“You would be with us for a few months. Claire and William plan to come up in March or April, and they could bring you back to Sidmouth with them later in the spring.”
Georgiana hesitated. “That’s a long time to be away from home. What has Mamma said?”
“She said you may go, as long as you’re back in time to help with the busy summer months. She also said Cora is a great help and excellent company.”
“Did she? I am glad.”
Sarah nodded. “Cora has been good for Mamma. And we have you to thank for befriending Cora in the first place.”
Georgie shrugged. “Emily went to the school before I did. But she can’t kick a ball to save her life. That’s why I became better acquainted with Cora.”
“And we are all exceedingly glad you did.”
Sitting at her dressing table that night, Sarah unpinned and brushed her dark hair, taking notice of her blue eyes in the mirror.
Peter had often said she had fine eyes....
She supposed it was only natural to find herself thinking of her first love at such a time. She had grieved his loss for more than three years, saying she’d had one great love in her life and did not expect to have another.
All that had changed. Thinking of Peter now no longer brought feelings of sadness and loss. She was ready to move on.
Sarah did not have much to remember him by. A rough sketch Claire had attempted years ago. The last letter he’d sent to her before going to sea. And memories of his gentle, serious nature.
She knew he probably couldn’t hear her, yet even so she said, “Dear Peter. I hope you don’t mind. I don’t think you would,being as practical as you were. But I am finally going to marry someone else. His name is Callum, and I think you would like him. I certainly do. In fact, I love him more than I ever imagined loving anyone ever again....”
Her imagined conversation with Peter changed into a real conversation with someone who definitely heard her. “Thank you, God, for healing my broken heart and for this second chance with Callum Henshall.”
NINETEEN
CHRISTMAS goes out in fine style with Twelfth Night. It is a finish worthy of the time. Twelfth Night is ... brilliant with innumerable planets of twelfthcakes.
—Charles Knight,Leigh Hunt’s London Journal
Sarah had originally planned the Twelfth Night party to please Georgiana. Now she looked forward to it for reasons of her own. It would be her last night as a single woman. All her family and many friends would be there, and she would enjoy the company of the man she loved—dance with him too.
As the guests began to arrive, they were welcomed with glasses of spiced cider or punch and urged to partake from an appealing array of dishes spread on the long sideboard: smoked salmon, roast ham and beef, jellies, mince pies, and more.
Guests filled their own plates, and when everyone had seated themselves in the dining room or drawing room, Mr. Gwilt went around offering tea and coffee.
The Twelfth Night cake sat at one end of the sideboard, and received, to Sarah’s satisfaction, appreciative glances and eager comments from those who beheld it.
Soon Sea View’s public rooms were warm with firelight, candlelight, and good company. The pleasant hum of friendlyconversation punctuated by laughter and teasing warmed Sarah’s heart all the more.
When she judged the time right, she began cutting slices of cake and Mr. Gwilt handed them around. When all the guests had been served, she insisted their servants take slices as well, in old Twelfth Night tradition.
Mr. Gwilt was still busy offering refills of tea and coffee, so Sarah set a piece aside for him, while Jessie carried down slices to Mrs. Besley, Lowen, and Bibi Cordey, who had come over to help in the kitchen for the special night.
“Chew carefully now,” Sarah warned. “And do let us know if you find the bean or pea.”
“Looks delicious,” Mrs. Denby said, taking a big bite. She chewed for a moment, then her face puckered. She gingerly worked something to her lips and extracted it with pincer fingers. “A pea.”
Georgiana clapped. “How perfect! You are the Queen of Twelfth Night, Mrs. Denby!”
“Am I indeed? I have never been a queen before.”
“It suits you.”
Sarah took a tentative bite and paused to consider her work: good texture, moist, spicy, flavorful. A delicious cake, though she said it herself. She watched the others as they chewed, wondering who would find the bean, hoping it had not cooked too soft to be noticed, and hoping it landed in a man’s piece, if at all possible.
