“Would you like some Christmas pudding, Ginny?” Marianne asked with the utmost gentleness. She had been very cautious with Ginny after her earlier tantrum, and now seemed almost afraid to even speak to her.
No one at the table blamed her one iota for that.
Ginny shook her head. “I have pudding,” she stated, pointing at her plate.
Marianne frowned and looked at Colin, who returned her look with one of utter bewilderment.
“But Ginny,” Colin said in a placating tone, “you could find money in the Christmas pudding.”
She shrugged a shoulder and continued eating. “Bitty almost broke a tooth. Freddie and Rosie are collecting coins from the pudding instead of eating it. Seems a perfectly good waste of a pudding, and more trouble than it’s worth.”
Rosie snorted a laugh and covered her mouth with her linen.
“How much is supposed to go into the pudding?” Susannah asked Colin in a low voice. “Traditionally.”
Colin looked sheepish, which was fairly typical. “One silver coin.”
Susannah’s eyes were wide, and then she closed them, shaking her head. “Colin…”
“What?” he protested.
Bitty rubbed at her jaw with a faint whimper.
“A sovereign!” Freddie cried, holding the coin aloft.
Rosie grumbled at that. “Lucky.”
“A sovereign?” Susannah cried, turning to Colin again. “Colin!”
“What?” he cried again, gesturing around. “It’s Christmas!”
“So you toss an exorbitant amount of money into dessert?” Susannah looked ready to spit fire, if that were possible, and Rosie settled herself in to enjoy the spectacle.
Colin shifted awkwardly in his seat. “It’s called generosity.”
“No, it’s called stupidity!” Susannah leaned an elbow on the table and put her head in one hand.
“No one is complaining!” Colin said defensively.
Bitty raised her hand, still rubbing her jaw. “I am. I’m complaining.”
Colin shushed her at once.
“It is a trifled hard to eat the pudding given the amount of money within,” Marianne offered with an apologetic smile, “but I thank you for the shilling.”
“I only have a penny,” Kit announced sadly. “I was hoping to get at least sixpence.”
Susannah leveled a look up and down the entire table. “None of you are helping matters.”
“I haven’t had any,” Ginny pointed out as she took another large bite of plum pudding.
“Which just proves you’re not as mercenary as we thought,” Rosie told her.
Bitty looked around with a furrowed brow. “Is there any more of the jelly? That might feel good on my teeth.”
“Later, Bitty,” Kit said with a smile. “Let’s not make the footmen bring food back up if they don’t have to.”
Freddie was suddenly intrigued. “Did you just give Bitty permission to go down to the kitchens later, Uncle Kit?”
“Sounded that way to me,” Rosie murmured, leaning back and pushing her plate aside.
Kit looked taken aback. “I… erm…”
“How any of us will still be eating after this is beyond me,” Marianne announced with a wince.
“But it was good, yes?” Colin asked, eagerly looking around.
“You can’t possibly take credit for the quality of the food, Colin,” Rosie told him, rolling her head on the back of the chair to look at him. “I don’t think you roasted the goose.”
He frowned at her. “Listen, little tart tongue…”
“Colin…” Susannah warned, still looking as she had before.
“It was very good, Colin,” Ginny assured as she finished her pudding. “When you go down to the kitchens in the middle of the night, don’t eat the last of the apple dumplings. I want some tomorrow.”
“When you do what?” at least three people from the table asked at the same time.
“Ginny!” Colin cried in distress.
She looked mildly apologetic. “I didn’t mean to.”
Now Susannah had both hands over her face and made a weak noise of distress.
“Three years you’ve kept that a secret,” Colin scolded, “and this is the moment you choose to announce it to the family?”
“Is that what happened to the last of the chestnuts?” Kit asked mildly, staring at his twin with a faint smile.
“I think we had better have Mrs. Fraser brought up here to thank her for all of her tireless efforts in this feast,” Marianne announced loudly. “What say you?”
Before waiting for anyone to respond, she gestured at one of the footmen, and he left the room quickly.
