A Gerrard Family Christmas (Arrangements, Book 8)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Well,” Bitty said as she put her fourth strand of pearls on over her blue silk cloak of sorts, “you did say we would improvise.”

  “That is true,” she murmured.

  “There you are!”

  They all turned at Mrs. Donovan’s voice, now entering with another maid.

  “Oh!” She stopped in surprise. “I see you’ve found some things.”

  Rosie smiled sheepishly. “Yes, but not all of it is useful, I’m afraid.”

  Mrs. Donovan smiled in return. “Then perhaps you would like to see what we have found?”

  “Yes!” Ginny cheered, wearing a mismatched pair of gloves.

  Mrs. Donovan nodded and set down the few items in her hand, and the maid did so as well. “I found these in the old nursery. I think Mr. Gerrard and Mr. Colin used to play highwaymen or Robin of the Hood or some such, as there are some very small costumes in there. Mary found a rather large satchel with four or five matching cloaks in it, some reticules with baubles inside, and there were even a few masks.”

  Ginny started rifling through everything at once, and Rosie couldn’t help but to grin at the sight.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Donovan,” she said with real sincerity. “You don’t know what this means.”

  “Oh, I think I have some idea, dear,” came the reply. Mrs. Donovan chuckled warmly. “I put on a theatrical or two as a young person at Christmas.”

  That brought Rosie up. “You did? So it’s a real tradition?”

  Mrs. Donovan looked surprised by that. “Oh, yes, dear, it is a very popular tradition. Many families have theatricals in their homes for their guests and their children. All manner of stations, too, from the Royal Family down to the village blacksmith.”

  Warmth filled Rosie’s chest as she pictured many families across England putting on theatricals at Christmas, and now they would as well.

  A real Christmas tradition.

  She looked back at her sisters and Freddie, then back up at the housekeeper with a sly smile. “Well, Mrs. Donovan, is there anything else you would suggest we need?”

  She laughed merrily at the question. “That all depends on the story you want to tell, Miss Gerrard.”

  “Rosie says we’re going to improve eyes,” Ginny explained in a somber tone, obviously taking the idea very seriously, even if she couldn’t say the word.

  “Improvise,” Rosie corrected with a soft laugh.

  “Now there’s an idea,” Mrs. Donovan replied quietly, her lips curving in a smile. “An improvised theatrical. I haven’t enjoyed one of those for quite some time…”

  Rosie looked at the others when the housekeeper trailed off in thought. Freddie and Bitty had shrugged while Ginny simply stared at Mrs. Donovan as though this were perfectly natural.

  Mary, the maid with her, looked at Mrs. Donovan in confusion, then reached out to tap her arm gently. “Erm… Mrs. Donovan?”

  The housekeeper shook her head and smiled down at Rosie. “Will you be wanting a Christmas theme to this theatrical, Miss Gerrard?”

  She hadn’t thought of that. It would make sense to do so, but Colin hadn’t specifically said.

  Rosie glanced at Freddie. “What do you think?”

  “You’re in charge,” Freddie said, not being of much help. “You decide.”

  “Bitty?” Rosie asked in a flat voice as she glared at Freddie.

  “I think so!” Bitty answered happily. “It is Christmas, why shouldn’t we have a Christmas theatrical?”

  “Ginny.”

  “Colin said more Christmas, didn’t he?” her youngest sister replied.

  Rosie smirked at the memory. “He did, yes.”

  “Then I say more Christmas.”

  Rosie nodded, looking back up at Mrs. Donovan. “More Christmas it is, Mrs. Donovan.”

  Mrs. Donovan smiled and inclined her head. “Very good, Miss Gerrard. Mary and I will find some Christmas touches to add to your theatrical and bring them up here to you.” She bobbed, as did Mary, and they left the room, talking quietly.

  “What sort of Christmas touches do you think she’s going to bring?” Freddie asked curiously, pulling off the tricorne to examine the inside.

  “No idea,” Rosie said with a laugh as she donned a widow’s cap. “Maybe she’ll bring in another one of Kit’s Yule logs.”

