Settlement. Ann Birch

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СКАЧАТЬ out, Papa,” little Caroline said, “the lady’s titties keep bumping you.”

      “I’m next.” Mary moved into the centre of the room and gave Mrs. Widmer a dig in the ribs with her elbow. “Whoops, excuse me,” she said. “I can’t see a thing.” Then she twirled around and around, and, when Charlotte handed her a stick, she aimed straight for the bag, giving it such a wallop that the paper tore and the candies scattered far and wide.

      Everyone took off their blindfolds and went for the candy. The adults and the older children let the little ones discover the best pieces first. Sam noticed that Mrs. Jameson dropped one of her candies directly in front of Charlie’s small arm.

      Mary found a piece that had skipped under the buffet in the corner. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. “Yum, marzipan. My favourite!”

      Sam pulled her under the mistletoe in the hallway. He kissed her sticky lips. “Merry Christmas, my dear,” he said while the children and guests looked on and applauded.

      “Don’t forget to pluck a berry from the mistletoe, Papa!” yelled William and George.

      “And now,” Sam said, “it’s time to see—”

      “What St. Nicholas brought!” Charlie ran towards the staircase, followed by Caroline and Charlotte. “When he came down Papa’s chimbly!”

      “Wait, my darlings,” Sam said. “Let us get the rules straight first. The three of you must go with your big brothers and sisters. William, George and Sam, you are in charge. You will get all the stockings down from the hooks over the fireplace. You must be very careful of the fire.”

      The adults settled into their chairs in the drawing room, and Sam poured sherry for everyone. Mrs. Powell reappeared from belowstairs, saying, “I think Cook understands what must be done. My dear Mary, you can’t be too careful with bread sauce.”

      The shouts from Sam’s bedchamber made them all smile. “Only three of them still believe in St. Nicholas,” Sam said, “but everyone gets a red felt stocking.”

      “And this year, the older boys had a good idea,” Mary said. “They took a horseshoe from the stable and made reindeer tracks in the snow. So they’ve all been outdoors this morning to see them. And imagine, just beyond the big red oak in our back garden, the tracks stopped.”

      “Where the reindeer flew off into the sky, of course,” Mrs. Jameson said.

      Mary laughed. “And the little ones stared upwards as if they might still spot those coursers going back to the Northland.”

      “It’s all so much happier than when I was a child,” Mrs. Jameson said, “and the mummers appeared at the front door in strange disguises—I remember monsters and devils—and scared my sisters and me with intrusive questions about our behaviour during the year. My answers were never good enough to satisfy them.”

      There was a clatter of footsteps on the staircase, and the children reappeared, each with a bulging red felt stocking. They emptied out the contents onto the floor. Each stocking had an orange which Mary had bought from Mr. Wood’s store. Then a packet of shortbread—“I gave the recipe to St. Nicholas,” Sam’s mother said to the guests—then a small box of candied ginger, walnut halves, and dried sweet apples and dates. Finally, on top, the wrapped wooden gifts made by Mr. Ross, carpenter and undertaker. This year, Mary had ordered a box for Sam Jr.’s treasures, and wagons, marionettes and dollies for the younger children.

      “Miss Siddons has a party for you all in the nursery now,” Sam said. “Off you go and enjoy it while we have dinner.”

      “Oh Papa, Miss Siddons has a puzzle for us, too,” Ellen said. “It’s General Washington on his white stallion, and if Emily and I can put it together in an hour, she’ll give us a prize.”

      The dinner gong sounded then, and the adults went into the dining room, where Cook and her helper had set out the roast goose, cranberry-orange relish, brussels sprouts and whipped potatoes. Sam carved, and Mrs. Powell spooned liberal portions of bread sauce onto everyone’s plates, whether they wanted it or not. The manservant James poured the wine.

      Sam sat down. “It’s a happy day for me, too. Sir Francis Bond Head told me yesterday that I am the new Superintendent of Indian Affairs.”

      “Bravo, Jarvis,” Widmer said.

      Jameson raised his glass. “Well done.”

      “More money, I take it,” Mrs. Widmer said. “It will be welcome with all those children.”

      Mary’s mother set down her knife and fork and picked up the monocle she brought to parties. It dangled on a chain around her neck. Conversation stopped while she affixed the glass to her right eye and stared at Mrs. Widmer as though she were some strange beetle that had taken up residence under the carpet. “Mr. Jarvis’s finances are surely his private concern, ma’am.”

      Sam downed his wine in a gulp, and James, who hovered by the sideboard, refilled his glass. Sam smiled at his mother-in-law. “As you undoubtedly know, ma’am, Dr. Widmer has for many years held the mortgages on my properties. My improved finances may indeed be of interest to him.”

      Beneath the starched linen tablecloth—as he said this—he felt a gentle pressure on his left foot. Certainly not Mary. She was at the other end of the table. It was, of course, the Widmer woman. He leapt to his feet and picked up the large spoon beside the goose. “Did I remember to give everyone stuffing?”

      “Are you too hot, Sam?” Mary said. “Your face is very red.”

      “My son is an excellent choice for the post,” his mother was saying in her gentle voice. “He even has an Indian name, you know, given to him by his friend, grandson of a Chippewa chieftain, whom my dear late husband and I knew when we lived at Niagara.”

      Mrs. Jameson leaned forward. “How wonderful! Oh, Mr. Jarvis, I hope you will introduce me to some Indians. It would be a welcome diversion. But much more than that. It would provide material for my book on Upper Canada.”

      Mrs. Widmer giggled. “I’d better behave, or I’ll find myself described in Chapter One: ‘Indians and Other Savages in the New World’.”

      No one laughed.

      The ceremony of the plum pudding came next. James brought it in, alight in the blue flame of the whiskey which Cook had drizzled over it. Mary cut substantial pieces for everyone, pouring the rum sauce liberally over each serving.

      “How many sides has a plum pudding?” Dr. Widmer asked. No one pretended to know, though the joke was an old one.

      “Two: inside and outside.” In the polite laughter that followed, Sam was able to move his foot well out of reach of Mrs. Widmer’s.

      After dinner, the cloth was whisked away, and Dr. Widmer, the Attorney-General and Sam filled their glasses with port and passed round the walnuts and nutcracker while the ladies retired to the drawing room. Soon Sam could hear Eliza at the pianoforte banging out something from Mozart. She had the touch of a cow moose.

      “Mary has taken a liking to your good wife, Jameson.”

      “Ah yes, I had hoped that Anna would make friends. I have not been much in society myself, as you may know, but she has taken me in hand and pushes me here СКАЧАТЬ