Could she stall the moment longer if she claimed a sudden illness?
The servants laid the pudding in the center of the table. It should have looked festive amongst the tiny platters of dried fruits, scattered candied almonds, and the gleaming dessert plates and spoons already laid out. Instead, all she saw was the top indentation Drystan had valiantly attempted to hide. A sunken hole that no amount of flourish could hide. She felt exactly like that.
“I love the extra decorations and nuts,” Mrs. Williams said. “You always come up with such clever ways to add to your Christmas puddings.”
“Thank you, I try—” her mother began.
Her father stood, and the room hushed. “I have an announcement to make!”
Something flared in Elizabeth; perhaps it was self-preservation caused by the despondency in her heart or the fact Drystan was standing in the room, and she wanted to spare him the truth.
Standing abruptly, her chair slammed against Mrs. Williams, who cried out. Elizabeth ignored her and any proprietary. “Does anyone care for any mince pies? I think I’d like some mince pies.”
John’s father gave an uncomfortable cough. Her mother’s hand went to her mouth to stop a small cry.
“Nonsense, Elizabeth,” her father decreed. “This isn’t a time for pies.”
The pies were Drystan’s favorite. How many arguments they’d had over the years on which was the better dessert! She wanted those pies with some sort of unknown fever she’d never experienced before.
“There’s always time for pies, isn’t there?” she said. “Some of us like pies loads more than the pudding.”
“What are you on about?” John said. His voice was a bit harsh, and he seemed to note it immediately. His sudden false smile didn’t fool her and caused her father’s brows to drop. Chuckling awkwardly in the silence, he continued, “The news your father has is far better than any dessert.”
Her father patted his stomach. “I don’t know, these desserts are awfully good.”
Elizabeth’s face flushed. Her father insinuated her upcoming marriage was no better than some dining course. She couldn’t be here, not one moment longer.
Her eyes fled to Drystan, and she swore if there was anything hinting, he’d grab her hand and run off with her, she would have done it. And it would have nothing to do with mischief or causing her family grief. It would be because of him.
But everything about Drystan spoke of honor, of duty, and firm resolve as he stood as still as any great oak and witnessed her absolute devastation. No, of course he wouldn’t run off. He cared too much for this family and for those who depended upon him. All those times he tried to help his father when he wasn’t well, or those few times attempting to instruct her father, only to be turned away.
Still.
“How about some of that port first?” she added. “It’s from Portugal.”
“What a preposterous statement,” John guffawed. “Where else would it come from since those braggarts declared port can only be from Portugal?”
“Elizabeth,” her mother whispered into the no-longer-festive room. Floundering in the duties or perhaps shocked into the corners, no servant had lit the sconces after the pudding’s flames died. The dining hall was only a dark place with a soggy pudding and not a mincemeat in sight. No one needed to hear the announcement. It was apparent her father accepted John’s suit. She didn’t need to be asked; this dinner was simply a formality. A…duty. One she couldn’t avoid, so how was she to face it? Like a coward…or should she, for once, accept responsibility?
A heavy weight settled inside her. She didn’t like it, but she knew it was the right decision. If Drystan could do his duty to the family, so would she.
Her eyes rested on John, who bore no smirk or false humor. Only a type of malevolence she was certain he’d show her when they were finally alone. Her life would be hell, and he’d ensure it. Her antics tonight, the delays, the asking for mincemeat pies were noticed, and she’d have to accept the consequences.
Swallowing hard, she said through a closing throat, “What is this happy announcement, father?”
He lifted his goblet and said the words she never wanted to hear.
