.

As the evening comes to a close, the Dowager Countess and Lady Rosamund take their leave.

Edith continues to stay by her dear dying Luna’s side, day after day, week after week, month after month. Every time the doctors come to pay a visit, they note that Luna is quite a fighter, but that only three to four weeks remain (still). The bakery is neglected, so Edith and Luna are earning no income. The bills are piling-up, and despite cutting coupons, buying generic brand goods, and ordering Luna’s prescription medicines from Canada, Edith is barely able to put food on the table, let alone afford the lifestyle to which Marigold has become accustom (a lifestyle that is required to find a suitable suitor).

Edith’s resentment toward Luna is mounting. She knows that she owes her life to Luna – forever in debt for stealing Luna’s husband.

On the other hand, was it Edith’s fault that Luna was falsely institutionalized? No.

Was it Edith’s fault that Luna’s husband fell in love with Edith? No!

Now Edith feels like Luna has ruined her life long enough! Day in and day out, Edith is torn between guilt, repentance, resentment, remorse, and mostly: self-pity.

In the midst of the darkness there are beacons of light. Edith, Luna, and Marigold are often visited by Rascal and other friends from the soup kitchen. Edith taught many of the soup kitchen patrons to read, so they enjoy taking turns reading to Luna. The subject matter of the reading materials varies.

Prince Kurigan also visits frequently for a game of cards or backgammon, but most often, when he visits he brings his canvasses and paints in a delightful array of colors. He paints what he calls “abstract” art. To Edith, they look like blocks, squiggles, and splatters that any child could create, but Prince Kurigan explains that they are mostly portraits of people – Edith, Luna, and Marigold (and other family members, he whispers so only Edith can hear – for Marigold knows Kurigan only as a friendly vagrant from the soup kitchen, not as her great-grandfather). Just for a fleeting moment, Edith thinks she recognizes a glimmer of her grandmother, the Dowager Countess, on a canvas, but Prince Kurigan jovially explains that it is a picture of a still-life of a bowl of fruit.

When Prince Kurigan is not selling his paintings on the streets, he stores them in Edith’s small apartment. When a painting sells, he generously shares the proceeds with Edith. He is becoming a popular abstract portrait artist, selling at least one piece a week and at a price far more than Edith could comprehend. With the proceeds, she is able to make ends meet and have a little extra to spare for precious Marigold.

One day Edith sees Kurigan on the street corner, trying to sell his paintings. On that same corner, she also sees her cousin Rose with her friends, encouraging them to purchase a very trendy piece of the Prince’s work. Edith hides behind some crates as she hears Rose exclaim with delight, “The artist is a Russian Prince!”

But the now-humble Prince Kurigan pleads, “That is no longer who I am. I am the artist formerly known as Prince. Now, I am simply Kurigan.”

Marigold avoids telling her mother that she met her Aunt Rosamund, for with Luna’s impending death, Rosamund and Marigold agree that they should wait to re-introduce Aunt Rosamund into Edith’s life at a less emotional time. However, as Luna lingers on and on and on, they can delay no longer. The day has arrived when Marigold brings Rosamund to visit Edith. Because Rosamund is a refined and culturally astute lady, when she enters Edith’s apartment, she is astounded by the beauty and sheer number of abstract portraits of her family members. She recognizes them immediately. There is Robert. There is Sybbie. There is dear Isis. And so many of her mother, the Dowager Countess. Finally, her eyes find a canvas bearing two red squiggly lines, a royal-blue asymmetrical polygon, and a splattering of orange and purple paint: a canvas that portrays her, Rosamund– it is unmistakable – a portrait of her as a young child. It is so lifelike in an abstract way; it could have been a selfie.

Rosamund is mesmerized. It takes her a minute or two to remember the reason she came. She gently embraces Edith. Edith puts on a good act – assuring her Aunt Rosamund that she is fine and that things are going well. Edith pleads with Aunt Rosamund to keep the secret – not to tell Edith’s family that she has found her. However, Rosamund insists that Edith’s mother and father must be told that Edith has been found and that she is safe and happy. But Edith is desperate to keep her family from finding out about Marigold, and that Edith was an adulteress. For Edith rightly assumes that her sister Mary would delight in that news. Oh, the gloating!!! It would simply be unbearable! Edith was crafting a plan to stop Rosamund from telling her family when Lady Luck looks her way: Rosamund returns her attention to the artwork and sees an easel and paint box leaning in the corner of the room. Rosamund asks Edith if she has painted the extraordinary portraits. Edith explains that the artist is Prince Kurigan.

Utterly astonished, Rosamund asks “Prince Kurigan? Does he paint here? Does he know who you are?”

Edith explains that Prince Kurigan knows everything and has agreed to keep her secret. Edith does not dare betray Kurigan’s trust by disclosing the fact that Robert and Rosamund do not share the same father.

