Miss Mary Bennet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
missmarybennet) wrote2012-05-27 12:09 am
missmarybennet) wrote2012-05-27 12:09 am
Christmas Eve - 1797
Most of the arrangement of the Christmas greenery had fallen to Mary and Kitty this year, and they had spread their work out over the drawing room where they tied together sprays to adorn the window sills, doorways and mantelpieces. Mr. Bennet took a chair by the hearth to supervise, though his newspaper tended to prove more interesting than the holly and the ivy.
Mr. Lowell, settled in what was becoming his habitual chair, attempted to help tie together decorations until he was distracted by a substantial parcel that arrived for him from the village. It was his mail, sent up from Town. Good wishes from his cousins. A note from his housekeeper on the state of his rented house in London. And, that which was most welcome, a goodly amount of correspondence from family and friends in Boston.
“I do hope, Mr. Lowell, that all is well at home,” Mr. Bennet said, laying aside his newspaper for the moment.
“Quite well.” And indeed, Mr. Lowell looked very pleased indeed. “My sister, Anne, delivered a healthy baby girl in October. Martha. I’m an uncle three times over.” He smiled as he refolded his letter. “Father will no doubt be passing a pleasant holiday. There’s nothing he likes better than a house full of children at Christmas time. He always did enjoy the celebration, even if it’s not fashionable. I’ve no doubt he’s tried the tree out in five different spots by now.”
“Tree?” Kitty asked, trying to bend a vine of ivy into submission. “In the house?”
“A German custom, I believe,” Mr. Bennet interjected.
Kitty looked no less confused as she looked back to Mr. Lowell. “But you’re not German.”
Mr. Lowell laughed. “No, I dare say I’m not. But many Americans used to be Germans. We all borrow from each other, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Kitty frowned as she gave up and clipped the vine in half. “That must get very confusing, doesn’t it? People from all over the place with their own ways of doing things being all mixed up and yet supposed to be countrymen? You’d think people would wind up constantly butting their heads together.”
“I don’t think so,” Mary said before Mr. Lowell could respond. “In Mi--”
Mary quickly caught herself and leaned down to grope about the floor beside the ottoman she was sitting on, pretending she’d dropped something. She’d nearly said In Milliways.
“That is to say,” she said, straightening back up, “differences in manners and custom are just that. Manners and customs. I imagine that you can take people from some of the most diverse circumstances,” Not to mention times and worlds, “and you’ll find that they are far more similar than they different.”
“Astutely put,” Mr. Lowell said.
“If a bit idealistic,” Mr. Bennet added, doubtfully.
“I still can’t imagine a tree in the house,” Kitty said. “And I’m out of string.”
“So am I. I think there’s more in the kitchen.” Mary got up from the ottoman. “I’ll get it.”
And perhaps a cup of tea for myself with a lump or two of common sense. Mary shook her head as she made her way to the kitchen.
She'd very nearly slipped. Mary had never really had many secrets to keep before. Not enough to be as canny as another person might. And, she'd begun to discover, Milliways had started to become such a (dare she say) ordinary part of her world that it was sometimes hard to refrain from speaking of it.
Gibson, she knew, already watched her with guarded suspicion. That had proven to be unavoidable, since she had chosen to doctor his charge under his very nose. And yesterday, when she'd slipped back from Milliways, she'd managed to run right into the man.
She hadn't quite been able to divest herself of all of Raven's silver glitter. Gibson had just looked her up and down and relieved her of her holly and pine branches without a word.
But thus far her family didn't suspect anything.
She would just have to watch her step a bit more carefully. That was all.
Mr. Lowell, settled in what was becoming his habitual chair, attempted to help tie together decorations until he was distracted by a substantial parcel that arrived for him from the village. It was his mail, sent up from Town. Good wishes from his cousins. A note from his housekeeper on the state of his rented house in London. And, that which was most welcome, a goodly amount of correspondence from family and friends in Boston.
“I do hope, Mr. Lowell, that all is well at home,” Mr. Bennet said, laying aside his newspaper for the moment.
“Quite well.” And indeed, Mr. Lowell looked very pleased indeed. “My sister, Anne, delivered a healthy baby girl in October. Martha. I’m an uncle three times over.” He smiled as he refolded his letter. “Father will no doubt be passing a pleasant holiday. There’s nothing he likes better than a house full of children at Christmas time. He always did enjoy the celebration, even if it’s not fashionable. I’ve no doubt he’s tried the tree out in five different spots by now.”
“Tree?” Kitty asked, trying to bend a vine of ivy into submission. “In the house?”
“A German custom, I believe,” Mr. Bennet interjected.
Kitty looked no less confused as she looked back to Mr. Lowell. “But you’re not German.”
Mr. Lowell laughed. “No, I dare say I’m not. But many Americans used to be Germans. We all borrow from each other, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Kitty frowned as she gave up and clipped the vine in half. “That must get very confusing, doesn’t it? People from all over the place with their own ways of doing things being all mixed up and yet supposed to be countrymen? You’d think people would wind up constantly butting their heads together.”
“I don’t think so,” Mary said before Mr. Lowell could respond. “In Mi--”
Mary quickly caught herself and leaned down to grope about the floor beside the ottoman she was sitting on, pretending she’d dropped something. She’d nearly said In Milliways.
“That is to say,” she said, straightening back up, “differences in manners and custom are just that. Manners and customs. I imagine that you can take people from some of the most diverse circumstances,” Not to mention times and worlds, “and you’ll find that they are far more similar than they different.”
“Astutely put,” Mr. Lowell said.
“If a bit idealistic,” Mr. Bennet added, doubtfully.
“I still can’t imagine a tree in the house,” Kitty said. “And I’m out of string.”
“So am I. I think there’s more in the kitchen.” Mary got up from the ottoman. “I’ll get it.”
And perhaps a cup of tea for myself with a lump or two of common sense. Mary shook her head as she made her way to the kitchen.
She'd very nearly slipped. Mary had never really had many secrets to keep before. Not enough to be as canny as another person might. And, she'd begun to discover, Milliways had started to become such a (dare she say) ordinary part of her world that it was sometimes hard to refrain from speaking of it.
Gibson, she knew, already watched her with guarded suspicion. That had proven to be unavoidable, since she had chosen to doctor his charge under his very nose. And yesterday, when she'd slipped back from Milliways, she'd managed to run right into the man.
She hadn't quite been able to divest herself of all of Raven's silver glitter. Gibson had just looked her up and down and relieved her of her holly and pine branches without a word.
But thus far her family didn't suspect anything.
She would just have to watch her step a bit more carefully. That was all.