The Christmas Delivery

THE CHRISTMAS DELIVERY

CHAPTER 1

Choices, they say, are like human brains, even when we are confronted by the most difficult situations, we still have them. Unfortunately, not everyone acknowledges this sheer fact.

Rose Hathaway shook her head vigorously, when Mrs. Seinfeld; the governess told her that what she was feeling for Mr. Morrison was outright love. The older woman was emphatic on the fact that if Rose wanted out, it was the best thing to turn down the Brightons’ lavish holiday ball invitation.

“This, Mrs. Seinfeld, is far from what you think.” Rose explained; gesticulating with such certainty that one would assume she could never be in the wrong. She was young, and as Mrs. Seinfeld always thought quietly in her heart; she was too foolish sometimes to identify the direction of actual wisdom.

But whatever anyone said Rose barely cared. She was always assuming control of all situations, and no one could convince her that her world was not run by her great intelligence.

“My dear, I have always told you that you cannot avoid the temptation of love when you are at the very brink of it. And now, this has come upon even you.” Mrs. Seinfeld chose her words precisely and she delivered them with care. Even a hot tempered Rose would hardly take offense in the subtle confrontation.

Only Mrs. Seinfeld reserved that privilege, which came from her experience anyway. It took the other staff in the house only two sentences to earn Rose’s anger.

“I cannot agree with you on this Mrs. Seinfeld, I am, even now more convinced about my ideas and who shall say that I have not prepared for this from the very moment I thought about all the vanities that is falsely called love?”

“My dear,” The governess walked gingerly to the window and she peered out of it restlessly. “You surely know that I cannot stand in your way of love, if it is to eventually come upon you.”

“I shall not be stricken with that stigma!” Rose flinched angrily. Her face wrinkled quickly into a frown, and if it had not been Mrs. Seinfeld who she had grown to respect, she would have flared up and sent the maid out of her chamber.

The governess identified the fragile line she was treading, and the wisdom of withdrawing when calmness was still within reach. “I shall say no more, my dear.” She hurried to make a slight amendment to a potential chaos that had been sitting on the girl’s table.

A bottle of ink was opened, and it was propped against the jug of milk in the room, if Mrs. Seinfeld did not hurry to right that well, Rose would have to clean up a mess that could have been avoided.

Prim and proper as Rose liked to appear before all eyes, she was in reality a complete contrast. She was clumsy and stayed in her room all day, writing stories of foolish people who fell in love.

She was such a creative writer; especially when she described the manner in which love overtook the complete thinking of foolish men and women who allowed themselves to be swallowed by it. Anyone reading her piece would doubt that she lived in such a chaotic world. And if her father was not as rich as he was to employ the services of maids who cleaned up her unending litters, she would be such a poor lass.

How the writer had not been able to identify the building of love in the matter at hand bewildered Mrs. Seinfeld. She herself had read one of Rose’s poetry. It had been titled, How Love Found Me… a poem she would later claimed was written for the consumption of those gullible beings.

She would avoid danger, Mrs. Seinfeld. She walked briskly out of the room and found, or assumed she saw the disappearing sight of Mrs. Hathaway.

Had she been eavesdropping? The governess asked herself. The baroness – Mrs. Hathaway, was Rose’s mother, but despite her position, she envied Mrs. Seinfeld’s closeness with Rose.

Rose was strict to everyone, except her father of course, but the baron was hardly ever around and so it was safe to say that Rose respected no one.

Mrs. Seinfeld was trying to figure the mission of the mother she had nearly caught scurrying when one of the maids knocked her door to inform her that her attention was needed by the baroness. She heeded instantly.

“What manner of man is this Mr. Morrison?” Mrs. Hathaway inquired.

Mrs. Seinfeld averted her face to conceal her smiled. She could not pretend not to know why the duchess was making this inquiry through her. “I believe ma’am that, you are in the best position to know him better than we all do.”

“Nay.” The duchess shook her head, “I hear he is more prominent among the commoners. His repute, that is. He is known as a proud and arrogant man among the Ton, but I want to know how you see him judging by all that you have heard of him.”

“Well, ma’am. I believe he and Rose will make a perfect fit, if that is what you are asking.”

“What manner of man is he? That is what I inquire of you.”

“Oh, ma’am. He and Rose share semblances in their line of thoughts. He is hard as rock and hardly smiles, yet inside him, he is a soft man. Like Rose, he is not given to the assumptions of Love.”

“And how is a man with such oddity a good fit for my Rose?” Mrs. Hathaway liked to enjoy the dumb look in the governess eyes in such situations. She already knew this, and so she presented the exact expression the duchess wanted, simply to satisfy her.

