StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Welcome to this Holiday Special! By Holidays is of course meant everything from Christmas up to and including New Years Eve.

Note this will be slightly glurgy, or as one of my reviewers put it "your sucrose laden fic is making my teeth hurt."

I meant to finish this before the New Year, but unfortunately I was involved in an accident (no one was hurt), and so I was not really able to write much of anything before now.

Part I: Day before the day before Christmas Arrival at the Whitcomb place.

Part II: Christmas Eve The Christmas Eve Breakfast, getting the Christmas tree, and the Story of Krampus.

Part III: Two Masses The Christmas Eve Mass, followed by Krampus and St Nicholas showing up, and then the Midnight Vigil.

Part IV: Christmas Day! Christmas Day!

Part V: Boxing Day Boxing Day with all of its peculiar traditions.

Part VI: Happy New Year! Happy New Year!

That's all for now folks, but next year I'll have a new special, but hopefully this time in time for the season!

It was snowing in South Blaine, a soft gentle snow that covered the fields, and the roofs in a thin downy layer. Across the wintery landscape came the gentle chime of bells, as a horse sleigh dashed through the snow, the source of the sound was a bell studded horse collar around the horses' neck.

Within the sleigh lay three figures, all of them covered with a thick red woollen blanket, and wearing those big fur hats that all wealthy Pendletonians keep for those rare cold winters. It was of course Whitcomb, and Diana and Charles Westley, come to celebrate Christmas with the family. For indeed it was Christmas with the family, beneath those mittens Diana wore a diamond engagement ring, which added so much to the joyful Christmas spirit.

Sitting on the drivers perch was Leonard mallard, wrapped up in a long cloth coat, and with five feet of colourful scarf wrapped several times around his face and neck. Each time he spotted some familiar landmark he cried out, "Sir, there's the old mill," or "Sir, there's the frozen pond, where the childrens skate," usually this cheerful remark was followed by "There's not long to go now!"

"The old mill!" Whitcomb cried, then he turned to the Westleys, looking deeply into Diana's eyes, "I remember it well, it burned down a long time ago, and ever since it's been a favourite playground for the local children, why I remember many a happy day, and night, spent there convincing ourselves that it was haunted!"

"The frozen pond!" he called as they passed by that landmark, he pointed eagerly to it, "See there, that is where I learned to skate!" They all leaned forward a bit, and saw that there were many children there now, playing around in the snow or skating. Some of them dressed in warm clothes, others, in the custom of children everywhere, had impetuously torn away their scarves and caps the moment their mothers were out of sight. Seeing the strangers some of the children stopped their snowball fight and waved cheerfully, a cry of "MERRY CHRISTMAS GENTLEFOLK!" reached the trio in the sleigh, but then the childrens courtesy ended, and once more they fought and frolicked in the snow.

"Aren't they lovely!" Diana said as she watched them, "they are so sweet."

Now they drew nearer the Whitcomb Mansion itself, here and there they spotted small groups of low peasant cottages. They were white with small windows, visible timber support, and thatched roofs that went so low as to almost touch the ground. Yet however humble the houses all of them had cleared their yard of snow, and a bundle of grain set out for the birds.

As they passed by the houses the parents would cry out to their children, "Behave yourselves now, the Quality is passing by," and all would bow or doff their caps to the passing sleigh. Yet behind them, after the sleigh had passed, the easy cheerfulness resumed, and the children went back to play.

It was already growing dark, since thick snow-laden clouds covered the sky, but now they could spy the bright lights from the mansions windows. In the distance, it was hard to make out more than a few spots of light, but as they came close they could see the steep slate roof of the mansion, and the black and white wattle walls.

Just outside the mansion, near the great square in front of the main door, a group of well dressed children were erected a snowman. They'd done an excellent job, his mouth and eyes were made from bits of dark coal, and so were the buttons on his coat. His arms were wooden branches, in one of them he held an old worn out straw broom, and someone had perched an equally worn out top hat on his head. All it lacked now was a nose, which faithful to tradition should be a carrot, but alas apparently someone had eaten it, leaving poor Frosty nose less for the nonce.

When they heard the bells the children turned around and ran towards the sound, peering curiously at the new arrival. They waved and hollered, while a couple of naughty children threw snowballs at the sleigh. Whitcomb laughed at their youthful high spirits, "ah, meet the children, a bit rambunctious I fear."

"Well children are children," Diana said.

"Is that the Whitcomb Mansion?" Charles asked.

As the sleigh slowed down Whitcomb removed the blanket over his feet, grabbed the sides, and leapt out of the sleigh from a sitting position. He landed on the ground with a satisfying crunch, and the children let out delighted screams "Uncle Allan!" one of them, a young girl of maybe six yelled as she leapt towards him as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.

He swept her up in his arms and threw her a bit upwards, "Hullo Alicia!" he called, then holding her he turned to Diana, and added "This is Alicia my favourite little niece."

"Hello Alicia," Diana said, gently waving at the little girl.

Charles also waved a bit as he bent forward, looking at the peering big eyed children.

"Who's the pretty lady?" Alicia asked innocently.

Diana blushed, though it was a bit hard to spot since her cheeks were already red from the cold weather, "such lovely nieces you have Allan."

"Is she your pretty..." Alicia began, but Whitcomb quickly covered her mouth and whispered, "She's my fiancée!"

"They're certainly very well behaved," Charles added, wanting to say something.

"Who?" Allan looked behind him, "oh the children," a smile made his moustache curl a bit, "just wait," he said in a low voice, "we're strangers now but before too long some of the cheeky rascals will try to pelt us with snowballs!"

"Not me!" Alicia cried out, stretching her arms forward, "because I'm a very good girl!" she said in a most precocious fashion.

"Of course you are," Allan said as he put her back to the ground, "now run along."

Alicia ran off, and the children went back to their play, while Whitcomb walked alongside the sleigh that slowly slid across the snow towards the courtyard.

Now they entered the courtyard where they could see the whole façade of the mansion, every window was filled with light. Through them they saw domestic scenes of people rushing too and fro, and lovely splendidly adorned with festive colours, and branches of evergreen trees lining the mantels as decorations.

In front of the door stood two footmen in green and gold liveries, they wore thick earmuffs looking a bit silly under their hats, woollen mittens and long scarves wrapped around them, but even so they would occasionally move their arms and slap them against their bodies to keep up the warmth. As they saw the newcomers they straightened up, and looked quite presentable as whiffs of white smoke rose from their mouths.

"Ey Charles, it's Lieutenant Whitcomb," one of them called out to the other.

"Why bless you Georgie, so it is!" Charles the Footman replied.

They both doffed their hats as Whitcomb and the sleigh approached, but Whitcomb had eyes only for Diana. He reached out his hand to Diana, who gratefully accepted it, and for a moment their eyes met, they both stopped and smiled in that silly, yet adorable, way of young couples in love. Then as Charles made his own way out of the sleigh, leaving from the opposite side, Allan helped Diana descent from the sleigh and onto the ground.

"Oh your family mansion is so beautiful!" Diana announced as she looked up at it, then when she saw the footmen her smile grew even bigger, "how wonderful!"

"Yes, I wonder..." Whitcomb said as he walked over to the door, "so who is standing watch over our gate?" he said in a half joking tone of voice.

"Charles and Georgie, beggin' your pardon Lieutenant," Georgie said.

"It's Captain now Georgie," Whitcomb said still smiling.

"So awf'ly sorry Sir," Georgie said touching his hat once more.

"You're excused," Whitcomb said, then he pressed a coin into each of their palms and gave them a nod, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Sir," they called out, as Georgie grabbed the lions head brass knocker on the door and gave it three good knocks, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to be unseemly.

The door creaked open oh so slowly, revealing an exceedingly old white haired man in an old-fashioned black suit. He squinted slightly at the sight of the three guests, then all of a sudden he exclaimed "Young Master Allan," and threw the door open while bowing slightly as the trio walked past him into the greeting hall.

Diana mouthed "Young master Allan," as they walked inside, Whitcomb just smiled, and whispered "Old Slarney's an institution, been here since forever."

The entrance hall was most impressive, and it was warm, the heat struck them like a blast from a furnace, making their cold noses and cheeks tingle. Thick wall-to-wall woollen carpets covered the floor, the border of the carpets showed a design of hollies and thorns, and the interior was a festive pattern of red and green. Lining the walls were festive rows of evergreen branches, tied together with lengths of red ribbon. Hanging in the air was a hint of burning spruce wood, somehow that scent was always fresh and warm at the same time, but there was no sign of a fireplace.

Lining the walls were also several paintings, showing hunting scenes, and men in archaic clothes signing forebodingly important looking documents. There were of course various objects d'art, like vases, strange masks, musical instruments, and all manner of strange things that the family had accumulated over the year. To this was added several swords, axes, and odd looking pistols, they drew Charles' eye, but not as much as the ornate suit of plate armour that stood on a low pedestal, it's hands resting on the handle of a two-handed sword, and the point of the sword between its feet.

The room was quite tall, easily covered two floors, up by the far end from the entrance a long balcony stretched from right to left linking the room. A small winding staircase moved up to this balcony, but there were no grand stairs as you might expect.

"May I help you with your coats Gentlefolk?" Slarney asked, as they got inside, he squinted slightly as he peered at each of them.

"Of course you may," Whitcomb replied as he allowed Slarney to remove his coat.

Diana and Charles, looked around for a dumb waiter, but there was none to be seen, instead a small section of the wall suddenly slid open revealing a secret room inside! There another man in a dark suit accepted the coat, and hung it up on a rack.

"A secret passage!" Charles exclaimed, fascinated by all such things.

"Oh that!" Whitcomb said, smiling a bit, "I suppose so Mr Westley, I mean this house was built in the old days, and they loved secret passages back then, why there's scarcely a room in the house without a hiding place of some sort."

"Really?" Charles said, then, remembering his age, he added, "I find it fascinating Sir, perhaps you..." Here he paused as Slarney came to take his coat, "could show me them some day."

"Later maybe," Whitcomb agreed.

"Gentlefolk, Dame Agatha Whitcomb has requested that all new guests meet her in the parlour, if you would please accompany me," Slarney called, as he bowed once more before starting to walk slowly, but deliberately across the Entrance Hall.

The three followed dutifully behind him, as they walked through the long winding corridors of the house, lined as they were with fresh smelling spruce branches, paintings, and musty old furniture from bygone centuries. After a while Whitcomb straightened himself a bit and arranged his tie, "nearly there," he told his two companions who also prepared themselves to meet the redoubtable Dame Agatha Whitcomb.

For a moment Slarney stopped outside the door, then he asked "Master Allan, whom shall I introduce?"

"Captain Allan Whitcomb, my fiancée Ms Diana Westley, and Mr Charles Westley, her brother," Whitcomb said simply.

"Yes of course Sir," Slarney said, then he opened the door and walked into the room, he placed himself on the side of the door and called out "Captain Allan Whitcomb, Ms Diana Westley, and Mr Charles Westley."

Inside the parlour sat a little old lady with a thick woollen blanket over her feet. She was a very tiny old lady, and the reclining chair she was in was very big, so she almost vanished in the vastness of the chair. There were others there too of course, a couple of gentlemen, and a young lady playing the piano, but she stopped the moment she heard an introduction.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Allan Whitcomb called.

"Cpatain Allan Whitcomb! My dear grand-nephew!" the old woman in the chair called out with a surprisingly strong and clear voice, she smiled showing white teeth in her wrinkled face, and held out a thin but steady arm in Allan's direction.

"Lady Whitcomb," Allan said before he touched her hand politely, "always a delight to see you!"

"They all say that," Lady Whitcomb said, chuckling softly, then she smiled again, "well, I believe you, you were always such a good, kind, lad, and now... oh who are your friends?"

"My fiancée," Allan held out his hand, and Diana approached, "Dame Agatha Whitcomb, may I introduce to you Ms Diana Westley, Ms Diana Westley, Dame Agatha Whitcomb, and of course her brother," he now introduced Charles as well.

"Your fiancée! How splendid," Lady Whitcomb smiled happily as she looked at Diana, "and such a charming young lady too, when is the wedding?"

"Well Lady Whitcomb, we were planning on having it in May, it's so lovely here in May after all," Diana said, smiling as she glanced at Allan.

"May Ms Westley? Not an earlier date?"

"No, why would there be need for an earlier date?"

Lady Whitcomb smiled broadly now, "how true! How true! Why would there be," she looked quite happy, "I'm sure you'll be very happy, and I was so glad when Allan wrote me telling me of this. To be honest, Ms Westley, I thought he'd never get married, and to such a lovely young lady too!"

Now they were all introduced to one another, the two men in the room were of course Edgar Henry Whitcomb (not to be confused with Allan's brother Edgar Martin Whitcomb), a slightly pale, and refined intellectual of the sort that is generally found in the finest salons.

