Page 57 of The Twelve Days of Christmas
There were certain people who would vehemently deny such a suggestion (one might suppose Miss Cordelia Sharpe, soon to be the new Countess of Starling, to be one of them) but more often than not Fernand’s guests found the idea enterprising, and over the years they had perfected a list of guests who – if they did not agree with Fernand’s more romantic sensibilities – would happily overlook them in the spirit of the occasion.
As he descended the garlanded staircase (such delightful scents of bay and pine!), his elegant wife on his arm, the viscount was gratified to find footmen conversing with lords and maids with ladies, the divide already successfully breached, and upon seeing Wakely’s cook and her son speaking quietly together in a candlelit alcove, Fernand excused himself from Ambrosia’s clasp and approached them.
‘Mrs Denby,’ said he with a bow, to which she offered up a curtsey and greeting. ‘I saw the dining room table earlier, and cannot be more pleased. You have positively outdone yourself.’
Indeed, the great table had been extended and was filled with a delectable spread of breads, cold plates and sweets – little butter cows could be found dotted between dishes of seeded rolls, poached eggs, and a generous offering of Stilton, Wiltshire and cream cheeses (it had taken all of Fernand’s self-control not to demolish the latter there and then).
So too were upon the large table slices of roast chicken and ham, boiled round, pickled salmon, and mackerel topped with fennel and mint, together with biscuits infused with ginger and orange, glistening jellies and syllabubs, honeyed dates and sugared plums, little savoury pies of cranberry and pork, and a large platter of mince pies, while the silver wassail bowl stood directly in the middle, its sides shimmering with the dancing flames of candlelight.
‘I cannot wait to see what hot culinary delights shall be served when we break for supper! There will be goose and venison, I presume?’
‘Oh, never fear, my lord,’ assured the cook, with a note of pride in her voice. ‘Myself and Miss Allen have been hard at work – you shall not be disappointed.’
‘I declare, madam, I never could be.’
The cook thanked him, and once again dipped her knees.
‘But,’ remarked Fernand, ‘I did not see your delicious Twelfth Night cake at the table as it usually is? You have made one, have you not?’
‘Forgive me, my lord, I have made a cake but …’ The cook hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I’ve already caught one or two of the, ah, guests, stealing rather a few of the mince pies, and felt it best to bring the cake up at the appointed hour as to prevent anyone else from helping themselves to a slice.’
Fernand could not help but smile. He could tell by Mrs Denby’s hesitation that the culprit must have been none other than his daughter Louisa, no doubt aided by one of the Sharpe brothers.
Like himself, Louisa always did have a long stomach, but of late she had become rather more gluttonous, and since Twelfth Night Cake was his favourite festive dish in all the world, he too did not want to risk its ruin before midnight.
Once he had assured the cook she had done the right thing, the viscount turned to Mrs Denby’s son, who stood quietly at her side.
‘I wished to tell you that I have written your character,’ advised Fernand, ‘and feel sure it will commend you to Sergeant Harrington. I hope you can forget about it all for this evening at least – I should hate for your enjoyment of the ball to be lessened.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Phillip Denby, though he did not look at ease at all. ‘I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your support.’
‘Think nothing of it, my good man. But I see you hold your whistle. Are you not to dance this evening?’
The piper shook his head. ‘I am not much for dancing, Viscount Pépin, and so would prefer to play with the musicians. I used to play at the assemblies held in the village, if you recall?’
‘Quite so! And with young George Jenkins, I understand. A great shame. There is a drummer here tonight, I think?’
Mr Denby nodded. ‘He and I are to be seated beside one another. It will be strange not to have George next to me, but pleasant to hear a bodhrán drum again.’
‘Well,’ said Fernand, keen to remove the sadness that had appeared on the young man’s face, ‘if you feel inclined to rest between sets, please do – I am sure there are many ladies here in want of a partner. See there, for instance,’ he added, with a twinge of his earlier guilt. ‘Miss Hart stands quite alone.’
And so the housemaid did in a pretty frock of simple blue cotton, clutching a lace shawl as she lingered beside the garlanded staircase, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and when he marked her Mr Denby coloured.
‘I think Molly is still feeling a little out of sorts, my lord.’
‘I truly am sorry for it. Oh, but look,’ he said as his valet, Mr Hornby, approached the housemaid and offered his hand, which Miss Hart took with a small and grateful smile. ‘That’s better. Much better!’