Mrs. Seinfeld caught the satisfaction in her employer’s eyes when she saw her embarrassment. Between them, they both knew why an odd man would be a perfect fit. What they were unwilling to openly acknowledge was clear; rose herself was an odd lass filled with a host of unfathomable characters.

“Since it is clear that Rose listens to you, you shall dissuade her of any affection with that man.” Mrs. Hathaway insisted.

The command came to the governess as a slight shock. But it was not the best time to express this, and so she thought of an acceptable response; “Yes ma’am. That is noted.”

“Good”

How could the duchess refer to her as the one who Rose listened too, when everyone knew that Rose listens to no one? It was not an entirely false claim but it was not the truth too. And to relive herself of the burden of having to monitor the proud lass any more than she was already doing, she placed a caveat.

“I hope you already know ma’am, that given the nature of their similar differences, neither the man in question, nor Rose has any affection for each other so far.”

The duchess nodded for a while and then chuckled, “In your own words, as I heard earlier, you expressly said that Rose was on the brink of love with the man. If you believe that they do not have feelings for each other, your job is to ensure that they never do. There are other men of value out there. I do not want the attention of a man whose reputation is already dented by his aberrant nature.”

It is your daughter who is in fact more awkward than the man, Mrs. Seinfeld would have said if she was not an employed staff in the house of the baron.

With the conclusions set, the governess walked out of the chambers. There was no way on earth anyone could force a horse to drink when it was unwilling to.

CHAPTER 2

“I am sincerely amused by her choice of words.” Neil Morrison declared without his mind. It was when his brother replied that he became conscious of the words that had escaped from his lips.

“Indeed.” Craig said, shrugging indifferently. “If I must confess, I do not believe what you have just said.”

Neil took his gaze off the book in his hand, and he stared furtively at his brother. “And why do you not believe?”

“I cannot, because if you sincerely feel anything towards that book in your hand, then you should get up from that bed and begin preparing for the ball.”

“But I have only just told you that I am uninterested in attending a ball at this time. I am engrossed in the reading of this book.” Neil emphasized.

“And the writer would be present in person. Have you not both agreed that you will meet at the ball?”

“And now I am no longer interested in seeing her face.” Neil said. “You should know for a fact, that I like her choice of words has nothing to do with liking her in person.”

Craig chuckled, “So you do not like her in person?”

“I am incapable of conceding to such emotions.” He said, “You know this.”

“Who made you incapable?” Craig probed further.

“By nature I am!” Neil said convincingly. “We all are. Some are just too shy to admit.”

Craig could not hold back his chuckling. He tried to say something, but his words failed him, left with no choice, he trudged out of his brother’s room to finish dressing for the ball.

Neil’s gaze trailed his brother’s disappearance, he and the lady who handed him the book had met briefly at a function, and they had discussed at length without any initial intention to.

For a fact, Neil had never discussed with any lady as long as he did with her. He had simply read one of her books, which was given to him by a friend, and when he met her in person, he made mockery about the lunacy of the emotional exchange in her book, much to his surprise, she was thrilled.

“I do not believe any of that either.” She had declared.

Neil was immediately caught off balance. It was not the first time that he would negatively condemn a person’s work. But it was the first time he was getting an appreciation for it from the creator of the work.

“What?” He stuttered, “Are you saying, you do agree the characters are insanely deceptive?”

“I believe anyone who thinks that there is a thing called love is maliciously deceptive.” She declared with a frank face.

Neil had shown love to people far beyond what anyone else in the entire country could claim, but he made no boasts about them all. He was a staunch believer in the insincerity of human emotion, especially empathy, love and concern.

“So why write about it?” He asked.

She smiled with a glint. Neil could not place the smile; it appeared like she was impressed by his question.

“I write so that my readers might eventually see the contrast themselves.”

“How do you mean?” Neil’s brown brows furrowed with concentration.

“Before you met me, did you anticipate meeting a lady who is in complete opposition to what she had written? Clearly not. But now that you’ve seen that I myself do not believe in such thing, you will be drawn to understanding that love is simply a fallacy. I believe that is true art!”

“Oh, I see your point,” he nodded, “Living in disparity of yourself, highlights the fact that emotions are not reliable. You are not a lover yourself, but you write about love to show that it does not, in fact exist.”

“True!” She replied. “And I am impressed. Not many men understand me in one simple expression.”

Neil understood far more than she imagined.

“We are alike.” he declared, “I make the largest contributions to the St. Anthony charity every year, and people think I do this out of love.”

“Deception.” She sniggered.

