Page 17 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

“What are you doing?” Cora’s voice called from behind them.

The two quickly parted.

Colin recovered first. “The question is, What are you doing here?”

“I followed you. Had to see what you needed a knife for.”

Georgie feigned composure she did not feel and pointed to the green vines on the ground. “For mistletoe, of course. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“Is it? I did not realize.”

Colin’s usual good humor returned, and he grinned at the girl. “And will there be any festive doings at the vicarage, Cora?”

“Yes, sir. For the vicar and his wife. I think they are having some people in. Not for me, though. Except maybe a little something on Boxing Day.”

Colin’s grin faded.

“Well,” Cora said, “I’d better get back before I’m missed.”

Mistletoe in hand, they turned and walked back with her.

As they neared the vicarage, the sharp-featured cook, Mrs. Browland, met them, hands on hips. “There you are, Cora! I was about to send the constable after you. Thought you’d run off, and with my best knife!”

Colin strode forward, oozing gentlemanly charm.

“Now, now, my dear madam. I take all the blame. Young Cora here was only being neighborly by helping us when I asked to borrow a knife. A thousand apologies if Cora’s brief absence proved an inconvenience.

And here is your knife.” Never removing his focus from the woman’s face, he extended a palm toward Georgiana.

She paused only a moment to wipe the blade clean on her sleeve, then dutifully laid it in his hand.

“Here you are. Good as new. We sincerely appreciate your generosity and understanding. And may we wish you a happy and blessed Christmastide.” He bowed to her, and the woman fairly blushed!

“Thank you, sir. Very obliging, I’m sure.”

With a hidden wink at Cora, Colin walked away, Georgiana hurrying to catch up.

When they were out of earshot, she said, “Good heavens, you’re a smooth-boots when you want to be. ‘Very obliging, I’m sure ...’ One would think you’d given her the crown jewels instead of her own knife back.”

Georgiana expected a teasing jibe in return, but Colin appeared pensive.

As if he’d not heard her, he said, “So no Christmas for Cora, then? No plum pudding or roasted chestnuts or mince pies? No carols around the fireplace?”

“I don’t know,” Georgie allowed. “I suppose it depends on the household and the generosity of the family. And not just for Cora but for everyone in service.”

“But she’s so young. It’s not fair.”

“No, Colin. It’s not. Yet life isn’t always fair, is it? I have been praying for her and will keep praying. What else can we do?”

“I don’t know. I shall pray as well.”

Later that afternoon Mr. Henshall found Sarah in the library-office. “It’s a beautiful day,” he said. “Might we go for a ride? Effie and I hired two decent mounts from the local livery when last we were here.”

“I remember.” He had cut a fine figure in his riding attire too, as she recalled. “Do you ride year-round at home?”

He nodded. “Except when icy conditions might endanger my horse. If we rode only on warm, dry days, we’d ride very rarely indeed, so we simply dress for the weather. We Scots are a hardy breed—our horses too. But even English horses need exercise.” He grinned at her. “English ladies too.”

She raised her chin. “I take plenty of exercise, with my duties around the house. Though admittedly less in the winter, since there is little gardening to do.”

“I recall you mentioning you used to ride.”

“Yes, but not since I was Effie’s age or a little older.”

“You also said you like horses.”

“Goodness. You have quite a memory.”

“Where you are concerned, I do indeed.”

Self-conscious pleasure flowed through her. Sarah said, “Papa kept a fine stable at Finderlay. He rode regularly as a younger man. I often went with him.”

“Your sisters too?”

Sarah thought back. “No. Claire was not fond of riding, and the other girls were so much younger. Emily did ride with our neighbor Charles on occasion, but by then I had given it up.”

“May I ask why?”

A dull, familiar ache rose in Sarah’s chest. “When our mother became ill, Claire and I assumed many of her responsibilities. Claire took charge of our younger sisters, and I helped with her duties as mistress of the house—meeting with cook and housekeeper, keeping Mamma’s prized garden in order, and visiting elderly and infirm neighbors.

I became too busy to ride. And then after Papa died, we had to sell the horses. ”

“Would you like to start riding again?”

Sarah considered. “We are in a better position financially than we were even last year, yet we are a long way from being able to afford to keep a horse.”

She exhaled a deep breath. “Still, it’s interesting you should ask me now.

Georgiana recently spoke with a young lady a few years older and quite refined, and felt immature by comparison.

When Georgiana came home, Effie suggested performing another play, and it suddenly seemed juvenile to her.

