I hope everyone has been having a joyous holiday season. I love this time of year with the multi-colored twinkle lights, the Christmas movies, and the holiday spirit everywhere. I’m looking forward to a restful winter holiday, which can’t begin soon enough.

As I’ve been enjoying my peppermint hot chocolates and winter blend teas, I thought I’d share one of my favorite chapters from Christmas at Hembry Castle, perfectly entitled “Christmas Eve at Hembry Castle.”

Happy holidays and a peaceful new year to everyone.

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Downstairs at Hembry Castle was all a bustle as it had been for weeks. Poor Mrs. Graham was dusted from her cap to her boots in thick white flour. The powder ingrained itself in every hair, every line on her face, every flourish on her apron, every crevice on the folds of her work dress. No matter how many times a day she washed, ten minutes later she was once again covered in chalky white. If it wasn’t “Pies!” it was “Cakes!” and if it wasn’t “Cakes!” it was “Puddings!” and if it wasn’t “Puddings!” it was “Pies!” 

Everyone with flexible limbs who was not of the family or their guests was put to constant use throughout the day and night of Christmas Eve. This maid was needed to fix this green velvet holiday dress with the white fur collar, adjusting the bustle just so. That footman was needed to carry this gentleman’s brown leather hunting bag to the stables. A constant hum of rushed footsteps carrying potato balls and Father Christmas shortbread and ham rolls and chestnut stuffing and roast turkey and “Pies!” of every variety could be heard up and down the stairs.  The rhythmic stamping of dancing and skipping around the tree echoed in the kitchen. Footmen carried silver bowls of hot punch, mulled wine, and Madeira eggnog, so many bowls that the servants wondered how much are they drinking up there? Quite a lot from the boisterous laughter, the barely restrained shouting, and the off-key carol singing.  The servants knew they would have their time to celebrate soon enough, with plenty of food, drink, music, poems, bon-bons, carol singing, and dancing of their own. 

Mrs. Ellis smiled while directing traffic. She couldn’t help herself. The holidays were her favorite time of year no matter the headache of seeing a hundred things done at once. She looked toward the door of the servants’ entrance and remembered the previous Christmas. Last year that door had been left open to the cold and the snow, as it would certainly be again this year. The younger servants loved to slide down the snowy mound  behind the courtyard, screaming with eggnog-induced laughter. She remembered the flush of red excitement on Edward’s face as he and Lady Daphne spent the day dancing and exchanging presents. Is that the day they fell in love, Mrs. Ellis wondered? She had a feeling it had started before then, but she was certain that was the day they both knew what was happening. 

Oh! She would wring her grandson’s neck, that stubborn mule of a boy, that is, if she ever saw him again. He wouldn’t talk to her, or Lady Daphne, or even the Earl of Staton. But what she would say to him as soon as he showed his face again! And why was that harebrained boy hiding anyway? He was acting like he had to confess to being the Rugeley Poisoner. Yes, he had been let go from Fergusonandwately, but Mrs. Ellis didn’t see that as being such a terrible thing. They had taken advantage of her Neddie, she was certain of it, paying him a pittance when his stories were so very popular. Was Edward even still in London? Mrs. Ellis didn’t know. She thought of Lady Daphne upstairs, a smile on her lips, a sadness in her eyes, and wished it were last year again. 

Upstairs, Lady Daphne, her father, the Earl of Staton, and her grandmother, the Countess of Staton, were the epitome of good English hosts. While hundreds of guests filed into the castle, bringing brisk, cold air and dropping fresh, slippery snow onto the rugs in the front hall, the family presided over the festivities with a genteel decorum that would be expected of Lord Staton’s family. During the daylight hours there was hunting for the gentlemen and any ladies who wished to accompany them. For the ladies and some gentlemen who were not inclined to blood sport, which included Lord Staton and Lady Daphne, there were plenty of games of charades and line dances and carol singing to keep everyone merry on Christmas Eve. 