“Precisely!” exclaimed Neil. He had never found anyone who was so acute. “If anyone truly wants to help, then they will entirely give all they have and live with the poor.”

“I agree. And that is commonsensical. Why give to people to appear good, if you can give all you have and be in the shoes of those you claim to ‘love’?”

They both laughed in self-gratification. And then she proceeded to tell him about all the men that have raised concerns about her ideas and tried to convince her otherwise.

Neil was especially thrilled by her way of making the men seem foolish. Love and other human emotions had never followed simple logic. It amused them both that people paid so much respect toward such an infatuation of humanity.

“I believe I can call you ‘friend’ now? Seeing as you are the one person I have met with a modicum of sense.”

“We are friends already. You are a thinker.” She acknowledged.

As the discussion went on, he told her he had completed the book his friend gave him, and she handed him another.

“I would have said this is my favorite,” she said, “because I go everywhere with this book, and so I am fond of it.”

“I shall keep it to my breast, and not a leaf shall suffer an unfair bend.” He assured her.

A week after their meeting, he sent her a letter simply informing her about his invitation to the lavish ball, and that he believed she had been invited too. They would meet there. She replied his letter in a similar manner as he had written; using very brief words as though she had to pay for the words. She agreed that she would be at the ball, and hoped that he would return her book there.

Now that it was time for the ball, he was no longer concerned about registering his presence there.

Of course, Rose Hathaway would be at the ball, but since they do not believe there could be any genuine attachments she would not mind not seeing him there. Neil considered that and smiled. If she felt disappointed at his refusal to turn up for the ball, then she was not being sincere with what she claimed to stand for.

A moment later, Neil began descending the stairways that led to the drawing room. As expected, Craig was there with all the excitement in his eyes. No doubt the younger man was dressed to his satisfaction; the smile on him said it all.

“Have you changed your mind?” Craig asked.

“Not so.” Neil handed the book to him, “Kindly give this to Rose. Tell her I cannot come simply because I lost any interest in being at the gathering. I believe she cannot be disappointed.”

“She cannot?” Craig asked. “Like you, I guess?”

“You will not understand.” Neil said and smiled. It occurred to him that his hope of sending the book over through his brother might not work if he does not provide further instructions. “Kindly study her demeanor when you tell her that I will not be coming to the ball.”

Craig smiled, “That is the least thing I can do. But it will never cease to amaze me that you excused yourself because you wanted to read a book, and now that you have completed the book, you will still not attend.”

“As you said, you cannot understand.”

“Clearly.” Craig acknowledged, “However, I am starting to sense something unusual about studying her demeanor when I deliver the news. Is that you trying to see if she cares about you somehow?”

“Of course not!” Neil scoffed; he should have known that such flimsy assignment would sell him out. “I only want to know if she truly shares the same ideology as I do.”

“I shall pretend to be convinced by that flimsy excuse. But at least I am satisfied to know that emotions are not entirely untrue, it took some for you to be concerned about how she feels.”

“Whatever sails your boat.” Neil said. To avoid further explanations, she sauntered back to his chambers to begin another book which he had neglected for days.

CHAPTER 3

Neil Morrison was still trying to recollect what had happened the previous evening. It came to him in bits; First, he had finished reading ‘Echoes of the Heart’ by the only lady who seemed to have common sense - Rose Hathaway … then he had turned down the ball which could have afforded him the chance of seeing the lady again… and then he…he…

Yes, he had slept late because he had been reading the new book – ‘Fires in the Duke’s Quarters.’ The new book had not been so much fun to read; not nearly as intriguing as Rose Hathaway’s, but Neil had continued reading it because he wanted to be awake when his brother came back from the ball. This expectation, as he would consider, had nothing to do with the curiosity his brother had accused him of.

Neil knew that it was hard if not impossible to wait for someone who went to a ball. No one – not even a person like Craig, would forfeit the pleasures derived from being at a ball, simply to return to an uneventful home.

Neil had slept off waiting, and the book he had been reading stared at him from a corner of his grand bed.

As though aware that he was now awake, Craig walked into Neil’s room wielding a familiar book.

“Hello brother!” Craig greeted.

For a man who had slept many hours after him, Neil had not expected Craig to be awake that early. The book in his hand was another concern; he hoped it was not what he was thinking.

“Good morning Craig.”

“As you can see in my hands, I brought back the book.”

“Why?” a concerned Neil inquired.

“Your sweetheart did not turn up.”

Neil could not tell which word angered him the most. The fact that Craig had called her his sweetheart, or the fact that she had, not turn up?

“What?” Neil inquired. “She did not honor the invitation? Without notifying me; how can she?”

