Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
“Lady Alison!” Mrs. Hollingberry swept toward her. “What do we have here?”
“I believe it is called baking, Mrs. Hollingberry,” Alison said. She had a bowl filled with cake batter tucked under her arm, and she stirred as if her life depended on it. “Unless I am doing it incorrectly?”
Mrs. Hollingberry perry into the bowl suspiciously. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not baking.”
“No?”
“It is called stirring!” she cried. “The baking comes later.”
Alison scoffed. “You know what I meant.”
“How could I possibly?” Mrs. Hollingberry said cheerfully. “For all I know of you lords and ladies, you think that cakes spring magically from bowls of stirred batter. I would hate to be presumptuous.”
Alison laughed. “Well, thank you for clearing that up.”
“And Lord Grayhill…” Mrs. Hollingberry next looked at Daniel, who was standing back from Alison. “Shall you be having a stir?”
“No, I do not think I will be,” he said stiffly.
“No?” Mrs. Hollingberry looked down her nose at him. “I suppose you are just here for moral support, yes? If that is the case, you are doing a wonderful job.”
Alison laughed at the joke, and Daniel continued to do as he had been doing all day: scowling with menace.
“Keep at it!” Mrs. Hollingberry then said with cheer as she danced away. “The day is young and there are mouths to feed.”
“Will do!” Alison cried after her, keeping at stirring the batter. It was not an easy thing to do, she had to admit, and her arm was already sore. But she was enjoying herself, more than she thought she could do when baking, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
The day was unlike anything that Alison expected.
In her mind, it was set to be a simple affair. She assumed that mostly it would be helping to hang wreaths and decorate trees. That she would do little more than stand about and direct where things went.
What she found instead was more akin to a fair than anything else.
The town square of Whitehaven was flush with its citizens and bursting with cheer. Christmas was but a few days away, and most were there not to help decorate but to partake in the festivities of which there were many.
The children were playing games. The hired band sang loudly.
There was a maypole at the very center, and later there was sure to be a dance around its gait.
. Wreaths and banners were indeed being hung.
But mostly, stalls were what spread around the large square, and nearly all of these were dedicated to cooking… and then eating what was cooked.
What was more, it was all free!
This was not Alison’s first time, of course, and when her family were here, they often provided food and gifts for the townspeople, even if they did not always join in. And while she did not ask Daniel specifically, she assumed that those years he had been here, he might have done the same.
I wonder if he and his sisters ever joined in? Somehow, I sense that Daniel might not have been the type to do such a thing.
In this instance, most of the food was half paid for by the town, and the other half provided by its citizens.
Some of the stalls held spiced fruits. Many had sweetmeats and snacks of the Christmas variety, ready to be eaten.
But even more were set up so that baked goods could be prepared, then baked, and later eaten once the sun began to set.
And even more interesting than that, those who wished it were allowed to help with the preparation.
Alison was not much of a cook, but she was eager to try. So, when one of the stall’s owners asked if she wished to assist in the making of fruit cakes, she jumped at the chance.
“And how do I do this, exactly?” she had asked as she put on an apron to cover her coat. “I admit, I have never baked before.”
“It is easy to do, my lady,” the kindly owner of the stall explained. “I have the ingredients all set for you…” She indicated to the table which was packed with various chopped fruits. “All you need do is combine them and stir them into a batter. You know how to do that, yes?”
“I will figure it out,” she assured the baker.
It was more fun than it should have been.
But really, it wasn’t the act of mixing that Alison enjoyed, so much as it was the communal feeling that came with it.
As she mixed the ingredients into a large bowl, and as she started to stir, various villagers approached her, spoke with her as if she was an old friend, laughed and joked and made fun of how out of place she was.
“Maybe tomorrow, I’ll try being a Lord,” Tommy mocked when he found her behind the stall. Pickle saw him and raced around the stall, yapping and jumping up his leg.
“Oh, really?” Alison said. “You don’t have the look of a Lord; I hate to be the one to tell you.”
“It’s not about that.” Tommy scooped Pickle into his arms, letting the dog lick his face. “It’s about how you act.” Then he grinned and nodded at Daniel who stood at the back of the stall with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. “Sort of like you got a stick shoved up your –”
“Yes, yes,” she cut him off. “Point made.”
