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“Happy Saint Stephen’s Day, Annie!”

The child gave a little curtsy, then asked a question that must have been troubling her. “What is a colly bird, Mrs. Brown?”

“‘Colly’ means black, like coal.”

“Oh. So the fourth day is about blackbirds?”

“It would seem so. The song is originally French, so there may be errors in translation, but I think blackbirds is correct.”

“And why do you think so many days are about birds, but not the fifth day?”

Caroline shrugged. “Some say the gold rings are gold ring-necked pheasants. I have never seen one myself, but they are supposed to be quite colorful.”

Annie nodded, her attention already drifting to a new subject, as children often did.

“We had a wonderful Christmas feast. Mr. Andrews joined us after closing his shop, and Mum made you some black butter.” Annie placed a little pot on the table. Caroline picked it up and opened the lid to inhale the fruit paste’s distinctive scent with pleasure.

“Tell your mum thank you. I shall buy some fresh bread to eat it with!”

Annie nodded and tied on her apron. “I think Mr. Andrews is sweet on Mum. He invited us to go wassailing on Twelfth Night.”

Caroline gritted her teeth in exasperation. Perfect. Mrs. Greer would have a new husband before long, while Caroline would remain alone forever—while a perfectly good man lay, rejected, on his settee down the street. And not just any man—William.

She missed him something fierce.

Have I made the right decision?

Realizing she had not responded, she forced a cheery tone and asked the important question. “How do you feel about that?”

Annie paused to consider, her little face pensive. “I think Mr. Andrews is a jolly man. And he makes excellent food, so I suppose it would be all right if he courts Mum.”

Caroline chuckled—for the first time all day. “Excellent food will always be acceptable.”

Annie grinned back. “I shall fetch your bread for you, if you like. Mr. Andrews might give me a Sally Lunn bun if I visit his shop.”

“Then I have no choice. I shall have to allow you to run the errand for me. Tell Mr. Andrews to put it on my account.”

“Shall I sweep the front?”

“Yes. I want to work on my walking dress, and I expect little custom today. When you finish sweeping, you can come sit with me and I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

The girl nodded and disappeared through the workroom door—only to race back a moment later, a worried expression on her face.

“Mrs. Brown! Some of the Christmas boughs are missing!”

A nervous twist tightened in Caroline’s stomach. She had forgotten the boughs. After the abrupt end to her day with William, she had left them behind without a second thought.

“I … gave them to someone who needed them more than I.” She needed to distract Annie quickly. “Did you complete the handkerchief you were sewing?”

The girl looked down, her expression guilty. “No … I was too busy helping Mum make the Christmas boughs.”

“You can join me when you are done sweeping and finish it then.”

Annie brightened. It was a shameful manipulation on Caroline’s part—an effort to change the subject—but it would not do to have anyone asking questions about how she had spent Christmas.

William had convinced Dr. Hadley that he was recovered enough to be back on his feet. The doctor had bound his ankle, cautioning him to be careful and not to overexert himself, but had concurred that the sprain was not as severe as it had first appeared on Christmas Eve.

He had then requested the use of the doctor’s carriage, a favor which Dr. Hadley had also granted, though they had haggled for some time. The physician had been reluctant to charge him for the loan, while William had insisted upon paying a rental fee. Eventually, they had struck a mutually agreeable bargain, and the doctor departed to see the carriage made ready.