Fawn woke to a terrible clamor, dust billowing up from the makeshift shelves as the walls trembled around her. Thrusting her quilt from herself, she darted toward the nearest exit, peering outward in dazed confusion.
She startled when Thomas burst into the parlour, his tall, lean body half-hidden behind an enormous stack of boxes. He let them fall to the ground with an ungodly thud before he straightened up again and disappeared.
Fawn's bewildered gaze darted about the room, searching for some sense to the racket. Her gaze landed upon piles of similar boxes strewn across the floor.
"I'm going to sell the house," his voice echoed in her memory. "Damn it all to hell."
A shot of panic streaked across her chest.
No, no, no, she must have been mistaken; he couldn't be leaving, not after what happened yesterday. He had been so kind to her, so sympathetic to her plight. More than that. In fact, if the mere thought wasn't heresy, she would even say that he -
That he what? Her mind mocked her. Cared for you? An insignificant speck he could trod down with one foot? You were fooled, Fawn Braegon. Tricked by human guile. Just as the elders warned you.
Fawn took a stumbling step backward, her head shaking incredulously as she staggered blindly down the inner walls to her chambers. "How could you!" she screamed, her anger quickly dissolving into pangs of anguish.
How could you.
Selling the house was as good as condemning her to death: strangers streaming through at all hours of the day, their unpredictable arrivals thwarting any run for supplies. Besides, with Thomas gone in the winter, there would be no food to borrow.
She would starve.
Even if she managed to survive off scavenging until the new owners arrived, they would soon begin their repairs, closing up every hole until she was sealed in a living tomb. Or perhaps they wouldn't even bother. Perhaps they'd simply tear the old manor house down...have a new, more modern home built in its place.
She had no choice. She had to leave while she still had fighting chance. And yet the world was frozen in the deep throes of winter; it was many miles until the nearest shelter, and the woods were unforgiving at this time of year. She would surely freeze to death.
Didn't that even matter to him?
"Dammit Fawn," she sniffled, wiping her baggy sleeve tremulously across her eyes. "You've gotten this far on your own. You'll do it again."
With that she began to plot her route, marking up her large map with charcoal salvaged from the master's fire.
It took her the better part of the day to gather up her things, holding each one lovingly to herself as she decided what to take, and what to leave behind. Her limbs were heavy as she worked, a gaping hole aching in her chest.
As the evening fell, she tightened the strings of the coin pouch, heaving it onto her back. That's when she heard it: a hollow knocking on the walls, faint at first, then growing louder.
"Fawn?" a deep voice called out uncertainly.
Fawn's chest clenched at the sound, her heart picking up speed. She quickly smothered the feeling. He wasn't her concern anymore.
"I thought perhaps I would see you today...I hope I didn't frighten you too much yesterday..."
Her stomach swooped at his gentle words. She chewed the inside of her cheek, unsure whether to show herself. Shouldering her bag of goods higher on her back, she trudged down the narrow wallway to steal a glance out the fireplace entrance. Her heart spiked as she saw his mountainous form kneeled a few feet away, head leaned against the wall. He had slightly misjudged where her chambers were located.
"Thomas?" she wavered.
He looked around in confusion, eyes scouring the floor beneath him for the small voice. When his eyes fell upon her, his face softened in a way made Fawn's heart flutter.
"There you are" he uttered gently. His eyes seemed to drink her in fondly for a moment, before they settled on her pack.
"Are you going somewhere?"
Fawn stiffened. The bag on her shoulders seemed to grow heavier.
"I...I saw the packing boxes this morning, Thomas. I heard what you said to Walker on Christmas Eve."
His brow furrowed, as if searching for some sense to her words.
"Ah." He concluded. "Selling the house. So you heard that, did you."
She nodded ruefully.
He paused for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts.
"I did think of selling it," he ventured. "After my mother and brother died. Many times in fact. I was going to use the money to fund my passage aboard The Peacock. They were mounting a scientific expedition across the globe and were in need of another naturalist. I wanted to get as far away as possible..."
He trailed off, smiling sadly.
"What I said last night, Fawn...it was the ramblings of a drunken fool, one feeling much too sorry for himself. I'm not going to sell the acreage. Especially not now..."
He let the last phrase linger for a moment, his head titling slightly as he gazed at her.
"The boxes you saw...they had a decidedly different purpose. Now, why don't you come out of there and have a look around."
Fawn's brow knitted. She glanced at him uncertainly a few times as she strayed hesitantly forward past the crumbling entrance to the walls, the landscape of the parlour unfurling before her.
Her mouth parted in awe.
Candles dotted every surface, flashes of dazzling flame refracting off crystal, silver and gold until the room sparkled like the night sky. A deep gasp of wonder brought the sharp and earthy sweetness of fresh-cut evergreen and tangy citrus to her nose, the fronds tumbled generously over tables and doorways, mingling with joyful bursts of ripe, red holly. Beside the roaring fireplace, a towering fir tree stood proudly, its sweeping branches beckoning in invitation.
He draped his arm over his knee, his handsome face breaking into a triumphant grin. "Well, what do you think?"
Fawn shook her head incredulously, turning in circles to take in the spectacular view. A lump pricked at the back of her throat.
"Thomas...it's...it's magnificent."
His mouth pulled into a wry smile.
"Go on, don't be shy " he nodded.
