The Darcy children and dragon Friends return for another installment of Christmas chaos!

That night, Anne copied Mama’s recipe from her commonplace book and asked her black tatzelwurm Friend, May, to take it to Ring. May returned with Ring’s promise to let her know when he had gathered the necessary ingredients and was ready to help them make the pudding. May also let her opinion be known that she did not consider the plan a good one at all. So encouraging to know her Friend thought her overly hopeful at best, a bit daft at worst.

Though Anne had been hopeful tomorrow would be the day, it was not until the day after that Ring sent word with one of the local fairy dragons that he was ready for them.

December 14, 1827

George and Frances insisted on dressing in their ‘pudding clothes’ before they went to visit Ring. Mrs. Sharp initially objected, but Bennet’s carefully crafted explanation that they would be helping Ring clean and decorate the pub for the holidays seemed to alleviate her concerns. Of course, now they would all have to do just that to ensure that he had not lied. Not a good way to start the project.

If only Bennet had let Anne manage the situation by suggesting to Mrs. Sharpe that their visit to Ring, no matter what clothes they were wearing, would give her time to prepare the nursery for the rush of Darcy cousins that would be arriving in the next several days. At that point, Mrs. Sharp was entirely in favor of the outing.

George and Frances sang their ‘pudding clothes’ song all the way to the small barn. Bennet looked ready to shake George if he repeated one more chorus.

“Why don’t you run on ahead while I let them sing. If we make them stop, they will be cross before we even start. That is no way for us to try to make the pudding.” Anne touched Bennet’s shoulder, but he didn’t move any faster.

“I suppose you are right. He is just so irritating! Over and over and over again!”

“No argument there. But it is important to keep focus on the goal, not to be distracted by the little things.”

“Is that something Mrs. Fieldings says?”

“I am afraid so. It irritated me at first, too, but I think she is right, at least in this case.”

Bennet folded his arms over his chest and harumphed, but he let George and Frances sing to their hearts’ content the rest of the way to the Puck’s Hoard.

Ring met them on the path and escorted them the rest of the way to the barn. “Do come in, we are so excited!” His little ears pricked up, his small wings stood out, and his eyes shone, not to mention his color seemed bright, even a little shiny. He was one eager dragon.

“We?” Anne leaned so she could look past Ring.

“Well, yes.” Ring glanced over his shoulder at the open barn doors. “I hope you do not mind, but I needed some help gathering the ingredients you listed, and everyone I told was so interested, well I just had to allow them to watch.”

“Watch or help?” Anne squeezed her eyes shut, avoiding the temptation to pinch the bridge of her nose the way one of her teachers did when annoyed.

“Well, of course they would like to help. But that is entirely up to you, Miss Anne. It is your project after all.” Ring said that, but to tell any dragon that they could not participate would create offense, and possible issues in dominance—oh heavens, this could get far more complicated than she was ready for. She was not the Dragon Sage after all.

“I am sure we can sort something out.” Bennet looped his arm in hers.

Ring led them inside to the bar, where a large box and chipped earthenware bowl waited. No less than seven minor dragons sat along the shelf-side of the barn, waiting with big eyes and flicking tails. Fern, Agnes the maid’s puck Friend stood closest to the door. Beside her, a pair of brown and white fairy dragons. who lived in the woods near the herb garden. twittered and hopped with the excitement of it all.  Two shaggy, green-brown forest wyrms twined around each other beside the fairy dragons, their mouths half-open to better smell the items on the table.  Tawny, one of the new shepherding drakes, and Whisper, a pale grey lesser cockatrix, a Friend to the parish vicar stood nearest the back wall.

“All of you must promise not to breathe a word of what we are doing to anyone, not your Friends, not other dragons, not anyone.” Anne pressed a finger to her lips. “This is a surprise for our mother and father, and it would ruin their Christmas dinner if you were to spoil it. Can you promise not to spoil the surprise.”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

“We will never speak of it.”

“I promise you, they will all keep their promises, Miss Anne.” Ring bowed deeply.

Anne leaned close and whispered in Bennet’s ear. “What do you think?”

“If we quit now, we are sure to disappoint them, and I am certain that will not be kept quiet.”

Drat it all, he was right. “We shall proceed then.”