Indeed, despite how much fun Alison was having, she could not help but notice that the complete opposite was true for Daniel.
Oh sure, he had agreed to come today, and he had told her that he wanted to…
or that he wanted to because she did. But he had done nothing so far to suggest he was enjoying himself, and she doubted that it was going to change any time soon.
“Are you sure you do not wish to have a try?” She held the bowl out to him. The batter was mixed by then, but that wasn’t really the point. “It is more fun than it looks.”
“That is the very definition of damning with faint praise,” Daniel said, arms folded, curling his lips at the bowl. “I imagine stubbing my toe would be just as enjoyable.”
She rolled her eyes at the response.
It did not surprise her that he wasn’t having fun, just as it did not surprise her that he was not trying. That he was there at all should have been enough, that he wanted to spend time with her in a place that he would have rather had avoided.
But Alison wasn’t about to take his rejection so easily. She remembered their snow fight, what felt like weeks ago now, how resistant he had been, and how much fun he had when he finally relaxed and allowed it. He wanted to enjoy himself; she was sure. He just didn’t know how.
“What do you think?” She took a scoop of the gooey batter and started moving it to her mouth. “Is it ready?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow at her. “To cook? Most likely. To eat? Somehow, I doubt it.”
She moaned. “But I am so hungry…” The spoon of batter moved closer to her mouth. “I do not think I can wait that long.”
“Alison…” He frowned, confusion setting in. “I do not think you are supposed to eat it before it is cooked.”
“Oh, I don’t think it matters.”
“It might make you ill.”
“Might?” She pumped her eyebrows. “There is only one way to find out.” Then she glanced around as if to make sure that nobody was watching them. “Keep an eye out, will you? Make sure nobody sees.” She flashed her eyes at Daniel and opened her mouth to shove the spoonful of batter in.
“What are you doing?” Daniel leapt at her and grabbed her arm.
“Me?” she cried as if in distress. “What are you doing? Unhand me!”
“You cannot seriously consider eating that?”
“Are you going to stop me?” She raised both eyebrows at him as if in warning.
“I think I already am.”
“Typical,” she scoffed. “You just can’t help telling me what to do.”
“I am not –” He caught his tongue, fighting back his frustration. “I am just saying, it is not such a good idea to eat raw batter. I doubt it is good for you.”
“But you do not know.” She tried to pull her arm free.
He groaned. “Why are you so…”
“So what?” she demanded.
It took him a moment longer than it should have. No doubt he thought she was being purposefully obtuse. But she met his eyes, scowling at him, and then breaking into a smile. That was when he realized what she was doing.
“You are playing with me.”
“I am!” she laughed.
He scoffed and dropped her arm. “That wasn’t funny.”
“No…” Another idea came to mind then. A risky one, but under the circumstances, she figured it was worth it. “But this is.” And then, before he could stop her, she threw up the spoon filled with batter and shoved it right into Daniel’s face.
“Argh!” he cried out as the batter smeared across his nose and mouth. “What are you –”
“Lord Grayhill!” she cried as if in shock. “That is to be cooked! You cannot eat it out of the bowl!”
Daniel fumed as he wiped the batter from his face. He glared daggers at Alison, who blinked innocently. A moment of tension passed between them, she held her breath, praying that the joke worked. And that was when Daniel burst into laughter.
It was music to her ears. She sighed with relief and started to laugh along. Daniel chuckled and shook his head, and she winked at him.
“See,” she said rightly. “I knew you had it in yourself to have fun.”
“And this is fun, is it?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
That single moment changed the day completely. It was as if something had been unlocked inside of Daniel, allowing him to drop the sullen attitude and relax. To admit that he was enjoying the moment and that it was not such a bad thing to let down his guard.
“Give it here.” He snatched the bowl from her.
“What are you doing?” she cried in mock protest.
“Mixing,” he declared as he tucked the bowl under his arm and got to it. “Someone has to treat this seriously.”
“How about this, I will start another batter, and you can mix it. What a team we make,” she finished with a wink.
He smiled at her, rolled his eyes, but did not stop mixing.
It was like that for the next thirty minutes or so. Finally, Daniel stood with her. Finally, he chatted and laughed and even greeted those who dared to approach the stall.