She let her pack drop, heart surging with a wave of giddiness. Darting forward over the vast stretch of hardwood, she came to a standstill beneath the sprawling branches of the Christmas tree. Looking upward, it seemed as if she was standing at the base of a great palace, each row of branches like an endless, spiraling staircase; each candle a flickering torch. Reaching her hand up, she trailed her fingers over the low-hanging boughs, fingers sticking slightly with sweet sap.
It was magical.
She strayed back outward in a daze, her gaze finding Thomas' from across the room.
"But I don't understand..." she faltered. "Christmas was yesterday..."
The ground tremored, floorboards creaking as Thomas pushed himself upward to his full, and terrible height. Fawn felt her heart drop straight through her stomach as he strode slowly forward, his polished, black boots thundering with each encroaching step. Her nerves fired off wild warnings to flee, and it took every effort of her free will to wrangle them down. Still, she couldn't help but stagger back slightly beneath the cover of the tree as he finally reached her, smiling down in amusement from his impossible height.
Nothing should be that big, she thought to herself.
But then he was kneeling again, his movements so careful and controlled that it stirred her heart. His hand extended toward her, finger reaching out tentatively.
"You yourself should know that doesn't matter. Not as long as Christmas is alive in here."
Fawn's breath caught as his finger brushed against her trembling chest, lingering for a moment over her heart. She wondered if he could feel it thundering.
Though his hand withdrew, his voice remained deep and sincere.
"I got you something," he rumbled gently.
Fawn's heart catapulted. She watched breathlessly as he reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a small, blue box. He lifted off the lid with his forefinger and thumb, placing the gift down before her.
She stepped forward hesitantly, pulse thrumming as she glanced uncertainly between him and the present. He laughed gently at her trepidation, his fingers gesturing her forward.
"Go ahead, it's yours."
As she peered over the edge of the box, her eyes widened with unbridled wonder. A fragile, crystalline bulb was tucked neatly within, nestled carefully in swathes of soft velvet. Tiny snowflakes seemed to hover mid-fall inside the glass, so delicate they seemed to be crafted by a borrower's hand. Trailing her slender fingers over the ornament, she read out the cursive letters that were painted carefully across the surface.
Fawn's First Christmas
1865
"There," he announced softly. "Now you're officially part of the family."
Fawn's throat tightened painfully, tears clouding her soft, brown eyes.
Without thinking, she dashed forward to Thomas' trailing hand, grasping a stray finger in her weightless embrace.
He breathed out haltingly, his powerful hand twitching slightly in surprise. Then he shifted it gently, the rest of his fingers closing in around her, until she all but disappeared in his loose fist.
Fawn Braegon, the elders would say, you are the most foolish, most reckless, most incorrigible borrower on earth.
Now she was also the luckiest.
She broke from him with a wild grin.
"Well," he smiled, "go put it up."
Fawn's hands plunged eagerly into the box, arms stretched out as wide as possible as she grasped up the globe against her chest. Thomas laughed deeply as she tried to carry it herself, his other hand coming up to steady the fragile glass as she staggered over to the tree. Hoisting it up, she let him fix the tiny wire hook to the lowest branch. It hung there crookedly, dwarfed by the rest of the tree.
She glanced back at him, her hands clasped to her chest.
"It's perfect," she beamed.
Thomas laughed again, a full rich sound.
"Come here, you."
His hands sailed out toward her, scooping her up into his palms without warning. She let out a startled squeak, trembling slightly in his hands as he stood and made his way over to the settee. Sprawling out leisurely, he rested his hands over his lap, fingers unfurling slowly as he loomed over her.
Fawn sucked in a shaky breath. Though her heart still throbbed with cold shock, there was an edge to her fear that thrilled her. She was utterly helpless in his hands and yet he was nothing but tender with her.
"There," he uttered. "Now it's perfect."
A streak of wildfire tore across Fawn's cheeks, flustering her into a shy stammer. He smiled fondly as she fidgeted on his palms, eyes flashing with amusement at her small flutterings.
"Look" he nodded gently. "There's a better view from up here."
Fawn turned her blushing face from his to stare out at the room. He was right. From here she could see the Christmas tree in all its splendour, the mantlepiece dressed and glistening.
She seemed to forget her timidness, leaning forward over his hand as if beckoned.
"I don't think I'll ever grow tired of that view," she uttered. "Not in all the years of my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything."
His fingers curled up protectively, nudging her gently back.
"As long as you choose to stay here, Fawn, you'll never have to."
They fell quiet for a time, the comforting crackle of the fireplace filling the silence. Its sparks danced and flickered, rising up over the dark blue windowpanes of the deepening evening. In the warm and peaceful hush, Fawn felt herself growing drowsy, her body gradually softening against the reassuring wall of his fingers.
Above her, a low deep voice rumbled like distant thunder:
"Merry Christmas Fawn."
She smiled softly, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Merry Christmas, Thomas," she whispered.
***
Author's Note
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! And Merry Christmas to these two soft babies.
I hope you enjoyed this incredibly fluffy chapter...I know I enjoyed writing it (and of course I couldn't resist putting in some angst...hehe)
Stay tuned tomorrow for the final chapter - a bit of an indulgent epilogue to soothe us past the post-Christmas blues.
As always, if you've enjoyed the writing, don't forget to:
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xx