Chapter 1: Merrily on High

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Excolo Abbey; the morning of 23rd December, 1912

It is a fine bright day, clear blue skies and a frost over the lawn, which I can see from my desk in my study. I finish writing a couple of letters of business, which I pass on to my estate manager, and then I warmly wish him a very merry Christmas and say I will see him in the New Year. Business, at least of an official kind, is over for now. This morning the great Christmas tree was erected in the hall, causing much excitement as usual. Today several of our guests for the Christmas season will arrive; tomorrow is the Christmas Eve ball for all the reasonable quality people of local society, and our house guests, of course; Boxing Day is the hunt... And then in a short space it will be 1913.

1913. I stand up and look out over the garden, which has remained mostly unchanged in the last decade. I am thinking much of the past today, because Islip will be arriving soon. How very long it has been since I have seen him! We have exchanged Christmas cards in the intervening years, but I have had no other word from him until very recently, when he enquired about whether I knew of any work that might be available for a man of his skills. For him to swallow his pride and ask me led me to think his situation was not perhaps very good; and so quite spontaneously I offered him the role of valet. Brown had been intending to retire, and indeed he really was getting too old for the role. I know I have put Percival's nose out of joint, since he expected a promotion from first footman to valet, but there we have it: I must help an old friend. We saw a great many things together, and suffered more than I have ever let my family know. I look forward to that quiet... kinship we seemed to share, the peace we felt in each other's company despite our difference in status. I hope neither of us have changed so much that we have lost that.

My wife is, I believe, busy with Mrs Parras making the last decisions for the party tomorrow, and so I decide to stroll to the library and read the paper before the house is beset with guests.

Comments

THE LIBRARY

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Christmas!

The house is full of the scent of pine and the buzz of servants, and I have on one of my favorite day dresses (http://i2.cdn.turner.com/cnn/dam/assets/121002040023-fm-kobe-2-horizontal-gallery.jpg), and there are guests expected soon! And I am expecting a new set of pamphlets up from London!

I have just finished the last of my Christmas letters to the friends I met in Town last season, and it is not nearly time to start getting ready for the guests we shall have for tea And I will not know what sorts of work I have to do for the Women's Social and Political Union until I read the pamphlets, and I am going to read to Hope, but we agreed to do that after lunch.

And it is scarcely ten o'clock!

To the library, then, to my favorite spot by the window where the light comes full in, to read a bit.

The library is where I have spent many mornings, but even more now than before I went to town. I hesitate to admit, even to myself, that I spend so much time here because am hoping that Mr. Lackford comes in.

Yes, I have called him Percival ever since he was taken on here, for one always calls a footman by his first name, but now I cannot quite bring myself to do that. Should I not be more eager for equality, and less eager to put up social barriers? Perhaps I should, but still…now I think of him as a man, and that makes it rather different.

I am secretly glad that he is not going to be Papa's new valet, I must confess. It would be far too strange to think of him in that role!

My heart leaps as I hear footsteps at the door -

- oh. It is Papa.

I am not unhappy to see him! And yet…he is not who I was hoping to see. "Good morning, Papa," I say with a smile, rising to greet him. "Have you seen the tree? Isn't it simply wonderful? And - er. Is the morning post here yet?" If it is, I must rush to get it before he does!

Re: THE LIBRARY

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Sophia is in the library when I reach it. She is of course the child most likely to be here, since her brother seems to spend most of his time sleeping or idling and of course my poor Hope has little use for books unless her sister is to read for her. Sophia bombards me at once with questions - she has a great deal of energy for a girl, but luckily is ladylike enough that it is not distressing.

"Yes, my dear, the tree is splendid," I say. "And if by is the morning post here you mean has a parcel suspiciously shaped like a stack of pamphlets arrived, then the answer is in the affirmative." I raise my eyebrow.

The sitting room

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"Milady, the menus, did you want beef sirloin, or..."

"Whichever you think is best, Parras." I sit back in my chair, my copy of The Scarlet Plague open in my lap. It was good sense to hire Parras. She has a much better sense of these sorts of things than I do.

"And the dessert. Will it be eclairs, or Waldorf pudding...?"

"Whatever you think is more impressive, Parras." This is technically part of my duties, but I've never had any talent for it. That's part of why I hired Parras. She makes this all so much easier, and I can don't have to interrupt my reading. And in 1910, there was pellagra, and also the hookworm. These were easily killed by the bacteriologists. But in 1947 there arose a new disease that had never been seen before. It got into the bodies of babies of only ten months old or less, and it made them unable to move their hands and feet, or to eat, or anything; and the bacteriologists were eleven years in discovering how to kill that particular germ and save the babies. This is far more interesting than planning menus.