After the sky grew dark and the hunters were home from the hills, Hembry Castle was all alight. The gaslight sconces were turned on bright while tapered candles added warmth to every nook and crevice. The postmaster’s wife, Mrs. Ebberts, regaled everyone with lively Christmas carols  on the piano, accompanied by her daughter, Miss Ebberts, who did her best to sing along. The mother and daughter duo were the very picture of the holiday season in their red toile dresses with red fur sleeves and small white riding hats, which they insisted on wearing indoors. The fires were kept low since the guests, the rum punch, the singing, and the line dances brought their own heat. 

Daphne chatted with Miss Ebberts, wishing to thank the youngish woman for her gracious holiday entertainments. Miss Ebberts was beside herself speaking to Lady Daphne Meriwether. At the fifth “Oh dear! I can’t believe I’m talking to you, my lady. I’m all afluttered!” Daphne smiled, thanked Miss Ebberts once again, then excused herself. She walked into the wide central room where guests danced the Queen’s Waltz. Two couples put their right hands in, traveled forward, put their left hands in, traveled forward. Daphne watched as they skipped and peeled. Last Christmas she and Edward had danced the day away together. They were so happy. What had happened? Daphne didn’t know. At the moment she would settle for a simple conversation with him. She had decided that the engagement was definitely off. She hadn’t admitted it yet, not out loud, not to anyone, not even to her father who had always been her most trusted of confidants. 

Of course, he had guessed, Papa. He had asked her several times, “When is Edward coming to celebrate Christmas with us?” or “Why haven’t you set a wedding date? Are you and Edward having problems between you, Daphne?” And Daphne would insist no, absolutely not, never. Edward and I love each other. Edward and I are getting married. Her father would nod, his eyes small because he understood what she wouldn’t say. But since she had not confided in him, he would not intrude. It’s better this way, Daphne thought. Papa has enough troubles of his own. He wants to fix everything for everyone, which is one of the many reasons I love him so. 

Daphne passed the gilded mirror on the wall in the drawing room where the titled guests gathered to toast each other’s health again and again. She caught a glimpse of herself, her hair adorned with green lace ribbons and stacked high on her head, her festive dress made especially for this day, deep green velvet adorned with white rosettes, the back tapering to her bustle and falling in ripples to the top of her white boots. When she had the dress made she thought she and Edward might marry sometime this Christmas season. She had thought so many things. 

Yes, her heart was broken, but her heart had been broken before. When her mother died, and then her grandfather, she was shattered every which way, but she mended, and she survived. Although the pain of Edward’s loss was physical, as if she were poked by knives, she would survive this too. For now, she must smile. She must smile and chat and watch others enjoy the delicious bites that Mrs. Graham had prepared. As Daphne turned to leave she nodded at the woman who caught her eye, some Lady Whatever dripping in rubies and emeralds, but Daphne escaped before having to speak to anyone. 

Free from the prying eyes of the titled whoevers, Daphne headed upstairs for a few moments of peace. She stopped at the sound of a woman singing “Silent Night.” This wasn’t one of Miss Ebberts’ well intentioned attempts, but rather something plaintive and ultimately beautiful. Who was singing? Daphne didn’t know. She only knew that the high pitched dulcet tones filled her with deep longing. 

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace

Daphne dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned toward the staircase and saw Mr. Ellis supervising the footmen as they delivered platters with food and drink. Daphne steeled herself. The Ellises were Edward’s grandparents and they were employed by her father. She would continue to see them all day, every day, until they retired.  They were good people, the Ellises. She loved having them around, and certainly Hembry Castle could never function without them. When Mr. Ellis saw her, he nodded, once, but there was much feeling in the gesture. It took every ounce of strength Daphne had to hold her anguish inside until she escaped into the sanctuary of her bedroom. 

It wasn’t dark this Christmas Eve, not yet. The sun was only beginning to set and the sky blushed pink and white as the delicate snowflakes fell, leaving soft pillows on the ground. The holiday revelries inside Hembry Castle grew more raucous the later the time grew. Several guests left for other celebrations. For some, the number of festivities they attended were a badge of honor. Others were quite happy to continue the holiday entertainments in the hallowed halls of Hembry Castle. 