“Are you asking me sir?” Craig scoffed, “You did the same thing, and now you are disappointed. You should not be ‘disappointed’ since you do not naturally feel.”

“Do not be a crass Craig, I feel just as much as any other man, but most people are fond of exaggerating.”

Neil stared at the book in his brother’s hand, and he felt intense outrage by the sight of it. Were his emotions being exaggerated now? He asked himself, but finding an answer to that simply made him even more infuriated.

“In all fairness, there is nothing wrong in what she did. Even common sense would agree with me. If you ask me I think it is all the same fair that you did not attend the ball too. Although I cannot deny the fact that you missed so much fun there though.”

“I wonder what she would feel now, when she is told that I absented myself too.” Neil pondered aloud.

“Is that you thinking that she is growing fond of you?” Craig asked.

“Of course not!” Neil replied, “If anything else isn’t clear, you should know by now that she is not the type of lady that grows fond of anyone.”

“Yes, she is as incapable of that as you are.” The sarcasm in Craig’s tone was trimmed to the lowest bar, it was imperceptible.

“Certainly.”

“But here you are, feeling ignored. We feel ignored only when we have earlier felt loved and valued. Perhaps it is time to admit that the world is not wrong after all.”

“If you have nothing better to say, you may as well be gone! I would not have myself lured into such shallow manner of thinking.” insisted Neil.

“My sincere apology.”

When Craig left, chaos ensued in Neil’s head; the war was an unusual clash of anger yet contentment, approval yet neglecting and misunderstanding.

In theory, the occurrence was simple; he ignored the ball without informing her, as a way to test her firmness in the face of neglect, but in an unbelievable twist, she had served him in the same coin. What a masterpiece coincidence that was!

When he had accused himself of an offense he could not explain, Neil began to think about the thoughts that would go on in Rose’s head when she is being told that he had not attended the ball.

Of all his concerns however, it was how he could meet Rose that topped. He wanted to see her now more than ever, to inform her that their hearts actually worked alike, and then hear the result of her discovery when she realized that he did not attend the ball.

Frankly though, the thoughts kept him in circles throughout the day, it was when he set his pen to a parchment; with the intention to write her, that a brief relieve engulfed him. But he squashed the paper as soon as he had scribbled three phrases. He would not let her have the joy of being communicated to first.

***

Rose read over the words she had scribbled and she felt like smashing her head for it. She set to write again, but ended up dropping the pen.

It was impossible to write when her heart was not where her body was. She accepted. The situation felt so surreal. She suddenly felt herself feeling like a character in her book - a foolish character.

Her father, the Baron was coming home for the Christmas, but Rose would not deceive herself by claiming that that was the source of her restlessness.

Far from that though, she pretended to be uncertain about what was responsible for her sudden panic.

Had the governess not said that avoiding the ball was a means to avoid getting slain with the man’s imaginary sword of love? How come then, have I withdrawn from the invitation and now still feel so unsettled?

The governess was a mischievous lady; Rose knew this. The entire plot to dissuade her from attending the ball in the first place might have been channeled toward striking a feeling.

But Mrs. Seinfeld of all people should have known that she was naturally incapable of falling for emotions. She was simply not given to that.

There was a brief knock at the door, and the governess sauntered in, like a devil that was yet to complete his mission. Rose hated the fact that Mrs. Seinfeld’s appearance reminded her of what was troubling her, and yet, she could not send the woman out of her chamber as she would have done, had it been one of the maids.

“What is it this time?” She asked angrily.

“Rose dear. I am only come to see that you are well.”

“I am well.”

“It does not appear so.” The older woman said, indicating several papers on the floor of the room, all scrunched up in fresh ink to reveal Rose’s provocation. “You do not have these tons of papers in your room unless you are desperately fighting to get inspiration.”

“I am in no haste to find my moxie.”

The governess chuckled. “Tell me if there is a problem, and I may be able to help. Your appearance testifies to a troubled feeling welling up within you.”

“Did you not say to me that I was on the brink of falling into the pit of emotions, and if I do not attend the ball, I would feel better?”

Mrs. Seinfeld offered those motherly smiles that made Rose prefer her to her on mother.

“And did you not reply that you had no choice?”

“I later decided I did have a choice,” Rose replied furiously. “I did not attend that ball, and now I am not feeling any well.”

“You do not feel well because you heard that Mr. Morrison himself did not attend the ball.”

“Exactly!”

“I am amused that you and the man are alike in your understandings of human emotions, and now that you are both victims of your understanding, you cannot rid yourself of how you feel.”

Rose suddenly felt a sharp relieve lance through her veins, “Are you saying the Mr. Morrison feels the same way I feel now?”

