What’s Truly Yours Will Stay

**What’s Yours Will Stay With You**

*”Second week you’ve barely touched your food—fancy someone, have you, Dinah?”* asked Anne, the housekeeper.

*”Aye, there’s a lad I like,”* Dinah admitted with a sigh. *”But he barely glances my way. He’s a student too, in another class. I’ve no notion how to make him notice me.”*

*”Best not try,”* Anne tutted. *”Not proper for a lass to chase. In my day—”*

*”Oh, Aunt Anne, spare me ‘in your day,’”* Dinah cut in, finishing her breakfast. *”Times have changed. I’m off—can’t be late for the first lecture, or that old grouch of a professor won’t let me in.”*

*”Go on, then,”* Anne said, crossing her as she shut the door.

Dinah had been born into wealth, never wanting for anything. It was Aunt Anne, her mother’s elder sister and the family housekeeper, who’d raised her right. The adults called her Annie, but to Dinah, she was always *Aunt Anne*.

Annie’s own story was a sad one. Married in her village to a hardworking, kind man named Fred, she’d lost him barely a year later—drowned in the fens while working as a gamekeeper. They’d searched for weeks, but his body was never found. Heartbroken, she’d once thought of joining a convent.

*”What sort of nun would I make?”* she’d say. *”Still young enough to fib or let slip a sharp word in temper.”* So she’d stayed in the village with her parents until her younger sister, Kate, married well and moved to the city.

Kate’s husband was a man of standing, and in time, they built a grand house. When Dinah was born, Kate invited Annie to join them.

*”Come live with us, Annie,”* she’d urged. *”You’ll help with Dinah, keep house—I’d be ever so grateful.”*

*”Aye, Kate, I’d like that,”* Annie had agreed. *”Fred was a good man, and I’ve wept all my tears. No need to wither here in sorrow.”*

So Annie moved to the city, calling herself the housekeeper. She cooked splendidly, tended the garden, and rarely left the house save for errands. Dinah grew up spoiled—finest toys, prettiest frocks, never lifting a finger. Yet Annie still taught her bits of housekeeping.

*”Best learn, love,”* she’d say kindly. *”Life’s fickle—today’s comfort may not last. A woman’s cooking’s her first charm. Put heart into it, and a man’ll be spellbound.”*

*”And you’ve your secrets?”* Dinah once asked.

*”Course I have.”*

Dinah fancied Anthony, a handsome lad from a humble family raised by his mother alone. She thought he didn’t notice her—but he did. Everyone at university knew who had money.

One evening, Dinah rushed home giddy. *”He asked me out! Took me for ice cream!”*

*”Clever lad,”* Annie chuckled. *”Knows a lass likes sweets. What now?”*

*”We’re courting!”*

*”Youth,”* Annie sighed. *”But bring him round. I’ll tell you if he’s worthy.”*

*”In time,”* Dinah promised.

When Anthony finally visited, Annie watched him closely. After he left, Dinah bubbled with excitement. *”Well? Isn’t he grand?”*

*”Handsome enough,”* Annie said evenly. *”But not for you. Saw our house, and his eyes lit up greedy-like. Mark my words.”*

*”Aunt Anne, really!”* Dinah huffed, storming off.

Annie fretted. *”She’ll learn—but I’d spare her the heartache.”*

She was right. Four months later, Dinah’s gold ring vanished—stolen, surely, by Anthony. When confronted, he cursed her, and that was the end.

Years passed. After university, Dinah worked at an office under her father’s old friend, Stephen Barnes. There, she met Silas—quiet, clever, and kind. Stephen praised him often.

*”A lad you can trust,”* he’d say.

Silas took ages to ask her out, shy as he was. When he finally did, Dinah agreed gladly.

One evening, Silas invited her to meet his mother, Margaret.

*”Come in, love,”* Margaret said warmly. *”No airs here.”*

Later, driving home, Dinah thought Margaret lovely—fine cook, too.

*”I’m glad my boy’s found you,”* Margaret had said. *”So many lasses want everything handed to them. Not like you.”*

Then, at Annie’s urging, Dinah invited Silas home. He gaped at the house but said nothing. At dinner, he was all courtesy, even bringing Annie flowers and chatting like family.

*”He’s the one,”* Annie declared later. *”No envy in him. Respectful, too.”*

They wed soon after, Stephen handling the arrangements. He’d grown fond of Silas, trusting him as he would a son.

Now Dinah’s forty-two, happily married, with twin sons and Annie still spry beside her. Silas is finance director, and Stephen means to leave him the business someday—his own daughter long gone abroad after a failed marriage.

Annie was right all along: what’s yours will stay with you.

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What’s Truly Yours Will Stay