Re: The sitting room

[parras-siren.livejournal.com]

Really, her ladyship can be quite frustrating. While of course I'm quite glad she doesn't try to interfere in each tiny aspect of household life as some ladies are wont to do, it would be seemly if she would take some interest. After all, my own work is quite taxing enough, without my being burdened with decisions that she should make.

I glance at her book and shudder a little. I'm sure these interests of hers can't be healthy. "Yes, m'lady," I say patiently. "I will talk to Cook about it. You know she will ask me if any guests have any particular requirements...?" I wonder if she has even taken the time to find out. My expression is perfectly respectful, of course.

The Breakfast Room

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I do not feel well. I barely ate anything last night and, though I should be starved, the thought of eating does nothing for me. Perhaps I have caught a chill. Perhaps I should return to bed. And stay there for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the year.

It's not as though they actually need me physically here, to move on with things. That much is evident enough.

It is very quiet and I imagine Sophia has already eaten. I had almost looked forward to speaking with her. But no, if the desire really does take me, it's not as though I don't know where to look for her.

Re: The Breakfast Room

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

Mr Sherrard is looking rather worse for wear. He has not been terribly talkative thus far, as he sometimes is, which has suited me because I'm grumpy. The new valet is arriving today. I'm still seething about that. How His Lordship could choose some - some lame duck old serviceman over someone who has worked for five years in his household, working his way up through the ranks...! Yes, I'm quite annoyed about it.

"Would you like some more coffee, Mr Sherrard?" I ask. I notice he's not touched anything on his plate yet. "Would you like some eggs, sir? Or perhaps a kipper." No, from his face he does not want a kipper.

The Rose and Crown Pub and Inn

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Mother had arrived a week ago to secure the rental property whilst I lingered in the city to enjoy the museum and some shopping. The car took me to the house first to deposit the baggage and other sundries, but after learning that my mother was still at the Inn, I directed the driver to take me there post haste.

It is close to Christmas, and the town is bustling with activity. I do expect the pub part to be empty, since it is morning and most sensible people are ----

"...so I won the Plowville Inn in an arm wrestling competition and..."

With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose and close th door behind me. "That Inn gets bigger every time you tell that story, Mother." I sigh as I remove my gloves and cross the bar to where she is sitting, drinking a beer of all the outrageous things!

"Why aren't you at the house?"

Re: The Rose and Crown Pub and Inn

[tommi-esterly.livejournal.com]

I've got Dave laughing over how I met my husband when Wanda comes in, all prim and proper and the picture of a proper lady.

"Wanda, come here and meet Dave! He's going to help me re-design the Inn! Dave, get her a pint!" I say, waving my daughter over.

"Why aren't you at the house?" Arch a eyebrow at her, and take a sip of my drink. "Figured I would wait and do the whole 'grand reveal' thing. How was the city?"

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

It's been a long - and less than comfortable - journey by train from London. But the house's handsome in the slanting winter light, and I'm allowing myself to be quietly hopeful. My knee aches in the cold, but I do my best to walk easily, even with my cane.

Have to say, though, I've had warmer welcomes.

The Drawing Room

[hopenotfaith.livejournal.com]

I know the sun is shining brightly today; as I make my way down the hall, each window I passes makes the side of my left eye shimmer uncomfortably. I take three steps forward past the fourth window and turn, reach out for the bannister, find it. If I look down I can see something of the stairs, but it's blurred enough that it's better if I just look straight ahead and step down, knowing how many steps there are. And then across the hall, and oh, the Christmas tree smells wonderful. I'll ask Sophia later to tell me about the decorations... All I can see is a haze of green.

I reach the drawing room eventually. Of course no one's here, because it's the morning, but I want to practice the piano. Perhaps I'll play a Christmas carol. I sit down carefully at the piano, setting my cane down where I'll find it again, and smooth out my skirts (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=11621304), then begin.

Re: The Drawing Room

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

Tomorrow I get to take care of the young ladies' hair and clothes before the ball, so Sadie says I've got to dust the sittin' room and library and all today.

And isn't Sadie half in a mood today! She's always after takin' care of the young ladies because she thinks it's an easier job, but she can't even do the simplest of hairstyles! And she thinks it isn't proper that His Lordship's brought in a new valet when Percival should've had the post, but I think it's His Lordship's right to do what he pleases.

I hear piano comin' from the drawin' room - oh no, Lady Hope must be in there!