Edith can tell that Rosamund’s clever brain is busy at work. “Edith,” Rosamund tests her theory, “Mother and Prince Kurigan are quite close. Do you think he told her?”

That had never occurred to Edith; however, she recalls the Prince saying that he and her Grandmama kept no secrets. “I suppose he did. Wait! That means: if she knows and has refrained from telling the family, then you too, Rosamund, have no obligation to tell my family!”

Rosamund shared Edith’s logic. However, before she can agree to keep Edith’s secret hidden away, she must confirm that her mother does, in fact, know and is keeping the secret. Edith reluctantly agrees, knowing that is the best she can hope for. Rosamund leaves the following morning to visit her mother at Downton Abbey and to find out just how much the Dowager Countess knows about Edith and Marigold.

Just when everything seemed to be working out in Edith’s favor, tragedy struck. Luna’s coughs increased in frequency and decibel. She became very ill. In a matter of weeks, her body grew frail and listless. Doctors came and went, but none had been able to help her. It was her heart; the burdens that she had to bear weighed too heavily on her. Her heart could bear it no more. The prognosis was not good. Three weeks left; maybe four. When Edith wasn’t working in the bakery, she was by her best friend’s side, reading to her, feeding her, tending to her every need. Marigold helped out more with the bakery, but in Luna’s absence, the quality suffered and the bakery’s reputation was sullied.

One evening, while Edith was attempting to knit a tea cosy, Luna said in a raspy voice, “Edith my dear, I want to give you something. And with all the energy she could muster, Luna held-out the locket that she always wore around her neck. It had the words “Best Friends” engraved on it.

“Edith, my sweet friend, you have been a best friend to me. This locket is my most cherished possession. One bright, sunny day in London, my husband and I stopped into a fashionable new jewelry store simply called ‘Claire’s,’ where we bought matching lockets – matching, except one was engraved ‘Best Friends’ and the other was engraved ‘Forever.’ I kept the Best Friends locket and my lovey kept the one that read ‘Forever.’ When I was imprisoned at the lunatic asylum, as a cruel joke my sister-in-law delivered the Forever locket to me – to make me believe that her brother loved me no more. Well, when they took my son away from me, a sweet, young nurse agreed that she would make sure that my son would be given the ‘Forever’ locket, for inside it were portraits of his father and of me on our wedding day. Now I give my locket to you, so if you ever find a young man with a ‘Forever’ locket holding matching pictures, you will know that you have found my son. Please tell him that I loved him with all my heart and I never wanted to give him up.” She gasped for air and gently closed her eyes. So much talking had taken its toll. Luna needed rest.

“Yes. Yes of course,” promised Edith. Carefully, she opened the locket. On the left side, she saw a picture of a beautiful bride, glowing as though it were the happiest day of her life. What she saw on the right side made her gasp. It was impossible, she thought. It was a picture of a younger Michael Gregson – her lover and Marigold’s father. Breathless, she clasped the locket to her heaving bosom.

Edith remembered her vow to take vengeance on the woman who stole Luna’s husband, long before she learned that she, herself, was that woman. She was indeed perplexed. She seriously thought Michael’s wife was a nut case and institutionalized in earnest. How could she have known otherwise!?! Nonetheless, she must give her life for Luna, as an act of repentance. Edith vowed to never leave Luna’s side for the short remainder of Luna’s life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Rosamund’s doorbell rang, and the butler ushered in a stylish young lady. The guest introduced herself as Fiona, a friend of Marigold’s. “Is Marigold in?” Fiona asked. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I would drop by. We’re having tea this afternoon with some friends at Café du Monde and I thought we could go together.”

The unexpected guest (with the unexpected inquiry), gave Rosamund quite a start, but do you know, that old Rosamund was so smart and so slick, that she thought up a lie and she thought it up quick.

“Why my sweet little child,” the stylish Rosamund lied, “I’m Marigold’s guest, and my train just arrived. She’s at flute lessons now, then going directly to tea. She’ll have tea with you, then dinner with me.”

And her fib fooled the child. Then she adjusted her hat, she got her a drink, and what after that?

“Oh, you must come with me to the tea!” Fiona squealed with delight. “Marigold will be pleasantly surprised to see you. I know I’m right.”

“Indeed,” agreed Rosamund.

On their way to the tea room, Fiona described the spectacular tea hosted by Marigold just weeks earlier. “It would have been lovely if you had been able to attend!”

Rosamund smiled.

When Rosamund and Fiona found Marigold and Colonia in the tea room, Fiona gleefully announced, “Marigold! Look who I found!”

Marigold did not recognize the extravagantly dressed lady, but she did recognize the look the lady gave her. It said, “Just play along with it. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Marigold rose to greet the mystery guest, who clasped her in a warm embrace. Fiona, unable to hold back her excitement, announced to the group at the table, “This is Marigold’s Great Aunt Rosamund, visiting from Somerset!”