“Why have Mrs. Fraser come to the dining room?” Ginny asked Marianne, frowning.
Marianne looked surprised and blinked for a moment. “Because we have just enjoyed a wonderful feast that she put together.”
“But isn’t that what she is supposed to do?” Ginny’s expression was riddled with confusion and uncertainty. “She is the cook, her task is to make the food.”
Colin clamped down on his lips and Kit released a muffled groan.
“So you don’t think we ought to express gratitude for her work?” Marianne asked Ginny, her tone sharpening.
“Was I like this?” Rosie muttered to Kit.
He gave her a knowing look, and nodded once. “You were.”
“Good heavens,” Rosie replied as Ginny considered that with too much thought. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Laws,” Kit whispered back. “And Colin would not do well in prison.”
Rosie choked on a laugh, covering her mouth with the linen.
“No, we should,” Ginny finally relented, nodding her head. “But why the fuss over it?”
Marianne turned to look down the table at Kit, her eyes widening in distress.
“Because it’s Christmas, Ginny,” Susannah said as she moved her hands from her face. “Even for Mrs. Fraser.”
That seemed to do the trick and Ginny gave a noise of acknowledgement, then was silent again.
The doors to the dining room were opened again, and this time Mrs. Fraser came through, looking slightly frazzled and worried.
“Ah, there she is!” Colin got to his feet, applauding her.
Kit rose and did the same, while the rest just sat and applauded politely.
Mrs. Fraser looked around at them all, clearly not understanding. “What is this, sir? Everything all right?”
Kit came to her with a smile. “Everything is wonderful, Mrs. Fraser. We simply wanted to express our gratitude for this most excellent feast, and for all that you have done for us today.”
She stared at him as though he had lost his mind. “It’s my job, sir. What else would I do?”
“See?” Ginny cried, flinging a hand out at Marianne, who huffed, shaking her head.
“But you do your job so well, Mrs. Fraser,” Colin praised as he came around the table to join them. “Truly exceptional.”
Mrs. Fraser looked at Colin for a long moment, then back at Kit. “It was his idea to applaud, wasn’t it?”
Kit nodded easily. “He wanted to make a fuss. My wife wanted to have you come up so we might thank you, but Colin made a show of it.”
“No surprises there, sir.” Mrs. Fraser bobbed a curtsey, holding her apron out to the sides. “Thank you, sirs. Ma’am. Misses. It is a right pleasure to serve ye, and if ye’ll be needing nothing else, I have tomorrow’s feast to prepare.”
“Oh, no!” Bitty moaned, collapsing against her chair. “There’s another one?”
“That’ll do, Mrs. Fraser,” Marianne told her with a warm smile. “Thank you.”
“Please, help yourself to anything you like,” Kit offered. “You and your staff. You’ve all deserved it. Especially with the Christmas pudding.”
“Oh, I’ve helped myself to the Christmas pudding, sir,” Mrs. Fraser chortled. “Or rather the coin Mr. Colin gave me to put in it. I could only manage to get half of it
in there.”
“Half?” Susannah cried weakly. “Colin!”
“Shall we all adjourn to the drawing room?” Kit said quickly, smiling too brightly for his nature. “Come, we’ll call for the children and Nurses A.”
On cue, everybody scrambled except Susannah, who was staring at her husband as if she had never seen him before.
He stood in place as Mrs. Fraser left him, smiling very uncertainly.
Poor Colin, Rosie thought as she followed the others out. He really had been a very good brother to her.
A pity, that.
“And that’s how the Scottish celebrate Christmas,” Marianne said with a smile. “Or Yuletide, as some still call it.”
Everyone in the room stared at her with furrowed brows, and the utmost confusion.
“All of the Scottish people do that?” Bitty asked, her mouth twisting.
“Well, I don’t know about all of Scotland,” Marianne laughed as she bounced Cat on her knees, “but it’s certainly how my cousins celebrate.”
“Remind me to be the first person to cross the threshold tomorrow,” Freddie said under his breath to Rosie.
“Not if I get there first,” she retorted as she tickled Amelia, who giggled with an adorable squeal.