Then there was Rupert Bertrand, a cheerful stocky chap in a tweed suit, who greeted them all very warmly, "I say, jolly good to see you all here."

However the one person that had Diana a tad worried was the sandy haired woman who had played the piano before they entered. Seeing Allan she walked up and cooed "Cousin Allan! You're back! I've heard all about you fighting those awful heathens!"

"Yes well Sam... Ms Samantha," Allan called, seeming a bit surprised by the delight she showed, "I assure you that matters there are well in hand."

"You must tell!" Samantha called excitedly, "surely you've fought those rascally Socialists and those swarthy pagan allies of theirs!"

"Not now dear!" came a stern voice from the big reclining chair, "come now, entertain a poor young woman, continue that tune you played earlier!"

Coming from such a matriarch it was an order, but Samantha didn't seem to mind, she smiled and called "Yes Grand-Mother." Then she sat down by the piano and began to play, and play quite well to, it was a happy jaunty Christmas Carol that brought cheer to the room. Soon most everyone in the room was chiming in with "Deck the halls...".

That was when Allan whispered in Diana's ear, "Relax Diana, Samantha is my first cousin, and I'm not some inbred peasant."

Diana giggled with embarrassment, but no one seemed to notice, "You must think I'm terrible," she whispered back.

"No, I think you're adorable," Allan said as he held her hand, he bent down slightly towards her when all of a sudden there was a loud tap of a walking cane knocking on the floor.

"Propriety young couple!" Lady Whitcomb called, she jabbed her cane at them, "now you young people, you can't be acting like you would in your wild youthful clubs! This is not a dance hall!"

Diana blushed, "Oh my," she said.

"But you must be tired anyway, from your long journey," Lady Whitcomb continued as she reached for a bell that stood on the table beside her. As she rang it she continued, "Now then Allan I've had your old rooms prepared on the west wing, and your gue... your fiancéem she and her brother will have adjourning rooms on the east wing."

Later on in the east wing

"Do you think we made a good impression?" Diana asked worriedly as she made sure that all her clothes and other belongings had been put in a proper place, even if the servants seemed reliable she had a principle of "trust but verify."

Charles nodded, again, "Yes Di, I'm sure we did, you worry too much, they seem real nice," he said trying not to sound too annoyed.

"Really! You take this all too... no you don't take it serious enough, I want to make a good impression, I'm joining this family after all!" Diana said, she rose up and stood with her hands on her hips, "honestly, when Lady Whitcomb made that remark about dance halls I wished I could sink into the ground."

"You take it too seriously."

"Oh, you, you men! You don't understand anything!"

Charles just sighed and looked out the window, "relax, it'll be a wonderful Christmas, you just wait and see, look!" He pointed outside, "the moon is nearly full."

Diana came to the window and they looked outside, the landscape was magnificent. The snow clouds had cleared away showing the dark black sky filled with twinkling stars. The full moon shed its light on the white winter landscape, the snow twinkling as if it were silver, and the spruces and firs stood weighed down with snow. Far away they could see the thatch roofs of the distant peasant cottages, where all was oh so quiet.

"Look, what's that," Charles asked as he pointed again, this time at a moving shape.

"I don't know..."

"Heh, it's a deer!"

A sleepy deer had woken up, confused by all the light, and now it nibbled gently on the succulent ends of a fir trees branches. Suddenly as it pulled too hard, and a cascade of snow splashed down on it, it leapt up high in the air, spinning around as it went, and then it began to run sloughing off the snow on its back as it skittered for the woods.

"How sweet!" Diana said, giggling a bit.

"Stupid deer, I just wish I had..." he stopped, apparently thinking the better of what he had planned to say.

"You know..." Diana smiled, she let out a relieved breath of air, "I'm sure you're right, it will be a wonderful Christmas, and everything will look better in the morning."

'Twas the day before Christmas... and all was still...

Diana's Room

Diana felt so good, she was nestled so perfectly in the soft bed, the spring mattress and the soft goose down blanket nestled her so perfectly, like a baby bird in its nest. She curled up a bit more, moaning as she rubbed her head against the soft pillow, and fought very hard not to wake up as she heard an insistent voice call "Ma'am, ma'am, you must wake up."

Standing above her was a personal maid in full uniform, she was a woman in her late twenties maybe, and she was gently shaking Diana, "So sorry Ma'am but breakfast is at Seven AM sharp, and her Ladyship is most strict Ma'am."

"Whaaaat time is it?"

"Six O'Clock ma'am."

"Six in the morning?"

"Yes Ma'am, just enough time to get dressed and tidy up, if we hurry Ma'am."

"Awww, alright," Diana felt a bit bothered that she was acting like such a child, but it was cold outside, and she was still sleepy, "help me up."

"Of course Ma'am," the maid replied and quickly pulled away the down blanket, letting the cooler air of the room hit Diana, before she helped the young lady out of bed.

Landing her feet on the floor Diana felt very grateful for the thick carpets, and she curled her toes against them as she looked towards the window. The sun was still low, the last blush of the morning was only starting to die away, and now the snow was starting to fall again, already a thin layer of it covered the window ledges.

Suppressing a shudder at the sight of the snow outside, and the thought of how awfully, yes just awfully, cold it was as compared to staying in bed, Diana thought she'd be nice and asked "What's your name?"

"I'm Grace Ma'am," the Maid said pleasantly, "your personal maid for the stay."

"That's nice Grace, I think I'll wear the light green dress for dinner, and with some nice red ribbons for the hair," Diana said as she rose up from bed and walked towards the elaborate vanity table. She watched herself in the mirror, her hair a horrid mess, and she thought both her complexion and her eyes needed work, "Oh dear..."

"Yes Ma'am, green dress and red ribbons," Grace the maid said cheerfully as she produced all the desired items, laying them out very quickly and effectively.

Charles' Room

Charles stretched luxuriously in his big bed, the room was a bit small, but this place was so wonderful, and he had such a nice dream. A smile was spreading over his face as he stretched again, "Mmmmhmmmm," as he hugged his pillow close to his chest.

"Sir," came a voice into his hazy dream, Charles moaned and clutched the pillow tighter, "Sir, it's time to wake."

"I want to stay in bed, I'm such a sleepy head," he complained bitterly as he felt himself torn from his lovely dream.

"I'm awfully sorry Sir, but breakfast awaits," the voice said.

"Wheeeeen?"

"Seven AM sharp Sir."

"What is it now?"

"Six AM Sir, time to rise."

Deep down Charles knew that the valet was right, "Five more minutes?" he tried.

"Sir!" It was remarkable, some people could pack an entire conversation into one word, and that Sir was perfectly respectful, and yet very firm at the same time.

"Meh..." Charles moaned as he got out of bed, he peered out the window, it was nice weather, snow coming down too. Then he looked into the mirror, not too bad, his hair was a bit disordered, but otherwise he was fine!

Ten Minutes Later

Charles sauntered out the door of his room, he took a deep breath of air, but the air was a bit musty, although with a pleasing tinge of spruce sap. Looking up and down the corridor he did see a handful of servants moving about discretely, before vanishing into carefully hidden servants corridors, designed so that the help could get around without bothering the guests.

He then walked over to Diana's door and knocked gently, "Di, are you done yet?"

"No Charles, I've just started."

6:25 AM

Allan Whitcomb walked around a corner in the corridor, spotting Charles he gave a wave, "Good morning Mr Westley."

"Good morning Captain," Charles replied, he sighed a bit "I'm just waiting for Di, I mean Diana."

Allan pulled his gold pocket watch from his vest, "Five to half, well women need more time eh?"

"I guess so."

"Well," Allan coughed a bit, and checked the collar of his shirt, "everything good otherwise Sir?"

"Yes Sir, everything is fine."

6:30 AM

Charles was about to knock again on Diana's door, but Allan stopped him, "now Sir, it's uncouth to knock on a lady's door."

6:40 AM

There was a knock on the door, "One knock won't hurt," Allan said apologetically.

"Knock it off Charles! I'm still doing my hair!"

"Ms Westley, it's Allan Whitcomb, ah I do apologise but..."

"Sorry Allan, I'll be right there."

"Excellent!"

Charles just raised an eyebrow, "not very used to ladies grooming habits eh Sir?" he tried not to chuckle.

"Whatever do you mean Sir."

"Nothing, nothing..."

6:50 AM

"It is a mystery."

"One of those things that man is not meant to know."

"I agree Sir, I agree."

"Still I'm curious."

"Sir I think I'd rather face the Azhistani's again than try to pry into that secret."

"Yes but what takes women so long!"

6:55 AM

Finally the door opened and out came Diana, looking very splendid and Christmassy in light informal dress, and with lovely red ribbons tied to her hair "Do I look good?"

"Yes" came the reply in unison.

"I don't know," she peered at her reflection in the doorknob, then she brushed away a single strand of hair that looked kind of disturbing.

"I'm sure that everyone will find you just as enchanting as I do," Allan said, then he casually offered her his arm, "come let us go down and astound everyone with how lovely you look."

"Awwww, how sweet," Diana said as she let him take her arm, and escort her down to breakfast, then she whispered, "Not just saying that to get me down to the breakfast table in time?"

"Perish the thought!" Allan said, he gave her one of his charming boyish smiles, as they all three walked down the corridor and to the stairs, rather quickly as time was of an essence.

6:58 AM

Breakfast Room

The breakfast room was in an unusual part of the house, situated to the rear so that it would not interfere with the elegant, and old fashioned, façade. It was a glass and cast iron building, much like a green house, indeed there were plants lining the glass walls. Through the window you could see that there was a greenhouse attached to the mansion, though it was over at the other wing, so that the symmetry of the house would not be broken even in the back.

Outside they could see the beautiful winter landscape, a huge snow covered park stretched before them, evergreens covered in snow, and barren deciduous trees stretching naked branches upwards. A large frozen pool, and several statues and marble benches coated in snow, completed the impression of a frozen world, contrasting so delightfully with the warm and pleasant atmosphere inside the glass annex.

The centre of the room was dominated by a rather large breakfast table covered with a red and white tablecloth, and decked with tea pots (plural), toast racks, marmalade jars, plates with butter bars, and of course salt and pepper shakers. There was a delicious smell of eggs and bacon, as well as kippers, and of course a scent of burning spruce from the crackling red brick fireplace.

At the top of the table sat the Matriarch, the very old but very firm Lady Whitcomb. She peered up at a huge ticking grandfather clock the moment she spotted Allan and his friends. She smiled at them and waited for them to take their assigned seats, for there were little papers with name tags beside each set of plates. Diana noticed that she was seated between Charles and Allan, though this seemed to fit the pattern elsewhere too.

Then the grandfather clock struck, seven long mournful gooooongs spread across the room, and every servant watched Lady Whitcomb. Then as the last gong died out she gave a little nod, and motioned a frail hand a fraction of an inch.

Within moments dozens of plates filled with all manner of breakfast foods appeared on the table, as if by magic, though both Charles and Diana noticed the cunningly hidden dumbwaiters by either side of the fireplace.

"Ah yes the Christmas Eve breakfast!" Lady Whitcomb called, "and the entire family gathered, it is so lovely," she began picking at her food eating it slowly and deliberately.

The rest of the family were not so slow, indeed many of them finished of seemingly enormous amounts of warm sausage, bacon, egg, kippers, toast with marmalade, and so forth and so on. The servants were kept quite busy providing for all, fortunately the conversation was as excellent and cheerful as the food itself.

"It's jolly good you're here cousin Allan," the slightly stocky chap, Rupert Whitcomb, announced, "after all we've not yet chopped down the Christmas tree!"

"Not yet? I say!" Allan said, looking quite astounded.

The old lady however smiled knowingly, "I know how much you used to love cutting the tree, and if you're not too adult, well, I thought we might wait till you came," she smiled and wagged her finger reproachfully, but jokingly, "even if you were a little late!"

That brought happy laughter around the table, from Allan too, "I apologise grandmother, but the call of duty! However... you're never too grown up to enjoy going out into the woods and cutting down a Christmas tree!" Allan said, and then he gave Charles a pat on the back, "Eh? Westley, want to tag along?"

"Indeed I would Captain," Charles said, "it would be very keen!"

"That would be splendid, the men going out to chop the tree," Samantha chimed in, she smiled at Diana, "and that would give us women some time to get to know each other properly!"

"Yes, that would be," Diana forced a smile, "splendid I'm sure." Then she sipped the good strong tea, it tasted of honey and fresh leaves, though not a single one strayed to her tongue.

Out into the woods!

"Chop, chop," Allan cried cheerfully as they jumped into the sleigh, no blankets this time, just two sturdy men dressed in warm clothes. Fur coats and hats, and good woollen mittens, just the thing to keep the biting cold away, for it was indeed biting! That tingling prickly cold that tears a bit like sandpaper on your nose and mouth, and numbs exposed skin so it turns a rosy red, but ah how refreshing it is! The air was clear, and cool, and invigorating.