  Freddie scoffed at that. “Or the missing you-know-whats.”

  That made Rosie snicker and she covered her mouth and nose to keep from snorting. “There’s a thought,” she managed when she was able. “Can you imagine the looks on Kit and Colin’s faces if those appeared in our theatrical?”

  “It would certainly be a Christmas surprise,” Freddie chuckled. He examined the costumes Mrs. Donovan had brought in and grunted. “These are some quality costumes. I’d wager they were made for an express purpose for Uncle Kit and my father.”

  “You think so?” Rosie took one and looked at it. “I wonder if they’d remember them.”

  “Quite possibly.” He set the costume down, and looked at Rosie again. “So what are we going to do for the theatrical? Do you have a theme? Or a title?”

  Rosie shook her head, looking all around her. “Not really. Any thoughts?”

  Freddie followed her gaze. “Put Rafe and Matthew in costume and just react to what they do?”

  Bitty giggled uncontrollably at that. “They would destroy everything!”

  Ginny cracked a smile. “They would, but they’re so adorable, I don’t know that anyone would mind.”

  They all smiled at that. It was true, the younger boys were going to be an adventure to raise and had it in them to create all sorts of mischief, and they weren’t even capable of complete sentences yet. They were more like twins than cousins, despite being a few months apart, and with the history of twins in their family, that was not exactly a good thing.

  “I think they might be the next Colin and Kit,” Bitty said, still laughing.

  The next Colin and Kit.

  That was a terrifying thought.

  Actually, that was an intriguing idea.

  The next…

  “What if we did that?” Rosie whispered, staring off at nothing.

  “Hmm?” Freddie asked as he fiddled with the hat. “Did what?”

  Rosie turned to him slowly. “Made them Colin and Kit.”

  He looked up sharply, his brows raised in surprise. “Made them…”

  She nodded repeatedly, her smile growing at an alarming rate. “Freddie, what if we made them Colin and Kit?” She grabbed the small costumes and shook them in front of Freddie’s face in excitement. “Made them the little versions of Colin and Kit.”

  He started laughing a bit breathlessly, the excitement catching. “And did what?”

  Bitty crawled over to them, listening eagerly. “Christmas!”

  They looked at her quickly.

  “Christmas,” she said again, “but when they were little. What they were like. And we can all be a family.”

  Rosie stared at her sister, then gave a rough laugh. “A Gerrard Family Christmas.”

  “That sounds promising,” Ginny commented from her spot, now fiddling with one of the masks.

  Rosie, Freddie, and Bitty all burst out laughing and started spouting off various ideas, some more ridiculous than others, and were still doing so when a gong sounded from below.

  Ginny perked up. “A gong? Why?”

  “Dress for supper!” came the faint sound of Colin’s cheerful bellow.

  “Ugh,” Rosie groaned. “Must we?”

  Bitty shrugged and started removing her jewelry and cloak. “If Colin’s in charge, the food should be quite good. And Mrs. Fraser makes the very best puddings. I would know.”

  No one dared to refute that.

  So to supper they would go, and there was no telling what that would bring.

  One by one they filed into the dining room, but in any particular order, as they were Gerrards and no one cared about that sort of thing.

  Not when there was food a
t stake.

  The room was dark, with only the candlelight from the hall to see by, and therefore, no one had any idea what exactly was on the table.

  If anything.

  Perhaps that would be Colin’s surprise to them all. No food at all, and just a lot of fuss.

  Rosie laughed softly to herself as she felt for a chair. That was the stupidest thought that was ever thought.

  It was Colin. Of course there would be food.

  “Ouch!” Bitty cried when there was a soft banging noise.

  “What happened?” Colin asked sharply.

  “I hit my toe on a chair,” Bitty whimpered. “Or maybe a table leg, I don’t know. I can’t see.”

  “Did you hear anything fall from the table?” his voice came again, with faint scrambling sounds. “Everything all right?”

