Page 25 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

“Since our cook has the day off, it will be mostly leftover food from Christmas dinner, but please do stay. Sarah has baked fresh rolls.”

Georgie added, “And there is plenty of cake left from Mr. Gwilt’s party. If you don’t mind a blue tongue.”

“Sounds a feast compared to what I might find in the West mount larder. And with Chown having his own day off, well, it will be a pleasure to stay. Thank you.”

Mamma nodded. “Perhaps that explains why Viola agreed to dine with us as well.”

After their informal meal, they all helped tidy up and carry dishes belowstairs, insisting Mr. Gwilt and the others not wait on them for once.

Daylight waned early in late December, and darkness was already falling when Jack came over to rejoin his wife, having returned from a day of riding and billiards with Chown and Taggart.

He sat down with them and accepted a cup of after-dinner coffee.

He did not, however, accept any of the red, yellow, and blue cake.

As the others talked, Colin sidled close to Georgie and whispered, “Come and see.”

“See what?”

But he had already gone.

She rose and followed him out of the parlour.

When she joined him in the hall, he said, “I told you Mother Nature would come through.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned toward her and gave her a boyish smile. “It’s snowing.”

“No!”

“Oh yes.”

He led her into the library and gestured out the windows. “See?”

Georgie blinked in wonder at the white fluff slowly falling, floating, from the sky.

“Oooh...” she breathed. “I almost can’t believe it. It’s just as I wished for. Why am I so blessed?”

“Well, you are Saint George, after all.” He winked.

“Hardly a saint. But I’ll take it. It’s lovely.”

“I agree. Now, let’s not stand here gawping. Grab your cloak and let’s get out there.”

“In the snow?”

“Certainly, you ninnyhammer.” He grinned. “We want the whole experience, do we not?”

She grinned back at him. “Indeed we do.”

———

A few minutes later, they had dressed warmly and stepped outside. As if hearing the Sea View door open—or perhaps lying in wait—Chips appeared, tongue lolling, clearly happy to see them. He bounded through the falling snow with undisguised glee, like an excited child.

Colin said, “I wish I had a ball or something to throw to him.”

She reached into her cloak pocket and withdrew a small ball. “I always keep one handy.”

“Of course you do. What a girl.”

She tossed Colin the ball, and he easily caught it. He reeled back and threw the ball, and Chips darted off to fetch it.

For several minutes they played with the dog, who easily found the ball despite the light covering of snow.

Then Georgie leapt onto the veranda, which ran along the house from library to dining room.

The sea wind blew in at an angle, covering its floorboards with snow as well.

She ran and slid across the snow-slick veranda.

In a flash, Colin joined her, sliding past window after window.

Soon they were embroiled in a contest to see who could slide the farthest.

Pausing to catch her breath, Georgie stilled.

“Colin, look.” She pointed to the large sash windows. Lit from within by firelight and many candles, each window framed a lighted scene within.

Colin followed her example and looked from one to the next. “It’s like the illuminations in the print-shop windows,” he said.

“You’re right,” she breathed, taking in one tableau, then the next.

In one stood his brother and Viola, talking and laughing. Viola reached up and laid an affectionate hand on Jack’s scarred cheek.

“What shall we call this scene?” he asked.

“Hmm. Maybe True Love ?”

He nodded. “Or perhaps ... Soul Mates .”

In the next window, Effie and Cora were sitting on the sofa, one on either side of Mamma, each holding one of Mamma’s hands.

“Oh...” Georgiana whispered, her heart aching at the sight. “This one is sad. Two Motherless Girls .”

“Seems like your mother is doing her best to fill that void.”

Georgie nodded. “They are lucky to have her, and so am I.”

Reaching the far dining room window, they spied Emily and James, arms around each other in a fervent embrace, kissing.

“Eek. Don’t look.” Georgie shoved a gloved hand before his eyes.

“They shouldn’t stand before windows if they don’t wish to be seen.”

“Probably don’t realize just how visible they are, lit up like that when it’s dark out here.”

Forgoing the stairs, Colin hopped down from the veranda and turned back to offer Georgie a hand down. Ignoring it, Georgie hopped down herself and together they walked back around the corner of the house.

“Look there.” Colin pointed to the low-to-the-ground window that let light into the kitchen belowstairs. At the big worktable sat Mrs. Besley, Lowen, and Mr. Gwilt enjoying a late supper together and a bottle of cider on their day off.

