Chapter Eleven
Stir-up Sunday
Ellie couldn’t stop smiling even as she wiped her brow. “Very well executed, Maggie.”
Maggie immediately stopped stirring in the chunks of apples Mrs. Clark had added to the pot. “Will we be able to taste the apples?”
“Of course. You’ll be able to taste everything we’ve stirred in, from the raisins your father added, to the currants I stirred in, to the orange rinds that Peter will stir. Come on up, Peter.”
Darius helped Peter stand on the chair and pulled the long wooden spoon toward his son. “Mrs. Clark, we are ready for the next ingredient.”
The robust lady stepped up and poured in a small bowl of orange rinds. “There you go, Master Peter. Be sure to stir from east to west now.”
At Peter’s furrowed brow, Darius moved the spoon in the correct direction until his son took over, though he struggled to get the spoon through the thickening mixture.
Ellie kept her eye on the rinds, waiting for it all to slip beneath the surface. Finally, the last bit of orange disappeared. She clapped her hands together. “All done. Wonderful work, Peter.”
The boy brought the spoon back to where he’d started and let go. “Will it taste good? It looks like mud.” He squinched his nose up much like his sister often did.
Ellie laughed, not sure the children would appreciate the flavor after the pudding was cooked then soaked in brandy.
She was both surprised and pleased that this would be their first ever Christmas pudding and that she could be a part of it.
“I promise it won’t taste like mud. Did you know before we eat it, we set it on fire? ”
Peter’s eyes rounded before he looked to his father for confirmation. At Darius’s nod, Peter grinned. “I wish Christmas was tomorrow.”
As Darius helped Peter clamber down from the chair, he explained, “That would be unfortunate, because it takes weeks for the Christmas pudding to be ready.”
Peter frowned at that, not happy at all.
Maggie looked up at Darius. “Father, why did we never stir the pudding before?”
Ellie glanced at him in time to see the concern cross his face before he hid it well. “I did not know if you would enjoy working in the kitchen. Is this something you would like to do again next year?”
Maggie didn’t say anything, but Peter nodded. “Yes! Unless the pudding tastes like mud.”
Darius set his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Then I will ask you again after it’s served.”
“Mrs. Clark?” Ellie motioned the woman over. “Please continue with the ingredients and stirring. We leave the Christmas pudding to your expert ministrations.”
The cook beamed. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Come, children. It’s time for you to return to the nursery. I will visit later, and we will play bilboquet.”
Maggie took her brother’s hand as they all left the kitchen. Anna waited for the children in the entryway and continued upstairs with them.
Darius stopped to watch them go before turning to Ellie. “Would you like to rest now?”
Her nose had stopped running, and after all the rest she had the day before, that was the last activity she was interested in. “No. I’m feeling very much better.”
“Then may I suggest we adjourn to the parlor, where you can tell me who, beside my brother Anthony and his wife, you have invited to descend upon us between St. Nicholas Day and Twelfth Night?”
Not sure if he was pleased or not, she nodded.
“Of course.” She strode into the parlor, narrowly missing the doorframe, glad that the vase which used to sit on a table there was high on a shelf in his study.
When she reached the fireplace, she turned to face him.
“I do hope you don’t mind that I invited your brother. Lissa is one of my dearest friends.”
His right eyebrow rose. “Why would I take issue with my own brother coming?”
She shrugged, not sure if what Lissa had told her was true—that Darius had little patience for Lord Bellamore. “Not all families enjoy each other’s company.” At her statement, memories of her brother laughing at her came to the fore.
“You’re frowning. What is it you think about? Do you not treasure your family’s company?”
Surprised by Darius’s question, she snapped her gaze to his before looking at the wingback chair he stood behind. “I feel no ill will toward them, if that’s what you ask.”
He stepped around the chair. “No, that’s not what I ask. But now I must know. Did they not treat you well?”
She waved her hand, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
“I assure you, I was raised like many of my classmates. I was trained to lead a household, dance, play the pianoforte, and attract a husband, for I must be married off. Luckily, my parents focused on my brothers. It was only after they were married that Mother realized I had not been successful—not that she’d expected me to be, as she said often.