I gave her some speech about never growing too old to do what you love.

Even as I said the words, the irony struck me.

I have given up a pastime I once loved too.

Become increasingly consumed with cares and responsibilities.

My parents did not tell me I had to give up riding. I did that myself.”

His eyes softened in understanding. “There is nothing wrong with being responsible, Sarah. Though you are the last person I need to say that to.” He reached over and took her hand. “Still, I am sorry you bore so much while you were so young. You have sacrificed a great deal for your family.”

Unexpected tears heated her eyes. “Thank you. Yes, I grew up quickly. Too quickly, maybe. But there’s still time for Georgie.

I don’t want her to rush into adulthood and lose her spark in the process.

Pardon me. I am talking too much.” Sliding her hand from his, she pressed her fingers to her mouth.

“Not at all. I like hearing what you think.” He paused, then added with a mischievous grin, “And what I heard was that you have clearly realized the error of your ways and shall not miss an opportunity to ride with a visiting friend.”

Sarah hesitated. “Even though I want to, I could not.”

“Why?”

“With Mrs. Besley laid up, I have more to do in the kitchen. Besides that, I have no riding habit, and—”

“You may borrow my new one,” Effie said, popping her head into the room with a smile. “You said it yourself, we are nearly the same height now.”

“That does not mean it would fit ... elsewhere.”

With a frown, Mr. Henshall asked, “Effie, were ye eavesdropping?”

“It was easy enough to hear ye from the next room! And besides, it’s for a good cause. I want Sarah to go riding too.”

Effie turned back to Sarah and urged, “Ye can at least try on my habit, can ye not? And if it doesna fit, perhaps ye might borrow one. Maybe your mam has an old one somewhere?”

“If Mamma had one, it would be rather ancient by now. Not to mention moth-eaten.”

Effie gestured to her stepfather. “Then lucky for us, this wise man insisted the habit maker allow for future growth, so there are laces at the back of both jacket and skirt. Habits are expensive, apparently.”

“Ye didna think I was so wise at the time,” Mr. Henshall dryly replied. “I recall the term skinflint being tossed at me.”

“In hindsight, your miserly ways have worked out well this time. Now do come, Miss Sarah, and try it on. I’ll even help in the kitchen while you’re gone, if that will convince ye.”

“Oh, very well,” Sarah reluctantly agreed and allowed Effie to lead her away.

Over her shoulder, the girl said, “I’ll get her into a riding habit one way or another while ye change and see about the horses.”

A few minutes later, the two met in Sarah’s room, since it was larger than Effie’s.

Effie carried in her new habit and spread it across Sarah’s bed.

The tailored jacket of sapphire blue wool was adorned with braiding on the front and the promised laces at the back.

The matching skirt had a train long enough to cover the legs modestly while riding sidesaddle.

“It’s lovely, Effie.”

“Now to see if we can get ye into it.”

The girl helped Sarah dress. The habit shirt—a short cotton chemisette with frilled collar—was loose and went on easily.

The jacket was a little tight at the waist and extremely tight at the bosom, but with strenuous tugging on the laces of Sarah’s long boned stays, followed by loosening the jacket laces, Effie managed to do up the fastenings.

The similar lacing at the back of the skirt allowed Sarah to don that as well.

She wore her own gloves and half boots, although Effie insisted Sarah wear her rather masculine-looking hat, which Effie placed atop her head and pinned to her hair.

When she was fully dressed, Sarah regarded herself in the long mirror.

“It is very becoming, Effie. But don’t you wish to wear this and ride with Mr. Henshall yourself? I remember how happy you were to ride with him the summer you were here.”

“I would be. Though not today. I’m ... Well, remember that certain female affliction ye explained to me during our last visit?”

“I do.”

“Well, it’s upon me now, and I don’t feel equal to riding. So please do go with him.”

“If you are certain...?”

“I am. In the meantime, I will help in the kitchen—at least until Georgie returns from wherever she went. Then she and I plan to begin writing our new play.”

Sarah looked at her in surprise. “I am glad to hear it. I shall look forward to seeing it.”

Effie smiled at her. “And I look forward to seeing ye enjoy yourself.”

The two went downstairs together, Sarah feeling uncomfortable in the form-fitting habit and nervous as well.

From the window, she saw Mr. Henshall ride up the lane atop a chestnut horse, leading a smaller dappled grey by a lead.

Sarah went outside to join him. As he’d said, the afternoon was brisk and sunny—a typical December’s day on the south coast of Devonshire.