“What shall we call this one?” he asked.

“I’d call it A Well-Deserved Rest .”

Above this, in the east-facing library window, they saw Sarah and Mr. Henshall deep in conversation. Neither was smiling. Yet they were alone together, or so they thought. And they were talking.

“Ah, now this one is interesting,” Colin said, crossing his arms. “I might call it Will They or Won’t They? ”

Georgie sighed. “I’m not sure our romance scheme has helped.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “Too early to tell.”

Georgie looked from the window to the snow still twirling from the sky. “I half thought Sarah might come out here by now. She used to love snow when we were younger.”

“Perhaps she has forgotten how magical it is,” he said.

“Sadly, I think she has forgotten a lot of things.”

In the library, Sarah turned to the window and observed, “The first real snowfall of the year. Georgie will be pleased.”

“Don’t ye like snow?” Mr. Henshall asked.

“I used to, very much. Snow was fairly rare in Gloucestershire. At least, rare for it to accumulate enough for sledding or sledging. So when it did snow, I lost no time going out to enjoy it. When Georgie was young, she used to look out the window and squeal in delight whenever flurries fell. I would bundle her up and take her outside, and we’d giggle and run about in it, then try to catch snowflakes on our tongues. ”

“That I should like to see.”

She chuckled.

Voice low, he said, “We get a lot of snow in Scotland, ye know.”

“Do you?”

“Aye.”

Struck with a realization, Sarah felt her brow furrow. “Last year we had a great deal of snow here, and I never went out simply to enjoy it. I kept too busy worrying about and dealing with our guests—three men in the Duke of Kent’s employ. But I could have. I should have.”

“Three ... single men?” he asked with a quizzical glance.

“Well, yes. One was James, the duke’s private secretary, who, as you know, married our Emily. The other was the table-decker and keeper of the plate, and the third was the duke’s assistant cook and pastry chef.”

“A royal pastry chef ... here? I imagine ye found him quite ... interesting?”

“I did, yes. At first I resented his making free with what I’ve come to consider my workroom, but in the end we came to an ... understanding.”

“An understanding?” His brows shot up.

“Not that sort of understanding.”

“Did he ... suggest one?”

Sarah thought back. “I suppose he did.”

“I despise him already.”

She chuckled again. “Don’t bother. His heart did not break when I said no. I am sure he recovered from his disappointment rather quickly.”

“Are ye certain? I wouldna recover from such a disappointment quickly. If ever.”

For a long moment, their gazes clicked and held.

He said, “Ye once told me you’d had one great love in your life and didna expect to have another.”

“I know. I regret saying that ... holding on to that for so long.”

“Do ye? I am not surprised another man pursued ye. I dreaded the very idea yet knew it was inevitable.”

Sarah took a deep breath. “Then I will confess something to you. When we arrived at your home, we were told the ‘lady of the house’ would be with us shortly. I thought you might have married someone else.”

“Ah. And how did that make ye feel?”

“I did not like it. Then Isla told us you were seeing another woman. A neighbor, Miss Sorley? I did not like that either.”

He nodded. “I did spend some time in her company, aye. Though several months ago now. I’d not seen ye in over a year and had little reason to hope. I told myself I should try to forget ye, yet I could not. Estimable as that woman is...” He shook his head. “She is not you.”

He stepped closer and took her hands. “Sarah, I—”

Smack.

A wet, icy blob struck the windowpane and began a slow slide downward.

Smack.

A second followed.

Sarah stepped to the window, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed by the interruption.

She peered out, past the melting blob, to the snow-covered yard beyond. Two faces grinned up at her. Georgie’s and Colin’s.

Mr. Henshall came and stood beside her. “Come, lass, this is your chance. Shall we go out and join them?”

Sarah hesitated, then pushed aside thoughts of cleanup and heavy decisions. For now.

She smiled at him, her heart lightening. “Yes, let’s.”

As Georgie had hoped, a few minutes later, the door opened and a bundled-up Sarah and Mr. Henshall came outside.

With a mock scowl at Colin, Mr. Henshall began, “All right, ye Peeping Tom...”

Sarah pointed at her. “And Thomasina.”

“No more spying through windows, ye ken?”

“And no more throwing snow blobs at what was reasonably clear glass,” Sarah added.

“We did try to make proper snowballs,” Georgie defended, “but there’s barely enough snow and what there is is awfully wet.”

