“Well, my parents liked Barnabas, at least.” Father studied his youngest daughter, merriment lightening his usually stern features. “So ’tis Ruenna and Philip. Splendid, both of them.”
Eliza looked contrite. “I don’t mean to offend you, Father.”
He winked. “Is it too much to hope for twins?”
“Pish!” Eliza all but threw her napkin at him. “I’m thankful the Almighty gives most of us one infant at a time.”
A wail erupted from the upper floors, drawing every eye to the high ceiling. “Good practice for what’s to come,” Esmée said of little Alden. “Though I must say he’s a remarkably docile baby. And Alice can be a great help to you should you have questions.”
“Any news of Alice’s husband?” Father inquired.
“A letter of late has him at Fort Edward. But with the equipping of many frontier forts, that may soon change.” Esmée didn’t know if the missive brought more relief or concern. “He’s been ill of late, as have many of the men, under winter camp conditions.”
Quinn looked up from his plate. “I’ve heard there are to be no discharges and no more than two days’ furlough granted them, which is of no use, given they are so far away on the frontier.”
“Understandable since the frontier is beset with fighting,” Father replied, taking another helping of beef. “There’s a council of war occurring in New York with many colonial governors as we speak.”
The men began debating Virginia’s next move under the appointment of Colonel Washington as commander of the Virginia regiment. Good news, that. Washington was a very eligible bachelor, and rumors of his courting different belles abounded, but in truth, being a military man, he had little time for romance.
Esmée sipped her peach brandy and eyed the mincemeat tarts and plum pudding, trying to content herself in the moment, wondering what Henri was doing that very instant.
Thinking of her as she was him?
The holiday party commenced. Esmée nearly struck a wrong note at the harpsichord when Nathaniel Autrey entered the parlor. She was never sure of him, knowing him only slightly. Most men would have been offended by her refusal, but the sea chaplain seemed made of sterner stuff.
Esmée played on as a dozen guests chatted and toasted and laughed. Half an hour passed, and she cast Eliza a beseeching look. Her sister held court from the sofa she sat upon, finally giving a nod for the music to end. Eliza had confided that these select friends happened to be among Henri’s foremost supporters. That alone cheered Esmée. A shame the captain couldn’t be here among the very people who admired and espoused him.
When she arose from the bench to seek a quiet corner, Chaplain Autrey approached, bringing her a cup of punch. The thoughtful gesture touched her. Had he come alone? Or perhaps he’d needed a respite from the company of his doting aunts? Before she could cast about for an answer, he gave a small bow.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Shaw.”
She thanked him and took a sip. “Merry Christmas to you. How goes it at Mount Autrey with your aunts?”
“A far cry from my seafaring days, but I’ve no complaint. How is it on Indigo Island without a chocolate shop to be had?”
“The lighthouse is an admirable trade. ’Twould seem we’ve exchanged places. You here and I there.”
His gray eyes held hers for a decorous second. “And when is Captain Lennox due to return?”
“I cannot say.” A chill settled round her heart. “His orders are secret.”
“I wish him well. There’s no worthier captain to be had on land or sea.” His thoughtful reply bespoke many sailings and circumstances unknown to her. “I wish you both well.”
“Your kindness is much appreciated.”
“I’ve been meaning to return to the island. I’ve a debt to settle there with one of the crew. Soon the spring planting will be upon us and I’ll not be able to get away.”
“Perhaps Captain Lennox will be on hand to greet you then.”
Quinn approached, flushed and garrulous. “My friend! How good of you to come on such a blustery day. I trust you and your kin at Mount Autrey are all well?”
As the men fell into easy conversation, Esmée finished her punch. Looking toward the door the servants used, she said, “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have an errand elsewhere.”
Belowstairs, the Chevertons’ townhouse staff was making merry. Esmée could hear their hubbub before she’d made her way to a rabbit’s warren of rooms. A butler, two footmen, and half a dozen maids, including all the kitchen staff save the French cook, were gathered around a large table where they took their meals. Piled high in the center were hot cross buns and a half-drunk bowl of punch.
Suspended from the ceiling was a string with a stick bearing an apple at one end and a candle at the other. Bold souls tried to bite into the fruit without being burned, much to the amusement of onlookers.
At Esmée’s approach, the men stopped their game and the women fell silent. ’Twas rare for one of the family to make an appearance. ’Twas even unwanted ofttimes. But with spirits flowing freely and a mood of goodwill prevailing, the butler brought her a chair.
“I shan’t keep you from your snap-apple long,” she told them, setting a basket on the table. “In the spirit of Christmas, I’ve brought gifts. We are very thankful for the hospitality of this house.”
“I daresay ’tis Shaw’s chocolate,” one of the maids called out, her words meeting with muted laughter.
Esmée began dispensing small tokens of appreciation that Eliza and Quinn had chosen with care and she and Father had added to. Small sacks of cocoa, clove-studded oranges, gloves, pockets, penknives, coins, pins, and lace.
Alice sat near the hearth, Alden asleep in her arms, Lucy beside her. They were smiling as the gifts went round. A sense of fullness stole over Esmée. Mama seemed especially near at such times. She sensed to her bones that Eleanor Shaw would have enjoyed this firelit moment. Had she not said, “At Christmas be merry, and thank God of all, and feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small”?
Alice exclaimed over the wee bonnet and gown for Alden, while Lucy held up a length of lace for them both in the firelight’s glow.
“Is it true, Miss Shaw?” one of the footmen said. “That yer to marry Captain Lennox and keep the light?”
“Ye prattling ingrate!” the housekeeper snapped, appearing in the doorway, her mobcap the largest thing about her. She wiped her hands on her soiled apron. “’Tis no more concern of yers than the garden snake.”
With a smile, Esmée lifted the housekeeper’s gift from the table and handed it to her, then made her way to the door. “A merry Christmastide to you all!”
CHAPTER
fifty
Their return to Indigo Island was delayed by rough weather. Finally, after two days waiting in York, a small sloop took them across the expanse of churlish water, leaving both Esmée and Lucy a bit green by the time they reached shore. Still, after all the feasting and fuss of town, Esmée felt a rush of elation upon returning.