T.M. Hanson

This is an excerpt from Joy To The World, my Christmas chapter for my historical fiction. I hope you enjoy!

…

Ensuring Penny and Bonnie were warm in their cloaks and muff [i], I went to fetch the sleigh and tie the horses to it. I rode it to the driveway where they awaited me. They clambered on, excitedly- Penny first, since she was incapable of waiting, and Bonnie on the other side. We rode along the fields, I following the best route for such a wintry spectacle. From the high ground that I endeavoured to take, it was possible to view the snow blanketing the horizon, the fields that rolled far beyond us, and the whitened trees, hedgerows, and the reflection of the sun atop this covering of frost, the white landscape glittering in the pale ray of light.

As we glided along, Penny leant forward and started to sing ‘Joy to the World’. She glanced between us, as if to encourage us to do the same. Bonnie was amused and joined her, their voices weaving joyously together. They both looked at me and I knew I must concede, so we sang, all three of us, as we passed through the quiet roads, our voices the only thing we could hear, apart from the stomping and panting of the horses, and the sleigh as it slid across the ground. Bonnie was urged to choose a hymn afterward, she choosing ‘Away in a Manger’ and I chose ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. We continued to sing until we returned home, ruddy-cheeked and high-spirited.

When we stumbled into the drawing room, we recounted our tale and Miss Ainsley remarked that she was sorry to have missed the singing. Mother awoke suddenly during our entrance, startled to hear that we had been gone from the Park at all, though she did not care to hear the details.

This seemed the most appropriate time for us to exchange gifts. We rarely do so but we had decided this year that we should. Ordinarily, I will buy a gift for mother and Penny, but I must admit that I had bought more than one for my neighbour. For mother, new stockings- which she did not find impressive-, Miss Ainsley received new volumes of books that she may use for the school, to which she was delighted. As for Penny, I had bought her a golden music box, one that opened to a little canary that rose and sang from within. This, she believed to be delightful and was much absorbed with it. I received a present in turn, merely books that she had ruined from using them to press her flowers with and that were no longer readable from the stains that this had induced in the paper. One must be grateful to receive compensation for such an ordeal, though not grateful that it had occurred to begin with!

Bonnie and I also exchanged presents. I was anticipative to see how she received them. I had ordered new brushes and paints from London, some of the best I am told, and score sheets for her to play. I also included duets for the piano and violin. Although I am not the greatest pianist, I will endeavour to try my all so that we may play together, as she wishes. I bought her a new quill too, for her writing. It was composed of a peacock feather, which she appeared to adore. All of this, she received with great delight and she shed a tear or two, as is her custom. To view her delight was a delight of my own, and I received her gratitude with much pleasure.

All of this joy was soon gone, however. After receiving her gifts, I was ashamed that my presents should be so insufficient in the wake of hers. She had gifted me with an inscribed Bible, a most lovely edition, alongside a new barometer that was decorative to a degree that I did not think possible. It was fancifully embellished in its writing and colour- the inside was painted like the changing of the weather, of lovely little pastoral scenes, and its frame was made of the tiniest tiles, a beautiful pattern of blues, yellows, pinks, and whites. It was startling for I had never seen a barometer that was not metal or wood; it was incredibly charming. She informed me that she had bought it so that I may take it with us abroad, that I may have this new barometer to carry with me and take great pride in. This was not all, for she had gifted me with a new golden pocket watch, one with my name inscribed on the back. This watch I promised to use always; it was perfect and I pocketed it that instant. The last present she ordered to have carried in by the servants. From its size, I could guess at what it was and she uncovered it to reveal her painting.

Miss Ainsley merely pressed her lips, whilst mother asked loudly why she had gifted a portrait of herself, but Penny gasped- I could hear her from behind me, complimenting Bonnie on her composition. As I stared at it, I could not help but think it was all that I had hoped for and expected from Bonnie’s artistry. It captured her perfectly. She was in her cerulean dress, the curve of her face, the shimmer of her hair, the softness of her features, and the hands folded neatly in her lap were identical to how she is and so expressive of her spirit that I felt I was truly looking at her. I was enamoured with it and could hardly tear my gaze from it to look at Bonnie herself, who waited expectantly for my opinion. I assured her it was splendid, precisely what I had hoped for, and she appeared gratified. The gift caused me much sentiment and I avoided looking in her direction, for I was greatly moved and could not express my felicity in receiving it. It was not difficult for me to decide that it should be hung in my upstairs study, somewhere where I could view it always and where it would not be shared with anyone but myself.

