A bit of Holiday Cheer for Threecee
Title: A Millstone Manor Christmas
Genre: Are you Being Served? / Grace and Favor, Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Prompt: Come sit by the fireplace, it's getting cold
threecee, I hope this makes you feel all warm and happy inside. My thanks to you and to nursesparky for her beta help.
There was just something about Christmas in the country that made Mrs. Slocombe’s blood hum with happiness. The manor was such fun to decorate and the tree that Mr. Moulterd selected was perfect. Its scent filled the front room with such an aroma that Mrs. Slocombe was quite overwhelmed as she stood at the banister overlooking the lobby to the manor house. For just a moment, she was a young child, wild with the anticipation of Christmas morning.
“No use you standing there in your dressing gown.” Miss Brahms chastised her gently. “We have paying guests coming for the weekend.”
“I was hoping that we’d have the weekend for ourselves this year.”
“Not likely, bookings have been up for the last six months. Any more of them and we will need to hire some staff.”
“We should. It’s unseemly to have ladies of our… moderate age to be acting as Ladies of the Bedchambers.”
“That and all. I’m right knackered by bedtime.”
“At least we are sleeping well.”
They disappeared into the room they shared just as Captain Peacock popped out of his. He’d been hoping for a quick peek at Mrs. Slocombe in her night attire. Lacking that, he adjusted his ascot and headed down the stairs. The bannister was wrapped with evergreen boughs, but there was still enough of it to grasp. It was certainly safer than trying to use their ancient lift system.
He paused at the landing and looked out over the lobby and front room. The effect was perfect or it would be as soon as they got the tree decorated. Mr. Rumbold was behind the registration desk, going through the daily mail.
“Good morning, Captain Peacock. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough, thank you. And you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What is the schedule for today?”
“The decorating of the Christmas tree, I think, should take top priority.”
“After breakfast.”
“After breakfast. Did you happen to see the ladies this morning?”
“No, but I heard them. They should be down soon.”
Mr. Humphries looked up from the table as they entered the small and cozy kitchen. The stove was already busy with pots and pans and the aroma of fresh buns filled the air.
“It’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas.” Captain Peacock heartily approved. He sat down and glanced over that what Mr. Humphries was doing. “And you are?”
“Being kept out of mischief, according to Mavis.” He held up a string with cranberries on it. “I’m working on this for the tree.” He looked at his stained fingers and sighed. “You put a bit of peel where it shouldn’t be and *bang* you lose your kitchen privileges.”
Mavis, her cheeks stained a rosy red, came in and stomped her boots by the back door before pulling them off. “I think we’re in store for some right weather out there. Dad’s thinks we should make a last run to the village ‘forehand.”
Mr. Rumbold looked up from his paper. “There’s nothing in here about it.”
“That’s cuz you’re reading the wrong paper.” She took that one away and handed him the local paper. The entire front page was warning of an impending storm. “He thinks it’s gonna be even worse that the Blizzard of ’43.”
“What does he recommend, Mavis?” Captain Peacock asked and Rumbold sputtered.
“I was just going to ask that.” Three dirty looks shot in his direction and he returned, truculent, to his paper.
“We should probably get some extra wood in and candles, in case we lose power. The old boiler will keep the place warm enough, but not if we run out of logs. The larder and pantry are in good shape, so I don’t think there’s much we’ll need at the shops. Maybe some coffee for the Americans coming in and sugar. They do like their sweets.”
She carried the basket of eggs to the table and set it down. She picked up one end of the cranberry chain and grinned. “You are doing a fine job, Mr. Humphries.” She brushed her hands off on her apron and nodded. “Right, first breakfast.”
Mrs. Slocombe and Miss Brahms entered at that point. “Good morning, Mavis,” Mrs. Slocombe sat at her usual spot.
“You’re looking very festive, Mrs. Slocombe.” Mavis poured her a mug of tea. “I like your pin.”
“Thank you. That handsome Mr. Solo gave it to me for Christmas last year.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “Oh, that just hits the spot. Miss Brahms and I thought we’d tackle the tree this morning.”
“Not fair. They should have to help with storm preparations like the rest of us,” Mr. Rumbold muttered from behind his paper.
“What storm?” Miss Brahms paused in spoon some sugar into her cup.
“The one that Mr. Moulterd says is on the way.”
“We should check and make sure that we have plenty of candles.”
“Right, and extra blankets for everything. At least if we lose power, we don’t have to worry about the stove.”
“She’s an old one, but reliable.” Mavis smiled over at the wood-burning stove. “And she brings up the baked goods to a right turn.”
Miss Brahms helped herself to a cinnamon roll. “I think you have a bit of a say in that, too.”
“Thank you.” Mavis beamed. “Now, how would you like your eggs?”
The rest of the morning was lost in storm preparations and it wasn’t until lunch that Mrs. Slocombe sat down again. “I have tossed my last bale of hay,” she muttered. “I’ve nearly done my back in.”