"Come Leonard!" cried Allan, "let us proceed!"

"Yes Sir," Leonard Mallet replied, then he flicked the reins of the horse and off they went through the snow and towards the forest.

The forest was not so far from the mansion itself indeed it was a bit under a mile away, so the journey took maybe ten minutes or so. As they travelled they went past the odd set of deep footprints, but they were old and the new snow made them into little more than regular depressions in the ground.

Soon they found themselves in among the spruces, firs, and other evergreen trees of the forest, as forests go this one was not so large and dense. Yet the further in you got the denser the trees became and the darker the shades, and the snow grew thinner and thinner, but Leonard stopped the sleigh long before they reached those tall foreboding trees.

"Well this is as good a spot as any," Allan said as he once more leapt out of the sleigh, landing in the snow with a low crunch as his feet plunged through that hard layer of snow on top and into the soft malleable snow beneath.

"Looks nice," Charles said as well, leaping out of the sleigh and landing on the other side, "so which tree shall we take Captain?"

"Well Westley, a big thick one of course, not one of the biggest for their lower branches are bad," Allan said while he reached into the sleigh and pulled out a large woodsman's axe, he felt the edge for a moment, then he added "see any you like?"

They walked for some time among the trees, looking for one that was just right, not too tall, no branches filled with brown dying needles, and of course nice and thick.

"I don't know, I like that one, but," Charles looked a bit uncertain, "it's not too thick and... uhm... bushy? Branchy?"

"No it's nice and thick, why?" Allan asked as he walked around it.

Charles fidgeted a bit, "Weeeell, back home I heard a Christmas tree seller say that a good Christmas tree should be barren enough that you could see through it."

Though he tried very hard Allan couldn't suppress a chuckle, "I'm sorry, I... well... I'm sure he'd have a hard time selling his... let me guess it was towards the end of the time before Christmas Eve and he had a lot of 'excellent' trees left?"

"How do you know?" Charles asked astonished, "I say Sir, are you a mage too?"

"Just a lucky guess," Allan said, he winked at Charles, "Come now let us cut this sucker down!"

He lifted his axe and began to chop at the three, the loud thk-thk-thk sounds filled the forest, and sent white furred squirrels rushing up to higher safer branches. Then after a few minutes there was a loud creaking sound, and Allan shouted "TIMBER!" just before the tree came crashing down towards the ground.

"LEONARD!" Allan shouted again.

The driver rushed over through the snow, "Yes Sir?" he called from a distance.

"Bring up the horse and sleigh, it's time to bring this tree back home!"

"Very good Sir!"

Soon the bay horse and the sleigh came to the tree, and Leonard began to pull it up onto the sleigh, it was so thick with branches and so perfectly shaped that there was no danger whatsoever of him injuring it even when he secured it tight with good sturdy hemp ropes.

"There we are Sir, I'll warrant that won't fall off!" Leonard said with absolute certainly.

"Excellent, come Westley lets head home!" Allan called.

"Right you are."

While Leonard took his seat again, Allan and Charles stood by the side of the sleigh, hanging on to the tree, and stood upright alongside it as the sleigh began the journey back. Occasionally there'd be a bump, and one of them, most often Charles, would almost fall off and cry "OH!" before once more regaining his balance and his foothold on the sideboard.

Soon though they could spy the mansion again, and a small group of children were there crying out "THE TREE! THE CHRISTMAS TREE!" They began to run alongside the sleigh while cheering, and occasionally pelting each other with snowballs, some of which came perilously close to Charles and Allan! One of the snowballs even grazed Leonards head, making Allan cry out "Now careful you scamps! Or it'll be a visit from Krampus and not Santa!"

"EEEEH! NOT KRAMPUS! NO!" the children yelled, some pretending to be scared, but some really a bit worried.

Allan laughed, "well behave then!"

"Who's Kra..." Charles began to ask, but he was interrupted by another bump that barely let him hold on.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"If you say so, now lets get this tree inside!"

The Parlour

The three had been placed in the Christmas tree stand, an iron one painted green and red, and now the children were all around the tree decorating it with both store bought and home-made ornaments. As they worked they, and everyone else, began to sing a merry song.

"O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
Not only green when summer's here,
But also when 'tis cold and drear.
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!"

They were decorating the tree with long paper chains made from coloured paper, which the children had spent long patient hours making. Hanging from red ribbons or the paper chains were pine-cones daubed with glitter, smiling gingerbread men, candied apples, tiny figures of animals and angels, and much, much more. There were also tiny woven baskets filled with candies and nuts, and of course the scores of tiny candles that adorned every branch of the tree.

Yet the most amazing thing of all was the tiny angel on top, it was so splendid and lifelike with its halo that you could almost hear it cry out "Peace on Earth and good will towards men."

Then cousin Rupert picked up a long brass stick with a single lit candle on the end, the candle light reflected of the brass as he moved the stick from spot to spot lighting every single candle in turn. It was as if the tree itself came alive, the flickering light danced across the decorations, looking like a hundred tiny stars had come to life. As soon as it was done Rupert blew out the candle on his stick, and once more everyone began to sing.

"I hear they've invented electrical lights," Charles commented as he watched the lovely tree.

"Oh Phish!" Cousin Rupert cried out, "electrical lights? Cold and sterile, they'll never amount to anything for Christmas, if you'll forgive me for saying so Mr Westley."

"Every man is entitled to his opinion Sir," Charles said amiably, smiling to show no offence had been taken.

Edgar Henry Whitcomb stretched a bit in the chair where he rested, "well now, they are most modern gentlemen, mustn't stand in the way of progress!"

"Nonsense and balderdash!" Rupert announced again, "I for one don't give a whit about being modern, give me an old fashioned Christmas with," he peered out the window and a smile spread across his friendly, but not too handsome, face, "snow! Yes, a white Christmas!"

Indeed outside the snow was starting to fall once more, covering the land in layers of downy white.

"It's inconvenient but..." someone said, Charles didn't recognise him, "it is certainly beautiful!"

Charles watched the snow, but then a question that had been nagging him for a while returned, so he turned to Allan and asked, "Sir who is this Krampus chap?"

Diana perked up an eyebrow "Krampus?"

"Yes some fellow the Captain mentioned when we were going back, to scare the children I mean."

Allan and the other people looked at the two Gosfordians with evident surprise, finally he spoke, with surprise and a bit of disbelief in his voice, "You mean you haven't heard of Krampus?"

"No Sir, not a word," Charles said, "isn't that so Di?"

"Certainly it's true Allan, I've not heard a word of this fellow, is he some sort of goblin?" Diana said.

Allan shook his head in amazement, then he smiled widely, "Well what say you? Want to hear the story of Krampus?" Everyone smiled and nodded, and someone cried on "Go on, tell it, it's a dashing good story Cousin Allan!" Charles and Diana could but nod in agreement and look expectantly at Allan.

"Very well," he began, "Krampus is a mysterious fellow who, like Saint Nicholas, lives hidden far up north in the mountains of Helvetia, as you all know St Nicholas or Santa lives on top of St. Nicholasberg, which is a tall cloud shrouded mountain far, far in the interior of Helvetia. There on top of that mountain he has a huge magical scroll, where all the names of the good children are written, and he has a magical sack that conjures up presents for all good children!"

Everyone was smiling, but now Allan lowered his voice and hunched down a bit, "However the Devil was jealous of St Nicholas spreading such Christmas cheer, so one day that Our Lord was visiting St. Nicholas on top of the Nicholasberg, why there was the devil! Determined to trick them out of some of the good things from the magical bag, for no good things were to be had in Hell. He disguised himself as a poor old woman, and as a beggar, and as travelling merchant, but each time Our Lord saw through his disguise and sent him packing. So the devil returned very angry to Hell where he gnashed his teeth."

"Then his Cousin Krampus called out, 'Say Old Eric, let me have a go at this,' so he disguised himself in a big cloak, doused himself with perfumes, and brought along a basket with broken glass in the bottom and a bundle of birch rods. Then he waited till Our Lord had gone back to Heaven, before he sat down on a rock and began to cry and weep."

"St Nicholas heard this, and seeing this strange figure he came down from his cave and asked 'Who are you? And why do you weep? Don't you know that it is soon Christmas?'"

"'Yes,' Krampus cried, 'but I am a poor perfume merchant, and a few days ago I stumbled and fell, and broke all my perfume bottles, so now I have nothing except these birchrods to sell!'"

"St Nicholas felt very bad about this, and pitied the perfume merchant, and since the smell of perfume on him was so strong he did not scent the sulphurous fumes beneath it. 'Come to my cave, chop wood, carry water, and I shall give you something from my bag,' St. Nicholas said."

"Krampus eagerly agreed, and for a day and a night he worked very hard, but his body ached for he was not used to hard labour of any kind! So he figured he had better use a trick to get his reward soon, therefore he offered 'May I cook your dinner today? For I am a passing good cook as well, and I'd like to do you a kindness before I leave' St Nicholas agreed, and Krampus made a rich fat meal, of the sort that make men sleepy, and with it he served the thickest strongest beer."

"After eating this St. Nicholas was very tired, and he went to sleep, he started to sleep heavily, and when Krampus roused him a bit and whispered 'may I fetch my reward now?' St Nicholas could only say, 'Yes, yes, reach into my bag' before going back to sleep."

"Krampus didn't reach into the bag, he grabbed the whole thing and began to run towards Hell with it! Laughing all the way, and his cloak fluttered around him revealing his hairy shanks. However Our Lord had seen the whole thing, for he is all seeing, and now he sent an angel to wake up St Nicholas, 'Wake up! Wake up!' the angel cried, 'for Krampus has stolen your bag!"

"UP! ST Nicholas went, running across the land so fast that he was a blur, and long before Krampus could reach Hell St. Nicholas came and grappled him, and though Krampus fought St Nicholas grabbed him by the tongue and wrestled the devils cousin to the ground. That is why Krampus has such a long tongue. Then St Nicholas grabbed Krampus' birchrods and struck him hip and thigh, 'oh you wily devil you would steal St. Nicholas' bag' he cried."

"Yet Krampus wailed out 'Please, I worked for a day, I deserve something,' but St Nicholas struck him again, 'a trashing you deserve, but if you would have something more here is my curse on you: henceforth every Christmas you shall travel the world and punish the wicked children according to their sins. While I reward the virtuous ones, and that is the only reward you shall have!'"

"Ever since Krampus has travelled the world on Christmas, carrying on his back a basket, and in his hands a birchrod. When Krampus comes you'd better have been good, but if you've been only a little bad he only frightens you with his horrible visage: For Krampus is hairy and ugly, he has horns on his forehead, his skin is red and warty, and he has a tongue that is a foot long!"

"Oh MY!" Diana cried, fanning herself in horror of this description, "a foot long tongue!"

Allan continued without a break, "If they are naughty little brats he spanks them with his birchrods, but if they are evil children! If they strike their parents, refuse to eat what is served, and disobey, why then he stuffs them into his basket and laughs. With great joy he carries them off with him to Bloxberg, where the witches celebrate Walpurgisnocht, and there he throws them into the chasm that leads straight to Hell! So listen every Christmas, and you can hear the screams of impious children being carried off by Krampus!"

"We'll be very good," one of the little girls said, she smiled like a little cherub, and all the other children also nodded eagerly, and tried to look as angelic and innocent as possible.

"Hah!" came the voice from Lady Whitcomb, she looked at the children, and cried "just remember, the naughty children are punished!" She tapped her cane in the floor and called, "but that is not what Christmas is all about, why I remember in my childhood..." and she began talking about her own childhood at some length, fascinating the children, but leaving the adults to talk among themselves.

The Woods

Of course fetching the tree was not the only task that had to be done out in the woods that day, but the other task had been delegated to Cousin Rupert; for as Lady Whitcomb said "pass around the joy."

That was why he had gone out into the woods earlier that day, pressing through the snow, which reached his waist in some parts, to look for that perfect log. It was cold, and a light wind blew, but he pressed on through the snow with Frederick and Charles (two of the footmen) closely behind him.

Suddenly he saw it lay before him, "Eureka!" he cried as he pointed his axe to it, for there right ahead of them lay a downed tree, fallen many long months ago and now quite dry. He leapt forward, bouncing out of the snow, which scattered around him, as if he was running through the water on a summer day. Moments later the air was filled with the sound of an axe working, and wood groaning, then when he was done Rupert patted the heavy log "Yes here's a beauty, now where are the ribbons?"

"Here Sir," Frederick (the footman), handed him some lengths of red ribbons which Rupert tied around the log, making a crude bow.

"Yes, here it is, the Christmas log!" Rupert said as he watched the enormous log, "now let's drag it home!"