…

Asudden, she remarked that there was mistletoe under the doors- had I noticed? I said I had not. They had been placed there purposefully, she told me. This startled me; I did not know of their existence and I wondered on her putting them there. For the Christmas spirit?- I asked her, since they are traditional and I know how she likes to adorn the place with little ornaments. She laughed, her head lifting, her chin resting once more on my shoulder, and her eyes sparkled with such mischief and affection that it quite unnerved me. I had not the courage I had before in nearly kissing her- these pages know how tormented I was for having almost taken all innocence from her- and I uttered: did she not think mistletoe traditional? She said she cared not so much for tradition but she did not mind a little kiss, that she quite sought it. How strange, I said, for there was nobody here other than our little group, that she should not expect any suitor to kiss her so improperly and whole-heartedly, that she should not even think of anything so indecent for her own sake but also in there being no suitor present. She laughed again, much louder and longer. Once she had finished, she called me a priss [ii], which I did not think fair. She asked did I not want to be kissed whole-heartedly and improperly by someone, not even once? I said I could not imagine it, though I could not prevent myself from ignoring my own advice and conjured many images to my mind of this very thing.

Bonnie leant across and kissed me on the cheek, her lips lingering against me. She sat back, grinning terribly from ear to ear, and she stroked my arm as if to soothe my abashment. There, she said, I was kissed whole-heartedly but not quite improperly. She had saved me from hellish torment, though it was unfair of me to receive all of the kisses and she had none. Was it not the season of generosity? I supposed it was and one would not hurt, so I leant forward and kissed her swiftly and clumsily on the cheek. I did not mean to be so ungainly but in my haste, I rather smacked her than kissed her with my lips but she did not appear to mind and was very pleased. She looked like a cat who had certainly gotten the cream; I believe she is as cunning. I felt my cheeks warm and she laughed again, lifting our entwined hands to kiss mine, and she lowered them back onto our legs, her head resting once more on my shoulder.

She continued to converse as if nothing had passed between us and I thought her a coquette. Certainly, she does not realise how greatly she pains me when she acts so, how much my heart aches and yearns for her. It is unfair she asks me to kiss her so brazenly and kisses me too, and then acts as if nothing has occurred between us. I could not be so unaffected! My heart did not rest in its frantic rhythm for some time and it was startled again when Penny and Miss Ainsley returned, Bonnie releasing me before they had entered, and I sat in much difficulty as I listened to the list of compliments Miss Ainsley had for the estate and its furnishings. Mother soon returned from her rest. The beating of my pulse could be heard in my ears but it had only begun to subside by the time she arrived.

Together, we talked for a little while longer and as I looked around at the scene before me, I could not help but think- what a picture of family contentment! I could have remained there for the rest of my days and been quite happy. Even Diana was well-behaved and when she came to sit with us, she settled nicely near Penny, who was sat on the rug by the fire. She allowed Penny to stroke her until she was almost slumbering, though Bonnie wished to stroke her too and she went to the floor to crouch over the dog and pet her. I thought it all superfluous, particularly as Miss Ainsley also cooed over Diana but the little dog hardly minds. She finds it encouraging. So does Penny, who also likes the attention. Eventually, Bonnie returned to me and I remarked that the dog must be her new favourite. She said that was hardly the case; the difference with Diana is that she allows herself to be petted. I pursed my lips and did not respond.

…

I lay awake last night- and awoke this morning- thinking on what Penny had said, the flushed countenance of Bonnie as we circled over the hills and how her voice rang out over the fields, and as she read from the Bible, when she raised her glass at the table and looked directly at me, and the way she pressed my hand as she climbed into the carriage. I am tired, certainly, but I am not tired of her. I could never tire of her. Of the way she smiles, of the way her voice sounds as she says my name, of the way the morning light now settles upon her portrait in the study. Despite the weariness I feel for some aspects of my life- for the tediousness of my family situation, for the house in which we live, for the business, for the society that I have been placed within, for my heart which rebels against its supposed natural course- amongst it all, I do not weary of her. I think of yesterday and I think, certainly, joy to the world! That is what she brings me- joy. I could not have felt closer to God with us all sitting together yesterday and with her directly beside me. Surely, we had tasted heaven. And there is no mistake to be had. Not there; not with her.

God bless everyone and God bless you, journal. Merry Christmas!

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[i] A muff is a fashion accessory, cylinder in shape, that was made from fur or fabric. Both hands could be inserted inside in order to keep the hands warm.

[ii] Priss is another word for prude.