  Rosie groaned. “Except for Bitty’s toe, I’m sure everything is just fine!”

  There was a muffled laugh from someone, though it was impossible to say whom.

  “Everyone find a seat,” Kit announced from wherever he was.

  “How?” Rosie muttered under her breath.

  “Why is there no light?” Ginny asked without much concern.

  Colin cleared his throat. “I believe Kit will answer that question.”

  “Yes,” Kit replied at once. “We are to eat by the light of the Yule candle.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “Is it lit already?” Ginny asked of the darkness.

  Someone sighed heavily, most likely Kit. “No, Ginny, it is not.”

  “Shouldn’t we do that?”

  Rosie bit down on her lips hard.

  “I will in just a moment,” Kit assured her. “Once everyone has a seat.”

  “But how are you going to know everyone has a seat?” Ginny persisted. “I can’t really see anything.”

  “Oh, very well,” Kit grumbled. He marched out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

  “Is he leaving?” Bitty asked, her voice tinged with worry. “What about supper?”

  “It’s all right, Bitty,” Colin told her with a patient sigh. “He’ll return momentarily.”

  Sure enough, Kit was back moments later, with a taper lit in one hand while the other shielded it.

  “The Yule candle,” Kit said as he carefully walked to the head of the table, “must be lit by a flame from the Yule log, which this is. It is traditionally a large candle, because it must burn from Christmas Eve until Christmas Day.”

  “So it’s that one?” Bitty interjected, pointing at the tallest candle on the table, situated in the only gold candlestick there.

  Kit paused and tried for a patient smile. “Yes, it’s that one.”

  “What makes it a Yule candle?” Ginny asked.

  “Tradition,” Kit grunted. “And lighting it on Christmas Eve with a flame from the Yule log.”

  “Oh,” Ginny answered, her lips staying in formation.

  “The head of the household must light the candle,” Kit explained, looking around at them all. “Once lit…”

  “Why?” Bitty asked. “Why can’t Colin do it?”

  Kit closed his mouth and looked at Bitty. “Who is older, Bitty? Me or Colin?”

  “You.”

  “That makes me head of the household, which means I must light the Yule candle, or it will bring bad luck.”

  Bitty’s eyes widened. “I don’t want bad luck.”

  “Neither do I. So I am now going to light this candle, and then we may eat.”

  “Finally,” Rosie muttered under her breath.

  Kit reached the taper out and touched it to the candlewick. “Once the candle is lit, it cannot go out until Christmas Day. We all must take care to see that it remains lit. No other candles can be lit from it, and an even number of people must sit down to eat, all at the same time. For good luck.”

  “This is getting more and more complicated,” Colin grumbled.

  The candle was lit at last and the chairs were now visible. The footmen, who had apparently been lurking in the background of the room, now came forward to help with the chairs.

  Rosie counted quickly, and noted that there were eight of them at the table, so they had Kit’s need for an even number covered. Now if they could all manage to sit down together…

  Cautiously, everyone sat at the same time, and Kit smiled at them all.

  “Very good,” he praised. “It appears we will have good luck after all.”

  The footmen lit more candles, dutifully not touching the Yule candle’s flame, and then exited the room, leaving two in the room to wait on the family.

  Good luck was ensured for the Gerrards.

  For now.

  The room was now filled with light, and the table was set.

  All that remained was for the food to arrive.

  Kit looked at Colin, seemed to hold his breath, then nodded.

  Colin grinned outright. “I present to you all the Gerrard Family Christmas feast!”

  The double doors into the dining room were thrust open, and the remaining footmen came back in, now bearing tray after tray, and the fragrances coming from each was mouthwatering. There was roasted beef, a goose, Cornish hens, and a Yorkshire Christmas pie. Seasoned vegetables, broccoli, cress, herbs, and cucumbers filled other corners, as did boiled and roasted potatoes, and three different kinds of breads were available with black butter and preserves. Near the head of the table were two towering jellies that seemed to be in the shape of stars, and their extravagant appearance seemed like something out of a painting of jellies rather than the real thing.