“I’ll fight you for it.” He winced as his brother, seated in his lap, suddenly swung a hand at his face, narrowly missing him.
“I think that’s the way it goes.” She frowned and shrugged once. “At least that sounds like how Marianne’s family does it.”
“You can’t just walk across the threshold,” Marianne told them with another chortle, picking up on their conversation. “You have to bring gifts. Some of them are very specific.”
“What are they?” Bitty asked eagerly.
Marianne’s brow creased, and she bounced Cat in thought. “Do you know, I am not entirely sure? I’ll have to write to my cousin Gwen and ask her. Come to think of it, that might be a New Year’s custom, not Christmas.”
“And there’s no telling if the MacLaines celebrate in the traditional way,” Colin crowed as he came into the room, Susannah in tow. “You forget, I’ve met your cousins, Marianne.”
She grinned up at him. “Yes, and I won’t tell you what their letters to me said about you.”
Colin coughed in mock distress. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Gerrard, but I happen to know I was their favorite guest.”
Marianne made a doubtful face. “Perhaps the silliest, but I doubt the favorite.”
“I don’t understand the egg part,” Ginny broke in. “Why are they staring at it once it’s cracked in a bowl?”
“You’re too young to worry about that part, Ginny,” Kit chuckled as he carried baby Daphne around the room. “It’s to determine the profession of the potential mate. You would only need be concerned if the cake that the egg was cooked in cracked. That meant bad luck.”
“I’ll say,” Ginny muttered, shaking her head as she toyed with her skirt. “Cracked cake is the worst.”
“May that always be the worst of your concerns,” Colin invoked drily, plopping down on one of the sofas. He gestured for Amelia, and Rosie handed her over. “Hello, little love.” He gave her several loud kisses on her plump cheek, and she giggled again.
“Papa!” Livvy cried, running over to him and clambering up onto the sofa beside him. “We got to have pudding!”
“You did?” he replied dramatically. “Oh my goodness, Olivia Gerrard! Was it scrumptious?”
She nodded quickly, though Rosie doubted her niece had any idea what scrumptious meant. “And it was good, too!”
There it was.
Colin chuckled and patted her cheek. “I bet it was, love. Did your brother behave?”
She nodded obediently. “Yes, he was very good. Nurse Alice even said so. But Rafe wasn’t. He threw a potato at Nurse Agnes.”
“Did he?” Kit asked, looking over at his son, who was now coming into the room, his hand clutched in the grasp of the nurse in question. He still had tear tracks on his cheeks, but he came without hesitation or fear. “Well, son?”
Nurse Agnes smiled down at the little boy. “It’s all right, Master Rafe, you can tell your papa.”
“I threw potato,” Rafe admitted. “I was bad.”
“Hmm,” Kit mused, staring at him with some disapproval, but there was definitely amusement in his expression as well.
“He offered his apologies when prompted,” Nurse Agnes told him, still smiling. “And he was not permitted dessert, which was the punishment explained to him. With your permission, sir, I think he might be able to earn it back if he has good behavior going forward.”
Kit nodded thoughtfully, and it seemed the entire room held their breath.
Why, Rosie couldn’t have said. It was not as though Rafe having pudding was that great of a matter. But suddenly it was important.
It just was.
“I think that would be possible,” Kit allowed, smiling at his boy, who really did look unnervingly like him. “Has he behaved since then?”
“Oh, yes,” Nurse Agnes gushed. “He has been a little lamb, sir. He just helped me to tidy the nursery without a single complaint.”
“Really?” Kit exclaimed, giving Rafe another look. “Good lad, Rafe. That was very well done.”
Rafe beamed and wiped at his face, then released the nurse’s hand and ran to his mother, who gave him a few very sound kisses before releasing him to Rosie and Freddie. Rafe settled himself onto Rosie’s lap and popped his thumb into his mouth.
“Now what do we do?” Bitty asked as she stared into the fire of the Yule log, which was still burning brightly.
No one seemed to have an answer for that.