On to Church

After that tree had been decorated, and the Yule Log lit, using a traditional remnant of last years log, it was of course the time, yes? Naturally by the time any good Anglo-Saxon knows what is meant, tea time, that splendid little meal served at four or five PM. Unlike many other meals in the Whitcomb house it was served in a segregated fashion, allowing the ladies to chat freely about this and that, simple easy matters like the household, marriages, the local scandals and such trivial matters. While the men could sit around, mix some brandy in their tea, and debate weighty matters like sports, hunting, political scandals, and other noble and enlightening things.

Of course given that the schedule today would be rather tricky the Afternoon Tea was a bit heavier than it normally was. It included some delicious cold cuts, and much to the surprise, and delight, of the family it also included some of those newfangled meatball sandwiches. Indeed it would almost be right to call it High Tea, but everyone around the table would have scoffed at such a description! One did not have High Tea at Whitcomb Mansion! It was just not done, simple as that. [1]

After tea it was time to go to Church, outside the mansion it was already dark, and the stars could be seen peering out between the thin scattered skies. The air was cold, a couple of the people coughed a little, it tore a bit in your nose if you took a deep breath, but the children laughed and tried to blow torrents of white smoke from their mouth, or to feign smoking.

Out in front of the mansion there was a long line of sleighs, each one with a pair of oil lamps to light the weigh, and impatient horses stepped around crunching the snow beneath their hooves; for it was cold and the waiting disagreed with them. Every sleigh was cleaned up and polished brightly, with a thick woollen blanket red or green draped over the seat, and in front stood the drivers in their Sunday best; top hats on, long black coats, and thick scarves wrapped several times around their necks.

"Come along now," Allan called as he walked towards their sleigh, he smiled as he recognised the horse, "How's Gertie today Leonard?"

"She's fine Sir, fit, groomed, and eager to go if I may say so Sir," Leonard said as he smiled happily and touched the brim of his hat.

"You may indeed Leonard, you may indeed," Allan turned around to see Charles and Diana coming. When she came close enough he offered his hand to Diana, and as she gave it he kissed it, before offering to help her into the sleigh.

"Why thank you," Diana smiled, and gave him a sweet look, of the sort that made the children nearby make faces and go "Ick! Grown ups!"

Moments later all three of them were in the sleigh, with the thick woollen carpet draped all over their legs. Now they had to wait though, for Lady Whitcomb would of course have the privilege of being the first to leave. The Lady was flanked by a servant on one side, and one of her daughters on the other, as she made her way towards the sleigh.

Finally when everyone was in place the cortege began to move, there was a sharp crack in the air as the horse whip snapped over the heads of the lead horses, and off the sleighs went. One by one they pulled out of the courtyard, and onto the road, the merry sound of horse bells, drivers cries, and the odd neigh, filled the air.

Through the landscape the sleighs went, bathing the road in the light of their lanterns, but the stars and the moon were still so bright that you could see glimmers of the scenery outside that circle of light created by the lanterns. It was a splendid night time ride, the old cottages covered in snow, and the evergreen trees the same, were lovely and mysterious in the night, everything seemed different and stranger. The ruins of the old mill, for instance, were strange and romantic in the daytime, but at night it seemed to acquire mystery and menace, like an ancient watchtower of a long lost castle.

As they drew nearer to the Church they began to see other churchgoers come near, here were sleighs, and even carriages, of the Quality from this part of South Blaine. There was much merriment as people recognised one another, and maybe waved politely, of course near the church proper the Hoi Polloi had also gathered and here there was much hulloing and cheerful calls.

One by one the sleighs pulled up in front of the stable, and everyone got out, Allan was chivalrous and helped Diana to disembark.

The Church

Diana took a deep breath and looked around, "So this is the church?"

"Yes, Church of St. Andrew the Apostle, with attending graveyard," Allan motioned a bit, "if it were day you could see the Mausoleums, all the five gentle families have one. Up there, by the side of that hill, are memorials for local heroes, but that's not a fitting subject for the Christmas."

"No, you're right," Diana smiled happily as he took her arm, "it looks so old," she said as they walked towards the Church.

"It is, it is, if you're interested you should ask Cousin Bruce L. he's very keen on history," Allan said, then he patted her arm a bit.

The Church was indeed very old, it was built from greystone, and obviously constructed in several parts. The oldest parts, furthest away from them, was dominated by rounded arches, and the walls seemed strangely thick. There was a sense of massiveness, of heaviness, about it, but from within they could see the golden rays of candles shining out through the windows. The newest parts had pointed arches, and a lightness to them, the tall church spire was part of this structure, made in the Gothic style. The mixture of these two styles was slightly odd, not entirely displeasing, but hearkening back to those days when economy and reverence for the past meant that one added to old buildings rather than tearing down and building anew.

The main entrance into the Church, a massive pair of iron bound double doors, were closed due to the cold, instead a smaller door, built into the huge double doors, were used to get in and out. The doors had apparently been built many years ago, for they were low and you had to duck to get in or out.

There was something of a line in front of this smaller door, and while they queued there was much chatting and gossiping. It did not go without notice that Captain Allan Whitcomb, of heroic reputation, was with a beautiful, but foreign, woman to whom he was engaged, and there were not a few young maidens that deeply envied Diana for her great luck.

One by one the parishioners passed through the low door, and soon it was the Whitcombs' and the Westley's turn, Allan and Diana ducked down beneath the low door and came into the Weapons Room. The Weapons Room in church is an old custom, presumably of Germanic origin since it is also found in Helvetia, in which weapons are removed before entering the sanctuary of the Church.

It was lit by a single black cast iron candle holder that held a couple dozen candles in a lying circle of cups. Rifles, pistols, and swords lined the walls, hanging by belts and shoulder holsters on the many pegs there. Allan carefully removed his weapons and hung them up on a nearby peg, before they went into the church proper.

The Church was brightly lit, above them they could see the one concession to modernity, electric lights had been cunningly hidden in the chandeliers. It was a very pleasant Church, with several niches filled with saints images, and a very large, excellently executed painting of St Andrew holding a pair of fish. The saints face was thin and narrow, he was lean, but there was a vividness to his eyes that was indescribable, and could not be reproduced by mere photography.

As they walked up the pews Charles and Diana noted that they were passing through the local social strata, the crofters, renters, and such to the rear, dressed in their worn but well cared for finest garb. Then to the artisans and local farmers, and so on past the shopkeepers, large scale farmers, dressed in more modern clothes. Till you got to the front pews where the gentry sat, they were dressed in modern clothes, with their thick coats wrapped around them to shield them from the cold.

Diana and Charles were shown the way to the front pew, where Lady Whitcomb had already taken a prominent place. Pulling into the pew they had an excellent view of the Altar and the Pulpit, after a brief wait the bells began to chime, it was a loud and reverberating chime. It's hard to describe the sound, for many people hear only light tinny bells, but this was a thick metal bell where the kloooooong sound like a tremor through your body, until the next chime.

The priest then began the initial rite, he was a young man barely in his thirties as the flesh ages, but he had a wonderfully clear voice. The Mass was of course devoted entirely to the certain and sure arrival of the saviour. The priest performed the rituals quite excellently, and the choir was, albeit provincial, well rehearsed and the songs quite lovely.

The children of course couldn't really pay attention for the whole long hour, they would dangle their feet a bit from the pews, and occasionally peer around at the decorations in the church; something which earned them a nudge in the ribs to keep their attentions focussed. Still they couldn't quite understand the significance of the moment, while dreams of Christmas ran through their heads, and the words seemed so awfully, awfully long and bothersome to their young minds.

Outside Church

Outside the Church the drivers were wandering about in the snow, stomping around outside the densely picked stable, slapping their arms around them and exchanging words with the other drivers. The mood was a pleasant one, for it was after all Christmas, and no one was really in the mood for a nosebleed.

"MALLET!" one of the locals cried, he was a big fellow with a huge shock of ginger hair.

Leonard Mallet, Allans driver, looked up with surprise, but then a smile spread across his lips too, "Smithers! Why I was wondering where you were!"

"Been a while it has," John Smithers said, he smiled and offered his hand, which was cheerfully accepted.

"It certainly has."

"How's things? Staying?"

"Till Christmas is over, then the master goes back to Pendleton again."

"Aye?"

"Yes."

"Oo's that broad he's with?"

"Ms Diana Westley, his fiancée."

"Aye?"

"Yes."

The whispered gossip now spread, naturally the servants were not supposed to talk about such things, but they always did. Now they gathered around outside the stable chatting eagerly for a bit, till one of them called "It's too cold out here, let go inside!"

"Aye, you're a young one, it'll just be even colder when you get back outside I tell you."

The old hands laughed at the young ones who made their way up to the upper story of the stable, they, the old hands that is, just tucked their long coats righter around themselves and brushed away the snow on the stone fence to the graveyard. Then they sat down, and began to drink from their insulated bottles, they were filled with strong tea, coffee, or cider. Some of them believed in heavily sweetening it, while others drank their tea or coffee black as pitch and without anything in it.

As they sat there they spoke at length about this and that, renewing acquaintances, and peering up at the clear starlit sky above them. They were a mottled bunch, some of them with top hats, others with fur caps, all of them packed up in thick coats, and scarves around their neck. Yet they shared the bond of drivers and horsemen everywhere, and they were like the shepherds in the hills, rough honest men often disdained by polite company, but perfectly happy with each others company, and that of their beasts.

"Soon it'll be Christmas," one of them called.

"Christmas is a fine time."

"Aye, aye," came the chorus around the fence, for what was better than Christmas?

"Thems be getting fine presents, the quality."

"Aye," the tone was a bit gloomier now.

One of the oldest drivers looked up, "Pfah!" he cried, "Let me tell you lads, I remember when I was just a young un', and Christmas came around. I was dressed up in me finest clothes, and me hair laid back with butter, it was a fine time. We had a steak on Christmas, a lovely time that was, and when me father came back 'e gave me an orange." He leaned forward now, "let me tell you this, I wouldn't trade me steak for the fancy meals of the quality, and I'd never have traded that orange for all the gifts they be getting!"

There were many nods, some were perhaps a bit uncomfortable, but deep down they knew it was true; there are some things that money cannot buy! Christmas cheer, and the true spirit of giving, and receiving, is one of those things.

After a while one of them pulled out his pocket watch, it was a simple brass piece, but carefully kept and polished so it shone like gold. He peered at it visibly holding it some distance from his nose, "Aye, we'd better be getting the horses again, t'mass'll be over soon."

Whitcomb Mansion

The Parlour

It was Christmas Eve, and all the children were expectant, earlier on they had put up big colourful woollen socks over by the fireplace, each of them had a name carefully knitted into it "SAMANTHA," "GEORGE," "BUSTER," or "MAX." They waited to see if St Nicholas would come, or if Krampus would come and get them for being so very naughty!

Yes all the children remembered their antics and naughty tricks, tipping a girls braid in the ink house, breaking a tea cup and not telling, smearing fat on the door knobs, or crumbling up old newspapers and sticking them into peoples hats. In truth a couple of them were worried that their antics of knocking peoples hats of with snowballs, might get them spanked, or worse: their socks stuffed with coal or straw!

Now however the little tykes were sitting on needles in the parlour, the space under the Christmas tree was empty, for St Nicholas hadn't been there yet. Oh how anxious they were! Of course they didn't get to open their gifts before Christmas Day, but tradition was that each good child got a little present on Christmas Eve, and the promise of more on the day itself! Still who were good children? Who would get nothing? Or maybe a spanking?

The adults of course knew what was afoot, and to them this was all sweet and pleasant, they watched the children twitch and look about with apprehension, and remembered their own innocent childhood.

"They are so sweet," Diana suggested, "so innocent."

"They just want presents," Charles' said, he was perhaps little tipsy, but still hitting near the mark at least for some of the children.

"Oh you're terrible!" Diana said as she looked at her brother disapprovingly, "they're just happy, and so innocent and..." She smiled and her face got that peculiar expression that women sometimes have when they see children, the one that terrifies casual admirers and delights husbands, "awwwww, cute!"

"Yes they are Ms Westley," Caroline Linda Whitcomb, one of the mothers, was quick to agree, "they're adorable!"

A small flock of women now descended, as if by instinct, upon the dressed up children, pinching cheeks and tidying hair. There were many pouting boys in sailor suits who whispered, "Ma'am, please," in pained tones of voice.

"Aren't they adorable!"

"Yes they're so lovely!"

"So cute!"

"Awwwww!"

The little voices crying "Ma'am, I'm not adorable! I'm a big boy now!"

"Yes you are, my little wonderful big boy!"

"Ma'aaaam!"

Suddenly though there was a sound outside, and Lady Whitcomb narrowed her eyes a bit, she smiled toothily as she leaned forward in her deep reclining chair, her thick plaid carpet crapped around her feet and a woollen sweater around her torso. Suddenly she tilted her head, as if listening, and then she looked back at the children, "Well what have we here? Someone is coming! Are we expecting someone?" she called out to everyone there.

