Page 24 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

THIRTEEN

Here’s a day!—The Ground covered with snow! What is to become of us?

—Jane Austen, letter to her sister

On Boxing Day, they gave Mrs. Besley, Jessie, Lowen, Mr. Gwilt, and Bibi Cordey small gifts as well as time off, as was customary the day after Christmas.

Sarah worked longer hours than usual in the kitchen to fill in for the cook and for another special reason as well.

Ever since he had joined their staff the previous year, Mr. Gwilt had taken over the majority of Sarah’s onerous bookkeeping tasks—verifying invoices against orders, paying bills, summing guest tally forms, and balancing the books.

That afternoon, at Emily’s urging, Sarah had approached the man belowstairs and said, “I do hate to ask, especially on what should be your day off, but would you mind taking a look at the books? I added a few entries this morning and seem to have made a mistake somewhere.”

He rose eagerly. “Certainly, Miss Sarah. A pleasure to help.”

Sarah would have felt more guilty, except she knew the man truly enjoyed every opportunity to use the skills he had gained in his former profession as clerk.

Once Mr. Gwilt was happily bent over the ledgers in the library, Sarah returned to her work belowstairs.

A short while later, she heard hushed voices in the kitchen, and Emily stepped into the workroom. “Ready? Good heavens. What’s happened to your apron? Looks like you collided with a rainbow.”

“You will understand when you see the cake.”

“Well, take that off before we go up.”

Sarah wiped the last of the beet juice, red cabbage, and turmeric from her hands, pulled off the apron, and followed Emily upstairs.

When they entered the library, Mr. Gwilt looked up.

“Ah, Miss Sarah. I think I’ve corrected the problem.”

“Oh?” Sarah swallowed a guilty lump and stepped closer.

He ran a finger along a column of numbers and then turned the page. “We pay our fuel bill quarterly to attain a lower rate. But you’ve listed it here for this month as well, although it’s not yet due until after the first of the year.”

“Oh. Of course. How foolish of me.”

“Not at all.” He looked up with a pleasant grin. “An easy mistake to make and easily remedied.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Gwilt,” Emily echoed.

When Emily had asked her to keep Mr. Gwilt busy upstairs, introducing a mistake like this one was all Sarah could think of. She had once made that exact mistake more than a year ago now. And Mr. Henshall had been the one to help her find it then.

Now Mr. Gwilt gestured toward the various piles of correspondence on the desk. “Anything else I can do while I’m here?”

“No need. Simply enjoy the rest of your Boxing Day.”

“I am enjoying it, I assure you. And thank you again for the gifts. I appreciate the smart new gloves and the journal for my own jottings. Your doing, Miss Emily, I’d wager?”

“Why yes.”

“Most considerate.”

Emily stepped forward, and Sarah noticed her eyes shine with both eagerness and nerves.

“I have something else for you as well,” she said. “Something I very much hope you will like.”

“Aw, now. You’ve given me more than enough already, you have.”

“Even so, I hope you will like this.”

She handed him a folded document.

“What is this?” he asked, unfolding it.

“It’s a publishing contract—for your book of Parry’s adventures.”

“No.”

“Yes. Mr. Marsh, though bankrupt, was true to his word. His colleague is indeed interested in publishing your children’s book. This is the offer—how much he is willing to pay for the copyright.”

“Gracious me.”

Mr. Gwilt stared at the page in wonderment for several ticks of the clock, then looked up at Emily.

“And has he offered to publish your Gothic romance as well?”

“No. No interest yet, although I have not given up. But for now, you, Mr. Gwilt, are about to become a published author. And I could not be happier.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Be still my heart. If only dear Mrs. G were here to see this moment.”

Emily squeezed his hand. “She would have been so proud of you. I know I am.”

Sarah nodded. “Me too.”

“Now,” Emily said, “let’s go belowstairs and share the good news with Mrs. Besley and Lowen.”

He rose. “Very well. I don’t want to boast, but they will be happy to learn of it, I know.”

“And rightly so.” Emily led the way down the back stairs, and he and Sarah followed.

When they reached the kitchen, Mr. Gwilt gaped around the crowded room, where staff, family, and guests alike had gathered with glasses in hand.

At Georgie’s signal, they all called, “Surprise!”

On the clean worktable sat the brightly iced cake Sarah had made, and near it a brightly colored stuffed parrot—Parry, in his finely preserved plumage of red, yellow, and blue.

“Good heavens,” Mr. Gwilt breathed.

Mamma handed each newcomer a glass, and Emily raised hers to do the honors. “A toast to Mr. Gwilt. Congratulations on your well-deserved publishing offer.”

