Page 29 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

Georgiana soon grew restless. She wanted to play another game of whist or perhaps charades.

She looked around for Colin, hoping he would second the notion and help her rouse enough players from among the well-fed, relaxed crowd.

Where had he gone? Up to the water closet?

She waited a few minutes, but the only person to descend was his father.

“Mr. Hutton, do you know where Colin is?”

“I believe he left, oh, some twenty minutes ago.”

Her stomach sank. “He left? Did he say why?”

“I thought he mumbled something about running to Westmount for something. Though he should have been back by now, if that was the case. Perhaps he’s gone to Temple Cottage.

That pretty Miss Marriott invited him to join their small celebration there.

I did not think he intended to go, but I suppose he might have changed his mind. ”

Disappointment coursed through her like ice water. Had Colin merely fulfilled his obligation at Sea View and then left as soon as he could to go where he really wished to spend New Year’s Eve? Most likely. Georgie’s shoulders slumped.

She returned to the drawing room and sat heavily in an armchair, her interest in games dissipating. Her enjoyment of the evening too.

As midnight approached, those remaining rearranged their chairs in a large circle.

When the hands of the clock approached the hour, Mamma, as the head of the family, went to the door and opened it wide to usher out the old year and bring in the new.

In the distance the church bells pealed, ringing in the New Year.

When the last stroke of midnight died away, she shut the door quietly and returned to the others.

Yet she had barely crossed the threshold when someone knocked on the door.

Effie looked up eagerly. “I wonder who that is? Who will be our first footer?” She rose and dashed into the hall to find out, and curious, Georgie followed.

Effie herself opened the door before Mr. Gwilt could do so.

There was indeed a tall, well-dressed, and prosperous-looking young man on their doorstep.

She could tell nothing about the shape of his foot, but what showed of his hair from beneath a fashionable beaver hat was decidedly dark. In fact, his forehead bore a dark streak as well.

Georgie burst out laughing. Colin Hutton stood there, his hair blackened with soot or lampblack or some such.

Hands on her hips, she proclaimed, “Colin Hutton, you are incorrigible.”

Effie narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think he counts.”

“I was not in the house at midnight,” Colin defended. “And I come well supplied.” He lifted the sack slung over his shoulder.

Sarah stepped out from the drawing room doorway. “Who is it?”

Georgie went along with Colin’s guise. After all, she had wanted to play charades.

“It’s our first footer—and he comes bearing gifts!”

Sarah’s lips parted, but before she could object, Georgie ushered him past her into the drawing room, where the others responded with laughter and good-natured groans, while his father shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Good evening. Your first footer has arrived,” Colin said, adjusting the coarsely woven sack.

His brother Jack muttered, “Are you supposed to be Father Christmas or a chimney sweep?”

“Come in, young sir,” Mamma said, going along with the farce. “You are very welcome.”

“Let us see your feet,” Effie insisted. “If he is flat-footed as well as fair, the entire next year will be ruined.”

“There is nothing wrong with my feet.” Colin sniffed as though affronted.

“Let’s take his word for it,” Mr. Henshall interceded on the young man’s behalf. “At least he does not come empty-handed.”

“True.” Colin reached into the bag. “First, a coin for our generous hostess.” With a bow, he handed a gold sovereign to Mamma. “May this family always know prosperity.”

“Hear, hear.”

“And for you, sir, a wee dram.” He handed a small flask to Mr. Henshall. “To celebrate a special occasion in the coming year. I hope.”

“Good choice, lad.”

“And sweets for the sweet.” He gave Effie a piece of shortbread—shortbread that looked suspiciously like the batch Sarah had made.

“And salt for you, Miss Sarah.” He handed her a small paper packet. “For flavor, since you are responsible for most of the flavorful foods we have enjoyed tonight.”

Sarah accepted it with a little smile. “I’d rather have a pound of sugar.”

He turned to Georgie and held up a lump of coal. “For warmth in the coming year.”

Georgie took it and tossed it onto the fire.

“Sadly, no cheese.” Colin sighed. “The cheesemonger was closed.”

“Then how about a toast?” Mr. Henshall offered him a glass.

“Good idea.” Colin accepted it. “To Sea View and all gathered here—” he raised his glass and, in an imitation of Mr. Henshall’s accent said—“a guid New Year.”

They all raised their glasses, repeated the words, and then sipped their tea or punch or whatever drink was at hand.

Colin emptied his in a single swallow, then set down his glass. “Now there is something else I must do.”

“Escort last year’s troubles out the back door?” Effie asked.

