Mr. Gwilt stared at the page in wonderment for several ticks of the clock, then looked up at Emily.
“And has he offered to publish your Gothic romance as well?”
“No. No interest yet, although I have not given up. But for now, you, Mr. Gwilt, are about to become a published author. And I could not be happier.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Be still my heart. If only dear Mrs. G were here to see this moment.”
Emily squeezed his hand. “She would have been so proud of you. I know I am.”
Sarah nodded. “Me too.”
“Now,” Emily said, “let’s go belowstairs and share the good news with Mrs. Besley and Lowen.”
He rose. “Very well. I don’t want to boast, but they will be happy to learn of it, I know.”
“And rightly so.” Emily led the way down the back stairs, and he and Sarah followed.
When they reached the kitchen, Mr. Gwilt gaped around the crowded room, where staff, family, and guests alike had gathered with glasses in hand.
At Georgie’s signal, they all called, “Surprise!”
On the clean worktable sat the brightly iced cake Sarah had made, and near it a brightly colored stuffed parrot—Parry, in his finely preserved plumage of red, yellow, and blue.
“Good heavens,” Mr. Gwilt breathed.
Mamma handed each newcomer a glass, and Emily raised hers to do the honors. “A toast to Mr. Gwilt. Congratulations on your well-deserved publishing offer.”
Everyone echoed, “To Mr. Gwilt.”
While the others sipped, the small man’s eyes misted over. “I am grateful, I am. You have all been so kind since Parry and I came here.” He turned to Sarah. “I thank you and your entire family—for work I like, new friends, and a place to call home. And I thank Miss Emily for helping me commit my little tales to paper and seeking out a publisher. There would be no book without you. Without all of you.” His lip trembled, and he raised his glass to hide his emotion.
Seeing Mr. Gwilt’s unease, Georgiana announced, “Now, let’s have cake!”
“Good idea,” Mr. Gwilt agreed and hurried to help serve despite their protests, clearly relieved to return to his more accustomed role as helper behind the scenes.
Sarah was proud of Georgiana. Once she overcame her reticence, she had committed herself wholeheartedly to putting on another play with Effie.
They decided to perform the theatrical late on the afternoon of Boxing Day and invited their families to attend, along with any staff members who would enjoy some diversion during their time off.
They set up rows of chairs before a makeshift stage in the parlour, and at the appointed hour, family and friends filled them, including Claire, William, and Mira, as well as Lowen and Mrs. Besley, who leaned on a cane as she walked to her seat. Their maid, Jessie, was spending the day with her betrothed, Tom Cordey, but his sister Bibi had come over to watch. Jack had gone out riding with Taggart and Chown, former soldiers and friends as well as his current manservant and cook. Viola, however, joined them and played a folk song on the pianoforte as an overture to the play.
With Effie as princess, Mr. Henshall as reluctant king, and Mr. Gwilt as narrator, the amateur troupe began performing a rather silly version of “St. George and the Dragon.” Even Cora had a part as a sheep, adorable in a white knitted hat with black felt ears pinned to it.
On cue, Colin entered as the dragon in a dark Oxford gown and black mask and gloves, and began mincing about, roaring and flexing his “claws.”
Eyes wide, Mira nestled close to Claire’s side.
The king first offered all their food and then their livestock in an attempt to appease the beast.
Colin scooped up sheep-Cora with a roar and carried her out the door, the dramatic effect lessened somewhat by Cora’s giggles.
Finally the king offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to any brave knight who could defeat the dragon. Enter Georgiana as St. George with wooden sword and spear-like stick, who—after a brief battle—slayed the dragon.
Colin fell in a melodramatic death swoon, while Georgie stood over him in triumph.
Mr. Henshall announced impassively, “Huzzah to St. George for ridding our realm of the fierce dragon.”
After Mr. Gwilt’s “And they all lived happily ever after,” the actors bowed before them. The audience clapped in appreciation, for the brevity of the play, perhaps, more than the quality.
