Page 6 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

FOUR

The giver of every good and perfect gift has called upon us to mimic God’s giving, by grace, through faith, and this is not of ourselves.

—Attributed to St. Nicholas of Myra

In preparation for St. Nicholas Day, Georgiana and her sisters banded together to buy or make small gifts for the children at the Sidmouth charity school: knitted scarves, mittens, needle cases, pincushions, carved rulers, bound paper notebooks with pretty covers, and more.

Mr. Gwilt had even fashioned a decent cricket bat from wood he’d found in the old work shed behind the house.

Colin Hutton came to call while they were organizing the gifts. Finding them clustered around the mounded dining room table, counting and sorting, he said, “My goodness. How industrious you all are. I grow exhausted simply watching you. What’s all this for?”

Georgiana replied, “St. Nicholas Day gifts for the children at the charity school.” She looked up at him and challenged, “Perhaps you might contribute something as well?”

His brows lifted. “Me? I don’t know what I could give. Though I do have two new Duke six-seam cricket balls, if one of them would be of any interest.”

Georgie’s mouth fell open. “Of course it would! I would like one myself.”

“Then you may have it.”

Georgie hesitated, then with a deep exhale resolved, “No. It’s Christmastime, and I have so much more than they do. And sadly, most of what my sisters and I have gathered will be more appreciated by girls. Better to give one of your cricket balls to the boys.”

“You impress me, Georgiana Summers.”

“I should hope so, Colin Hutton.”

He grinned, then asked, “What else might the boys like?”

“Goodness, most have so little. Anything, really. Gloves, toys, games...”

“I am at your service, miss.” He gave her a bow and another lopsided grin. “Give me one hour.”

He returned nearly two hours later, arms laden with the promised cricket ball, games of spillikins, dominoes, and cards, a new leather foot-ball, and a pair of gloves.

“Any of these of use, do you think?”

“Good heavens, yes.”

“The gloves are an older pair of mine. If you think they’re too shabby, just tell me and I will take them back.”

“Not at all. Still lots of wear left.”

“I suppose the lads are too young for cravats or cologne?” Innocence rounded his fair eyes, but Georgie knew he was jesting.

“I think so, yes.”

“Ah well.”

“Your offering is most generous as it is. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Miss Georgiana. You seem to bring out a generous side of my character I did not know existed.”

She studied him in astonishment, slowly shaking her head. “Who are you, and what have you done with my friend Colin Hutton?”

The following day, Georgiana and Colin, along with Emily and her husband, James, set out for the Sidmouth School.

Sarah remained at home reviewing the books with Mr. Gwilt, who had taken over the bookkeeping tasks during Sarah’s absence.

Mamma remained as well, engrossed in the novel Sense and Sensibility .

The early December day was sunny and mild, so they might have walked were they not burdened down with their offerings.

The hooded cabriolet James used to travel to and from Killerton seated only two and had insufficient room for all the gifts, so they borrowed the Huttons’ larger carriage.

Taggart, the Huttons’ footman and sometimes coachman, sat at the reins, ready to drive them.

They filled its interior with their bundles and barely managed to squeeze in themselves.

They traveled up Fore Street, through the eastern town, and toward the mill until they reached the school, located near the River Sid and next to the poor house. The simple two-story building and yard were enclosed by a brick wall.

When they arrived, Colin helped the ladies alight, while James handed around the bundles.

He then sent Taggart home, saying they would walk back after their gifts had been delivered.

He opened the gate for them and together they crossed the yard, Colin skirting the muddy patches to spare his polished shoes.

The front of the school held two doors, one with a stone plaque marked Girls , the other Boys . James held open the girls’ door for them, but looking at the plaques, Colin made a comical face, wagged a finger, and entered through the boys’ door.

Georgie shook her head. Boyish indeed.

Inside, Mr. Ward welcomed them into the large schoolroom, where his pupils were assembled.

The children were sitting on low benches, looking up at the visitors expectantly.

A few grinned shyly at them. The children knew Georgie well, and Emily and James had come to play with or read to them several times before.

Some of the boys, however, looked askance at newcomer Colin in his fine clothes and stylish D’Orsay top hat with upturned brim, while a few girls stared at him with barely concealed admiration.

The children politely waited their turns yet were clearly eager and appreciative as the visitors distributed the gifts under the benevolent eye of Mr. Ward. Colin’s gloves, which proved too large for any of the pupils, were gratefully received by the humble schoolmaster.

The boys—along with sport-loving Cora—oohed and aahed over the games Colin had brought, as well as the bat, cricket ball, and new foot-ball, stroking each almost reverently.

Colin appeared overwhelmed and even sheepish at their effusive gratitude.

He leaned near Georgiana and whispered, “Next time I’ll bring more.”

“This is your first visit here, is it not?”

“Yes. Though not my last.”

Georgie nodded. “Glad to hear it. You shall no doubt fall in love with these youngsters, as I have.”

