I hope everyone is having a lovely Christmas.  We are up to our elbows in Christmas cheer here (for some of us that means embodying the spirit of the day, for certain members of the staff it just mean spirits.)

I am so grateful to not have to host the Christmas feast this year.  We hosted last year and it is just so much work, although many of those who came said it was the best they had ever attended.  Not to mention the silk table linens practically bankrupted us but I can promise you Emma Woodhouse won’t have imported Thai silk table linens on her table tonight (by the way, gravy does not come out of silk, I found out.  I now have some of the most expensive dust cloths in the county.)  Emma is hosting tonight.  I am sure she will leave no stone unturned.  I think her theme this year is “I Am So Fulll of Myself, I Can Fill a Stable With My Ego” or something along those lines.  I know it involves calico; she won’t shut up about the calico. I, of course, will bring my scones and lavender honey.  I hope she serves something equally tasty so I don’t show her up.

However, I will say, it will be better than the year the Who’s hosted.  My neck still has a crick in it from trying to fit in that house of theirs.  And I still don’t know what kind of beast they roasted but I can’t smell a mango without my eyes crossing.

Anyway, I must be off to dress for this affair tonight.  It will take Grace several hours to pull my corset tight enough to get some semblance of my girlish waist (not to mention we will go through a few dozen strings in the process.) But I just had to tell you the marvelous present Mr. Rochester gave me.  I am ever so touched by his generosity and creativity.  He had delivered the most precious partridge – oh, the little darling is just gorgeous.  A partridge – I would never have thought of even asking for such a thing.  I will spend most of tomorrow reading up on how to take care of it properly and shall love it with as much affection as I have for his giver.  He should be fine for today, Mr. Rochester had a elegant little pear tree sent with the partridge – isn’t that clever?  Why a pear tree?  I don’t know, maybe this is a Caribbean thing from his days there. The point is it’s a lovely gesture and I shall treasure it.

Merry Christmas, everyone.


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