Dangerous Letters

Chapter Seventeen

Letter XXXV

December 27, 17--

Dearest Hannah,

I thank you dearly for the beautiful frame; it shall have the pride and joy of the centre of my mantle and I shall look upon it with fondness each day. As to your inquiry; why, I was spoilt for gifts this year. From Villette I was given a pair of short gloves, that are very much the style of the moment, from a very famous boutique and a selection of crystallised fruit which was all much too generous.

The Master was equally lavish and I am still hesitant to accept his present; delivered in a gigantic box, this held the most magnificent dress; black silk, with the dull, prismatic sheen of oil on water, and finer than anything I could have imagined owning. It came wrapped in tissue paper and the nicest red ribbon that I shall have to repurpose for one of my casual gowns. In all truth, I do not know where I will have cause to wear such beautiful attire once we leave P----.

Christmas dinner was also a very splendid affair: holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and a gallon of punch. My favourite, however, must have been the Bûche de Noël. What a production that is! When the main dishes have been removed and the pudding, in all the glory of its own magnificence, shines upon the table, how eager is the anticipation of the near delight! How beautiful each spiralled slice appears! How delicious it smells! How perfectly round it is! A kiss is round, the horizon is round, the earth is round, the moon is round, the sun and stars, and all the host of heaven are round. So is a serving of Bûche de Noël.

The English and the Germans have no idea how to make a Bûche de Noël, but some friendly genius instructed the French in the art and the Yule log symbolises so much French antiquity – French superstition – French enterprise – French generosity – and above all, French taste.

It was quite the sight to behold but, though supremely decadent, I also missed last year when I sat before the ruddy glow of the fire to eat a Christmas dinner of roast goose with mama and papa. How grand I thought that meal! Or when dinner was done, the cloth cleared, the hearth swept and apples and oranges put upon the table and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then we all gathered in a little circle with those same glasses; two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle (for we lost the silverware in the sale of the estate). These held the hot mulled mead as well as any of these golden goblets would have; and papa served this out with beaming looks, whilst the chestnuts on the fire spluttered and crackled noisily. And then he proposed: "Je vous souhaite un joyeux Noël.God bless us all!"

Meilleurs vœux!

Charlotte

Letter XXXVI

December 29, 17--

Dear Mother and Father,

What fanfare; the whole household is taken up with making preparations to return to the Master's chateau shortly where I anticipate the whole staff will be kept busy for the winter season. An announcement has been made, you see, that the Master is engaged to marry the youngest daughter of the Earl of C------- in E-------.

I suppose I should not have been shocked by the news. He is, after all, too young to remain widowed and who else could he be expected to marry but a young noble lady? I am afraid that this means I cannot be spared in the new year. I can only ask that you forgive my absence, and light a candle for me during the next Midnight service – I am sorry that this has been the first year I have ever missed doing so in my homestead. Yet, even if I hadn't been asked to stay, I would be reluctant to leave Villette who has not taken well to the news. She has grown very quiet and thoughtful since discovering her father's upcoming nuptials – although I'm confident, knowing her changeable temperament, that this will not last. Perhaps with a mother figure restored, I shall be less needed. I may obtain permission for leave at Easter and so, whilst we must wait a few more months, I hope to see you once more – dear mama and papa – come spring.