“Are you not a youngster yourself?”

She sniffed and lifted her chin. “I am not. I will have you know I am now seventeen.”

“Goodness. As ancient as that?” He winked.

When the gift giving was over, Mr. Ward released the children for a short recess to enjoy the gifts. The girls and a few boys elected to remain indoors to play spillikins or dominoes. James and Emily remained inside with them.

Meanwhile, the other boys and Cora headed outside.

Georgiana turned to Colin. “Come on,” she urged, and he followed her without complaint.

A game began in the yard, and Georgie was quick to enter the fray.

Many feet had worn the yard’s patchy grass to dirt in places. It had not yet snowed, but they’d had mizzle in recent days, so the yard was a bit muddy. Soon the ball was muddy as well. Georgie hoped Colin would not refuse to play for fear of spoiling his fine clothes.

She kicked the ball to him. “Join us. I’ll be on one side, you the other.”

Colin gingerly picked up the muddy ball, then instantly dropped it. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping off his gloves.

“Come on!” Cora shouted her encouragement.

Georgie sighed in disappointment, and one of the mouthier boys grumbled under his breath, “What a coxcomb.”

“One moment.” Colin returned the handkerchief, then pulled off his gloves and frock coat, laying them over the gate. He placed his hat atop the wall.

Still wearing shirt, waistcoat, cravat, and trousers, he turned back to her and stretched out his arms in white shirtsleeves. “Many apologies for my state of undress, Miss Georgiana.”

She rolled her eyes, and he smirked and kicked the ball back to her—smartly and on target.

Georgie stopped the ball with her foot and grinned. “Now, that’s more like it!”

He jogged to the center of the yard to join them, maneuvered the ball away from her with fast feet, dodged his would-be defenders, and with the side of one polished shoe, sent the ball into the makeshift goal, earning the cheers of his teammates.

The informal game continued for nearly half an hour. Colin seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself, laughing at his own mistakes, encouraging the less-skilled players, and good-naturedly teasing others as he darted around the yard, often passing the ball to smaller lads.

As the game—and Colin’s antics—continued, Georgie’s cheeks began to ache from smiling.

At one point, she leapt for the ball and slipped, falling and landing on the ground in an unladylike heap. Muddy shoes appeared in her peripheral vision, and she looked up to find Colin gazing down at her, mild concern on his handsome face. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.”

He reached down a hand and helped her up, saying, “I admire your dedication to the game.” His words and warm smile melted away her embarrassment.

Later, Cora outmaneuvered Colin and scored a goal against him. Hands on his slim hips, he looked at the cunning player with interest, perhaps only then noticing the muddy skirt hem peeking out from under the girl’s long coat. “What’s your name?”

“Cora.” And without pause, she stole the ball from him and once again kicked it through the goal.

At that moment, Mr. Ward stepped outside to call the children back into the schoolroom, his announcement met with good-natured groans.

Colin retrieved the ball and handed it to Cora, resting his hand atop the knitted cap that poorly concealed her dark curls. He glanced at Georgiana and said, “I like this wily rascal. Reminds me of you.”

Georgie laughed thoughtfully. “Yes, she reminds me of me too.”

Emily and James came out and joined them, and they walked home two by two. As they crossed Fort Field, the married couple moved ahead, while Georgie and Colin walked more slowly, pausing at intervals to toss a stick for Chips to fetch.

Colin took a turn throwing the stick, then said, “Thank you for including me today. I enjoyed it. Though my poor shoes will never be the same. Almost as bad as your dress.”

Georgie looked down at the dirt stains on her skirt and gave them a half-hearted swipe.

“Is that a boarding school or a day school?” he asked.

“It’s a day school for local poor children.”

“Lucky kids. Wasn’t fond of boarding school myself. Only going home a few times a year. Shudder.”

She nodded. “These children go home every day after their lessons. I believe they all have at least one parent living, except for Cora.”

“Oh? What’s her story?”

“I don’t know all the details, but my understanding is that Cora lives with her grandmother, who moved here hoping the sea air would improve her health. She is not a wealthy woman, so the governors accepted Cora into the school here.”

“She certainly seems to enjoy it.”

Georgie nodded. “She has friends at the school, and Mr. Ward is kind to her. Kind to them all.”

“I am glad she has her grandmother. Even so, to have lost both father and mother at her age? Seems hard.”

She looked at him with interest. “I suppose you can sympathize. I’ve met your father on several occasions, but I think Viola mentioned Jack’s mother—your mother—died?”

Colin’s usually happy countenance turned pensive, even mournful. “Yes, many years ago when I was quite young. I don’t really remember her. Does it make me namby-pamby to say I still miss having a mother in my life?”

“Not at all. You’re namby-pamby because you dress like a fop.” She winked, and he laughed, the serious mood broken, to her relief—and no doubt his as well.