Everyone made speeches and declarations around that table. It was the point of holidays with Galoncryf and his wife, who were celebrating this time of year as they always did with the neighboring estates, none of which he minded except the bordering one. It was a small estate, not as established as Galoncryf. A Welsh family, with English names, who moved into the area within the last twenty years or so.
He didn’t have an issue with any of that; what he didn’t like was the couple had spawned an heir named John, who increasingly over the years had made eyes at Elizabeth, Galoncryf’s heir.
Not that he could do anything for it if John proposed.
“Ah!” she declared, “I know what I’ll do”’ Snatching a narrow knife and spoon from a nearby table, she leaned up on her toes and precisely cut the very top, in one long tube, no more than one or two fingers width. Carefully, she lifted her prize and laid it on the table.
“Surely you won’t eat all that?” He’d never be able to cover the hole she dug if she could.
“No,” she said, cutting a bit from the bottom and scooping it on the spoon. “I simply wanted the bottom bit. You can use the rest for the top again.”
And have a sunken hole no amount of nuts and dried fruits could make smooth again. Glancing up, he caught the housekeeper looking at them. One brow was raised, no doubt because it was taking some time. He ignored her as he carefully inserted the part Elizabeth wasn’t eating back in the hole she carved.
“We have guests waiting,” he said. His insides burned at even mentioning the guests. As much joy as he felt this time of year, this year felt different. Elizabeth was not only eligible for a proper marriage, but the estate had suffered its second harsh winter, which meant lost livestock and profits.
Between Elizabeth’s age and John being overly friendly, would this be their last Christmas together?
“We all know how I feel about those guests,” she whispered.
He did, but he didn’t want to talk of the Evans’s heir right now. “If all you’re eating is the bottom. Why didn’t you scoop some from the bottom?”
“Because that’s what I did last year.”
“It was brilliant, and no one knew.”
“I only did it because I ran out of time. Now I have plenty.”
She didn’t have plenty. She was stalling her return to the dining hall.
“What has he done this time?” he asked.
Alarmed blue eyes struck his. “Who told you?”
No one told him anything, but earlier this year, John had made inappropriate comments to Elizabeth during a walk. In response, she’d swung a branch at his head. Unfortunately, John ducked, so the branch barely glanced the side of the lout’s temple.
When asked about it, John had mentioned Drystan’s clumsiness with some horse tackle, and coin had come out of his pay. A ridiculous accusation since a steward wouldn’t be near the stables, but he’d taken that punishment so Elizabeth avoided the scandal of the true situation.
“Does he need another branch swung at him?” he asked.
A small smile curved her lips. “I do wish it had hit him.”
He had, too.
She looked down at the scoop of pudding on the spoon she held. “It should have been enough of an answer, shouldn’t it have? I meant it as a final answer.”
He didn’t completely understand her words, but he knew they made her sad or worried, and he wanted to take that away. She never did tell him what had happened between her and John, though he’d witnessed the end of it from a distance.
To demand she tell him was too forward, even for him. For what was she to him? His superior, his friend, and they’d danced this dance for so long, he hardly knew a way out of it. It would take a miracle to change their circumstances. To talk to her truly, he’d need wealth. Even if he found a pot of gold, he feared it wouldn’t be enough to prove his worth to her father, who hadn’t trusted him since they’d discovered his own father had neglected some of his duties.
On a quick inhale, Elizabeth inspected the ruined pudding. “That’ll show for certain this year.”
“I’ll put extra nuts at the top and a good dosing of brandy before the fire.” His mind worried on what to do to cover her latest antic, and he almost missed her small smile.
“Will I ever stump you?” she said.
“Me?”
“Oh, Drystan, I wish…” A softening in her eyes had his heart beating harder before she dropped her gaze to the bite still on her spoon.
