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Chapter 17
Ailie followed the others through the front door, breathing in the wonderful aroma of the wassail heating on the stove and their dinner cooking. Her stomach growled. “What delicious smells.”
Footmen stood ready to accept their coats. Nash helped Ailie out of her cloak. She could tell from his distant look he was preoccupied. A glance at Robbie suggested his mind, too, was somewhere else.
They had spoken little on the walk back from town, making her wonder at the cause. Was it something in the minister’s sermon? “I’m not Anglican, but I thought the service was lovely. Don’t you agree?”
“What? Oh, yes…” muttered Nash. “St Mary’s is smaller than St Martin-in-the-Fields in London where we attend, but the smaller church made the service more intimate.”
Certainly it had been an intimate experience for Ailie sitting so close to Nash. For once, she minded not at all a crowded service with bodies pressed close.
Emily drew everyone’s attention. “In the parlor you will find sherry, brandy and hot wassail to warm you. Dinner should be served in an hour.”
A footman opened the double doors and, with grateful nods, the couples headed into the parlor.
Muriel made as if to join them, but took only a few steps before turning back to Emily. “I much enjoyed the walk, my dear, however, a blazing fire and a cup of hot wassail are just what I need at the moment.”
“You shall have it, Madeira, too, if you like,” offered Will.
Muriel’s eyes lit up as she sallied forth to join the others.
Still in the entry hall, Ailie told Emily and Will, “I am glad we are to dine early. I didn’t eat much breakfast, knowing a feast was coming.”
“Have you ever attended an English Christmas feast?” Nash asked Ailie.
“Not precisely, but we have roast pink-footed goose quite often during the winter.”
Emily smiled at Will. “I will join you in the parlor as soon as I check on the feast.” She had only taken a step when Will looked up at the kissing bough hanging from the chandelier above them and pulled Emily under it.
“Before you go, I must have a kiss. Setting the example for the others, don’t you know?” Emily laughed but submitted willingly, bringing a smile to Ailie’s face.
“Happy Christmas, Leannan.”
Emily was radiant as she left him to join their plump housekeeper, who appeared in her lace mobcap at the base of the stairs.
And why shouldn’t Emily be radiant?Thought Ailie. She had a loving husband, a bairn on the way and a house full of happy friends. Ailie wondered if she would ever have those things. She had knowingly chosen a path rare for a woman, becoming part of her family’s shipbuilding enterprise. While she delighted in her work, there were times—and this was one of them—when she wanted more, when she wanted all that a woman who had chosen wisely could have.
Will motioned toward the parlor. “Shall we?”
Ailie and the twins followed her brother into the parlor where the Yule log burned brightly and their guests sipped cups of the warm spiced apple drink. A helpful footman held out a tray. Nash took two cups and handed one to Ailie.
Robbie went off in search of brandy. “I prefer it untainted by honey and fruit juice.”
Ailie sipped the warm spicy drink. “I do like your wassail,” she told Nash, “but all that dancing around apple trees that went with the drink would have been frowned upon by the Kirk.”
Nash laughed. “Well, that might have been true at one time but, like the Yule log, the drink has become just another sign of the season.”
“Today, we’ll dine on your English dishes,” she told Nash, “but on Hogmanay, you’ll dine on those favored by us Scots.”
“More haddies and kale?”
His expression was decidedly bleak, but she believed he was only teasing her. “Aye. And cock-a-leekie soup, steak pie, roast salmon and haggis with tatties.”
“Haggis?”
“Practically our national dish, ’tis sheep’s intestine, oatmeal and spices cooked in a sheep’s stomach.”
A grimace of epic proportions emerged on Nash’s face.
