Page 22 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

TWELVE

This being Christmas Day, I read prayers and administered the Holy Sacrament. Singers sung the Christmas Anthem this morning and very well indeed.

—James Woodforde, The Diary of a Country Parson

On Christmas Day, Sarah donned a pretty dress, thinking all the while of their kiss under the mistletoe.

That morning, they attended divine services once more. The vicar read prayers and administered the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. A small local choir sang a Christmas anthem, and afterward, friends and neighbors greeted one another with a chorus of “Happy Christmas.”

Then they went home to put the finishing touches on a magnificent Christmas feast. This time the entire family would gather along with Mrs. Denby, Armaan and Sonali Sagar, and Mr. and Mrs. Hornbeam. They’d had to move a second smaller table into the dining room to accommodate everyone.

Sarah went belowstairs to assist with preparations.

Mrs. Besley still found it difficult to stand for long but directed from the chair in the corner.

Thankfully, Bibi Cordey had once again agreed to work a few additional hours a week to fill the void.

Jessie, Lowen, and even Mr. Gwilt lent a hand in the kitchen as well.

With everyone helping, the goose had been roasted to perfection with sage and would be served with both gravy and an apple sauce.

The pudding sat on its platter, ready to be set alight just before serving.

They would begin with white soup, followed by the goose, cauliflower and broccoli with melted butter, and potato pudding. They would end with jellies and almond paste molded into fancy shapes and the plum pudding.

The day before, there had been some discussion as to who should carry in the prized Christmas pudding.

Mamma, as hostess? When she demurred, Sarah had asked Mr. Gwilt if he would like to do the honors, and he had stammered and grinned like a schoolboy.

“Never done the like before. I would be delighted to do so, I would.”

The meal began with a prayer offered by Mr. Hornbeam and a toast led by Mr. Hutton.

When they had finished the other courses, Mr. Gwilt entered, chest puffed with pride and pleasure, carrying in the plum pudding. A sprig of holly sat on top to represent Jesus’s crown of thorns, and low brandy flames burnished its surface. Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately.

Sarah wondered again what Colin Hutton had added to the pudding batter. Hopefully, traditional tokens or coins, but with him who knew?

When the flames subsided, Mr. Gwilt moved the pudding to the sideboard and began scooping portions.

Jessie served plates to each person and passed around a pitcher of brandy sauce.

“Now, take care as you eat,” Sarah advised. “Colin, here, took it upon himself to slip in several tokens of his own.”

“That I did,” Colin admitted with a self-satisfied grin.

Tentatively, gingerly, they all began to spoon and nibble their servings of pudding.

Within moments, a few people began lifting table napkins to discreetly remove items from their mouths.

Everyone else, and especially Colin, watched with eager interest. He said, “Do tell if you’ve found something in yours.”

Wiping a small object with her linen napkin, Georgiana was the first to announce her find. “I have a tiny silver ... boot?” She held it up and peered at it. “Yes, a boot.”

“Ah!” Colin said, clearly savoring the moment. “That means there will be travel in your future.”

“I certainly hope so,” Georgie replied.

James lifted a coin. “I found a thruppence.”

“That signifies wealth or good fortune.”

“I have a tiny horseshoe,” Mrs. Hornbeam said, holding it up.

“Ah. Good luck for you.”

“I got a thimble,” Effie said. “I suppose that means I shall never marry?”

“Not necessarily. It can also mean thrift.”

“No, that’s not it.” Mr. Henshall adamantly shook his head. “Definitely not thrift.”

Effie made a face at him.

“And you, Mr. Henshall?” Colin asked.

“I have a small wishbone, perhaps from a quail?”

“Indeed. And that means your dearest wish shall be granted.”

Callum Henshall, seated across the table from Sarah, let his gaze rest on her, and he echoed Georgiana’s words, “I certainly hope so.”

A flush rose up her neck.

“Sarah? What are you hiding?” Georgie asked.

“It’s ... well, it’s a bit redundant, really. I found a little ring.”

“Ah!” Colin beamed. “A confirmation of last night’s sapling band. You shall be married within the year.”

The flush moved up to her face.

Eager to shift focus, Sarah turned to the newest resident of Sea View. “Anything in yours, Cora?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t mind. I’m just glad to be here with all of you.”

Sarah reached over and squeezed her hand. “And we are glad you are here too.”

Over the little girl’s head, Mamma sent Sarah a look of gratitude.