There came then winding through the bustling chatter of the entrance hall, the plucking of violin strings.
‘Ah,’ said Mr Denby. ‘I believe the dancing is about to begin and so I must join my fellow musicians. Mother, my lord – if you will excuse me?’
At which he was excused, and the viscount and cook parted ways, whereupon Ambrosia was soon beside him.
‘Are you well, my love?’
‘Extremely,’ Fernand replied, clasping her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘Now that we are to begin, I feel much more at ease.’
And he did feel more at ease; as the viscount and viscountess entered the grandly furnished ballroom, decorated so beautifully with pear-crowned festive garlands, gilded mirrors and candles that made the room glow serenely in a soft golden light, and seeing so many pleasant faces – haut ton and domestic alike – it all gave Fernand a feeling of great joy, a joy which was heightened by seeing his daughters being led into the ballroom.
There were Juliette and Nicolas, Maria and Bertram Sharpe, followed closely behind by his brothers Humphrey, who accompanied Louisa, and Tarquin with a blushing Rosalie on his arm …
Fernand frowned as he searched for Charlotte amidst the crowd but could not see her.
Was she with Lord Heysten perhaps? But alas, he was already standing in line for Paine’s ‘ First Set of Quadrilles’ , partnered by a positively awestruck Loveday Lucas.
The dancing commenced. The violins and cellos sang across their strings, the horn resounded deeply, Mr Denby’s tin whistle flew, and the drummer beat a hearty tempo on his drum.
As was always the case at the very beginning of Viscount Pépin’s Twelfth Night Ball, the servants struggled somewhat with the steps, but soon found the intricacies of them did not matter and there was much laughing to be had by all, particularly Miss Allen, Mr Marmery, Mr Hornby and Miss Hart, who together made a most jovial crew as they danced together in their squares.
‘Mr Beveridge’s Maggot’ was performed next (led by a very sour-faced Miss Cordelia Sharpe and the Earl of Starling), then a livelier and less formal country dance during which Mr Hodge (wearing a lovely new waistcoat) was convinced to laugh at his missteps by his newly betrothed Miss Brown, after which a reel followed, and then another country dance.
All this the viscount observed with great pleasure.
So too did he observe that little Faith (who had been allowed a few hours to attend the ball, for she had never experienced one before and was extremely excitable at the prospect) had been taken in hand by Monsieur de Fortgibu, leading his pet hens on their leads during the dance of ‘Grimstock’ (which Mrs Denby and the gardener, Mr Cobb – having now recovered from his cold – appeared to enjoy immensely), and many others found amusement by steadily depleting the dining room of food and conversing together upon the chairs that lined the walls.
All manner of topics might have been spoken of, but Fernand – dancing a jig with a surprisingly high-spirited Mrs Wilson – marked with keen interest the Busgroves in an intimate tête-à-tête, and sincerely hoped they were behaving themselves.
By the time the Warwicks and Marshchilds requested an allemande, Fernand deemed it time to retreat to the dining room where the table had been generously replenished with hot dishes.
White soup! Dishes of brawn and sturgeon!
Warden pie, beef and mutton, a medley of winter vegetables and of course, a crisp golden goose, succulent venison, and beautifully spiced plum puddings!
No felicity could ever be greater than a festive banquet, thought Fernand, closing his eyes in delight over a forkful of rosemary-infused potatoes, and though many similar dishes had been served at Wakely since St Nicholas Day, the viscount could not remember when he had enjoyed a meal more.
Between the savoury and sweet dishes, a lively game of rounds was played using the rhyme ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ which Miss Falshaw was gratified to win, and after supper the dancing resumed, whereupon ‘The Midnight Ramble’ was performed by all who knew it, but Fernand – somewhat weary from consuming too much of Mrs Denby’s excellent food – decided to take a turn about the garden.
The night air was sharp with cold, but the sky was clear and filled with twinkling stars.
He was pleased to find the snow had stopped completely, and that a path had been cleared down towards the pond.
He was about to turn upon it when from the corner of his eye he saw two figures in dance.
A minuet was at that point being played by the musicians, and being a slower dance conducted in triple metre it was conducive to more intimate steps, so it was a surprise indeed that he saw the two figures were none other than his valet and the gardener’s assistant, William Moss!