“Is there any plum pudding?”
“Well, yes,” Aunty Violet said, “but we’re saving it for tomorrow.”
“Why is that?”Aunty Cait asked with a frown.
“Tradition,” Mama told her.“We always serve it on Christmas Eve.To my mind, the flaming pudding signals the arrival of the holiday.”
“Oh, aye?I hadn’t noticed.”Aunty Cait pulled a face.“As Kendra would say, a pox on tradition.”
The cake plate was passed and the family continued chattering.Jewel took a few bites of her now-cold venison, thinking more about Henry.Did he love her?He’d said so, but in such a flowery, rehearsed manner, she couldn’t help but wonder if his words had been sincere.And yet—
“What’s wrong?”her father asked.
She was all set to say “Nothing” in a not-so-kind way, when she realized he hadn’t been speaking to her.He’d addressed the question to Aunty Kendra, who was looking unusually glum.
“Nothing,” Aunty Kendra snapped in the same not-so-kind way Jewel would have.
Jewel wondered what had predicatedthatodd exchange.
But not for long, because she couldn’t help returning, once again, to the much larger conundrum of Henry’s proposal.
How on earth was she—a girl who couldn’t even make up her mind between onion sauce and prune sauce—supposed to decide her whole future in the next two days?
Twelve
Caithren
THE SKIES HADcleared and the snow had ceased, leaving a fresh, soft blanket outdoors.The sounds of shouts and laughter drifted inside, making Caithren smile.Her two older sons had organized a snowball fight in the dark, by moonlight, with Jewel, Jewel’s brothers, and Kendra’s daughters.It was lads against lasses, and it seemed to Cait that the lasses were winning, even though they were outnumbered.
The Chases bred strong, clever women.
In the long dining room, the younger cousins were playing blowpoint: firing tiny paper balls through a peashooter, aiming toward a chalk target drawn on the wooden floor.Cait’s son James was keeping score.“Twelve points!”she heard him crow.“That’s forty-two for you, Marc.”
Warm and cozy by the fire in the vast drawing room, Ford and Jason were playing backgammon while the rest of the family chatted about food, the weather, their children, the future of the monarchy, and life in general.The conversation was pleasant but banal.Feeling restless, Caithren rose and wandered into the adjacent kitchen.
Amy followed her with a candle and began lighting the lamps on the stone walls.“What are you after, Cait?More mulled wine?”
“Oh, I’m just having a wee look around.”Cait hadn’t been sure what she was after when she headed in here, but suddenly she knew.“Wheesht, scratch that.I’m looking for plum pudding.I’ve been craving it for days—I can think of nothing else.I know it’s not Christmas Eve yet, but Imusthave plum pudding.”
“It’s the child, you know.”Amy chuckled as she drew a large pewter platter from the rack and set it on the wooden table in the center of the kitchen.“Your growing daughter is craving plum pudding.”
“My daughter, aye?”Cait snorted.“The more you say that, the less I believe it.Where’s the pudding?”
“I’m not hiding it, I swear.”Amy crossed to a cupboard and fetched a large bowl while Cait found a spoon and took a plate from the freshly washed stack.
Kendra and Violet drifted in.
“What are you two doing in here?”Violet asked.
“Cait wants plum pudding.”Amy uncovered the bowl and upended the pudding onto the platter.“Shemusthave some.Or rather, her burgeoning babe must have some.”
“Itdoeslook good.”Always ready for a sweet, Kendra licked her lips.“It’s glistening.It looks perfect this year, Amy.”
“Well, it won’t be perfect anymore,” Cait declared.And with that, she grabbed a large knife and used it to carve a slice off the top of the domed pudding.
Violet gasped.“It was so pretty!”
“I’ll fix it,” Cait promised, plopping the slice onto the plate.
