Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Is it truly Saint Nicholas? And Mother Christmas?” asked little Penelope from her father’s lap.
“It could be Lord and Lady Augustine,” said Wescott’s oldest, looking about. “They’re the only ones not here.”
“Shush now, Alexander,” Elizabeth heard Ophelia whisper. “Let the children have their fun.”
August sat in a sturdy chair before the group, making a great show of twirling his white moustache and setting his velvet pouch upon his lap.
“Have you got presents for us in there?” Sylvie’s little brother Laurence was the picture of his father, Lord Marlow. He popped up, jumping around the circle with delight. “Presents, presents, presents from Saint Nicholas.”
“I have one present for each good child tonight,” August said in his Saint Nicholas voice, as Marlow guided Laurence back to his seat. “And children who are exceptionally good shall receive even more presents on Christmas Day.”
At these words, all the children became very still and good, each trying to be more well-behaved than their neighbor. Elizabeth winked at her wide-eyed twins, who, in the wonder of the moment, seemed to have no inkling these mythical holiday characters were their own mama and papa.
“Now, Mother Christmas shall help me pass out the packages. Once everyone has received theirs, you may open them all at once. Oh, ho, ho,” he added. “Not a moment before.”
He drew out each small, wrapped present and called a child’s name, repeating a hearty oh, ho, ho at regular intervals. Elizabeth feared his moustache was in danger of falling down over his mouth and took a moment to furtively adjust it as she carried the small parcels to each recipient.
Still intent upon being good, the children kept the gifts in their laps as instructed.
“Now,” said August, “as long as you have been a good child this year, you may open your Saint Nicholas Day gift.”
The children ripped ribbons and paper from the parcels, laughing as they realized they were wrapped in numerous layers. At last, the gifts began to reveal themselves. They were small, intricately carved wooden figures, each one different and unique.
Elizabeth had watched August work for hours on the miniatures, ever since they’d volunteered to take their turn hosting the annual holiday house party. Each one was an accurate rendering of its recipient, from height to facial features, to eye color and hair. The children yelped in delight as they realized they were holding tiny models of themselves.
“My word, they’re amazing,” said Townsend.
“That Saint Nicholas is very talented,” Wescott agreed.
Elizabeth was so full of pride, watching her friends and their excited children appreciate August’s handiwork, that she nearly forgot her next task.
“Mother Christmas has one more thing to show you,” said August by way of reminder.
“Oh, yes.” She disguised her voice into a high warble. “There’s one more gift for you wonderful children. Come over by the piano and you’ll see.”
The children followed her and sat where she indicated, around a large, slipcovered surprise.
“What is it?” one of them called.
“Is it a cake?” said another. “A giant pudding?”
Marlow rolled his eyes. “That’s what this lot needs. A giant pudding.”
“It’s not a giant pudding,” said Elizabeth, stifling giggles and nearly forgetting her Mother Christmas voice. She whisked off the white-and-gold slipcover with a flourish.
“Oh,” the children cried. “A castle!”
“A magical one,” said Esther.
“A magical castle,” echoed Bridget. “Look how it glows!”
It most certainly wasn’t glowing, but her twins were prone to saying rather interesting things.
“It’s a miniature castle for all your miniature figures to play in,” she told the group.
There was no need to say it twice. The children converged on the painted wooden structure, a castle of pure fantasy, with numerous rooms, turrets, towers, staircases, and other details.
“It’s astounding, truly,” said Rosalind.
“I’d like to play in there myself.” Townsend turned to August. “Saint Nicholas, can you make me my own carved figure? And perhaps one for my wife?”
“Townsend and I want some, too,” said Jane, grinning. “The ones of the children are adorable. Beyond compare.”
“What do we say to Saint Nicholas and Mother Christmas?” prompted Lord Wescott.
“Thank you,” said the children in chorus.
“Oh, ho, ho,” said August. “You’re very welcome. And you shall all have plenty of time to play with it between now and Christmas, but tonight, it’s nearly time for bed. Let’s gather about and sing a carol together as friends and families do. Mother Christmas shall accompany us upon the piano.”
Elizabeth sat and pushed aside the white wisps of her wig to play several rousing verses of “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.” August inserted a few “ho ho’s” into the song, drawing laughter from their friends. Just at the end, Elizabeth caught her husband’s gaze and hit a sour note for old times’ sake. Their company sang on, too jubilant to notice the second wrong note she threw in.
“Happy Saint Nicholas Day to all,” said August when she finished. “And now, it’s time for all little ones to go to bed. If you put your miniatures beneath your pillows for safekeeping, you shall have sweet dreams.”