The Vicar's Daughters

The Last Dance of the Season

The Christmas season finally dispelled the last traces of gloom in vicar's daughters' eyes. The vicarage hosted a community celebration each year, inviting each family in the parish to partake of the food brought in with tithes, and preparing baskets for the most needy families to take home. The gathering was so large there was not a single building that would hold them, so the tithe barn was converted into a dining hall. A large fire blazed inside a stone circle at each end of the open barn, lighting the space and warming the interior. Lanterns were carefully hung along each rafter, along with pine boughs and holly. Tables were made out of planks and seesaws, covered with linen, and filled with dishes cooked in nearly every kitchen in the community.

Marian and Amanda had done more than just participate this year—they had formed a committee of women to select the dinner items, assign the preparation to certain households, and arrange the serving of the food. The servants were as much honored guests as the aristocracy this night, so the arranging of places was a bit untraditional. The Cressy family was seated with the tradesmen from town, and the Ellsworths sat among the farmers.

It was hard for Rachel to see John Ellsworth there with his wife and daughter. In the weeks since his announcement, the ripple of gossip had settled down and even the most insensitive people had quit criticizing his choice when Esther had visited the town and they'd seen her demure smile. Of course, no one knew of Rachel's heartbreak throughout the previous summer. And Rachel was glad of that. Pity would only make her more miserable.

Lord Ellsworth did not do more than merely acknowledge John's presence with a stiff bow. His mother only looked away. The young couple moved off to their own table, refusing to let their Christmas celebration be marred by his parent's reticence. Phoebe, at least, was the gushing aunt who insisted on carrying little Amelia around the room as she visited with her friends.

Rachel had offered to fill glasses with the Christmas punch and had worked for thirty minutes straight, smiling as each man and woman dipped their head in thanks. It didn't hurt that the punch contained a bottle of sherry as well as the sliced oranges and apple cider, and the merriment grew as the guests came back for more.

"I think you should limit guests to three cups," said a voice, and Rachel looked up to find Mr. Duchamps' smiling eyes.

"Why, Monsieur!" she exclaimed, then filled the cup he placed before her. "How merry would Christmas be then?" She grinned at him as he sipped his punch.

"Perhaps I should have four cups, then?" he teased.

"I think three will be plenty, if you want to be able to dance with me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her invitation, and she laughed. "Have you had your dinner? I didn't see you arrive tonight."

"I only just rode in. I reached Northallerton this afternoon, then hired a room. I came along to Stokesley as soon as I was presentable."

She pretended to eye his dress critically, although he looked very smart in his military coat and breeches, and his hat was well-polished and his hair slicked cleanly back. "Yes, you are presentable," she finally pronounced. "Please, take a seat and have your fill. There won't be much left if you don't hurry."

He bowed and retreated to the table where the Pearces sat and was greeted by Mrs. Pearce with joy. He quickly found a plate and began to eat from the variety of puddings, roasted meats, and breads that filled the table.

Marian found Rachel a moment later, offering to take her place. "No, sister, I am fine," she protested. "You shouldn't let Simeon idle away his night. He's already been missing you for all the hours you spent at the vicarage making preparations."