Heirs of Ravenscar

‘How very clever of you, Bess, clever of you all, actually.’ His eyes swept over his four children standing in a row in the doorway near the small piano, which Jessup had moved in from the music room yesterday afternoon, as he always did at Christmas. How beautiful they were, his children, with their bright blond and red gold hair. Four pairs of eyes of varying shades of blue stared back at him.

He turned his head, looked at Elizabeth and smiled warmly.

She was momentarily taken aback, since she had so irritated him earlier with her comments about the diamond bow. Wanting peace on this very special day of the year, she smiled back at him, then leaned closer, touched his hand, showing her affection. She felt a movement next to her and turned to Young Edward, who had drawn closer to her on the sofa. ‘Are you all right? Are you warm enough?’

‘Oh yes, Mama. I just wish I could sing the carol too.’ ‘I know. You don’t like being left out of anything, I realize that. Next year. You can sing next year, darling.’

Cecily rose from the chair and walked across the room to the piano, stopping for a moment to let one hand rest on Ritchie’s head for a moment.

He loved his grandmother, and turned his eyes to her face, gave her a huge smile. ‘I’m hungry, Granny.’

‘So am I, sweetheart.’ She bent down to him. ‘And we shall have turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes in a few minutes. After the carol. Very soon, I promise.’

Bess looked at her siblings, and murmured. ‘Cecily, you must stand next to me, because you’re taller than Mary. Come along all of you, make the straight line like yesterday.’

Ritchie asked, ‘Am I here?’ ‘Yes, you’re the last.’ Bess took her place at the head of the line and said to her grandmother. ‘We are ready.’ ‘I will play a few bars and then I will start the carol,’ Cecily said and promptly did so.

A split second later four young voices rang out:

‘Hark, the herald-angels sing

Glory to the new-born King,

Peace on earth, and mercy mild