After an appropriate amount of small talk, Rosamund excused herself to visit the ladies lounge and gave Marigold a glance that said she should do the same. Once both ladies were in the ladies room, they checked to make sure the loos were empty. Then the curious Marigold asked, “Who are you?”

“I am your Great Aunt Rosamund, Marigold. Your mother is my dear niece – I haven’t seen her for years,” Rosamund gently replied. “And you were just a small child when I last saw you. You have grown into a fine young lady – a clever young lady. I’m proud of you. Now let’s go back to the table. After tea, you must accompany me to my home, and tell me all about your mother.” Just before opening the bathroom door, she turned back to Marigold. “And I hope you enjoyed hosting your tea in my home,” Rosamund said with raised eyebrows and pursed lips that quickly curled into a soft smile. Marigold blushed.

One cold December day, Edith and Luna decided to bring a lovely red velvet layer cake – rather than their standard bread – to the soup kitchen.  When they arrived, they were greeted by the kitchen nutritionist, Mrs. Childs, who firmly told them that the kitchen’s clientele didn’t need sweets – they needed nutritious foods with anti-oxidants, such acai berries and quinoa.  Edith rolled her eyes, “Please, let them eat cake.”

A lively vagrant called Rascal started chanting “We want cake! We want cake!” Then the whole dingy dining room joined in, chanting in unison “We want cake! We want cake!” Before things got really out of control, Mrs. Childs relented.  The crowd cheered and the patrons enjoyed a piece of the delectable treat.

As Edith was serving the cake, her gaze fell upon a familiar face.  She quickly averted her glance, hoping to avoid discovery.  The man, a former Russian prince sporting a white beard, whispered, “I would recognize you anywhere.  Your image is etched on my heart . . . Edith.”  Edith was grossed-out, but she was more worried about being returned to her aristocratic family.  “Please don’t tell them you found me!” she pleaded.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Prince Kurigan promised.

“How can I know that can I trust you?” questioned Edith.

He gently replied, “Because I shall tell you a secret of a certain indiscretion that you must likewise vow to take with you to the grave.”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“One summer day, at twilight,” he began, “I heard an angel’s song.  Your grandmother thought no one was listening – but I was.  And I was besotted with her.  When she turned and saw me, she blushed.  I walked over to her, reached out for her, and held her in a passionate embrace.   Our attraction to each other was undeniable and unstoppable.  That song forever changed my life  . . . and hers.  Unlike your situation, Violet was married, so she was able to hide her secret by pretending that the child was her husband’s.  But that was only a lie fabricated to allow her to appear to live the life of a good wife and mother, without reproach.  You see, Robert – your father – is my son.  You, Edith, are my grand- daughter.”

“It can’t be.  Papa was born before you and Grandma-ma met,” Edith said with an air of confusion.

“The meeting in Russia was our second meeting.  I first met Violet years earlier with I was visiting London.  She arranged the subsequent trip to Russia – the extravagant holiday – as a pretext to meet again and to allow me to see my son.  Violet has a warm heart, but she keeps it locked away.  Very few ever get a glimpse at it.”

“Indeed,” agreed Edith.  “I have felt the warmth from her heart.”

“I know.  She told me about Marigold.”

“Ohhh,” Edith said angrily.  “Everything?”

“Yes,” Prince Kurigan answered.  “Although our love for each other is a secret to the world, there are no secrets between us.  We are one.”

Edith’s expression softened and she hugged her grandfather like a great big teddy bear.

The Prince lowered his eyes and quietly asked, “May I see her?  Your Marigold?  My great-grand-daughter?”

Edith’s eyes filled with tears.  “Yes, but she must never know you are her great-grand-father.  You’re just a kind, jolly old man from the soup kitchen.  We’ll be home tonight at 8:00.”

She laid a small note bearing her address in his hand.  He gently clasped his giant hand on hers.  “Thank you.”

As Edith walked away, she turned back to Prince Kurigan for a moment.  “Why did you come here tonight?  Isn’t Rose’s refugee hovel still available to you?”

“Yes, but the food there is bland and predictable.  Word on the street is that this soup kitchen serves a meal that is good for the body as well as the soul.  I can’t say I disagree.  Mrs. Childs is quiet the chef,” he said patting his tummy.

Later that evening, Edith suggested that Marigold should don her prettiest smock.  Something fit for a princess.  “For tonight we shall have a very special visitor.”

Marigold loved surprises and was not disappointed when the Prince entered the room with a twinkle in his eye.  “Father Christmas!” Marigold exclaimed, rushing into his arms.

“Yes,” Edith smiled. “Yes.  Father Christmas indeed.”