Happy December 26, Jane Austen

All Advent, the second footman had eyed Miss Austen with a vengeful glare. Last year he had challenged her and had received more hurt than he had given. Now, the looked-for day had come once again. He and she faced one another across the billiard room, breathing hard, glaring.

Jane hitched up her sagging dress by its empire waist. "Come on," she said, taunting the servant, whose smashed nose lay flat against his left cheek. "Let's finish this once and for all."

For 364 days of the year, the servants obeyed their masters with Christian humility. On December 26, however, all bets were off. This day was set aside as a festival of violence against the ruling class. But only for those whose fists were fast.

No one's fists were faster than Jane Austen's. She simply ignored the footman's right to her jaw, parried his left to her gut, then stepped in to land a vicious punch to his throat.

The footman crumpled. One hoped his injuries were not permanent. Finding good help was hard.

The others dragged his body to where Miss Jane's other opponents lay in a heap. She spat out a tooth and swiped a sweaty lock of hair out of her eye, the one not swollen shut. She raised her bruised fists.

"Come on, who's next? This is your chance. Boxing Day comes only once a year!"