“Excellent, excellent, what are we to do first?” Ring took his place in the middle of the bar, in front of a very large bowl that was probably to use in mixing the pudding. Anne and Bennet stood to his right, Frances and George to his left, barely able to reach over the bar.

“Where are the ingredients?” Anne asked.

“And the pudding cloth? Don’t forget that.” Frances bounced on her toes to see over the bar.

“Yes, I put everything in the box here. “ Ring removed the lid and set it aside. “And the spoon is under the bar, Fern, would you bring that please?”

“I may need to help her.” Tanwy, a stocky drake whose color matched her name, followed after Fern.

“Very good, very good. What do we need first?” Ring folded his paws on the bar, awaiting instruction.

“The bowl, definitely the bowl.” Bennet said. “It does not look clean.”

Anne peeked into the bowl. The inside littered with dust, cobwebs, and a few dead insects.

“We will help!” The fairy dragons flittered into the bowl, rubbing their fluffy feather-scales along the inside, transferring most of the debris onto themselves. Most of it.

“I have the spoon!” The words sounded funny as Fern tried to speak around the spoon. Tawny followed and took the spoon from Fern to drop it alongside the now less-dirty bowl.

“Very good, we have the first step complete. You see, I knew it could not be so difficult. What next?” Ring rubbed his front paws together.

“Mama has us put the flour in first.” Frances cried, now propping he elbow on the bar to lever herself up.

“Flour, flour, yes,” Ring rummaged in the box. “Here it is,” he held up a partial bag of flour and dumped it into the bowl, sending a dusty cloud into the air.

Anne winced. “How much flour was that?”

“How much?” Ring twitched his nose, looking like he was about to sneeze at the flour-cloud. “Does that matter?”

“Yes, I am afraid so. That is why the receipt I gave you had those measures on it.” Gracious, how like one of her teachers she sounded.

“Those numbers beside the words you mean?”

“Yes, those. You told me you knew how to read a receipt.”

“Forgive me Miss Anne, but I believe I told you I knew how to read in the general case. Nothing so specific.”

Anne winced. Blast dragon specificity!

“It looks like the right amount,” Bennet shrugged as he pointed at the bowl. “That’s what Mama’s bowl looked like after Papa added the flour.”

“I suppose so.” Anne pushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

“Excellent. What do we do next.”

“I know, I know,” George said. “Pass the bowl from east to west. Clockwise, that is.”

“No, standing here, in the barn, it is counter-clockwise,” Bennet said.

“But you said it was clockwise in the house,” Frances kicked at the bar, struggling to stay up on her elbows. “You can’t just change your mind like. It has to be made right.”

“In the house, east to west was clockwise. But we are standing all different here, so it is the other way now.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense. How can east move?” George said.

“East hasn’t moved, we have, you ninny.”

“I’m not a ninny!”

“You are if you don’t listen!” Bennet stepped behind Ring, heading toward George.

Anne grabbed him by the elbow and sidled to Ring’s other side, near George. “Stop, both of you. I know what to do. Flying dragons always know their directions. Fairy dragons, please stand on the east side of the table, Whisper, please stand on the west.” Anne said.

“How very wise, Miss Anne.” Ring motioned at the flying dragons.

“See, he told you!” Frances whispered as the dragons settled into place.

“There is no need for that.” Anne did not like to snap. She just had. “We will never get the pudding done if you carry on so. Now, pass the bowl toward Whisper, and we can proceed.”

Bennet took the bowl from Ring. “What do we add next, Anne?”

“The suet is next. Ring?”

“Ahh, yes, about that. I was not able to obtain suet, per se.” Ring peeked into the box.

“It is a rather essential ingredient as I understand. I am not sure we can make a pudding without it.”

“Not to worry, I have an excellent substitute. You see, I was not certain what suet was in the first place, so I asked Dale, Mrs. Reynold’s Friend, who is well versed in all such matters. He said it is a particular kind of fat and suggested that another similar fat might be substituted, so I have this.” Ring pulled out a cloth-wrapped parcel. That smell was familiar. He unwrapped a chunk of meat with a thick layer of fat. “I believe you would call this pork belly. I have it on good authority that it will be an adequate substitute for the suet.”

“Not like that it won’t,” Frances muttered, dropping back to the floor.

“Why not?” How surprised Ring looked.

“You cannot simply dump that whole lump into the flour. Mama always has the suet cut up fine before adding it,” Anne said.

