Just One Christmas Wish

An Unwanted Guest

Chapter III

Noel didn't entirely know what to make of the situation and neither, it seemed, did Mr Blackwood's mother.

Upon her first sight of Dushess Devin, as Mr Blackwood had introduced her, Noel had decided she didn;t like the tightly cork-screwed dark-brown-streaked-grey curls atop the  beautiful --by human standards-- woman's head, she didn't like the sour twist of her mouth. Nor did she much like the haughty anger that poured form those steel-blue eyes.

Duchess Devin didn' seem to much like Noel either.

Lawrence, however, seemed not to notice. Or perhaps he simply took pleasure in aggrivating his mother.

"Mother!" Lawrence greeted the Duchess with exaggerated joy. "I have insisted that Noel stay with us for Christmas as her family have taken a trip to Bologna to oversee her father's business. Alas that has left poor Miss Yulehearth lonely for the season and such negelct wounds my very soul." As Noel watched Mr Blackwood, she decided there was no doubt in the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed vexing his mother. "Hence she must stay with us!" Duchess Devin opened her mouth only to be cut off by her son.

"And of course, being the hospitable Christians that we are, we would not say no, would we Mother?" The Duchess scowled furiously but at that moment, a man with thick white hair and a striking resemblance to Lawrence, and a curious spark in his eye came forward to stand beside Mr Blackwood's mother. Noel guessed this was Mr Blackwood's father. He said,

"Oh my dear, we must allow this young lady into our home." Duchess Devin glared at the man before turning to Noel with an overly-sweet smile on her face.

"Well, Miss Yulehearth. It seems that I am overruled. You may stay in this house until Christmas." With that, she turned on her heel and strutted off in a flurry of oxe-blood skirts and bussel.

Once she was out of sight, Lawrence and his father snorted raucously with laughter.

"Did you hear her?" The older man exclaimed in a thick Scottish accent. "As if she owned the bloody place!" Wiping a tear of amusement from his eye, the older man turned from his chuckling son to Noel, sticking out a hand.

"Forgive me, lass. I am Duke Fergusson Alrich Blackwood, owner of this estate. That was my hellish wife, Duchess Devin. Ignore her, I find it reduces the headaches." Noel couldn't help smiling as she shook Duke Fergusson's hand.

"I'm Noel." The Duke's eyebrows rose.

"First name basis already? I'm flattered!" Silently, Noel cursed her foolishnes for forgetting the surname that Lawrence had created for her. She glanced sideways at Mr Blackwood but he only winked at her reassuringly.

"You are kind, Sir, and I promise to be out of your way by Christmas." The Duke only batted a hand.

"Did you not hear me? Ignore my proud wife --doing so does good, to all parties." Leaning on his cane, Duke Fergusson began to walk away, sparing a moment to glance between Noel and Mr Blackwood and say,

"Fortuitous, I think it, that a young lady and one so beautiful as yourself, Miss Yulehearth, should come to stay with us on the morning that the subject of marraige was earlier pressed so passionately."

Smiling a small smile, Duke Fergusson disappeared.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the Duke's words settled in the minds of the two young people.

Clearing is throat, Lawrence clapped his hands together,

"Well." He said. Noel snapped herself awake.

"Yes."

"You were looking for...?"

"The Yule Log."

"A log."

"Yes."

"I see." Lawrence paused a moment. "You've nothing else to go on?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, does it glow? Does it sparkle? Can it stand up and do a dance? Sing carols, perhaps? Dance a jig to jingl--"

"You're making fun of me."

Lawrence considered this.

"I prefer to think of it as being humorous."

"I'm sure you do. And no," Noel said. "it does not do any of those things."

"Then why is it so important?" Mr Blackwood asked, only to say, "Wait, let us speak in the library. We shant be disturbed there."

Once the library doors were firmly shut, Noel spoke.

"Each year at Yule, the log is placed in the hearth where it burns from Christmas Eve as a symbol of hope and light and constancy until New Year's Eve, when its ashes are thrown down to the earth to replenish the land and to bring good fortune, also to restore the boundaries between this world and others  for the new year.

"And from its embers, each year a thimble-full of ash is taken and put in this necklace," She gestured to the pendant she wore on a chain around her neck. "so that the Log may be found again come Yuletide. Always, it is found beneath the roots of the Grand Christmas Tree which grows in the Great Hall every year when we celebrate the visit of Nicholas, King of the Fairies, and his Queen, Mistletoe. But this year, it was not there. The Log was missing, and without it everything I just described cannot happen. Without it, the world wil die."