Everyone shook their heads, Samantha couldn't stifle a giggle, even if she was a grown up, but finally one of the mothers called "could it be Krampus whose coming?"

"It must be," Caroline L. announced with certainty, "there are so many naughty children here," she added as she watched them.

"Krampus?" one of the precocious children, Anthony or little Tony as he was called, called, "pah!" he said trying to make himself brawer than he really was.

"I see... perhaps you think you're too big?" Lady Whitcomb said, she chuckled a little, well now.

Donk

"What was that?" Tony asked, to a chorus of "uh-huh."

"Now don't be interrupting your elders!" Lady Whitcomb said.

"Sorry Ma... Uh Lady Whitcomb," Tony said bowing his head a bit as he noticed a stern look from his mother, but then he looked defiant again, "I don't know about that Krampus fel..."

Donk

Everyone turned towards the window, a bit window, for that was where the sound was coming from, and suddenly they saw that sticking up from beneath the window sill was a long thin birchrod that slapped against the window!

Tony gasped, "oh-oooh," he said, "it's just a rod c-c-caught in th-th-the wind," he said trying to seem brave, but many of the other children seemed nervous.

"Of course dear," Lady Whitcomb said, she picked up her tea and slurped it as she peered at the window, the grown ups were moving towards her.

Then, suddenly the birchrod stopped hitting the window, Tony wet his lips, but then acting brave he called, "I'll go see what it is!" He walked towards the door, with a couple of children following right behind him, keeping him between them and the window.

Then the birch rod struck again donk, the children leapt back, but nothing happened, and they giggled a bit, feeling a bit safer. Of course if they had seen the expectant looks in the adults eyes they might feel a bit less safe.

They were just about to reach the window when suddenly...

A horrid yell sounding something like "BLEEEEUGHGHEEEELLEEEUGH!" filled the room as by the window a horrible figure popped up! Hanging from his mouth was a tongue that seemed to be a foot long, and it fluttered around like a banner while he screamed at the children. He was huge and fur covered, his face all red, a pair of horns on his brow, but worse of all on his back there was strapped a big basket from which a pair of childrens feet could be seen! The feet were kicking softly, and an eerie howl could be heard! Then he waved his birch rod and yelled, "ARE THERE ANY BAD CHILDREN FOR A SPANKING! OR SHALL I TAKE YOU TOO TO BLOXBERG?" he roared bent against the window and shook his head, making his tongue flutter again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the childrens screams were high pitched, the children behind Tony, whom he'd been leaning on a bit, vanished so fast that Tony stumbled onto his backside before scrambling around and running from the window while screaming in a pitch a notch higher than that of the girls!

Samantha turned away from this horrid visage, apparently trembling a bit, but when Diana came over she could see that her cousin to be was really trying not to laugh out loud.

"You must think I'm terrible," Samantha whispered.

"No, not at all," Diana said as she held Samantha a bit, "they're so cute when they're scared out of their little minds."

They both giggled a bit at that, standing quite close, "oh that's terrible," more giggling, "but it's so true." They looked back at the children and suppressed another giggle, as they saw some of them crawling under the couch.

Krampus shouted for a little more, but then there was a sound of a lovely clear bell, and a shout came from outside, "Away with you! Away you devils cousin!" Krampus let out a horrible roar, but then he began to run in a strange looped gait.

The children peered up just in time to see a man with a long white beard, and a long red coat lined with white fur, come walking past the window, and he carried a big thick sack. The children at once peered up, their terrors forgotten, "SAINT NICHOLAS! SAINT NICHOLAS!" they yelled as they ran up to the window to see, pressing their faces against the window pane.

St. Nicholas didn't stop at the window, he walked up to the parlour door, the one leading to the outside, and opened it up. There was a gush of ice cold wind, and snowflakes blew into the warm, brightly lit, parlour. "Are there any good children here?" he called out as he studied them, "weeeeell?"

"Yes Sir!" the little cherubic looking girl said as she rushed forward, she was dressed in a lovely cute little shepherdesses dress, and she had a huge red bow tied into her hair. She smiled happily and held her hands behind her back, blushing a bit, scraped her foot before looking up and saying "I'm a good girl Sir!"

St Nick bowed down a bit, he raised an eyebrow, "are you now Fredericia?" When she nodded eagerly in response he reached into his bag, "well, I suppose I have a little gift for you..." he handed her a little present.

Fredericia looked so eager that she could scarcely contain herself, she was almost about to run away when she remembered to say "thank you Sir," and curtsy before running away with her present as fast as her legs could carry her.

One by one the other children came forth, their eyes big and filled with thoughts of wonderful presents, and one by one they received a present. Even though on occasion St. Nicholas would say, "My, you? Hmmmm, I remember a braid and an inkwell," or "Hmmmm, aren't you the fellow who likes to stuff paper into hats?" but since they'd been properly chastised already it was always followed by, "well now, you've atoned for that so here's a present."

Soon all the children had received their present, and St. Nicholas then warned them, "now keep on being good or that will be the only present you'll get this year," before he slung his sack onto his back and walked back out the door.

The children immediately ran to the window and pressed their nose against it, trying oh so hard to see the mystical sleigh that St. Nicholas rode to get across the whole world in but a single night! They couldn't see a thing though, but suddenly they heard the sound of bells jingling, and a big powerful whoosh as if something lifted up into the air.

Allan walked beside them and pointed up into the sky, "there it is, can't you see it?"

The children peered for a second, following his finger, but then one of them cried "yes I can see it! I can see it!" and they all watched that spot in the sky with big round eyes, talking among themselves of how wonderful the sleigh was, and with their young imaginative eyes they could truly see the sleigh travelling across the night sky.

As Allan walked back Diana whispered, "How'd you do that? Did you get a conjurer?"

Allan smiled, he chuckled a bit, "no the only conjuring was by their part," he nodded at the children, "they conjure up things more fantastic than any mage, they just need a little nudge."

She smiled and let him take her arm, and once more they looked deeply into each others eyes. In the background there were squeals of delight as the children tore away the wrapper of their presents, ignoring the pious commands of their parents that they ought to be careful, to save that wonderful wrapping paper for later! Then there were more delighted squeals as they found candies, or tin flutes, or tin soldiers, or any number of little toys that made children so ecstatic.

Christmas Eve Vigil

On the way to the Christmas Eve Vigil the children were much more calm, not least because they were pleasantly tired, and had received lots of good eggnog to help them relax. For Diana it was her first Midnight Mass, indeed where she came from such things were not celebrated, or at least not so cheerfully.

As they entered into the Church proper, one of the Church servants gave them a lit taper. The Church was quite dark, it was lit only by a few candles providing just enough light to walk by, and of course the tapers that each parishioner was given. Yet as more and more parishioners entered the impression changed, in the gloom of the Church the feeble tapers began to grow in number, and soon the pews looked like a sea of light.

The first part of the mass was celebrated in this gloom, with only the candles and the voices of the priest and the choir to fill the darkness, giving it a strange ethereal quality. Then towards the middle of the mass they began to sing "O Come all ye faithful..."

"O come, all ye faithful, joyfully triumphant,
Come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him, Monarch of the Angels;"

"O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord."

Then all of the candles went out, as if a gush of cold wind had flickered across them, and everyone put out their tapers, leaving them in utter darkness. It was a strange soft darkness, and they could hear everyone shifting around a bit, the odd cough, and then the second verse began.

"True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal,
Lo, he shuns not the Virgin's womb;
Son of the Father, Begotten, not created; Chorus"

As the first words began the lights came on, the whole church was suddenly bathed in it, and it was as if they'd gone from the long heathen night and into the light. Diana let out a gasp in surprise, and then returned to singing. Even the children were astounded, there was a look of awe, and wonder, that childlike faith that adults can only aspire to regain.

When they walked out of Church after that Mass they looked up at the stars, so beautiful they were, and in the cold night they seemed so much more real. Allan smiled at Diana and Charles, "Merry Cristmas, and Goodwill to Man."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[1] Certain vulgar individuals might think that High Tea and Afternoon Tea are the same thing! Nothing could be further from the truth, but public education being what it is:

Afternoon Tea is what gentlefolk in general, and Ladies in particular, have around four or five PM (arguments of precisely what is the right time can get quite heated in Pendleton). The Afternoon Tea is therefore generally a light meal, some finger foods and sandwiches, that one eats to prevent that sinking feeling between Luncheon and Dinner (or supper in some places).

High Tea however is so called because it is had at a high table, that is the dinner table. When a member of the working, or middle, classes return from their daily tolls they will have High Tea consisting of tea, and a rather large meal. In short High Tea is Dinner, simple enough.

Remember this when someone asks you about the difference between High Tea and Afternoon Tea.

OMG, I LOVED it!

Christmas Day

The Childrens Rooms

All the children had been very tired after being kept awake for so long, so they slept oh so heavily. Not noticing that a mysterious figure entered their rooms and began placing strange objects into the large stocking that each of them had tied up either over their fireplace or by the edge of their bed. Then the figure snuck out, and into the rooms of the others.

Come morning everyone was far too tired to stir when the rooster crowed, many children woke up pouting, rubbing their eyes, not quite sure of what to do; but then...

"YES!" they shouted in glee as they saw the heaven, present laden, Christmas stocking hanging, and at once their fatigue was forgotten as they rushed over and eagerly dug into it pulling out the fruit, candy, and other presents stuffed into the package. Soon every child in the household sat among a pile of gifts, their faces smeared with chocolate and fruit juice, and their hands occupied in playing with their latest toys.

Breakfast Room

Breakfast was once more served in the lovely glass annex to the mansion, hanging from the ceiling were freshly cut spruce branches, the fireplace was also lit with spruce for when burning it gives such a delightful fresh scent.

Many of the children often only ate very little, looking a bit shamefaced when they were asked, "You didn't eat ALL the Christmas candy did you?"

"Of course not!" the little scamps would assure their parents, who would shake their heads at the folly of youth. That said most everyone ate something, for breakfast was quite good, but the children clearly had their thoughts somewhere else.

"What do you think's under the tree?" one of the children, a boy named Henry, whispered to Fredericia.

"Speak up young man, no whispering at the table, it's rude," Lady Whitcomb called out, without taking her eye from her own breakfast. She was one of those old ladies that knew, just knew, if you were being rude.

"I just wondered what was under the tree Lady Whitcomb," Henry admitted.

"I imagine there's some dropped spruce leaves, and a tree holder too," Lady Whitcomb said while picking at her food, then she added, "there might be some other trifles but I didn't bother to check."

The adults chuckled at this, even if Henry got that annoyed and pouting expression that young boys get when their elders are pulling their legs.

Christmas Day Mass

It was a splendid day, the sun played with the heavy icicles that hung from the roof ledges and tree branches, and the sleighs seemed to fly across the ice covered snow.

Even in the height of winter there were many birds that feasted on the grain bundles and bits of lard that had been left outside, these tiny bundles of down and feathers danced around on the bushels pecking madly. Then suddenly the shadow of a bigger bird appeared, and before you knew it the whole flock vanished, tucking themselves away beneath thatched roofs, or under snow covered trees.

In the daytime they could spot small groups of commoners and servants making their way on foot towards the Church, they bowed or touched their hats as they saw the quality go by.

"What about the ones that make dinner?" Charles suddenly asked as he watched the servants.

Allan smiled, "there the Second Mass at half past five, my mother used to drag me off to it," he said by way of explanation, "I assume they go to that one."

During the Mass the children were not entirely focussed, for they were of course thinking of the wonderful Christmas tree at home, and not realising the mystery and splendour of the Christmas Day Mass. Except of course for one or two particularly pious ones, who sat very still and attentive, but even they perked up when the priest began to read the Last Gospel.

When it was all over they wanted to run off into the sleighs, but the Adults, those awful, awful adults, walked so slowly. In fact they couldn't quite understand how anyone could walk so slowly when there were presents to be had at home!

By the door the priest stood to see everyone off, and he exchanged a few words with the quality as they passed by, offering blessings to all as they passed.

The Christmas Dinner

The grand dining hall was a beautiful room, dominated by dark colours. The walls were in the main oak, darkened by age, here hung rows of paintings depicting ancient Whitcombs surrounded by symbols of their wealth and power. All generations of the family dined here, both past and present, and of course future, for the children were here too.

In the dining room there was a magnificent long dinner table, it was an ancient family heirloom, and treasured accordingly. Instead of the traditional white linen tablecloth an older red one had been placed onto the table, matching the thick red drapes by the windows.

Outside it was snowing again, indeed the snow was falling quite heavily, but there is nothing quite as pleasant as to sit inside a nice warm room, with your family, and watch the snow and the cold outside. For the fireplace was lit, and the flames crackled merrily, there was the odd snap and pop, a pleasant cosy sound.

