Page 36 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
Adam was watching Howard with great interest.
“While we certainly enjoyed our cake, its purpose is not to be a treat. Its purpose is the bean.” Howard allowed all the excitement he’d felt as a child on Twelfth Night to enter his voice, hoping to fill Adam with a little bit of it. “You see, Your Grace, the person who finds the bean is crowned king or queen for the night.”
His eyes pulled wider. The child did a very good job of hiding his thoughts and feelings, but Howard was getting better at understanding what he kept tucked away.
“As the ruling monarch, that person chooses how the night is spent. The monarch of the evening decides which games to play, which songs to sing, which vignettes should be undertaken.”
“What’s that?” The tiniest bit of breathlessness entered his voice.
“It is another Twelfth Night diversion,” Lord Jonquil answered. “The participants are given a scene or an idea or a story that they are challenged with presenting. They choose poses meant to evoke the idea of it. If the monarch of the evening so wishes, and such things are at hand, they might even piece together costumes of some sort.”
“What is the purpose of vignettes?” Adam asked him.
“Those seeing them are challenged with determining what is being portrayed.”
“I understand about challenges,” Adam said. “My father told me that sometimes we have to do things that are difficult, but it’s the difficulty that gives us pride in accomplishing it.”
“I said it before, Your Grace,” Howard said, “your father was clearly very wise.”
The tiniest of smiles touched the little boy’s scarred face. The moment gifted Howard with an insight into this little one whom he was meant to gain the confidence of. Adam loved his father and was proud of him. He was likely as protective of his father’s memory as he was of his nursemaid’s present. Speaking highly of Robbie would not be difficult at all, but it would make a difference. He needed to not merely speak well of the late duke but also allowAdamto speak well of him.
Howard returned to his digging, suspecting Adam would be more comfortable if he felt his audience wasn’t staring at him.
“Did your father have any favorite tales or stories?” Howardasked. “Perhaps we could use those as vignettes to present in our Twelfth Night celebration.”
“If the monarch of the night wants to,” Adam said.
Howard gave him an approving and impressed smile. “Sorted that rather quickly, didn’t you?”
“I’m very clever.” The declaration was made very matter-of-factly.
“Clever, yes, but you’re not doing nearly as much digging as I am,” Lord Jonquil said with a laugh.
Adam grinned at him. The effect pulled fiercely at Howard’s heart. In that moment he could see the child that lingered behind the heavy heart. There was a naturalness to his smile that told anyone who saw it how joyful and soft a heart lay at the core of this very guarded child. What would become of him if he lost Robbie?
Howard appreciated his beloved’s conundrum. He understood that she cared for Adam and worried about him. He fully appreciated that. Stepping away from the boy must feel very much like stepping away from a child of her own. Howard had assumed that was at the heart of what she was struggling with.
Now he knew better.
This was a child in crisis. He would not simply be sad without Robbie in his life; he would be lost. The glimmer of hopefulness and tenderness that still remained in him would fade away until it was gone. It was little wonder she had clung so much to Howard’s use of the wordhope. Adam needed it desperately. Robbie couldn’t feel hopeful herself unless she knew there was reason to believe Adam felt it too.
They had quite a dilemma on their hands.
Adam had resumed his digging. He was small, but he was strong and determined. “What else happens on Twelfth Night?”
“Well, it is also traditional for the tenants of a fine estate tovisit the home of the master and mistress who own it.” Howard did his digging as he talked. “They often sing songs, and in exchange, the master and mistress give them drink and food. They are often given coins and other acknowledgments of the season. In some areas of the country, trees are wassailed.”
Again, Adam looked at him with widening eyes. “How does one wassail a tree?”
“Very carefully,” Lord Jonquil said.
In addition to discovering that his current employer enjoyed nature, Howard had very quickly realized the gentleman was exceptionally funny.
“Bread is soaked in wassail,” Howard explained, “and then tossed into the trees. It provides sustenance for the birds. Superstition claims it also brings good luck and an ample harvest.”
“Could we wassail this tree?” Adam pointed to the rowan Howard hoped to have planted by day’s end.
“I don’t see why not,” he said.