“If by feeling the same way, you mean feeling ‘troubled’ and ‘unable to fathom’ your unexplained absence? Then yes.”

“I can neither agree nor comprehend your words in totality. Mr. Morrison is not a man of petty emotions like other men.”

“Just like you are not a lady who considers the opinion of any man important, and now you are disturbed by not knowing what impression of you Mr. Morrison now holds.” Mrs. Seinfeld said.

Rose shook her head with the confusion that was presenting further relief to the hovering chaos, “Are you saying that I am expressing feelings for Mr. Morrison like I have never expressed for any man?”

“Quite so, dear.” Mrs. Seinfeld said, “This is an understandable situation however.”

“Kindly explain.”

“Before we feel any form of emotions towards people, our targets must have a level of value. In the past, you have been turned off by men’s emotions towards you because you do not see any intrinsic values in them. While other women are attracted to luxury, wealth, power and social standing, not you!

Once a man come up to you, you already know their intent, but for a one as Mr. Morrison whose intentions you did not know, you feel soft. This is natural.”

Rose considered that for a few moments. It seemed true.

“If that is true, why then do you think he feels the same way I feel?”

Mrs. Seinfeld smiled; she would never understand how a lady who described love so brilliantly in her books would ask such basic question. “For your values dear, you are very valuable before his eyes. And that was why I said you both are a perfect pair.”

“Mrs. Seinfeld?” Bella, a maid barged in and called.

“Yes?” Mrs. Seinfeld said as she turned to look.

“The Duchess requests your attention, now.” Bella said.

“I quite understand.” The governess knew quite well that her mistress had been listening in on the discussion once more, and she must have noted how she encouraged Rose towards the very man her mother did not want her to be with.

If Rose is not with such a man, who then will she be with? Mrs. Seinfeld asked herself as she hurried to heed her mistress’ call.

While Mrs. Seinfeld departed, another question creeped up Rose’s head. But she would keep that within her, until she found a good time to ask the governess. This new change in my emotions, does it make me a weaker or stronger person?

CHAPTER 4

The bell chimed and the doorman hurried to welcome the Baron to his home.

“Welcome sir.” He and all the other people who stood by to welcome the Baron chorused as the man walked elegantly amidst them.

In the drawing room was his wife and daughter, the biggest gift he had ever received.

“Merry Christmas!” they hollered.

“Merry Christmas darlings.” He hugged them very tightly, and allowed the sweet fragrance of chestnut and nutmeg to perch on his throat. Oh, how he had missed home.

“How was the journey Papa?” Rose requested, smiling so brightly.

“All through, I had my home in mind. It is hard to tell how the journey was when all I kept thinking about was arriving home.”

“We are glad to have you back dear. This is going to be the sweetest holiday we’ve had so far.” Mrs. Hathaway suggested.

“Judging by sweet smell of cheese and all the Christmas goodies around, I most certainly agree.” Her husband replied.

As they journeyed up the stairs to the adults’ chambers, Rose found herself ready to let her father a little rest before divulging her issues to him. She was certain he would have no reservations against her desire.

Her mother had been harsh. She wanted her to take notice of the attention being showered on her by one of the other lords who visited them often for the predictable purposes. Rose however considered the attention of no value.

The truth was that she was never going to consider loving anyone if she had not met a man who was on the same page with her.

Two full weeks after she and Neil had missed the ball they both promised themselves that they would attend; he had written her a letter that detailed how he felt towards the occasion of her defiance.

In his extensive letter, which he started out by claiming he felt nothing as usual, he later exposed his emotions, by concluding that he feared that she had now occupied a space in his heart he never knew was there in the first place.

The moment she received his letter, she had been filled with too much excitement that she decided to inform her mother about it.

Without mincing words, that decision had been terrible, as the duchess scolded her for settling for a man she considered of little societal value.

Of course the duchess admitted that Neil had abundant wealth, she was angry about his principles. He acted comely but claimed no one was and for this reason, he had earned himself quite a lot of enemies.

Rose and Neil had sneaked several other letters to each other after that, none of which she ever informed her mother about. She even developed a tactic to carry out the delivery of the letter successfully.

Now however, neither Rose nor Neil could deny being in love with each other. Not only did they directly acknowledge it in their letters, they were convinced they belonged with each other.

And now, as Rose waited for her father to relieve himself of the burdens of the journey and come to dinner, she was prepared to ask him for the Christmas gift she had ever asked.

He hardly refused her of any requests. Knowing that the baron always knew the way to his wife’s heart, Rose was convinced it would only be a matter of days before she wins her mother to her side of the emotional affair.