After the early dinner, they moved into the drawing room for tea and coffee. Soon people began to disperse. The Sagars and Hornbeams departed to their own homes with effusive thanks for the excellent meal, and Mr. Hutton senior retreated to neighboring Westmount for an after-meal snooze.

When they had gone, Mamma slipped away to her room for a nap of her own. Sarah watched her go in mild concern. It was not the first time Mamma had become fatigued recently. Sarah hoped it was just the busyness of the holidays and did not signal a decline.

Emily and James sat together by the parlour fire and soon lost themselves in the books they were reading.

Colin, Georgie, and the three younger girls—Mira, Cora, and Effie—went into the parlour as well to play a board game. Mira convinced her father and Claire to join them, while Effie conscripted Mr. Henshall. He agreed on the condition they allow Sarah to relax after all her hard work.

So Sarah found herself sitting in the drawing room in peaceful contentment with only Viola, Jack, and Mrs. Denby.

The older woman smiled from one to the next. “What a lovely day, my dears. Thank you for including me.”

“Our pleasure,” Sarah replied. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. My cough is barely a tickle now.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Viola said, “You do seem somewhat better, and I’m relieved. But living where you do, where it is so damp near the river...” Viola shook her head. “It cannot be good for your constitution.”

Sarah looked at her sister in surprise. Viola had become a bona fide champion of the poor house. What was the point of criticizing the only living arrangement available to the impoverished woman?

Mrs. Denby waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I have a roof over my head, which only rarely leaks. And while I can’t deny it is drafty and damp in winter, it’s rather pleasant along the river in summertime.”

“Except when it floods.”

“Well ... yes.”

Viola glanced at her husband, and it seemed a private message passed between them.

Finding in his expression whatever reassurance she sought, Viola leaned toward Mrs. Denby and said, “Jack and I have been talking something over for quite some time now. And we are wondering if you might ... do us a great favor.”

“Of course. Anything for you! If I am able.”

“I hope you don’t think it presumptuous or that we are acting out of, well, charity alone. You know we are extremely fond of you, and—”

“As I am of you.”

“And we are hoping...” Viola swallowed, and Sarah thought she had not seen her look quite so nervous since her wedding day.

Jack leaned forward as well, elbows on his knees and expression earnest. “We would like you to do us the great honor of coming to live with us at Westmount.”

The woman’s wrinkled mouth fell ajar, and the eyes behind her spectacles blinked fast. Sarah was almost as surprised as Mrs. Denby clearly felt.

After a moment, she closed her mouth, inhaled, and replied, “I know I have said more than once that you are like the daughter I never had, Viola, but I was certainly not hinting that you should offer any such thing.”

“I know you were not. But that’s just it. You have become family to us. Like a dear grandmother. And you should be living with people who care about you at this time of your life.”

“I am not on death’s door, for goodness’ sake, despite my recent cough.”

“I thank God you are not. And while we believe we could better look after you at Westmount, we want this for ourselves too.”

The older woman slowly shook her head. “I don’t like the thought of you having to care for me. I don’t wish to become a burden to you.”

“Dear Mrs. Denby. Is that not what family is for—to help bear one another’s burdens? And who knows? We might have a small burden of our own one day and could use your help.”

Now Sarah’s mouth fell ajar. “How wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“One day soon?” Mrs. Denby asked eagerly, spindly brows high.

Viola placed a finger over her own lips and looked from Mrs. Denby to Sarah. “Emily knows. But otherwise it’s too early to make an official announcement, so please keep this quiet for now.”

“Oh my, you are surely persuasive, my girl,” Mrs. Denby said, eyes sparkling. “You know the way to my heart, do you not? The daughter I never had, and perhaps—one day—a grandchild too?” She gave them a saucy grin. “When shall I move in?”

The words “The daughter I never had , and perhaps—one day—a grandchild too?” were still echoing sweetly in Sarah’s mind as she stepped into the hall. There she was taken aback to hear Effie’s forlorn voice ask, “Would it be worse not to have a mother in your life, or to have one who didna love ye?”

The girl sat on the stairs, face in her hands.

“Oh, Effie...” Sarah went and sat next to her. “I thought you were playing games with the others.”

“I was. But Cora started cryin’, missin’ her nan and her parents, who all clearly loved her, and it was enough to make me want to break my heart. Or break somethin’.”

“Of course she is missing her family at Christmas. Poor girl.”

“Your mam came in and is soothin’ her now.”