“No Miss Marriott?” Mamma asked Colin. “I do hope you extended our invitation?”
Georgiana had seen Colin greet Miss Marriott and her parents after church. Now she waited to hear his reply as well.
“I did indeed, but sadly, family obligations will keep her home tonight.”
“Then perhaps she might join us for New Year’s Eve or Twelfth Night instead?”
“That is very kind of you, madam. I shall ask her.” In his hands, Colin carried his own Christmas decoration: the promised kissing bough, made of holly, ivy, and mistletoe.
Georgie feared her mother might frown on the use of mistletoe, but she made no complaint and suggested he hang it in one of the parlour doorways.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gwilt conscripted Jack, James, and Mr. Henshall to assist him in fashioning the Devonshire equivalent of a Yule log—a massive bundle of ash branches bound together by bands of thin green saplings.
The three men bundled up and went back outside to assist Mr. Gwilt. Georgie wanted to join them but thought the better of it, considering her thin slippers. Instead, she helped Colin by finding a nail and ribbon to hang the ball of greenery in the doorway. She then held the stepladder while he climbed up to hang it.
At her family’s urging, Viola began playing “Deck the Halls” on the pianoforte while the rest of them finished decorating.
As she held the ladder, Georgiana noticed Cora helping Sarah and Jessie carry up food and drink. Mince pies, cider, gingerbread,black butter, hot rolls, and more. Soon the house was filled with the tangy aromas of wood smoke, roasted chestnuts, and mulling spices.
The men returned with the large bundle of bound branches, carried it into the drawing room, and laid it next to the hearth.
When all had gathered, Mr. Hutton senior, as the eldest present, helped place the long bundle onto the andirons. The wood soon sparked to life and distinctive orange and purple flames leapt from it.
Emily, most familiar with local customs, told them, “All unmarried women present should choose one of the bands, and whoever’s burns through first means that she will be the next to marry.”
Georgie said, “Cora and Mira are too young. So that leaves only me, Effie, and Sarah. Unless you want to participate, Mamma?”
“Heavens, no.”
Emily urged, “Quick, you three, choose a band.”
Sarah began to protest, “I don’t believe in such supersti—”
Emily shushed her. “Just pick one already.”
The three each did so.
As the fire consumed the bands, one after another gave way.
“Yours was first, Sarah!” Effie exclaimed. “That means ye shall be the first to marry.”
Sarah’s face reddened from more than the blaze of the fire, Georgie noticed, and her sister avoided Mr. Henshall’s gaze.
After that, they sang carols such as “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night” and “The First Noel.”
Then people rose to help themselves to the trays of savories and sweets arrayed on the sideboard in the dining room, while Mr. Gwilt handed round warm drinks.
The adjoining rooms hummed with lively conversation and laughter as people told stories, shared news, and talked of plans for Boxing Day, New Year’s, and Twelfth Night.
An hour or so into the evening, Georgiana lifted the large shallow dish piled with raisins and set it at the center of a small round table. Mamma carried in a jug of brandy—the signal that the game of snapdragon was about to begin.
Those who wished to play, or were cajoled into doing so, gathered around the table as Mr. Gwilt snuffed out the nearby candles.
“Have you played this game before, Cora?” Georgie asked.
“No, though I’ve heard of it. Won’t we burn our fingers?” Cora shot a surreptitious glance at the major’s burn scars.
At that, Jack whispered something into Viola’s ear and left the room.