“Did you see old Jug Ears? He was furious about having to help cut wood.” Miss Brahms ladled some soup into a bowl and set it down in front of her. “Here you go. That will buck you up.”
“Thank you, Miss Brahms. Well, he should do more to pitch in around here.”
Mr. Humphries came in and paused to brush the snow from his shoulders. “You should see the flakes out there. Big and fluffy, just like when I was a boy. Captain Peacock and Mr. Moulterd have left to go pick up our guests from the train station.”
“Surely they could take a taxi like the rest of them.” Miss Brahms filled three more bowls.
“Dad’s worried that they will stop running. They don’t like our roads out here much.” Mavis dropped an armful of wood down beside the stove. “He’ll fetch them back and I gave him the shopping list.”
“Where’s Mr. Rumbold?”
“Last I saw, he was creeping off to his bedroom, probably for a long soak. He’s not used to hard work, that one.” Mavis started slicing some fresh bread. “We had him working this morning.”
“Well, it’s only right that he pitches in,” Miss Brahms murmured. “All he does is boss us around.”
“I don’t mind.” Mr. Humphries sipped some of the soup. “It’s like being back at the store. This soup is really delicious!”
“Thank you. Me and Mrs. Slocombe cobbled it together in between everything else.”
“Will you need some help with the tree this afternoon?”
“Would you be willing to do the high bits?” Mrs. Slocombe asked. “I have no head for heights.”
“I will if Mr. Humphries will help.”
He gave her a smile. “I’ll do my best.”
They just finished the last of the tree and were relaxing around the fire with some tea and freshly baked gingerbread men as the sleigh pulled up. The jingles of the bells announced its impending arrival.
“These cookies seem highly decorated.”
“Mr. Humphries got a bit carried away with the currents.” Mavis stood up and started to clear the tea things. “It sounds like our guests are coming. I’d best get some hot tea ready for them.”
“Do we even know who is coming?”
“I didn’t ask. All I know is that they bought out the Manor and that they are returning guests.”
“Well, that sort of limits it, don’t it?”
“Doesn’t it, Miss Brahms.” Mrs. Slocombe tried.
“That what I said.” If Miss Brahms knew she was being corrected, she didn’t let on.
The front doors opened and people started filing in. They were snow-covered suitcase-carrying bundles of jackets and blankets. Captain Peacock closed the door and stamped his feet.
“Mr. Moulterd was right. It’s a blizzard out there.”
“Just leave everything there. We’ll dry it out.” Mr. Humphries started to help the closest bundle divest itself and cocked his head. “Hello, I don’t know if we’ve met.”
“Hello.” Blue eyes twinkled at him. “You can call me Aunt Amy. You must be Mr. Humphries.”
“I am.”
“I told you, Amy.” A scarf revealed Mrs. Waverly. “I told you he was cute as a bug’s ear.”
“No!” Mrs. Slocombe rushed over just as Napoleon Solo removed his hat. “My Christmas wish has come true!”
“Mrs. Slocombe, you get more and more attractive every time I see you.” He gave her cheek a peck and then helped Mr. Waverly with his overcoat. “Why don’t we get you over to the fire, sir?
“Mavis has some tea brewing in the kitchen or I can provide you will something more substantial if you’d prefer.”
“Could you manage a hot toddy or a Tom and Jerry, possibly?” Amy asked as she and Mrs. Waverly headed to the fire.
“Of course, and for the gentlemen?”
“Whatever the crowd is having is fine,” Napoleon guided Mr. Waverly to an overstuffed chair.
“Is that nice Mr. Illya not here?” Miss Brahms was disappointed.
Napoleon gestured back to the front door. “He’s helping Mr. Moulterd with the horses. You know how he is.”
Mrs. Slocombe patted the spot beside her on the love seat. “Come sit by the fireplace, it's getting cold."
“Warmer by the minute,” Napoleon obliged. “We were thrilled when Mr. Waverly suggested coming to the Manor for Christmas.”
“It reminds me of when I was a boy.” Mr. Waverly’s eyes grew dreamy, his thoughts far away.
“The tree is beautiful.” Napoleon tried to put a little distance between himself and Mrs. Slocombe, but she wasn’t having it.
“Look who I found!” Mavis entered carrying a tray of tea things and Illya followed with a second tray piled with baked goods.
“’Ere, let me help with that.” Miss Brahms surged forward and Illya grinned at her. She blushed.
“Probably the only way any of us will get a taste of them,” Napoleon joked as he got to his feet. “You stay seated, Mrs. Slocombe.”
Morris Moulterd suddenly appeared. “Did I hear sumethin’ ‘bout tea?”
“Off to the kitchen with you, Dad. You’re dripping on the floor.”
“No lip from you, me girl.”
“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room for all of us.” Aunt Amy smiled at him and he grinned back.
“Thank you kind, ma’am.”
“Why wasn’t I informed that our guests arrived?” Rumbold appeared on the stairs and looked quite annoyed.