I don't want to bother her when she's playin', but if this room doesn't get cleaned soon, Mrs. Parras'll have my hide! And I don't want to interrupt Lady Hope by sayin' somethin', but I don't want to not say somethin' neither 'cause I know she won't see me, and it feels mean to do somethin' like that even though I'm not doin' it to trick her.

What I really want to do is sing, but it wouldn't be proper for me to sing, neither - I just know Mrs. Parras wouldn't like that! But I want to, 'cause Lady Hope's playin' so pretty.

I stay by the door listenin', and I can't help hummin' along a bit when she gets to the chorus. Maybe when she's done with this song I'll speak up.

The Servants' Hall

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

It will soon be time to lay the table for luncheon, and so I'm polishing the silverware with a soft cloth before taking them upstairs. We've just had our morning cup of tea, and news has got around that the new valet has arrived so we all talked about that. Apparently His Lordship gave him coffee. I rub the nearest soup spoon furiously with a soft cloth.

Re: The Servants' Hall

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Percival, when I find him, is a well-presented young man with a somewhat sullen expression. "Good morning," I say. "His Lordship suggested that you might show me the layout of his things. Islip," I add, shifting my cane to hold out my hand. "Terrence Islip."

AFTER LUNCH; ARRIVING AT EXCOLO ABBEY

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"Oh, what am I doing, Kathleen!" I murmur to my maid as we come up the drive and I get my first sight of the house. It's bigger, sure, even than the sketch I saw in The Lady (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lady_%28magazine%29)! Am I really going to one day be mistress of something like this? I think suddenly, fondly, of our house (http://www.hiddenireland.com/uploads/images/headerimages/group5/Creagh-House.jpg), and how well regarded Da is for owning it...

"Having a dream come true, Miss," says Kathleen, all excited, "it's just a shame they're English," and I laugh and shush her. I hope it'll be alright, please God! I've been trying so hard to remember what Lord Porchester's like. Henry. But I just can't, except for that he was good looking and polite. I can't remember any impression of his character at all. I really hope I'm not making a terrible mistake.

Re: AFTER LUNCH; ARRIVING AT EXCOLO ABBEY

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

This is a terrible mistake. I should have said no. Even father couldn't force me into it, if only I had stood up to and said no. Yes. If only...

There's nothing to be done for it now, aside from being ill and hiding away in my room, and I won't do that. I won't give him the satisfaction. After all, there is still one of us that can say no to this farce.

I'm there to greet her when she arrives. "Welcome to Excolo, Miss O'Hara," I say with a smile once she's down from the car. "I hope the journey wasn't too much."

EVENING; BEFORE DINNER; ALEXANDER'S DRESSING ROOM

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Today has gone fairly smoothly, I think. Most of our guests have arrived - Miss O'Hara this afternoon, and Lord Kent a couple of hours ago. Mr White has been delayed, but will hopefully be with us soon, and I foresee no problems in our local dinner guests arriving. My wife's maid brought with her the news that Barnsley House is let at last - apparently to Americans, of all the strange things. It's been a sadness to me that the fine old house has fallen into disrepair since its owners, the Throckmortons - a very good old gentry family - are no longer able to keep it. So I am both pleased it has been restored and is now rented, but also a little sad that its ancient family will probably never live there again. In any case I have sent over an invitation to the Esterlys to join us at our Christmas ball tomorrow - normally I would call on them first, but there is no time between now and then, and as Americans they are less likely to be offended by the familiarity...

All in all, I think we should have a successful festive period ahead. That is, if Harry can be reasonable and behave like a man instead of a baby, and we can try to avoid talking about women's suffrage, and we have no repeat of last year when Sir Richard Morton had to be bodily carried from the ballroom because of the amount of wine he'd imbibed...

Musing on this, I head to my dressing room to change (http://www.asuitthatfits.com/shop/images/stories/thumb/article-2035619-0dcc980400000578-297_306x349_306_349.jpg) for dinner.

Re: EVENING; BEFORE DINNER; ALEXANDER'S DRESSING ROOM

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Damn it all, but this dress (http://www.antiquedress.com/item6768.htm) is a fiddly thing. Every time I wear it, poor Abbey ends up with beads and sequins to re-attach and loose threads to repair. But it is lovely, and certainly festive enough for Yule, particularly paired with the earrings (http://bernardnacht.com/images/image007.jpg) Alex gave me last Christmas. I must look the part, even if I'm bored to tears.

Alex is likely dressing now. I tap on his door with my ring, "Alex, are you there?"

