That morning, they attended divine services once more. The vicar read prayers and administered the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. A small local choir sang a Christmas anthem, and afterward, friends and neighbors greeted one another with a chorus of “Happy Christmas.”
Then they went home to put the finishing touches on a magnificent Christmas feast. This time the entire family would gather along with Mrs. Denby, Armaan and Sonali Sagar, and Mr. and Mrs. Hornbeam. They’d had to move a second smaller table into the dining room to accommodate everyone.
Sarah went belowstairs to assist with preparations. Mrs. Besley still found it difficult to stand for long but directed from the chair in the corner. Thankfully, Bibi Cordey had once again agreed to work a few additional hours a week to fill the void. Jessie, Lowen, and even Mr. Gwilt lent a hand in the kitchen as well. With everyonehelping, the goose had been roasted to perfection with sage and would be served with both gravy and an apple sauce. The pudding sat on its platter, ready to be set alight just before serving.
They would begin with white soup, followed by the goose, cauliflower and broccoli with melted butter, and potato pudding. They would end with jellies and almond paste molded into fancy shapes and the plum pudding.
The day before, there had been some discussion as to who should carry in the prized Christmas pudding. Mamma, as hostess? When she demurred, Sarah had asked Mr. Gwilt if he would like to do the honors, and he had stammered and grinned like a schoolboy. “Never done the like before. I would be delighted to do so, I would.”
The meal began with a prayer offered by Mr. Hornbeam and a toast led by Mr. Hutton.
When they had finished the other courses, Mr. Gwilt entered, chest puffed with pride and pleasure, carrying in the plum pudding. A sprig of holly sat on top to represent Jesus’s crown of thorns, and low brandy flames burnished its surface. Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately.
Sarah wondered again what Colin Hutton had added to the pudding batter. Hopefully, traditional tokens or coins, but with him who knew?
When the flames subsided, Mr. Gwilt moved the pudding to the sideboard and began scooping portions.
Jessie served plates to each person and passed around a pitcher of brandy sauce.
“Now, take care as you eat,” Sarah advised. “Colin, here, took it upon himself to slip in several tokens of his own.”
“That I did,” Colin admitted with a self-satisfied grin.
Tentatively, gingerly, they all began to spoon and nibble their servings of pudding.
Within moments, a few people began lifting table napkins to discreetly remove items from their mouths.
Everyone else, and especially Colin, watched with eager interest. He said, “Do tell if you’ve found something in yours.”
Wiping a small object with her linen napkin, Georgiana wasthe first to announce her find. “I have a tiny silver ... boot?” She held it up and peered at it. “Yes, a boot.”
“Ah!” Colin said, clearly savoring the moment. “That means there will be travel in your future.”
“I certainly hope so,” Georgie replied.
James lifted a coin. “I found a thruppence.”
“That signifies wealth or good fortune.”
“I have a tiny horseshoe,” Mrs. Hornbeam said, holding it up.
“Ah. Good luck for you.”
“I got a thimble,” Effie said. “I suppose that means I shall never marry?”
“Not necessarily. It can also mean thrift.”
“No, that’s not it.” Mr. Henshall adamantly shook his head. “Definitely not thrift.”
Effie made a face at him.
“And you, Mr. Henshall?” Colin asked.
“I have a small wishbone, perhaps from a quail?”
“Indeed. And that means your dearest wish shall be granted.”
Callum Henshall, seated across the table from Sarah, let his gaze rest on her, and he echoed Georgiana’s words, “I certainly hope so.”
