The Flood-Tide by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles Page B

could hardly blame him. She placed him opposite Angus at dinner, as they were more or less of an age and both in their first year at university, and made a point of talking to him herself during the evening, to make sure he knew he was welcome.
    Christmas Day was always busy at Morland Place, being not only a day of Holy Obligation, but quarter-day too. They rose early for first Mass, then, having broken their fast, rode or drove into the city for the morning service at the Minster. Then they came back to Morland Place to receive the tenants, collect the rents, pay the servants' wages, and hand out spiced wine and cake to all. Then came dinner, featuring the Christmas goose, well stuffed with apples, sage and onions. Dinner lasted from four until six, when it was time to repair to the chapel again for sung Mass, which many of the tenants and villagers traditionally attended. By the time they had been wished well and sent on their way, there were but two hours left of the day in which to gather round the fire or the harpsichord and sing the traditional Christmas songs.
    On St Stephen's Day, first Mass was even earlier, for there had to be time enough to eat and dress before the traditional hunt. The whole party from Shawes came over, and everyone at Morland Place was hunting - even Mary, who preferred her horses as near stationary as possible, was going out rather than miss the illustrious company. There was such a crowd, and so many of them on doubtful looking hirelings, that Jemima was afraid Poppy would get kicked in the crush in the courtyard, and decreed that the meet should take place outside, and ordered the food and drink be carried across the drawbridge and set up on trestles. There was mulled wine and plum brandy for the hunting folk, and jugs of mulled ale for those who had come to watch or follow on foot, and Abram's irresistible mincemeat pies for all.
    Jemima, walking Poppy about, for she was too excited to stand still, watched the scene with interest - it was always the best part of Christmas for her. Best of all, there was Allen on his black mare, looking a well-schooled rather than a natural horseman, but master of his own hunt again after so many years. His eye met hers whenever she looked at him, however many people were between them, and they exchanged smiles of perfect accord. There was Flora, looking exquisite, talking to young Lord Meldon, who rode one of his two hunters, brought with him from Oxford, a wicked-looking chestnut with a dangerous eye. The other he had lent to Angus, which seemed a kind gesture, had Jemima not suspected he did it mostly to avoid having to lend it to his father. It was a bay of equally uncompromising aspect, and Angus, who was no horseman, looked as if he wished he was mounted on one of the cobs, like his brother Charles.
    Lord and Lady Chelmsford were both mounted on hirelings, and Jemima got her first sight of their younger children. Eight-year-old Sophia, plump and pale with surprising yellow ringlets, was on a fat grey pony which slept determinedly through all the excitement, its leading rein in the hands of a groom, who grasped it as though it were likely to take off at full gallop at any moment. Her brother, Horatio, who was ten, was on a hireling horse too big for him, which he had been cantering about so continuously that it was already sweating and rolling its eyes. This, Jemima guessed, was mainly for the benefit of Mary, who, demure and dainty on her pony, was already surrounded by a group of swains, including John Anstey and Edward, all vying to bring her refreshments and offering to show her the best line when hounds ran.
    A movement beside her made her turn her head, and there was Charlotte, with William just behind, looking neat and horsemanlike on her pony.
    ‘Such a lot of nonsense,' Charlotte snorted, watching the crowd round Mary. 'If they hang around her, they'll miss the hunt, for Mary never went out of a trot in her life. I know exactly what she'll do.