At the head of the table sat Lady Whitcomb, graciously nodding to each of the new arrivals as they sat down. Everyone was seating according to careful arrangement, so Allan, Diana and Charles were seated closer to the top of the table, definitely a rare honour. The children were seated towards the extreme end of the table, right beneath the cute embroidered sign that said, "Children are to be seen, not heard."

The servants were dressed in their most splendid liveries for the occasion, each and every footman stood there dressed in splendid green liveries with gold braids, wearing a white powdered wig, white gloves, and of course the old fashioned knee length trousers with the long white socks. If you didn't know better you could think yourself sent back centuries in time.

Now it was time for dinner, and the servants came in carrying enormous covered silver trays, there was a wondrous smell of roast fowl. They placed the dishes onto the table, distanced perfectly so that every group of guests would be amply supplied. Then Lady Whitcomb made a motion with her hand and the covers were removed one by one, revealing the delicious bird beneath, it rested on a bed of garnishments; carved apples, fruit slices cunningly arranged in delightful patterns, and much more. The birds had one more decoration, a wondrous fan of colourful feathers that were arranged around them.

"My, that doesn't look like turkey?" Diana commented as she spotted the bird.

Allan smiled again, "No we dine on peacock as our first dish."

"Peacock?"

"Yes, quite tasty," Allan assured her as a big helping of it was placed on her place.

Soon both Charles and Diana had gotten over the novelty of the dish, and along with everyone else they were eating, and sipping the nice white wine.

"So if you'll forgive me," Charles said a while, he was holding his glass of wine and looking thoughtful, "why is it that we eat turkey, doves, peacocks, and so forth, but Swans escape our table?"

Ignoring Diana's slightly nauseated expression Cousin Rupert chimed in, "Oh I ate swan once at Bambridge, but you see all the swans are property of the King, and only he can grant permission to kill them."

Charles looked surprised, "But Sir you're a Republic, you have no king!"

"Yes Sir, that makes it deuce hard to get his permission," Rupert replied, to the laughter of the table.

Then came the fish, it was salmons garnished with lemon slices, parsley, and of course accompanied by the secret sauce. They were not served on silver trays, but in large oval ceramic plates decorated with maritime motifs. Another white wine was served with the salmon, but aside from pleasant conversation it was simply a place holder between the Peacocks and...

IT was something special to see the main dish carried into the room, it was carried not on a regular plate, but inside an old fashioned steel shield. Four servants carried it, one in each corner of the shield, and though they were sturdy they clearly had some trouble lifting the thing they carried.

"The boar! The boar! The king of the forest! Now slain and over the spit he's been fried! Now bound for our table!" rouse the chant from the gentlemen.

It was indeed a boar, but not just any boar, the enormous tusks jutting out from its mouth seemed intimidating even when a huge apple had been jammed into its mouth. The boar had been basted and spit roasted till its flesh reached a pleasant light brown complexion, and swirls of white steam rose up from it. The smell was quite mouth watering, and they walked up the length of the table towards Lady Whitcomb.

As they reached the top of the table a smaller table suddenly materialized, it seemed a perfect cradle for the shield, and the servants placed the wild board on top of it. There was a thud, and a slight groan of strained wood, as they did so, then they bowed politely and moved into position alongside the walls with the other servants.

From a corner behind Lady Whitcomb another man walked up to the boar, he was a tall thin man with shock white hair, dressed in a white uniform with double rows of polished brass buttons. What really made him stand out was his gloves, they were thin elegant doeskin gloves, which flared a bit as they stopped just two inches short of his elbows. This was the roast meister, a highly trained professional hired for the occasion.

Behind him stood a younger man, maybe in his late teens, Pendleton apprenticeships are long, who was dressed in a plain white uniform with no buttons, and a big leather apron with a razor strap. He too wore gloves, but they were thick sturdy things, more like a falconers gloves. From a pocked in his apron there stuck a pair of handles, but he made no motion to grab them. This fellow was the cutler, the roast meisters assistant and apprentice.

He bowed to Lady Whitcomb, gazing at her respectfully and expectantly.

"Proceed Delagarde," Lady Whitcomb announced with a flourish of her hand.

"Yes Lady Whitcomb," Delagarde announced, he walked up to the boar and pulled out a huge two foot long knife with a carved bone handle, and an equally huge two pronged fork. He expertly carved a piece for Lady Whitcomb, picked it up with his fork and placed it on her plate, then he continued with the boar placing a piece on each plate. The cutler would then carry the plate over to the assigned position, a somewhat slow and arduous task but the carving and serving was a privilege of the roast meister.

Charles watched the roast meister curiously, as he sliced apart the boar precisely and with great speed, there was not a single incident or mishap. Soon beads of sweat ran down the roast meisters face, and his clean doeskin gloves were splattered with the juices of the boar. Since the gloves didn't seem so thick at all, Charles wondered how hot the boar could really be.

That latter thought caused an amusing incident as Charles accidentally touched the roast the moment it came down on his place, he didn't yelp or make a face, but he did mutter "It's hot!"

The words "Yes must be a local custom," just slipped out of Diana's mouth when she heard that, she blushed a bit and added in a whisper "sorry."

After the children had received their share, which was cut by the cutler, after all he needed on the job training, Lady Whitcomb announced "Time for the pudding!"

The Christmas Pudding was now brought in, instead of many helpings the Christmas pudding for the table was an enormous one, it looked like it had been made in a giants kitchen! Indeed even for sixty there should still be leftovers. The practise of serving it was interesting to see, for after Lady Whitcomb had made the symbolic first cut it was the servants turn to cut up pieces for everyone and bring them around so discretely that scarcely anyone noticed their presence.

After a few minutes though Charles suddenly went, "uhm," and pulled a silver coin from his mouth.

"Aha! I knew the young gentleman was lucky," Lady Whitcomb exclaimed.

"I found the shilling Lady Whitcomb," Charles said holding it up high, for the tradition of stuffing a shilling into the Christmas pudding existed on Gosford as well.

"Good luck to you then Mr Westley," Allan called, "a toast then!" he lifted his glass and they all saluted, before drinking deep and continuing the pleasant Christmas dinner.

The Parlour

Inside the parlour all was silent, for the room was empty, but then the doors were thrown open and the children streamed inside. A couple let out little gasps of joy as they saw all the wondrous presents piled up beneath the tree, all wrapped up tightly, all of them suggesting hidden delights that they could only dream of.

"Now children, behave," the parents would admonish, "open one present at a time, and be sure to keep track of who gave you what so you can send a thank you note!"

"Yes Ma'am!" they little cherubs agreed, even as they eagerly eyed the presents.

"Sometimes I think we should have little ropes around their waists, to hold them back I mean," Samantha whispered to Diana.

"Ten wild horses couldn't keep them away from those presents," Diana whispered back, and they both had a good laugh.

Fortunately the children were soon allowed to open their gifts, which they did with much joy, they were of course glad to see useful gifts like woollen scarves and sweaters and other clothes, for it was cold outside; but for the boys there was a special joy in finding those hard firm packages containing boys toys. The holy grail of these packages was the model railway, which always provoked astonished but delighted yelps from he who received it, and jealous sighs from everyone else.

The whole family exchanged gifts of course, for Christmas Day was the time when equals exchanged presents, and many a bottle of Cognac, or piece of jewellery, changed hands that day.

Afterwards all were pleased, and a strange peace came over the house as all the hectic things were past. The children ran to their rooms to play with their toys, the ladies stayed in the parlour to chat, while the gentlemen took their peace in the drawing room to smoke, and sip cognac, and talk. In short it was a most peaceful day, delightful and soothing to the mind and soul.

Boxing Day

The Hunting of the Wren

As usual in the early morning everyone was awakened, to much groaning and moaning among those who had celebrated a little too hard, but soon the whole household was roused. Boxing day is a bit of a let down after the events earlier in Christmas, but the family breakfast was enjoyed in great peace and quiet.

It was some time later when the family was gathered in the parlour that Allan called out, "Ms Westley, Mr Westley, come see," he motioned discretely with his hand.

"What is it?" Diana asked, for she had been standing nearby.

As Charles arrived Allan pointed at a small group that was walking up the road to the mansion, "See? They're a bit early this year, must have been a good hunt."

"What are they Sir?" Charles asked as he realised they were children.

"The children are here!" Allan called out to the whole family by way of explanation.

"Wonderful!" Lady Whitcomb cried, "take me to the window at once, and open it ajar so I can have a good look!"

Outside the young boys were quite happy, they had wandered from house to house, and now came the big house itself. They stopped for a moment, looking up with awe in their eyes, one of the little uns felt a bit nervous for he asked "Are you sure it's alright?"

"Don't be daft Will, of course it is, we've been doin' this since forever!"

They walked up to the house, quite a motley bunch, they were in their good winter clothes, but their faces were smeared black with soot, or rubbed with the end of a burnt piece of cork. They looked like a right bunch of rascals, and with them they had a long poole decorate with holly sprigs and ribbons in every colour. Dangling right from the end of the pole was a partly plucked dead wren, killed by a master sling shot, the greatest rascal of them all Robby Wilcot.

Seeing that an audience was forming, from the open windows, and the small crowd of the quality standing on the porch in front of the house, the young boys began to sing out loud as they approached.

"The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
On St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Up with the penny and down with the pan,
Give us a penny to bury the wren."

Allan and Rupert were among those who stood on the porch, but Diana and Charles were not shortly behind. The boys were pleasant and cheerful, even if their singing was not so good, and they chanted their song once more before doffing their caps in front of the quality.

"So you'll be wanting your penny now?" Rupert called.

"Yes Sir, if'd please the Gentleman," one of the boys replied, he would have looked quite angelic if not for his darkened face.

"Well I got a shiny six pence for you," Rupert said generously as he held it out, and the boy at once ran over holding out his six penny cap, which was after all very suitable.

With the contributions from the others on the porch, and even the odd coin tossed out the window, and eagerly and happily collected by the boys. Then everyone who tossed them a coin received a fresh feather plucked from the wren, and a bow, and a call "Thank you Sir," or "Thank you Ma'am," as they pulled their forelocks and doffed their caps time and time again.

The Boxing Day Hunt

Later on in the day it was time for the Boxing Day hunt, and here's a joyous and splendid occasion that surely no one can see anything wrong with. The ladies and gentlemen prepare for the ride through the brisk morning, with their hounds in the fore, ready to catch wily old Reynard the Fox.

The grooms had brought out the horses, who were printing their hoofs into the earth, neighing impatiently, as they awaited the hunt. In the background the hounds were baying madly from the pound, a sound approximately like awwooowwoowowo, but impossible to describe unless you've heard it.

These sounds almost drowned out the sound of snow crushing beneath the feet of the hunters, who stood gathered in small clusters as they discussed this and that. Everyone were properly attired in the peculiar outfits of the fox hunt; red jackets for the hunt staff, black for the riders, white hunt shirts with tall cravats, and embroidered hunt vests; gentlemen wore Jodhpurs, ladies riding skirts, and everyone had their black leather boots of course.

There were servants walking around with trays of tin cups filled with hot mulled wine, tongues of white smoke rose up from the wine, for it was a bit cold outside, but it got some warmth into you!

Diana was dressed quite splendidly, chatting with Samantha and the other women, they were eying the horses and judging the horsemanship of everyone involved.

"Well Ms Westley, your brother certainly sits very well in the saddle," Samantha commented, for true enough Charles had a certain native talent when it came to riding.

"Indeed he does Ms Whitcombs," Diana said, "How good of you to notice."

"Not at all," Samantha said, smiling, sipping the wine, "Please do call me by my first name, after all we shall soon be relatives!"

"Only if you will do the same, Samantha," Diana said smiling, while in her mind she pondered if perhaps a matchmaking would be possible.

Then all discussion ended when the huntmaster cried out "TO THE HOUNDS! TO THE HUNT!" and all mounted their horses. Then the hunt was on, the baying hounds to the fore, and the huntmaster and his whippers-in egging them on. Behind them came the Field, with the Field Master in the fore, then the experienced fox hunter, then the guests and young riders made up the rear.

It was great fun riding through the brisk winter morning, the air was fresh, and the horses smashed through the snow whipping up fountains of powdery snow which flowed like white mist around their feet.

Then suddenly some of the hounds caught a scent, at once the huntmaster sounded "Going Away", and the hounds began to bay again as they all rushed after the scent.

"TALLY HO!" came the cry, there it was, a bushy red tail with a dash of white, attached to a bushy red fox, also with a dash of white.

Reynards a wily opponent, a worthy foe, that likes to play this game, but so do the hounds that come baying after him. Off over the hills he went, through the trees, across the field, under a hedgerow, always with the hounds right behind him. Then suddenly nothing, the hounds began to sniff, and they ran around not seeing anything.

"Lost the scent!" the Hunt Master cries, this is not good, to his left and right the whippers-in ride out to see if they can spot the fox.

The sad message goes up and down the Field, Charles feels almost relieved for the pause, and now Allan rides down next to him, and Diana.

