own cooking and cleaning. He wasn’t aghast at the thought of hard work; he was alarmed about the disappearance of a major source of employment for the working class.
While there are certainly cruel and overbearing—or just plain thoughtless—landowners in Victorian England, the Thornes have always been an example of the way the system was supposed to work. It’s still imperfect from a modern viewpoint, but despite my discomfort with being “lady of the manor,” it’s exactly what I am.
If I must be a lady, then I want to be the best one possible. That means joining William in village life. Playing my role. There’s a cringeworthy old saying about the wife being a reflection of her husband, but there’s truth of that here. I want to rise to William’s example. This festival is important to the village, and our role in it is important, and I’m not going to force him to make my excuses, even if he’d happily do so. How would it look if Lady Thorne only returned yesterday evening and she’s already too tired to join the “common folk”?
The second thing that keeps me from bowing out? I’m about to participate in an archaic Victorian holiday tradition, one unique to this village. The historian in me is salivating, and the little girl who loved all things Victorian is bubbling with excitement.
William steers the sleigh down the snow-packed roads. The sides are thronged with villagers, snaking their way toward the village hall. When a preschool-age boy darts from the crowd, shrieking at the sight of the sleigh, William pulls the horse to a stop lightning fast.
The boy’s father runs out, calling apologies.
“No trouble,” William calls back. “He only wanted to see if he could outrun my sleigh.” William leans over the side and waves a shiny copper coin. “Do you want to try, lad?”
The boy nods furiously.
“Then here is the wager. You must stick to the side of the road there. If you come out into the street, you lose the bet. We race to the village hall.”
William shades his eyes. “Anyone else up for the challenge? Boys and girls are welcome to try their luck, but no one over the age of ten. We mustn’t make it too difficult on my horse.”
People laugh, and a few children come out from the crowd. William asks someone to do the countdown, and then we’re off. William keeps the gelding going at a trot, leaving the children struggling. A few give up. When he nears the hall, though, he reins the horse in, and any of the children who kept at it win themselves a farthing.
We leave the sleigh outside the hall, and we’re met by Mrs. Shaw’s sons and son-in-law who help me down and then escort us in. The hall is already packed with people, more streaming in. There’s a small stage erected at the front. On it are two rough-hewn wooden thrones, festooned with holly and ivy. We’re led in the back and to the thrones, where we’re given holly crowns and scepters.
Once everyone’s in, the vicar says a few words, welcoming the villagers to the festival. Then he summons a little girl from a seat near the front. She’s about six years old and missing her front teeth. She wears a green dress adorned with enough bows and lace for two gowns. As she draws closer, I can see the dress is a hand-me-down, faded and repaired, but in it, she walks like a princess, her face glowing.
The girl stops before us and curtseys.
“Agatha, isn’t it?” William says.
“Yes, m’lord,” she lisps.
“Have you committed a misdeed this year, Agatha?”
“Yes, m’lord,” she says, barely able to contain a grin.
“Are you ready to make a full accounting of that offense?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Please proceed.”
She straightens. “Last fall, I climbed a fence and stole an apple that had fallen on the ground.”
“And what did you do with it?”
“I ate it, sir.”
William frowns. “You didn’t try to put it back in the tree where it belonged?”
She giggles. “No, sir.”
“That poor tree, losing an apple, only to have a little girl snatch it up.” He eyes her. “Was it a delicious apple?”
“Very delicious, sir.”
“Did it have any worms in it?”
She makes a face. “No, sir!”
“Well, then I suppose one could say that if the tree dropped the apple, then it meant for someone to eat it, and if there were no worms inside, then you weren’t stealing their food, so . . .” He looks at the crowd. “Does anyone wish to claim the