” Ellie crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to feel the hurt of her mother’s words again.
“But then I proved them all wrong, didn’t I? I married a marquess.”
Darius’s gray eyes did nothing to give away his thoughts on her confession. “Indeed you did.”
She uncrossed her arms. “Do be assured that I will do my very best for you and the children.” Anxious to change the subject, she moved to the small desk in the corner of the room.
“I believe you wished to know who was invited to visit us. I have my list here.” She shuffled through the papers filled with notes that cluttered the little writing desk.
One fell to the floor, but she ignored it, certain it wasn’t what she sought.
Finally, she found what she searched for.
“Here it is.” She lifted the sheet of paper and waved it high in triumph.
“Of course, I invited your dear parents and your three brothers. Only Lord Bellamore has responded as of yet, and Lissa stated they weren’t sure when they would arrive.
He’s investigating something for Lord Sommerset.
Lord Sommerset is married to the duchess’s sister.
I assume that once your brother finds what he’s looking for, they will settle in here for the season.
I also invited my classmates, Lady Sophie, Lady Georgina, and Lady Rose.
I did receive a letter from Sophie. She will be visiting next week with Georgina and one of the new ladies.
Rose, unfortunately, must attend her mother’s events and already left for Sunnydale Manor. ”
Darius didn’t say a word.
Was he wondering about his friends? Quickly, she turned back to the desk and rifled through the papers once more.
She’d almost forgot. Not finding what she wanted, she spied the paper on the floor and bent down to retrieve it, but when she stood, she bumped her head on the side of the desk, just where a decorative metal knob protruded.
“Ow.” She dropped the letter and grabbed the back of her head, rubbing it.
“Here, let me see.”
Startled, she jumped forward, stumbling toward the desk, but before she made contact, Darius grabbed her to him, spinning her around.
Immediately, her head was forgotten as she breathed in his deep musk scent and reveled in the feel of his strong arms around her.
“Are you quite all right? Are you dizzy?”
She could actually feel his chest vibrate as he spoke. It was a heady feeling. Reluctantly, she lifted her face from his shoulder and looked up at him. “I don’t think so.”
As he set her away from him, but still held her by her shoulders, she wished she’d lied. She liked it when he held her. Maybe she should ask him to hold her more often. They were married, after all.
He pulled out the chair at the desk and guided her to sit. “Where did you hit your head?”
She raised her hand and set her fingers on the spot. “Here. It was just the knob on the side that makes it look like there are drawers there, but there aren’t.”
He moved her fingers and gently pushed aside her hair. “It looks red. It may swell.”
She bit down on a smile. Her hair was red, so seeing her skin red would be rather difficult, but she was quite aware of what could happen.
It wasn’t the first time she’d hit her head, but she didn’t plan to think back and count how many times she had.
“If it swells, I can use a cold cloth.” She stopped herself from explaining how she knew that.
He moved to stand before her. “I’ve had a few knocks on my head in my time. The best thing for it is ice.”
“Yes, that’s true, but as it’s so small, I doubt I’ll need any. Did you get knocked in the head playing with your brothers or at school?”
He grimaced. “Both. I hadn’t truly understood that I was the heir, though I was quite filled with hubris over being the eldest, so I insisted on trying everything first and on being better than all my brothers.”
“And were you? Better than they?” She could see him outshining all of them.
“At some things, but we all had our unique skills and abilities.”
She very much enjoyed learning about him. Imagining him as a young man was fun. “And what were you especially good at? Was it math? No, riding. No, you were a perfect shot.” She grinned, quite certain she must be right with one of her guesses.
“According to my mother, my best skill was telling others what was best for them and what they should do.”
She laughed, absolutely delighted with his answer. “See, I told you that you were stuffy.”
He raised his right eyebrow. “Actually, I was far from stuffy. Commanding? Yes. Authoritative? Absolutely. Beyond confident? Always. Right?” He gave her a self-deprecating smile.
“Sometimes. As I said, I was rather filled with pride that I was the eldest. It wasn’t until I began to learn the responsibilities of an estate and how to shoulder the wellbeing of all who depended on that estate that I shed my pride and allowed myself to truly learn. It was a humbling experience.”