"Lost the scent!" Allan announced, he bites back the words he'd normally use and instead comments, "They'll find it again I'm sure."

Charles saw the opportunity to whisper, "How am I doing so far?"

"Very well," Allan replied in the same low tone, he smiled at Diana, "You both ride most exquisitely."

Diana shifted a bit in her side saddle and smile back, "Why thank you, I'm glad we're not an embarrassment."

Charles nodded to this too, "Quite Sir, I really feel a bit uneasy, everyone else is so good..."

"So good?" Allan suppressed a chuckle, "You're only watching the people at front, I'll grant that they've got more experience than you Sir, but you've got talent and beside." His eye strayed to some other people in the rear, "Cousin Mortimer there... keep an eye on him if you want to see bad horsemanship, at times the poor man looks like a sack of potatoes accidentally thrown onto a saddle."

Of course you might think that Allan Whitcomb, being a gentleman and a relative, should be more gentle in his views, however the truth comes first! Especially when one considers that Cousin Mortimer, whose mother came from a family involved in, well not to mince words, trade, but what can one do? Family is family, even if they can't ride.

Now the Hunt Master pulled out a small bag of aniseed, a wonderful trick of the hunt, and he let loose a stream of aniseed as he rode. The hounds at once picked up this delightful sent, the baying began once more, and the hunt was on again.

The Field moved forward again, the fox however was quite wily and leapt over a tall stone fence, but the horses followed quickly behind jumping over the fence. Of course the odd stone was torn down, leaving a growing gap in the fence, but what sport!

Diana couldn't see much where she rode along with most of the other women, but it was an exciting ride nevertheless, they dashed across the cool countryside craning their heads towards the sounds. Charles was pulling forward a bit, still behind the experienced hunters, but his confidence was growing in leaps and bounds.

Then the hounds caught up with poor Reynard, there was a terribly baying, they'd caught him just before the entrance to a lair, and now they were holding on to their prey. On of the Whippers-in rushed forward, cracking the whip, scattering the pack to reveal their prey, and trophy. The tail was gathered up, and held up proud as a trophy of the hunt, it fluttered gently in the air as the Field joined up with them at the scene.

"Well now you've been bloodied in that most delightful tradition of Fox Hunting," Allan was sure to tell a rather delighted Charles.

IT'd been a wonderful gay day, and everyone spoke excitedly about it. There was nothing like a good hunt, a good ride across the countryside, and of course good company! So when the hunt rode home they were all in excellent good moods, and very invigorated by the splendid exercise they'd gone through.

The Boxing Day Proper

In the afternoon small groups of lower class individuals began to arrive at the mansion, they came in family groups, or village groups, dressed in their Sunday best. Each time they spotted one of the household they doffed their hats, tugged their forelocks, or curtsied politely, depending on their headgear and gender.

They were of course the crofters, renters, and other bondsmen to the estate, come to receive their Boxing Day largesse. It was quite a merry meeting though, they were cheerful and would joke around with each other while waiting for the Lady to come out.

For Charles and Diana this was a very peculiar sight, they were watching from the second story window, and there seemed to be hundreds of these dependants.

From behind them came Allan's voice, "There you are, Ms Westley." He smiled at her, and she returned the smile offering her hand which he kissed, and then "Mr Westley, ah, the mob has arrived?"

"Indeed Captain," Charles said, "There certainly are a lot of them too."

"Eight hundred and sixty four souls," Allan said, "total that is, linked to the estate one way or another."

"Good heavens!" Diana exclaimed, "and they're all here to?"

"Boxing Day Ms Westley," Allan said, "don't you have it in Gosford?"

"Well we give the greengrocer and the milkman something extra but... nothing like this," Diana said, "I mean I know you told me but still."

"Yes well, this is the one occasion when all come together here, why don't you come with me to the entrance hall?" Allan asked.

The Entrance Hall

Inside the Entrance Hall of Whitcomb Mansion two huge table had been set up, or rather several tables had been placed end to end across the room. The tablecloths were simple red and white chequered ones, of the kind you can buy cheap at any store. By each table there were rows crude chairs, and on each table there was a row of simple wooden plates, and small baskets holding bread.

The main activity in the hall was the servants who were removing the more fragile items from the walls, carrying them into safe storage for the nonce. Other servants were busy with carrying in large steaming iron pots, which they placed upon the tables, and large trays filled with sliced meats.

Allan and the Westleys were standing by the balcony above the Entrance Hall, which gave them an excellent view but didn't embroil them in the goings on below. The hall was delightfully warm, even though no fireplace was visible, and, of course, the heat drifted upwards making the gentlemen perspire a little.

"Now in a few moments the peasants will be let into the hall, and they'll receive a feast along with Lady Whitcomb," Allan explained.

"Huh, so why aren't we down there?" Diana asked.

Allan blinked, "Well, ah, Ms Westley, this is really strictly for the household itself, guests are not invited as a rule."

Diana blushed a bit, "Oh dear, I hope I wasn't rude!"

"Not at all," Allan was quick to assure her.

Then the doors were thrown open, and the crowd came milling in, most of them didn't look up, but those that did were sure to show some sign of respect. The bulk of them immediately went for their seats, but there were quite a few that walked around gaping at all the things they saw, astounded by all the strange objects that were there.

One of them, a particularly curious fellow, would move around to look at all the things in there. He was young, in his twenties, and dressed in nicer clothes than the rest, but somehow they seemed to fit him worse nevertheless. He stopped in front of the armour, scratched his head a bit, and then bent closer, his brow furrowed. Then he moved his hand close to the armour, seeming confused, then he touched the armour, the moment he did he yanked his hand away and began hopping around while waving his hand madly.

"So that is how the hall is warmed!" Charles said, sounding very excited, "I've been wondering about that ever since I got here, there's an oven in the armour!" He smiled widely, just as anyone would do after figuring out something that's been niggling in the back of your mind for a while.

"Yes you're quite right Mr Westley," Allan said, giving Charles a pat on the back before resting his hand briefly on Charles' shoulder, "it's quite cunning really, the armour I mean, a delightfully effective solution, and yet... every year some idiot manages to touch it and burn himself."

Now the feast commenced, it was a joyous occasion when everyone was together, talking, eating, drinking, and enjoying the fellowship of the moment. Indeed it lasted for hours, for the wide eyed dependents were given a seemingly never ending flow of foods.

By then of course Allan and the Westleys had withdrawn, but for the dependents of the estate this was the high point of the year. Finally when they had all eaten, and indeed many of them could scarcely stand upright, Lady Whitcomb called "And now my beloved subjects, it is time for the boxes!"

One by one names of families were called, "The Birches down the road from the forest," "the Jones' by the Creek," and so forth and so on. They all came and doffed their caps politely to the Lady, and then one of the servants would give them a crudely made wooden box.

Within this box lay a variety of things, some contained clothes that had been rejected by the family, some contained canned foods, others medicine, dried herbs, crude cutlery, and all such things that a family might require over the course of the year. Naturally this boon was regarded with great pleasure, some of the dependents had trouble not looking through it before they had left, for they were very excited about what the new year would bring them.

One by one they carried their boxes outside, what happened now varied a bit, in some families two of the sturdiest members would carry the box between them. In others one of the women would strap the box onto her back, and carry it like a rucksack. However the most common method was to have brought a simple hand drawn sleigh, and to place the box on it to be pulled home.

It was quite a cortege of sleighs that formed outside, pulled by the younger males most of the time, and one by one the families began walking back to their cottages. One by one, the crude wooden sleighs left the courtyard, which was emptying of people, and the crowds scattered once more to all the winds.

For everyone the chores and celebrations of Christmas were now over, the Feast of St. Stephen that is, but as Lady Whitcomb said, perhaps a bit impiously; "Goodness I'm glad that's over, I'll be frank my old hide feels like I've gone the way of poor St. Steven!" A sentiment that was perhaps shared by many once the hustle and bustle was past.

New Years Day 1005 NE

Before the morning

T'was early in the morning on New Years Day, the sun was not yet visible, only roosters, and farmhands were awake at this hour. Now in the time before dawn the farmhands would stumble out of their warm beds and go to milk the cows, and tend the beasts.

Hullo now! What have we here? A small group of farmhands, wrapped up in winter clothes, the fine sort that they'd normally put on at special occasions, but what celebration is there now?

There were four of them, carrying a Hawthorn bush between them, they carried it gingerly as they worried that the thorns might hurt their Sunday best.

There was plenty of snow around, which made their task more difficult, but the white snow reflected so much light that even with only the stars up they had no trouble seeing. The snow was of the kind where an icy had formed on top of the snow, and then been covered with light fresh powdery snow. This icy layer was quite thick, oftentimes they could walk ten-fifteen paces without breaking through it, some of them tried to punch through so that they wouldn't risk slipping. Others tried to gingerly walk on top of the icy layer, and were most disappointed each time their foot came through and they were standing up to their knees in snow.

Out in front of them, spread out on a field, there lay a pile of old dry straw, and they threw the bush on top of it, arranging the straw around it. One of them dug out a tinderbox, arranging the kindling, and the flint steel to be ready to light the flame.

A rooster crowed in the distance, and one of them men called out, "Dawns coming," one of them men said.

"Right, right," the man with the tinderbox called, he scraped a piece of a broken steel razor over the flint, and bright sparks flew against the kindling which caught fire at once. The flames licked across the straw, sending up pillars of blackish smoke, till they reached the bush, it caught fire surrounding it with an eerie halo like a scene out of the scriptures.

The red glow flickered across the snow, making it visible for miles around, and in the distance they could see similar flickering fires rise up against the sky. Then, as if to join them, the sun rose in the west, a tiny sliver of red marking the new dawn.

One of the men pulled out a bottle, it was a heavy glass bottle filled with spiced brandy, the kind they'd normally never be able to afford. "And here's to a good harvest, and good luck for us farming folk," he said before he took a deep pull of the bottle, and then passed it around to his friends.

"Aye, a good season, and good luck," they all said before drinking, and the sun began to rise on New Years Day.

The Burning Bush was a ritual grumbled about by the Church, who saw it as a half pagan superstition, but in Blaine and some other parts of the archipelago it would always remain the custom. The first of the rituals of the New Years Day.

Breakfast Time

At Whitcomb Mansion everyone was once more gathered for breakfast, served in the proper Pendletonian style that's been mentioned earlier. However there was a certain anticipation in the air, outside hired hands were busy checking on the New Year firework, and inside the house had been cleaned from top to bottom to prepare for the new year.

Around the breakfast table the conversation was the same old, same old, discussions of a loose but pleasant nature.

"New Years Day again," Cousin Rupert said.

"Yes, very nice, nothing like the burning hawthorn bushes to remind you," Allan concurred.

"I say Mr Whitcomb," Diana said looking straight at Allan, even at a table filled with Whitcombs there was no doubt, "Are there any other peculiar traditions that I should know about?"

"Well Ms Westley, I can't think of a one," Allan said.

"Well I know that the boys with the thrush seemed very peculiar to me!" Diana said.

"Wren," Charles interjected.

"Sorry?"

"It's the hunting of the wren."

Diana took a breath, "I'm not very good at birds, but I thought it was a bit peculiar," she said in a pleasant voice.

Suzette, a Nouveau Aquitainian Lady who had married into the family, was swift to note, "'Ow you say Ms Westley? When ah see the boys with the blackened faces and the bird on a pole, ah couldn't understand it either!"

"Well I suppose that everything thinks their traditions are not peculiar, but that it's everyone else that is exceedingly strange," Allan admitted, "But I should think they'll be clean when they come around today."

"My, the boys will come along again?" Diana asked.

"Certainly, well the girls too actually, they come to sing, and to receive treats for their singing," Allan explained.

"In short," Samantha said, "It's another excuse for peasant children to beg for treats!" She smiled, and quickly added, "Awwww, who can resist the little doe eyed creatures, they're so cute when they're standing there with their hair combed and their widdle caps in their hands!"

Outside

The children were walking up to the mansion, they were hopping around over the snow, crunching the hard snow beneath their rag socks. Many of them didn't have shoes or boots, but instead wore the rag socks, that is a thick woollen sock with a piece of leather sewn on at the bottom, but they didn't mind for they were so warm in the winter. The snow stuck to the wool though, in small lumps, and it also stuck to the side of trousers making them wet, and forcing the children to stop every now and again to brush it off.

As they skipped about they practised their singing, some of them were good, others not so much, but most of them were in good cheer. There was one boy that staggered a bit behind the rest, his name was Henry, and of course whenever anyone stands out the other children shout at him "Hurry up Henry! You'll be late!"

The one of the girls, Georgina, who secretly fancies him a bit, calls out "Hurry or you'll be a New Years Fool!"

"No I won't! It's not noon yet!" Henry shouted back, but he picked up speed.