EVENING; BEFORE DINNER; HOPE'S BEDROOM

[hopenotfaith.livejournal.com]

[from here] (http://excolocrack.livejournal.com/22267.html?thread=3762427#t3762427)

The day has passed quite quickly. I met Miss O'Hara briefly this afternoon, when she came to have a cup of tea in the drawing room. She seems very nice, though she was quite quiet. I always thought the Irish were meant to be chatty! But I don't know much about the world, really, so I could be wrong. I sit at my dressing table waiting for Genny to finish with Sophia and help me get dressed.

Re: EVENING; BEFORE DINNER; HOPE'S BEDROOM

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

Everyone's been all buzzin' about His Lordship's new valet! He seems to be a nice enough fellow, Mr. Islip, and maybe he can't walk straight, but isn't that for him and His Lordship to decide whether he can do the job? He must be able to fetch and carry well enough if he's been taken on as a valet. And it's not right or kind for the rest of the staff to whisper about it behind his back!

I'm glad that Cook makes them all stop and go back to gettin' all the food ready. And glad that I don't have to do any of that tonight, because I need to wait on the young ladies.

My heart starts beatin' faster when I climb the stairs to the young ladies' rooms. It always does when I'm up here - it's so fine and everythin' matters so much more. I always make sure my hair and clothes're done up neat when I come, even if nobody's going to see me.

Lady Sophia's easy to help tonight. Most of the time she knows exactly what she wants. Except when she doesn't, and then she takes an age and a half to choose a gown, but tonight she knew, like she'd been thinkin' about it all day. So I finish with her right quick - and I don't tell her any of what Lady Hope said before! - and then I can move on.

I knock all careful-like on Lady Hope's door so I don't startle her. "M'lady? It's Genny. Are you ready to get dressed?"

Evening, before dinner: the dining room

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

I've changed into my evening livery (http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/01/14/article-1347007-0BED7BF5000005DC-926_233x423.jpg) and am just running over the table settings with a careful eye, checking that William's not smudged any of the glasses. He's pretty careful, but as first footman it's my responsibility to check his work. I'm satisfied that it's looking nice, and am quite looking forward to the guests arriving. It's more work, a big dinner, but more exciting than a family meal. And I know Lady Sophia will make the effort to look particularly pretty when her father has invited guests, which is a silly reason to be glad but I am all the same.

Re: Evening, before dinner: the dining room

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

The pale blue (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbfhsfhWFh1qhbjbgo1_500.jpg) tonight - I want to save the dark red for Christmas Eve itself, for it feels ever so much Christmasier! And this way I can put the pearl-tipped pins in my hair tonight, and I love the way they catch the light with that dull glow.

I'm not vain, truly! It is just…I know Percival will be serving, and I want him to see me looking my best. Even if I should not, I want him to.

Genny finishes with me quickly - Hope and I take turns being first, and it's my turn to be first tonight - which means that I have all sorts of time before dinner.

Have I got enough time to get another book from the library? If I hurry, I can do it before the guests arrive, I think! Down the stairs I go, and down the corridor, and - oh! A bit of black, out of the corner of my eye, in the dining room. I stop - look - oh! He is there!

And now I have stopped, and he must have seen me, so I cannot run on! Although…I do not want to. I should go on, but I do not want to.

"Good evening." I need to say his name! If I do not, it is too odd, and if I call him 'Mr. Lackford' it is odder still! "Percival," I add, and a strange shiver goes through me when I do.

Evening: Before Dinner: Drawing Room

[edmund-white.livejournal.com]

I'd allotted time for delays, but that was ridiculous.
First the train itself was delayed, understandable of course. Mechanical error is unavoidable, and we must shoulder on.
But then the hired car had a flat on the way to Excolo itself. It's like all circumstances were coordinating to make me late.

This isn't like Boston or New York, or even Philadelphia There, I could breeze in during the soup, give the hostess a kiss and charm my way back to good grace from my lateness. Now I had to speed through my dressing to be turned out properly for dinner. Cursing the whole time that I didn't let Rob find me a valet when he made my travel arrangements.

Of course, now I'm sure to be in the drawing room before anyone else. Not quite the impression I wanted to make.

Re: Evening: Before Dinner: Drawing Room

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

There's no real pleasure in dressing for dinner, which is a change, and there are only servants about when I come downstairs. Strange. I do not think I've ever been early for something before.

She's been here only a few hours and everything's already gone wrong. At least I'll have a few moments to myself, preferably with a drink, before the others are down. God willing, I-- Oh. Of course.