Everyone echoed, “To Mr. Gwilt.”

While the others sipped, the small man’s eyes misted over.

“I am grateful, I am. You have all been so kind since Parry and I came here.” He turned to Sarah.

“I thank you and your entire family—for work I like, new friends, and a place to call home. And I thank Miss Emily for helping me commit my little tales to paper and seeking out a publisher. There would be no book without you. Without all of you.” His lip trembled, and he raised his glass to hide his emotion.

Seeing Mr. Gwilt’s unease, Georgiana announced, “Now, let’s have cake!”

“Good idea,” Mr. Gwilt agreed and hurried to help serve despite their protests, clearly relieved to return to his more accustomed role as helper behind the scenes.

Sarah was proud of Georgiana. Once she overcame her reticence, she had committed herself wholeheartedly to putting on another play with Effie.

They decided to perform the theatrical late on the afternoon of Boxing Day and invited their families to attend, along with any staff members who would enjoy some diversion during their time off.

They set up rows of chairs before a makeshift stage in the parlour, and at the appointed hour, family and friends filled them, including Claire, William, and Mira, as well as Lowen and Mrs. Besley, who leaned on a cane as she walked to her seat.

Their maid, Jessie, was spending the day with her betrothed, Tom Cordey, but his sister Bibi had come over to watch.

Jack had gone out riding with Taggart and Chown, former soldiers and friends as well as his current manservant and cook.

Viola, however, joined them and played a folk song on the pianoforte as an overture to the play.

With Effie as princess, Mr. Henshall as reluctant king, and Mr. Gwilt as narrator, the amateur troupe began performing a rather silly version of “St. George and the Dragon.” Even Cora had a part as a sheep, adorable in a white knitted hat with black felt ears pinned to it.

On cue, Colin entered as the dragon in a dark Oxford gown and black mask and gloves, and began mincing about, roaring and flexing his “claws.”

Eyes wide, Mira nestled close to Claire’s side.

The king first offered all their food and then their livestock in an attempt to appease the beast.

Colin scooped up sheep-Cora with a roar and carried her out the door, the dramatic effect lessened somewhat by Cora’s giggles.

Finally the king offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to any brave knight who could defeat the dragon. Enter Georgiana as St. George with wooden sword and spear-like stick, who—after a brief battle—slayed the dragon.

Colin fell in a melodramatic death swoon, while Georgie stood over him in triumph.

Mr. Henshall announced impassively, “Huzzah to St. George for ridding our realm of the fierce dragon.”

After Mr. Gwilt’s “And they all lived happily ever after,” the actors bowed before them. The audience clapped in appreciation, for the brevity of the play, perhaps, more than the quality.

Sarah was, however, impressed that the girls had managed to recruit a few more players for their performance, which certainly added to the fun. And she was touched that they had included Cora, who now stood between Colin and Georgie, smiling brightly from one to the other.

After the play, Mira approached Cora to admire her felt ears. Cora removed the hat and placed it on Mira’s head and the two giggled together.

Mira avoided Colin until he had removed his mask and cape.

Then she said, “You’re not so scary.”

He grinned and tweaked her nose. “Only in the mornings before coffee.”

Sarah went to stand beside Mr. Henshall, who looked on as Effie and Georgie talked and laughed together, accepting praise and hugs from Mamma and Emily and good-natured teasing from Bibi and Lowen.

Sarah said to him, “That was sporting of you, and I’m sure Effie appreciated it.”

Perhaps hearing her name, Effie came over to join them. A teasing light in her eyes, she said, “It’s a good thing you’re a skilled musician.”

“Are ye sayin’ I’d better not give up music to become a thespian?”

“I wouldna advise it, Da’. Stick to the guitar.”

She grinned at him, then turned to rejoin the others.

Did Effie realize she’d called him Da’? Had she merely referred to his role as king to her princess? Somehow Sarah did not think so.

Callum stared after Effie, then turned back to Sarah. He started to say something, cleared his throat, then said, “Now I’m very glad I agreed to take part.”

The play over, Colin helped Georgie and Cora carry the various costumes and props back up to the attic. After stowing most of the things in the chest in the old schoolroom, Cora darted into her room to put her hat away. Colin lingered.

Georgie looked at him, slowly shaking her head. “You’re a study in contradictions, do you know that? Often insufferable, but sometimes, like today, an absolute delight.”

He bowed. “Why, thank you.” His brow furrowed. “I think.”

Cora returned, and the three of them went downstairs, where Mamma met them and insisted Colin join the family for an informal supper.