“I do not recall reading that in the receipt.” Ring scratched his ear.

“I am quite certain it is in the recipe.” Anne gritted her teeth. “Have you a knife, perhaps?”

“Dragons have no use for knives. I am sure Tawny can shred the meat with her talons, can you not?”

“Of course, would you pass it to me?” She reached across the table, to pull the pork belly toward her with her long, dirt-caked claws. She spread the wrapping cloth out on the table.

“Do be careful, as I understand, we must use that to wrap the pudding. Do not damage the cloth.” Ring looked to Anne for confirmation.

“Anything else I need to know before I proceed?” Tawny snorted.

“The suet is always cut to the size of a corn of wheat.” Anne said softly. The last thing they needed now were annoyed dragons.

“And you would like me to do the same? Yes?”

“Please.”

Tawny bared the tops of her teeth in a small frown. “I will do my best.” Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, Tawny turned the slab of pork belly into a pile of ragged shreds, giving Anne an entirely new respect for shepherding drakes in the process. “Will this do?”

“I think so.” But who knew? Had such a pudding ever been made?

“Good.” Bennet slid the cloth back to his side and dumped the pork belly into the flour and passed the bowl to Whisper.

“What shall I add?” The lesser cockatrix leaned back on her serpentine tail and flapped her grey feather-scaled wings. Lesser cockatrix were so plain compared to the greater cockatrix, like Cait. Were they jealous of their prettier, stronger, more desirable cousins?

“The next to go in is the fruit. Mama and Mrs. Reynolds usually have it already soaked in brandy, and just ready to drop in. I don’t suppose you’ve done that, have you?” Anne tried to peer into the box, but it was a little too tall to allow her to see clearly.

He hung his head and worried his front paws together. “Well, yes, about that. The fruit was also a challenge, I am afraid. But never fear, I was able to acquire a bit of candied citron, and a few other substitutions that should be acceptable. I have one of them soaking in mead—” He pulled a stoppered jar from the box.

“Because brandy was not available, either?” Anne filled in.

“Mead is very good. I do not see why it will not serve the purpose.” He unstoppered the jar.

“What is that in the mead?” Bennet stood on his toes to look into the jar.

“Oh that, it is carrots.” Ring smiled a toothy dragon grin.

“Carrots?”

“Yes, they are sweet are they not? That is the point of the fruit, I should think.”

“They are, but carrots are not a fruit.” George huffed. “Who ever heard of a Christmas pudding with carrots?”

“Does that matter?” Ring looked so perplexed.

“They are not fruit.” Frances hitched herself up on the bar again. “We are supposed to add fruit. This is going to be terrible.”

“Carrots are what we have, and Ring is right, they are sweet, so they should be just fine. Don’t worry, it will be fine.” Anne patted Frances’ back.

“Of course, Miss Anne knows what she is talking about.” Ring removed a covered bowl, and a rather weather-worn orange and a lemon from the box. “As I understand, these are fruits. I think these will be good additions, too. And they should satisfy your desire for fruit.”

“What is in the bowl?” George eyed the medium-sized, blue striped earthenware bowl suspiciously.

“Mashed potatoes. From the kitchen. Dale said I might take those, and the orange and lemon as well. You see, we do have proper fruit.”

“Mashed potatoes?” George gave Anne such a look.

“I suppose. Some of the old receipts in Mama’s commonplace book use them in unusual ways.” Anne rubbed her chin. That’s what Mrs. Reynolds did when she was thinking hard. Perhaps it would make Anne sound more convincing. “But the lemon and orange must be—”

“Cut up? Of course, Tawny can do that for us, while we add in the next ingredients.” Ring seemed so impossibly cheery. “I have never cooked before and find it quite amusing. This is so very exciting.”

Whisper tipped in the mead-soaked carrots, her brow wrinkling just a bit. Perhaps she did not like the smell of mead. She passed the bowl to the pair of wyrms who required the fairy dragons help to urge the mashed potatoes into the bowl, resulting in two potato-caked fairy dragons, and bits of potato flung throughout the barn.

Anne grimaced, as much for the feather-scales that went with the mashed potatoes as for the puddle of orange and lemon forming in front of Tawny. “I think that is cut up enough now. Why not go ahead and add that to the pudding.”