Then Colin, being Colin, sighed dramatically. “I don’t think I can do anything for at least an hour. I am much too filled with food and cannot possibly move.”
“Me too,” Susannah moaned, taking the baby from him and settling her against her shoulder. “That was too much.” She looked at Colin with warning. “You hear me? Too much.”
“I hear you, I hear you,” he responded, waving a dismissive hand.
“I liked it,” Ginny piped up.
Rosie coughed in surprise. “After the fuss you made, Ginny Gerrard?”
“Rose, don’t start that up,” Kit warned, shaking his head.
“There you have it,” Colin announced, gesturing to Ginny. “She liked it. That’s one vote of confidence.”
“Oh, is that what you were looking for?” Susannah asked him, her smile turning teasing.
“It helps.”
“So are we just going to sit here, then?” Bitty inquired, still watching the fire.
Kit suddenly cleared his throat. “Well, as it happens…”
It wasn’t like Kit to be particularly secretive, so they all perked up eagerly, more curious than anything else.
“We may be expecting some visitors,” he told them all, his smile turning crooked.
“Visitors!” Bitty squealed excitedly. “I love visitors!”
“You love everything,” Ginny mumbled.
“And I’m wearing my new dress!” Bitty went on, ignoring Ginny. “The red does suit my complexion, doesn’t it, Marianne?”
“Yes, dear.”
“We all have new dresses,” Ginny said unnecessarily, “and we all have the same complexion.”
“Who’s coming, Kit?” Bitty asked, either not hearing her sister or plainly ignoring her.
Rosie’s money would have gone on the latter option.
He looked at Bitty rather fondly. “Well, Bitty, this morning I went down to the village to see to some business, and I happened across a small group of people that I thought might be perfect to join us this evening.”
“Who?” Bitty cried, nearly beside herself.
Kit smiled smugly. “Carolers.”
“Carolers!” Bitty clapped her hands together and was almost bouncing in her seat. “Do you think they’ll let me sing with them, Kit? Do you?”
“Perha
ps,” he said, turning Daphne in his hold as she fussed. “But that’s not all.”
Bitty frowned. “It’s not?” she asked innocently.
“It’s not?” Marianne echoed in a completely different tone, her eyes suddenly flashing.
Kit chuckled uneasily, which spoke volumes, as he was usually quite collected. “No, there’s another surprise in store.”
“Tell us!” Bitty begged, and Ginny echoed it, suddenly caught up in the moment.
“Yes, Kit,” Marianne insisted drily. “Do.”
“I thought I would adhere to local Yorkshire customs and tradition at this time of the year,” Kit went on, speaking faster than normal. “So I thought we would have some carolers, and with them I invited some local Morris men.”
“Who’s Morris?” Ginny asked him, her voice hushed. “Do we know him?”
“No, not a him, it’s a them,” Kit explained. “Morris men are locals who are dancers, and this particular group happens to be a group of sword dancers, and…”
“Swords?” Marianne interrupted, her voice screeching.
“I’m told it’s very intricate,” Kit said as he tried for a pleased smile. “Very coordinated, very dangerous…”
“Dangerous?”
“For those who are not trained, as these professionals are.”
“Professionals,” Marianne repeated. “So they will be expecting money.”
Kit gave her a weak smile. “I already paid them. This morning. And a bit extra, because they said one of their members could throw the swords.”
Marianne gaped at him without sound, her mouth working.
“When?” Susannah asked weakly. “When are they coming?”
Kit glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, then frowned. “They should already have been here. That’s disappointing.”
“Disappointing?” Marianne echoed with a laugh that did not hold any humor in it. “Disappointing?”
Rosie and Freddie looked at each other, then scrambled to their feet, as did Bitty and Ginny.
“We’ve got to work on the theatrical,” Rosie rambled, picking up Rafe and practically running from the room.
Freddie followed with Matthew, and Bitty and Ginny took Livvy’s hands, pulling her along, all of them racing up the stairs to the nursery.
There was absolutely no need for them to witness the storm that was about to burst forth down below.
A Gerrard Family Christmas (Arrangements, Book 8) Page 19