I give my best smile as I walk into the drawing room. "Good evening," I say to the man. I have no idea who he is, but it is a party. No reason not to be social.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

The dogs and the horses are fed, the tack is brushed and prepared (I'm quite certain a hunt will be called in the next few days), and all are bedded down for the night...except me. Because damn it all, his and her nibs must have their little fete and the kitchens are too busy preparing their feast to worry about us rotters downstairs. So my charges might be fed, but I'm bloody well not, and dealing with them all has given me a raging appetite.

Luckily no one's watching the kitchen door, and all the cooks and serving maids are far too busy rushing around to notice me. There's bread on the sideboard, and some of the cooked beef for the main course being kept warm by the stove. Flash a grin at one of the kitchen girls and snatch a piece of bread and a hunk of meat. They always make too much anyway.

AFTER DINNER; THE DRAWING ROOM - THE SOFA

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Dinner goes quite pleasantly, with some lively conversation but nothing unseemly or awkward, and with the gentlemen I pass a peaceful fifteen minutes drinking port before I suggest we step through to the drawing room and join the ladies.

Re: AFTER DINNER; THE DRAWING ROOM - THE SOFA

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Harry leaves in a sulk after we re-enter the room, and I see him claiming another glass of brandy. Well, let him drink, now. I think I've succeeded in putting the fear of God in him. I signal one of the servants for another sherry...what I would really like now is a few measures of whisky, but that will have to wait until I'm out of sight of the guests.

I should really mingle a bit more with the guests, but the confrontation has tired me out. I suppose I am getting old. So I walk over to the sofa, where Alex is sitting, and sit down with him. I can take a moment to rest, at least.

AFTER DINNER, THE DRAWING ROOM, NEAR THE FIREPLACE

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Miss O'Hara seems very nice, and very beautiful, although I haven't had a chance to speak with her since we were seated too far apart at dinner. Harry is sure to be simply horrid to her - I shall have to watch out to see if she needs to be rescued! Nor have I spoken to Mr. White - or shall we have to call him Cousin Edmund? They're both quite intriguing!

But I have not seen Verity all week so I am stealing these few minutes that we have before the Christmas festivities grow too hectic. She's been terribly busy helping her parents, of course - this is the most active time of year for a vicar's family.

I notice the gentlemen approaching - if Harry starts to bother Miss O'Hara, I will go intervene! And - if the gentlemen are coming in, perhaps Perceval will be serving? I hope? I cannot stop thinking of him. And Marmion. And mistletoe...

But for now, I will stay here by the fire and chat with Verity.

I loop my arm through Verity's and draw her aside, and drop my voice so that she is the only person that will hear, and murmur, "There was a very interesting delivery in the post this morning!"

Re: AFTER DINNER, THE DRAWING ROOM, NEAR THE FIREPLACE

[verite-belrose.livejournal.com]

After the last few guests arrive we all go into dinner. Miss O'Hara seems very nice and I do find myself hoping that Harry won't be too nasty and chase her away. Though part of me wonders if that means I might see more of him if she doesn't want to marry him. I know there is no chance of me marrying him and he can be so nasty when he wants to be. Though he can also be very charming when he chooses. And he's so good looking!

Sophia takes my arm in the drawing room after dinner and as she lowers her voice I can feel the excitement from earlier coming back. There was a very interesting delivery in the post this morning!

I try to keep my excitement from showing, though I suspect it shows in my eyes. "Oh? Did you have time to look through it; Perhaps to read one of two? of them?" I assume she means the pamphlets on the suffragist cause that we've been talking about since she came back from London. I do hope that she's finished with at least one of them so I can borrow it from her.

AFTER DINNER, THE DRAWING ROOM, A CORNER

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

Dinner was uneventful, which was something of a disappointment. I was hoping for at least a small scene... It seems that those Irish feathers don't ruffle so easily.

But I mustn't be discouraged. The night's young and I'm full of wine; there's nothing that's impossible. I find a chair in the corner of the room and wait for O'Hara to inevitably come over.

Re: AFTER DINNER, THE DRAWING ROOM, A CORNER

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

I am going to murder him.

Oh, I've been watching, and even subtly signalling the servants when his glass was refilled a few too many times, but Harry can be remarkably conniving when he chooses. And he found a way to keep imbibing. And of course, he was perfectly polite to Miss O'Hara, oh, perfectly...except for the occasional little slips of the tongue, that would make her colour or start slightly, but that she always took with good grace.

I know what you're doing, Harry, and you are not going to get away with it.

Now he's settling down in a chair, a glass of port in his hands, looking like he hasn't a care in the world...but keeping one eye on Miss O'Hara, just waiting for her to approach so that there can be another "innocent misunderstanding". Except there won't be one.

My hand falls on his shoulder. "Harry, darling," I say in a honeyed voice. "May I speak with you for a moment?"