“Great scott, Clover.” Azalea cast a glance at the head of the table. “You haven’t told him?”
“Well…we’re in mourning.” Clover smoothed the napkin in her lap. “And—it would just make him feel bad that he had forgotten.”
“If it was important to him,” said Delphinium primly, “he would remember.”
On the other side of the table, the girls squealed with laughter as Lord Teddie chattered like mad. He ate far too much soup and far too many biscuits to account for his lean, gangly figure, and he read them a book called The Eathesburian Holiday Guidebook, which he had brought from Delchastire.
“It has an entire section just on the gardens! The fountains and statues and all things gardeny,” he said, as the girls climbed over one another to peek at the etchings inside. “It says if you’re lucky, you might even see the rare flowers of Eathesbury!”
The girls giggled so hard, Hollyhock choked on her soup.
“That’s us!” she cried, after coughing. “We’re the flowers of Eathesbury!”
“And all of you, pretty as buttons!” said Lord Teddie, beaming at them. He looked over to Bramble, who wore a bit of holly in her deep red hair, and he smiled.
“Clover,” said the King, interrupting the melee. He had been casting distracted glances at Clover all through dinner. Azalea knew why. With her hair up and her eyes alight, Clover looked like a golden version of Mother. She even had the smile that lit the room. “Miss Clover…you look…very nice,” he finished, lamely.
Clover’s deep blue eyes brightened.
“Do you think so?” she said.
The King cast another distracted glance at her, then glanced at Azalea. Azalea mouthed the word birthday.
The King’s face grew more confused. Azalea mouthed it again. The King opened his mouth, then shut it, frowning.
“It’s her birthday,” said Delphinium, who couldn’t seem to take it any longer. “It’s been her coming-of birthday all day, and she’s been waiting for you to remember, and you haven’t!”
The King froze with his wineglass halfway to his mouth, his expression unreadable.
“Birthday?”
“It’s her coming-of,” Azalea explained.
“And you forgot,” peeped Hollyhock.
The King unfroze and set his glass down. “Oh, indeed,” he said. “I—I can hardly remember my own birthday.”
“It was my coming-of birthday last January,” said Bramble, gripping the handle of her glass, “and you forgot that, too. You weren’t even here.”
“I turnt eight last spring,” said Hollyhock, “’n I didn’ even get any present at all!”
All the girls joined in.
“I was thirteen last April and it rained on my birthday and I didn’t even get to wear anything special—”
“We turned ten—just two months ago—”
“I usually get a book for my birthday—but—this year—”
“You forgot my birthday, too.”
“And mine.”
The girls looked miserable. The King opened his mouth, then shut it.
“Sir!” whined Lord Teddie. “You forgot my birthday, too!”
Bramble gave a surprised laugh, then slapped her hand over her mouth, as though shocked at letting it out. The tension broke. The girls laughed sheepishly, and Lord Teddie beamed. He probably did not have many ladies think him funny. In fact, he probably got slapped by a lot of them.
“That will do,” said the King. He looked somewhat relieved.
Eve was sent for some wine, and a touch of ceremony ensued as the King uncorked the bottle. Clover, however, turned her glass upside down.
“I would like to be temperance,” she said firmly.
“What, not like Fairweller?” said Bramble.
“Yes,” said Clover. “Like Fairweller.”
This immediately ushered in a round of teasing, especially on Bramble’s part, but the King immediately corked the bottle and sent the wine out.
“It is Clover’s birthday,” he said. “She can do as she pleases. Is there anything you should like for your coming-of, Miss Clover? Surely there is something you want.”
By the King’s voice, Azalea supposed Clover could ask for a pony. Clover gave her room-brightening smile.
“May we have a Christmas tree?” she said.
The King’s face wiped of emotion. Azalea bit her lip. Mother used to be in charge of the Christmas tree festivities. Even when she was ill, she helped with the trimming, laughing and singing and helping to make berry chains and watercolor decorations.
“Please,” said Clover. “We could—all go to the library, and—and make ornaments and thread berries for it? As a family—like we used to.”
“What?” said Delphinium. “But what about danc—”
Azalea trod hard on her foot.
“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” she said. “Oh, sir! Please say yes!”
The King’s fingers tapped against the glass, his cheeks sucked in.
“Oh, please! Oh, please!” cried the younger ones.
“Only because it is Clover’s birthday,” he said, finally, to cheers of “Huzzah!” “We shall see about the tree. We are a house of mourning, you will remember that!”
“Oh, yes, sir!” the younger girls squeaked, hopping around the table in a pseudo-reel. Clover beamed, so angelic it made the room glow.