Page 22 of Mrs. Holloway's Christmas Pudding

I knew the Millburns could ill afford passing out sixpences, but Sam had a good heart. I ceased admonishing him and decided I’d somehow slip mine back to Joanna.

It was a wonderful afternoon. I had managed to purchase a charming locket for Grace and one for Jane, a few toys for the younger children, and a secondhand book on mathematics for John, the oldest. His parents hoped they could find a tutor for him so he might continue his education.

The children and Grace exclaimed their thanks, though Joanna now accused me of being extravagant.

Joanna had bought me a pretty new notebook with a clasp I could write my kitchen notes in. It was so lovely I knew I’d keep it clean on a shelf rather than use it, but I did not tell her so.

Daniel had also brought various toys and gifts for his hosts and family, nothing too luxurious, but I could tell the items had cost a few coins.

He had nothing for me but sent me a wink as though hinting he’d give me my gift later. As I’d not realized he or James would be here, I’d kept their gifts in the bag I’d brought with me, along with ones for Mr. Thanos and Cynthia.

I hated to leave this happy home, but the afternoon too quickly drew to a close. I embraced my daughter, then Joanna, then my daughter again, reminding her—and myself—that Thursday would come soon.

I left them in that warm, comfortable house, and faced the chill darkness with Daniel and James.

It wasn’t long, though, before we were in Mr. Thanos’s cozy flat, with Cynthia beaming at us across the table. I wasn’t certain I’d be able to digest a second Christmas dinner, but when it was served—roast goose and dressing, with greens and crusty bread—I found that I could indeed eat more.

Instead of another pudding, we had a pear crumble with cream, which was light and delicious.

“Excellent,” I declared as I laid down my fork and rubbed my aching belly.

“Auntie raved about your Christmas pudding,” Cynthia told me. “Mr. Davis brought it in all aflame. Quite dramatic—he enjoyed it. Auntie said she was pleased you’d made it as she told you, and hadn’t it turned out well?”

We all had a laugh about that and explained the joke to Mr. Thanos.

“Truly?” he asked in astonishment. “There are no plums in plum pudding? Then why is it called so?”

“I suppose there were at the beginning,” I said, sipping the very good wine Mr. Thanos had poured into all our glasses. “But it came to mean any dried fruit available in the winter.”

“How fascinating,” Mr. Thanos declared.

He might have asked more about the history of Christmas pudding, but I cut him off by handing out my gifts.

I’d bought Cynthia an inexpensive but pretty cravat pin, which Bobby had advised me she’d like. Cynthia gushed over the brass knot as though it was made of the most lavish gold. For Mr. Thanos, a small case in which to keep his spectacles, which he was always misplacing. For James, a flat woolen cap, much like the ones his father wore, that he donned with a grin.

Cynthia surprised me with a brooch of silver worked in a sinuous pattern, which she told me Miss Townsend, who was an artist, had designed. I pinned it carefully to my dark gown, vowing to wear it only on special occasions, such as this one.

Again, Daniel did not produce a present for me, so I held back the one I’d brought for him. No one questioned us.

After that, I reluctantly declared I must return home, my afternoon out over. Cynthia accompanied me, eager to spend more time with her parents, though she’d never admit that.

Daniel walked us down the stairs, while James remained above to help clear up.

“I will call around later, Kat,” he promised as he handed Cynthia and then me into a hansom. “I have many things to tell you.”

I did not like how much I looked forward to that.

Chapter 7

When I entered the kitchen that evening, once more in my work dress, the brooch securely in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe, Mr. Davis came to tell me about the success of the Christmas pudding.

“They ate every morsel,” he announced. “Nothing left of the thing, Mrs. Holloway.”

“I am pleased the family enjoyed it,” I said, deciding to accept the praise and have done. “Though I’m sorry you couldn’t feast on the leftovers. There are two more puddings in the larder. Perhaps you can have some at New Year’s.”

Mr. Davis gave a delicate shudder. “No, thank you, Mrs. Holloway. I won’t. Can’t abide the stuff.”

I hid a smile as he marched away to his butler’s pantry. Then I turned to Tess, who was tired but triumphant, and relieved her from her duties the rest of the night.

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