“Here. Let an old Scot try.” Mr. Henshall bent low and with two gloved hands scooped a heaping fistful from the snow-covered grass. He packed the wet mass into a reasonable approximation of a snowball, and with no warning, launched it at Colin.

Slap. It struck Colin’s neck.

Colin’s hands shot up in self-defense. “Hey, now. Took me twenty minutes to tie this cravat.” He proceeded to bend and gather a snowball of his own. “Well, two can play that game.”

Sarah turned to Georgie. “Remember when I used to take you outside and we’d run about trying to catch snowflakes on our tongues?”

“I remember, but I didn’t think you did.”

“Of course I do.”

“I am far too big for you to carry now.” Georgie walked closer, the hand holding snow she had gathered behind her back.

“Perhaps so,” Sarah agreed, looking up. “Yet we might still try to catch snowflakes.”

“True,” Georgie said. “Or I might do this instead....”

Georgiana slipped the icy snow down the back of Sarah’s neck.

“Aiy!” she exclaimed, reaching up to try to remove the icy intruder, to little avail.

And within seconds, the sisters were bending to scrape snow off the grass and fling it at each other amid shrieks of gleeful outrage.

All the while the men undertook their own back-and-forth battle.

Eventually, the four called a truce and made their way back inside, swatting snow off one another’s backs, laughing, breathing hard, and exchanging playful barbs about who had bested whom.

As they stomped off their boots on the walkway, Colin sought Georgie’s gaze. “This might be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Georgiana returned his grin. “Me too.”

After the snowball fight, Sarah led the way indoors to warm up, Georgie diverting down to the kitchen to find a treat for Chips.

They returned in time to bid farewell to William and Claire, who were leaving to take a sleepy Mira home. Viola and Jack departed as well.

Cora and Mamma, meanwhile, sat reading near the parlour fire with James and Emily until Mamma complained of being overheated and moved farther back, looking rather flushed.

To avoid disturbing the readers, the snowball combatants gathered in the library instead. When Georgie returned from tossing a piece of roast beef to Chips, she joined them. Effie came in as well.

Sarah was about to go down and make tea, but Mr. Gwilt had anticipated her and carried in a tea tray with cups and biscuits for all.

“Thank you. You read my mind.”

He grinned and retreated.

For several minutes, the group sat sipping tea and enjoying the crackling fire in relative quiet. Sarah was glad to find the feeling returning to her fingers and toes.

Then, since New Year’s Eve was rapidly approaching, Sarah asked Mr. Henshall if there were any special foods he normally enjoyed at New Year’s, or “Hogmanay” as he called it.

“Aye, several things. Venison pie, haggis, neeps and tatties, salted herrings, bannocks, black bun, shortbread...” He looked at her with dawning realization. “But I certainly don’t expect to have those foods here.”

“That’s a relief, for I don’t even know what most of those are.” Sarah grinned. And while she made him no promises, she secretly decided to attempt some of the dishes for which she could find a recipe and the ingredients.

“How else do you celebrate?” she asked, and was pleasantly surprised when Effie did not protest.

He gathered his thoughts. “Music, sometimes dancing, raise a glass to Robert Burns, recite a few lines as well.”

“Don’t forget First Footing,” Effie reminded him.

“Ah.” He nodded and explained, “At home, we have a tradition called First Footing, meaning the first person to cross your threshold after midnight determines your fortunes for the coming year. I am not a superstitious man, but we do observe the custom.”

“It’s best if the first person is tall, dark, and handsome,” Effie said, “as well as a prosperous bachelor. As long as he is not flat-footed—the higher the instep the better.”

Mr. Henshall nodded again and continued, “He enters through the front door bearing gifts—coal, salt, cheese, shortbread, and coins, which represent warmth, good food and cheer, and prosperity for the coming year. He sets his coal on the fire and wishes the family a happy New Year. He is even permitted to kiss every woman in the house before he leaves through the back door, taking all of the previous year’s troubles with him. ”

“I wonder who it will be,” Georgie mused with a glance at Colin. “Most of the single men I can think of are fair-haired.”

Colin shrugged. “I suppose that puts me out of the running.”

Georgie raised her hands. “What if no one comes so late?”

“Then I suppose it shall be the dairyman in the morning,” Sarah teased.

“Mr. Pym? Heaven help us.”

Mr. Henshall said, “We shall just have to wait and see.”