“Gracious! Do you mean she gives something to everyone?”
Georgy waved an airy hand. “Mama considers it her duty. All the servants get a gift too, and there’s a ball for them on Christmas Eve. We always have a cold collation to give them time to prepare, and Mama insists we all go down to make an appearance at the ball. She won’t dance these days, but I’ll have to partner the butler for one turn, and Alex must take out Mrs Herbert.”
A sinking sensation had crept into Apple’s stomach. “And the gifts?”
“The servants get their boxes on the day after Christmas, when they are allowed to go off to visit their families once breakfast is served, and then Papa and Alex ride in the hunt. I won’t be able to go in my condition, and Mama gave it up years ago.”
This did not answer the question in Apple’s mind, although the insight into Alex’s life both alarmed and awed her. “And what of Christmas day?”
“That’s a family day with us, though many choose to entertain. Mama thinks it is unfair on the servants and she refuses to burden them. There are enough parties and visitors through the following days, she says.”
Apple sighed inwardly. It was no use. She was going to have to ask outright. “Do you then exchange gifts on this family day, Georgy?”
Her friend — when had she started thinking of Georgy as her friend? — wrinkled her nose as she looked at her. “What troubles you, Apple? You won’t be expected to give anyone a gift.”
“But if, as you say, your mother is in this habit of giving gifts to all the tenants…”
Georgy laughed. “Yes, but it will only be a token, Apple. You need feel under no obligation.”
Apple could not dismiss it so lightly. Apart from the hideous possibility of receiving gifts to which she could not reciprocate, she already felt under an immense obligation to the Luthries. Not only had they accepted her presence without protest, but Lord Luthrie had taken pains to draw her out and even to provide her with entertainment.
“Do you play cards, Appoline? Or backgammon perhaps? Chess?”
“I was taught chess, but I’m afraid I am not very good.”
Lord Luthrie had smiled at her, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur. “Neither am I, my dear, but I do enjoy the game. Shall we try it?”
In fact, he proved excessively good and Apple had a hard time pitting her wits against him. She could not have acquitted herself too badly, however, for he solicited her for a game on several occasions, one of which went on so long they were obliged to leave the chessmen in place and return to the game upon the following evening.
On another occasion, he’d caught her as she left the breakfast parlour with Georgy. “Do you care for plants, Appoline?”
She stared at him. “Plants?”
Georgy chimed in. “Oh, Papa, you are not going to bore poor Apple with your dratted exotic specimens, are you?”
Lord Luthrie twinkled. “Well, if she does not care for them, she has only to say so, you know.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You exhibit intelligence enough for chess, my dear Appoline, so I supposed you might have a little more extensive interest than mere frills and furbelows.”
Amused and a little intrigued, Apple agreed to it. “I’d like to see your exotic specimens, sir, if it is not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I am always delighted to show off my darlings.”
His darlings proved to be a collection of plants of varying kinds, which appeared to Apple’s untutored eye both weird and wonderful. Lord Luthrie was clearly in his element, becoming more animated than she’d before seen him, and rapidly losing her as she tried to keep up with strange Latin names and the details of the care required to encourage rare plants to grow out of their natural environment. Apple rather enjoyed herself, and the visit gave rise to her idea for overcoming the vexed question of Christmas gifts.
“Should you object to it, sir, if I came again to have a look at them?” she asked, when at last Lord Luthrie arrived at the end of his enthusiasms.
“Feel free, my dear. I am only too pleased to find someone who is actually interested enough to come again. Only don’t touch, and make sure to keep the door closed.”
Apple promised, resolving there and then upon creating a series of charcoal drawings as gifts for her hosts for Christmas. She’d begun by asking Georgy for paper and pencils, pretending a wish to do a little sketching.
“For it will give me something to do while you are resting.”
Georgy was ready enough to oblige her. “Certainly, if you care for it. I must say I hated the drawing classes at Madame Fribourg’s. I could not wait to abandon my sketching book. I still have it somewhere. You may use it if I can find it.”
A hunt through the plethora of childish toys and books in a cupboard in the nursery produced the sketch book and a collection of pencils. Apple developed a habit of taking the book to the family room along with some white work and pretending to sew there, which allowed her to make surreptitious sketches of her subjects.