Tawny swept the juice, fruit and peel into the bowl, along with bits of hay that had been on the bar near her.

“Then I could add the candied citron, no?” Ring dumped it in without waiting for her answer.

What point would it be telling him that he was taking his turn out of order?

“Are there any nuts for Frances to add?” Anne asked through clenched teeth.

“Of course! Plenty!” Ring tossed a pile of walnuts and almonds on the table where they rolled around like a bag of marbles turned loose on the floor.

The fairy dragons hovered over the table and picked them up in the claws. They flittered to the bowl and dropped several in whole.

“No, no! Not with the shells on!” Bennet cried, gathering the nuts away from the fairy dragons

“Silly me, I should have thought.” Ring pressed his front paws to the sides of his snout.

“We can break shells!” The wyrms declared and dove on Bennet’s pile.

Bits of shell and nuts exploded from the pile. Frances and Anne squealed and jumped back, shielding their faces from the sharp shards of nutshell. When the wyrms emerged from the frenzy, everyone began sorting through the detritus, looking for nut meat. In the process, Anne lost track of who threw what into the bowl. No telling how much shell now sat along the carrots and mashed potato in the pudding bowl.

Anne covered her face with her hands and shook her head. She held her breath, trembling.

“Don’t be upset, Anne. I know what is next!” Frances threw her arms around Anne’s waist. “Where is the milk.”

“Surely you have milk, Ring,” Bennet said.

“Of course, of course.”

Anne peeked over her hands to see Ring pass a bottle to Frances who upended it all into the bowl. Why bother with measurements now? And that smell—was the milk going sour?

“And breadcrumbs! I can do those.” George cried, reaching across the table for Ring’s box. He withdrew a slab of bread the size of a large book. “How small do the crumbs need to be, Anne?”

“Make small? We help!” The wyrms dove on the bread, tearing it from George’s hands. Most of it seemed to wind up in the bowl, what the wyrms weren’t wearing on their shaggy heads at a least.

Then the fairy dragons dove on the wyrms, pecking at the breadcrumbs on their shaggy heads. The wryms tumbled off the bar, with the fairy dragons following.

“Do you wish to add the eggs, Miss Anne?” Ring asked softly, pushing a bowl of eggs toward her.

She had never cracked an egg before. How did one manage such a thing? She knocked the first egg against the edge of the bowl, smashing it, shell and all into the pudding, or rather half of it, the other half ended up on the table. By the third try, most of the egg was in the bowl and the shell on the table. But then, the wyrms slithered back up to the bar to dive on the empty shells as she tried to crack the last few, and much of the final egg shells joined the nut shells in the pudding.

Bennet looked at her, consternation knitting his brow. She shook her head. There was no way out. Somehow, they just had to get through the last few ingredients and the figure out another way to get a pudding for Christmas dinner.

“Oh, look all that is left are the spices. You will be so pleased. I have bark of cinnamon, half a nutmeg, some peppercorns, and this…I am not sure what it is, but I see it often cut for the kitchen.” Ring held up a spring of something green.

“It’s rosemary.” Anne covered her eyes with her hand.

“Excellent.” He tossed the spices in whole. “Now, correct me if I am wrong, but it is time to stir, no?”

“Were there thirteen ingredients?” Bennet bit his lip.

“Don’t we need to talk about the symbols?” George asked.

“What happened to the spoon?” Frances asked.

At least a reasonable question, especially considering the spoon seemed to have disappeared in one of the wyrm’s frenzies.

“A spoon? Is that really necessary?” Ring’s brow ridge lifted.

“No, not at this point. Tawny, can you stir this for us?” Anne shoved the bowl at the shepherding drake.

“Wait, wait, I carved some charms for the pudding. Nothing fancy, but they seemed too important to leave out. Here’s a star, and a flower, and a …well I’m not sure I recall what that one was, but in it goes. I made them from the pits of stone fruit.” Ring looked so satisfied with himself as he tossed in the indistinct shape

All the children looked at Anne.

“Should we take turns and make a wish?” Bennet asked softly. “Perhaps if we all wish the same thing—”

“It cannot hurt.” The children grabbed hands and silently wished.

Amazing things could happen at Christmastide, couldn’t they?

Subscribers to my newsletter can download a free copy. Click HERE to subscribe and get it.

(If you’re already a subscriber click HERE)