"New Years Fool! New Years Fool!" Georgina sang while skipping ahead of him, smiling as she saw that Henry was rushing after her.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Then a snowball came flying through the air pegging her right in the back of the head, followed by a wee figure of a girl running over and kicking Henry in the knee before sticking her tongue out.

Of course a couple of minutes later it was all forgotten as they hurried on their route. Their hair was a bit mussed from how they all tore away their caps the moment their mothers were out of sight, but otherwise they were clean and delightsome to see. Up ahead the mansion drew nearer, and some of the girls cooed and peered at it very curiously, primping themselves a bit.

Finally they reached the mansion proper, their eager faces looking up in wonder at the Big House itself, while whispering about all the wonders that were inside. IT was then that one of the footmen motioned to them that they should begin singing, and so they lined up and let their clear voices rise up to the mansion.

Mansion

"Awwwwww, how sweet they are!" Diana called, and there was much agreement from the rest of the women.

"Yes, look at the little ragamuffins!" Samantha agreed, "So lovely, it's the simple unspoiled life."

"Mmmhmmmm," many of the other women agreed, the unspoiled simple life of the poor, how fortunate they were! No temptations of wealth and luxury to lure them from the path of moral behaviour, or to give them stomach troubles from rich foods.

Outside the mansion

After a while the door to the mansion opened again and some of the ladies of the house walked outside to see the children. They carried with them large large hampers filled with candied nuts and apples, mince pies, and other goodies.

"There, such good children, and you sing so nicely too," Diana said as she bowed down to study them, they smiled in that special ingratiating way that only a poor well brought up child can do. Then she began offering up one treat to each child, who eagerly accepted them, holding out their grubby paws, their eyes lighting up with joy.

As they got their treat they received a little pat on the head, and a call of, "Here you are boy," or "here you are girl," depending on how they were dressed.

Then after bowing and scraping they went on their marry way, singing and bouncing along, though the moment they thought the two Nice Ladies were out of sight they dug their teeth into their treat while running as fast as their tiny little feet would carry them.

"Awww, look at the little scamps go," Samantha said as she watched the children, "They're so cute at that age, such a pity they grow up to be such brutes, eh Diana?"

"Yes... one moment they are sweet and innocent, the next they are flogging a horse and singing some awful song," Diana said sadly, but then a smile spread on her lips, "But they are precious now!"

The two giggled a bit as they walked back inside, glad to have been the gift givers this year, but they also had that slightly romantic look in their eyes that more often frightens a suitor (who is not committed), rather than attract him.

Ladies Sewing Room

Whitcomb Mansion

The room was called the Ladies Sewing Room, presumably because it had at one time, in ancient days long past, been used by the Ladies of the house in their embroideries and other domestic duties. These days they served Afternoon Tea here, and it was a private refuge for the ladies, and thus a very cosy and intimate room.

For now a small smattering of women were gathered here, all of them young, all of the unwed, and all of them had perhaps begun celebrating New Years a little early. Here were Diana of course, Samantha, and three others named Grace, Regina and Katherine. One good thing about a large extended family that stuck together was that mutual agreement on naming practises made it easy to tell the women apart, and the men seemed very interchangeable anyway.

"Well?" Diana said, trying very hard not to giggle again.

"Maybe, he is nice, and a good provider, and..." Grace began.

"Looks soooo dashing in a uniform?" Samantha suggested, rather impishly. They all broke down in laughter after that.

"You know... we could try finding out?" Regina offered, "There are ways!" She said sounding very mock serious.

"Asking Lady Whitcomb you mean?" Samantha said, she was always a little cynical, "Wouldn't that be a bit forward?"

"No! Silly! I meant taking a bowl of water and doing fortunes!" Regina said.

"You mean dropping egg whites into water?" Diana asked, curious to see if this was the custom here too.

"Yes! Exactly!" Regina said.

"Aren't we too old for that?" Samantha said.

"Yes, we're too old," Grace said, squeezing her lips around her teeth, "Poor toothless old crones!" They all broke down in laughter again after that, stopping for a moment, and then collapsing again when Grace did it again.

"Oh lets do it!"

"Do what?"

There was the sound of a bell ringing, then a quit imperious command, "Rose, fetch a wash basin and some eggs right away!"

"Yes Ma'am!" the maid said before rushing to execute her command, after she left she shook her head in astonishment at the ways of the upstairs household.

The eggs and wash basin arrived momentarily, and it wasn't long before the girls began working the eggs, tongue in the corner of your mouth as you tap the egg against the basin. Then little squeals as you accidentally break the egg in your hand, splattering yellowish goo all over it!

"Uuuuhm, does anyone here know how to crack an egg?" Samantha finally asked, everyone shook their heads and said something to the effect of: "I've never cracked an egg in my entire life!"

After a half a dozen experiments they finally seemed to get the hang of it though, and Grace poured the egg white into the water, with everyone coming over to look.

"Ah, looks like... a K?"

"No it's an M."

"Uh... an E?"

After a while Samantha broke in, "My turn!" Her egg white moved into a peculiar shape, "I think it's a C!"

"Could be a U," Grace offered.

"A U?" Samantha looked at her as if the poor girl was obviously off her rocker, "Udolf?"

"Or Uther?"

"Be careful, the son would have a disturbing attraction to giant cutlery!"

"I think it's a C," Samantha repeated, very confident.

"Do you?" Diana called, leaning closer, "Really?"

"Yes, really." They both laughed at that one, as if from a shared joke.

New Years Eve

Outside Whitcomb Mansion

IT was dark outside, pitch dark, and inside the house every light had been turned off. The reflections in the windows were gone, and everyone inside had a clear view of the outdoors, indeed from cellar to attic there was hardly a single window that didn't have one or more curious peering faces looking out into the night.

It was one of those unusually clear evenings, only a few mist like clouds drifted across the sky, the stars were bright, and there was hardly any wind at all. Outside it was quite cold, the kind of biting frost that tears at your nose and mouth, but the workers were well dressed.

They had built quite an elaborate system of fireworks, here there were huge Roman candles, Rocket organs where dozens of tubes were stuffed into one huge wooden box, and of course hundreds of rockets lined up side by side on wooden racks. Standing nearby each of the big sets was a nervous looking young man, holding a simple time piece, and eying his companions nervously.

The contractor was standing there too, wrapped up in a beige frock, a huge scarf around his face that hid his beard and mouth, but his thick ginger sideburns jutted out from the sides, and beneath the brim of his stovepipe hat you could see his keen eyes darting back and forth. Woe betide anyone who light a fuse before the time, or out of the precise order he had announced. In his gloved hands he held a gold timepiece, a wonderful one that wouldn't loose more than a second a year, he held it up to his hands watching the glowing second arm move.

Inside Whitcomb Mansion

Ordinarily the Parlour might serve for festive occasions, but this time the glass annex usually used to eat breakfast had been, no pun intended, annexed to a different purpose. The fireplace had been lit up with the best driest wood, and it burned delightfully, filling the room with warmth.

Inside the room, reclining in deep chairs brought there, or standing up by the window, were the Whitcombs and a few family friends. They were quite cheerful, a couple of trusted family retainers were there carrying trays of hors d'ouvres and champagne flutes, but the bulk of the servants had been given the day off to celebrate in their own way.

As we pass by the small groups of merry celebrators we arrive at one consisting of Lady Whitcomb, seated in a very comfortable chair with a heavy blanket over her leg, some members of the family, and a tall rather handsome dark haired man.

"Dr Morton," Lady Whitcomb said in a whisper, "May I ask you for a favour?"

"Of course Lady Whitcomb," the doctor replied pleasantly, "What did you have in mind?"

"Would you go outside and wait for New Years? To be our first footer Dr?" Lady Whitcomb asked.

At once Grace chimed in, "Oh please say yes Dr! You are tall, dark and handsome, and would bring such good luck for the New Year!" Then she blushed and covered her mouth, noting Lady Whitcombs raised eyebrow and exasperated glance, "I'm so sorry Lady Whitcomb, Dr, I spoke out of turn."

"Ms. Smythe-Whitcomb there is no need to apologise," Dr Morton said, "If you'll forgive me for being forward," Grace's look said she most assuredly would, "A lovely young lady never needs to apologise for such trifles!"

Lady Whitcomb, accidentally no doubt, dropped her cane to the floor, "Dearie me! I get so clumsy with old age," she smiled as someone gave her cane back to her.

"Lady Whitcomb, I'd be honoured," the doctor said.

Moments later he had picked up the traditional gifts, and snuck out a side door, with only a brief gush of cold air telling everyone that he was leaving. They all pretended not to notice of course, and many of them didn't, embroiled as they were in their own conversations.

"This champagne is excellent!" Cousin Rupert announced as he emptied another flute of it.

"It is a good vintage yes," Allan agreed as he sipped his flute more cautiously, "Vines are Old Terran stock you know."

"Tickles the nose," Diana said, trying to be more dignified, but alas New Years was one of the few occasions when it was acceptable for all and sundry to be a little inebriated.

Charles was busy looking out the window, along with some of the younger men in the family, and of course Samantha who was keen to mention, "I do love fireworks," she seemed almost as keen as the lads.

Everyone was agog though, too eager to really say anything of any importance, but too happy to be silent, and so conversation was delightfully or awfully free of any actual content. That is until someone cried, "Two minutes to go! Time to sing!"

They all gathered around, towards the glass wall that faced the fireworks, and then they linked arms tightly together, friends and sweethearts and married couples together. Soon the call came out "One minute to go!" and they all began to sing!

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne."

Outside Whitcomb Mansion

Tick-tock-tick-tock the second arm crawled closer and closer to the big 12 on the contractors watch, he slowly raised his arm then roughly five seconds to he dropped it.

From half a dozen spots there was at once a low psht-fshsssss of fuses lit, and the red dots crawled up towards the fireworks, here and there the first fuse split up into a dozen or more lesser fuses, but there were no hanging fire every fuse caught as it should.

For the contractor that was a moment of great relief, he had picked every fuse carefully, testing each batch, kept them dry, but even so...

WHOOOSH the first rocket flew up against the sky, up, up it went trailing a red flame behind it, and then it exploded like a giant golden sun.

Inside Whitcomb Mansion

Within the annex the song stopped for one second as the first rocket exploded, there was a moment of childish glee as dozens of them flew up in the air exploding with loud booms that made the glass tremble a little and the sky light up so brightly that you could read a book outside.

Then the song resumed, everyone held their arms linked, swaying side ways while singing cheerfully...

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
And here's a hand, my trusty friend
And gie's a hand o' thine
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne"

Then there was a moment of hesitation, and a cry went up "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" followed by a cheer from the entire company, and the popping of a fresh bottle of champagne. This one time no one raised an eye as the cork went a flying into the fireplace, and foamy champagne sloshed out of a magnum bottle.

Then in the blindness caused by the sudden light, and the general chaos of the celebration, there was not a few that saw a chance to lock lips with their beloved. It was tradition after all to start the year with a kiss, though tradition was perhaps not quite what many had in mind.

Diana almost swooned as Allan took her in his strong firm arms, holding her close as their lips met, "Oh Allan," she whispered as a smile crossed her lips and she rested her head against his chest looking up at him adoringly. She could hear his heart beat a little faster, and then they kissed a second time, ignoring the wild coughing of Lady Whitcomb, who had no doubt caught something in her throat. Somewhere in the back of their minds they both made a resolution to check on her, soon too, in a moment, well... eventually...

Finally Cousin Rupert coughed, and when that didn't work he called, "Cousin Allan, kiss not swallow whole," he then shrank back from the angry look he got from Diana.

Fortunately there was then a knock on a glass door, Dr Morton was standing outside, stamping his feet, slapping his free arm around himself, and tapping the door window pane with his hand.

"My it's a visitor, on New Years Eve," Grace said as she looked out the window, waving at him, as she worked the door (it was annoyingly hard to open), she called "And he's tall dark and handsome too!"

"What an astounding coincidence!" Edgar Henry called out, he was a little tipsy by now, "So there was last year! What are the odds?"

Grace just shook her head as she worked the door, "Welcome stranger," she said to Dr Morton.

"I come bringing gifts," Dr Morton said as he handed over the traditional gifts of a lump of coal, a penny, a piece of bread, and a pinch of salt.

"Well Happy New Year one and all," Lady Whitcomb called from her seat, "And just because I'm going to bed," she motioned with her cane, smiling a bit, "Don't think you can start cavorting!"

"Perish the thought!" Allan said, very seriously.

Then as Lady Whitcomb was helped out she whispered, "Oh, I'd better leave the young alone, hehehe, they're really good, even if they'll get a little frisky," and then she was out the door.

The last of the fireworks went off, and once more the infatuated exchanged looks, Allan and Diana nearly kissed again, but instead they looked into each others eyes. She rested his hand on his chest, and then as their lips came closer she whispered "And a Happy New Year to you too Captain Whitcomb!"

THE END