“Trying to get rid of me already? No, I recall Mr. Henshall saying the first footer might claim a kiss from all the ladies in the house?”

“Careful,” Jack warned, a protective arm around his wife.

Colin hesitated, making a show of tugging on his collar as though suddenly too tight. “Then perhaps only the unmarried ladies. For my own safety.”

To ward off actual kissing, Sarah offered her hand. Colin raised it gallantly to his lips. Mamma followed suit.

Effie was next and presented her cheek for a kiss. He obliged her with a peck.

Then Effie looked back at her. “Your turn, Georgie.”

It had been one thing for him to kiss her cheek alone under the mistletoe, but with all these people watching?

Georgiana huffed to cover her unease. “How silly! Oh, very well. Get it over with.” She held out her hand as Sarah had done.

Instead he leaned in close and pressed a warm kiss to her cheek.

A cheek that now blazed with embarrassment.

He smiled into her eyes as he slowly pulled back, then turned to the others.

“ Now I shall usher last year’s troubles out the back door. And with that, I bid you all good night.”

He bowed and slipped out of the room, heading, Georgie guessed, for the back stairs and the rear kitchen door below.

Was he hurrying off to play the role of first footer at another house? One with other females to kiss—slightly older, far prettier young ladies? Probably.

“Look, Georgie,” Effie enthused, pointing out the window. “You got your wish. It’s snowing again!”

Georgie walked to the window that overlooked the veranda and the outside world beyond. Feathery white snowflakes fell lazily from the sky, clinging to tree branches and glazing the ground.

It was beautiful, yet she felt oddly deflated. What was wrong with her?

Yes, she had got her wish. It had snowed not once but twice. Then why did some tender shoot of longing yet remain? Like a hunger pang, but one that originated in her heart instead of her stomach.

At Effie’s pronouncement, Sarah and a few others rose and joined them at the windows to enjoy the sight of fresh new snow christening the fresh New Year.

It really is lovely , Sarah thought, glad that her first thought was not, for once, about the practicalities: having to sweep the outside stairs and walk or needing to clean up all the wet footprints that would soon muddy the hall.

“Now, if ye will indulge me,” Mr. Henshall said, “let us join hands and sing ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ which means ‘old long since.’ We have sung it on Hogmanay in Scotland for generations, and I gather it is now sung here as well.”

Those standing at the windows walked toward the middle of the room, and those sitting stood to join the circle, clasping hands.

Sarah found herself holding one of Effie’s hands and one of Callum Henshall’s. Her hand felt warm and secure in his sure grip.

“The song reminds us not to forget days gone by or old friends,” he said. Then to Effie he added, “We’ll sing the more English version, aye?”

She nodded. Then in his rich, lilting voice, he began to sing and the rest of them joined in:

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o’ lang syne?

“For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne,

We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.”

After a few more verses, he looked at Effie and prompted, “The next verse as we sing at home?” His stepdaughter nodded, and the two sang together:

“And here’s a hand, my trusty fiere! And gie’s a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll tak a right guid willy waught, For auld lang syne.

“For auld lang syne, my jo, For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.”

Sarah’s ears caught on the phrase my jo .

On the last chorus, the jocularity faded from Mr. Henshall’s expression, and his fair eyes took on a nostalgic light. He looked somberly into the distance, his voice slowing and deepening as he sang the familiar words with true feeling.

“We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.”

After the final note, a few moments of silence reigned. Then around the circle, people began to separate. Sarah gave Effie’s hand a final squeeze before releasing her, then turned to Mr. Henshall. She made to slide her hand from his, but for a moment longer he held fast, gaze boring into hers.

She pressed her lips together and then echoed, “A guid New Year to you.”

He slowly nodded. “I hope it shall be.”

The others went into the hall to gather coats and hats, or to bid farewell to those departing. Sarah lingered with Mr. Henshall.

She mustered her courage and asked, “I heard the words ‘my jo’ in the Scots version you and Effie sang. What does it mean?”

“Comes from the word joy ,” he explained. “It’s an endearment that means sweetheart or darling or dear.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “You may not have realized but ... you’ve called me that a few times now, so I wondered.”

“It may have slipped out only a few times, but it’s how I often think of ye.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “My bonnie lass. My jo.”

Sarah’s skin tingled, and her heart did as well.

He studied her. “Do ye mind?”

“No. I rather like it.”

“I’m glad.”

He took her hand again, raised it to his lips, and pressed a warm kiss to the back of it. “Good night, Sarah.”

“Good night.” And she carried the warmth of it all the way up to her room.