It was a dangerous hour for ghosts to be about, this in-between time, but he was a ghost on a mission. The snow fell faster, leaving a fresh white blanket weighing down the bare-branched trees, stretching across the grounds, covering the very castle itself in pristine radiance. The ghost, immune to the icy air, numb as he was, lingered near the servants’ courtyard, close but not so close. He was near enough to see the younger servants dancing to an out of tune violin playing “Ding Dong, Merrily on High” while others slipped and slid down the snowy embankment. The servants were so caught up in their merrymaking they weren’t likely to notice him. He was an unobtrusive ghost, after all. But he couldn’t take a chance that he might be seen. He stepped behind the wall of the courtyard and waited. 

“So?” he heard from the other side of the wall.

“So?” 

“Are you ready?”

“This is the moment I’ve been waiting for,” the ghost said. “I’m ready.”

The hours passed. The night grew later and darker and the grounds grew whiter. It would be rude to yawn in front of his guests, so Frederick, Lord Staton, helped himself to some hot water and the last scoop of darjeeling at the side table where guests had been feasting on small dishes of quails eggs, truffle potatoes, fried smelts, roast turkey, and of course Mrs. Graham’s delicious pies. He could never get enough of them. He wasn’t hungry himself, Frederick, but he enjoyed watching his guests savor every delectable dish. Mrs. Graham had worked so very hard, after all. He sipped his tea, but instead of a burst of energy he felt lethargic until the sight of a fresh snowfall brightened him. He had always loved the snow in winter, and especially he had always loved Christmas at Hembry Castle. Yes, this year was different when last year had been so joyful. But this too shall pass, Frederick thought. Everything, both good and bad, changes with time and we must make the best of it, good and bad. We learn what we need to learn from each experience, good and bad, and we carry on, doing the best we can at every turn. 

Frederick stared through the window at the deepening gray haze coming down from the north, which meant the snow was likely to continue until morning. He startled when a loud “Your lordship!” came from behind. He turned to see Mrs. Ellis pressing a silver tray with a letter in his direction.

“Excuse me, my lord. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me, Mrs. Ellis. Not at all.”

“I’m afraid you were looking rather contemplative.”

Soft heels of a genteel country dance echoed into the room.

“I’m not certain one can be contemplative on such a day.” Frederick nodded at the silver tray. “Are you the butler here now?” 

“Mr. Ellis is busy downstairs so I told him you wouldn’t mind if I brought this. It seemed urgent.” 

She pressed the tray closer to Frederick. He sighed, but he took the letter and the opener, sliced the envelope, and read the contents.  He read once, read twice, read a third time just to be certain, then slid the letter back into the envelope and into his breast pocket. 

“Who sent this?” he asked. 

“I couldn’t say, my lord. I was told it was left outside the door, and as you can see the envelope is addressed to you.”

Mrs. Ellis waited while he took the letter from his pocket to read once more. 

“I’m afraid I must leave at once, Mrs. Ellis.” 

“But it’s Christmas Eve, your lordship. Your guests are here.”

“They’re so busy they won’t notice if I nip out for a bit.” 

Frederick glanced around to be certain that indeed his guests would not notice his temporary absence. When no one seemed to pay him the slightest attention he disappeared upstairs to change and consider his next steps.

Mrs. Ellis was about to return downstairs to see if Mrs. Graham was still conscious. The housekeeper was stopped by an inquisitive stare from her husband, who had appeared as if out of the air, as he so often did. 

“Where is his lordship going on Christmas Eve?” Mr. Ellis asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know. It seemed important, though.”

“Should I ask why you brought him that letter instead of me?”

“No, Mr. Ellis. You shouldn’t.”

“Very well.” Again, the inquisitive stare, this time over the top of his spectacles. “This is highly unusual, I must say. His lordship would never leave his guests at his own Christmas Eve celebration.”

“I’m sure it was nothing more than some complaint from her ladyship, who is currently holding state in the drawing room, her ear trumpet pressed to the side of her head as she listens to the gossip from Lady Someone.”

Mr. Ellis nearly laughed aloud but caught himself. Mrs. Ellis shooed her husband away. 

“Go on. There’s still so much to see to for the rest of the night.” 

Mr. Ellis nodded, gave his wife one more hard stare, and moved on.