  It was astonishing how much was put on the table, which suddenly seemed too small for eight people and the food.

  “Happy Christmas, everyone!” Colin crowed, looking delighted beyond measure. “And save room for the second course! Mrs. Fraser has outdone herself with three different puddings, almond paste, sugar cakes, and apple dumplings!”

  Rosie looked at the food in astonishment, scanning the entire table slowly, and she was not the only one to do so.

  Susannah looked as though she might faint, while Marianne looked torn between amusement and apprehension.

  Kit had a carefully blank expression, which could have spelled trouble for them later.

  Bitty, Ginny, and Freddie gaped openly.

  Rosie looked at Colin across the table. “Colin… What are we eating tomorrow if this is the Christmas Eve feast?”

  He beamed at her in utter delight. “Another spectacular and scrumptious meal!”

  Rosie blinked at him. “Made from what? The entire county’s food supply is here.”

  “Nonsense,” Colin protested as others snickered. “This is what a Christmas feast is supposed to look like! Just wait until tomorrow, Doubting Rose. Mrs. Fraser is roasting lamb.”

  “Lamb!” Ginny squawked just one of the footmen began helping her with vegetables.

  Marianne covered her hand quickly. “You love roast lamb, Ginny. Remember?”

  Ginny shook her head insistently. “Not since Humphrey!”

  Kit lowered his silverware with a soft clatter. “Oh, not again.”

  Marianne gave him a warning look. “The lamb is not Humphrey, darling.”

  “But he might have known him!”

  “I’ll have some roast and some goose,” Bitty said loudly to the footman, who nodded and moved to get it for her.

  “Potatoes, Freddie?” Colin asked Freddie, his voice rising.

  Freddie nodded quickly, watching the rapidly deteriorating situation anxiously. “Boiled, please.”

  “No lamb!” Ginny cried, oddly displaying no tears.

  “The vegetables are quite good,” Susannah said without raising her voice at all. “I quite enjoy them.”

  “You don’t have to eat any lamb, Ginny,” Marianne promised soothingly.

  “I’ll eat her portion,” Kit offered as he got himself some Yorkshire pie.

  Ginny cried again, still without tears.

  �
�Happy Christmas, Gerrards,” Rosie said to no one in particular as she helped herself to the beef. “Pass the bread, would you, Colin?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  "That really hurt, Colin.”

  “I’ll wager it did. Biting into metal that hard isn’t advised.”

  “It’s not my fault! You didn’t say there would be coins in the Christmas pudding!”

  Colin sighed and rubbed Bitty’s back soothingly. “You’re right, I should have said something.”

  “That’s actually a tradition, you know,” Kit told the entire table.

  Rosie rolled her eyes as she helped herself to more pudding. Currently, she had found two pennies, a farthing, and a half a crown, and she was still searching.

  Tradition or not, if money was now going to be found in their meals she would eat as much pudding as she could stomach.

  It did help matters that the pudding was very tasty and just the right consistency. The other puddings had been delicious as well, but sadly without any financial benefits.

  She wasn’t entirely certain how she was still putting food into her mouth. The second course of the meal had nearly done her in, but then the Christmas pudding had been brought out and Colin had insisted they all had to have some. Bitty had looked ready to cry at that moment, but she had given in and taken one big bite of pudding.

  And consequently bit down hard on a farthing, prompting a surprised wail of pain and distress.

  Then the mad search for money had begun.

  Well, for Freddie and Rosie, anyway. The others had tended to Bitty.

  And then there was Ginny.

  After nearly ruining the first course with her pathetic whining about Humphrey and lamb and the like, she had eventually calmed enough to eat something. Once she had started to eat, there had been no further complaints or discussion from her. She had some of everything on her plate, and it all had been consumed. She was now on her second helping of each of the puddings, saving the Christmas one.

  Odd, Rosie would have thought her the sort to be frantically digging for coins amid the pudding, but there she sat enjoying the plum pudding without concern.

  Sometimes she did not understand Ginny Gerrard.