“We was having such a nice time that we forgot about you.” Mrs. Slocombe sipped her hot toddy. “Very good, Mr. Humphries. How’s your eggnog?”
“Untested.”
“You should let Illya help you. His grandmother has a recipe that will knock your socks off, quite literally.” Napoleon nodded his approval as well. “He’s right. Excellent toddy.”
“I look forward to collaborating with him.”
Napoleon stood and looked around at the group of people. “I ask that you all raise a glass. We are here together in a beautiful old house with friends, family and everything in between. Let us give thanks to our good fortune and wish everyone else the same.” He winked at Mrs. Slocombe. “Happy Christmas.”
Genre: Are you Being Served? / Grace and Favor, Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Prompt: Come sit by the fireplace, it's getting cold
threecee, I hope this makes you feel all warm and happy inside. My thanks to you and to nursesparky for her beta help.
There was just something about Christmas in the country that made Mrs. Slocombe’s blood hum with happiness. The manor was such fun to decorate and the tree that Mr. Moulterd selected was perfect. Its scent filled the front room with such an aroma that Mrs. Slocombe was quite overwhelmed as she stood at the banister overlooking the lobby to the manor house. For just a moment, she was a young child, wild with the anticipation of Christmas morning.
“No use you standing there in your dressing gown.” Miss Brahms chastised her gently. “We have paying guests coming for the weekend.”
“I was hoping that we’d have the weekend for ourselves this year.”
“Not likely, bookings have been up for the last six months. Any more of them and we will need to hire some staff.”
“We should. It’s unseemly to have ladies of our… moderate age to be acting as Ladies of the Bedchambers.”
“That and all. I’m right knackered by bedtime.”
“At least we are sleeping well.”
They disappeared into the room they shared just as Captain Peacock popped out of his. He’d been hoping for a quick peek at Mrs. Slocombe in her night attire. Lacking that, he adjusted his ascot and headed down the stairs. The bannister was wrapped with evergreen boughs, but there was still enough of it to grasp. It was certainly safer than trying to use their ancient lift system.
He paused at the landing and looked out over the lobby and front room. The effect was perfect or it would be as soon as they got the tree decorated. Mr. Rumbold was behind the registration desk, going through the daily mail.
“Good morning, Captain Peacock. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough, thank you. And you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What is the schedule for today?”
“The decorating of the Christmas tree, I think, should take top priority.”
“After breakfast.”
“After breakfast. Did you happen to see the ladies this morning?”
“No, but I heard them. They should be down soon.”
Mr. Humphries looked up from the table as they entered the small and cozy kitchen. The stove was already busy with pots and pans and the aroma of fresh buns filled the air.
“It’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas.” Captain Peacock heartily approved. He sat down and glanced over that what Mr. Humphries was doing. “And you are?”
“Being kept out of mischief, according to Mavis.” He held up a string with cranberries on it. “I’m working on this for the tree.” He looked at his stained fingers and sighed. “You put a bit of peel where it shouldn’t be and *bang* you lose your kitchen privileges.”
Mavis, her cheeks stained a rosy red, came in and stomped her boots by the back door before pulling them off. “I think we’re in store for some right weather out there. Dad’s thinks we should make a last run to the village ‘forehand.”
Mr. Rumbold looked up from his paper. “There’s nothing in here about it.”
“That’s cuz you’re reading the wrong paper.” She took that one away and handed him the local paper. The entire front page was warning of an impending storm. “He thinks it’s gonna be even worse that the Blizzard of ’43.”
“What does he recommend, Mavis?” Captain Peacock asked and Rumbold sputtered.
“I was just going to ask that.” Three dirty looks shot in his direction and he returned, truculent, to his paper.
“We should probably get some extra wood in and candles, in case we lose power. The old boiler will keep the place warm enough, but not if we run out of logs. The larder and pantry are in good shape, so I don’t think there’s much we’ll need at the shops. Maybe some coffee for the Americans coming in and sugar. They do like their sweets.”
She carried the basket of eggs to the table and set it down. She picked up one end of the cranberry chain and grinned. “You are doing a fine job, Mr. Humphries.” She brushed her hands off on her apron and nodded. “Right, first breakfast.”
Mrs. Slocombe and Miss Brahms entered at that point. “Good morning, Mavis,” Mrs. Slocombe sat at her usual spot.
“You’re looking very festive, Mrs. Slocombe.” Mavis poured her a mug of tea. “I like your pin.”
“Thank you. That handsome Mr. Solo gave it to me for Christmas last year.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “Oh, that just hits the spot. Miss Brahms and I thought we’d tackle the tree this morning.”
“Not fair. They should have to help with storm preparations like the rest of us,” Mr. Rumbold muttered from behind his paper.
“What storm?” Miss Brahms paused in spoon some sugar into her cup.
“The one that Mr. Moulterd says is on the way.”
“We should check and make sure that we have plenty of candles.”
“Right, and extra blankets for everything. At least if we lose power, we don’t have to worry about the stove.”
“She’s an old one, but reliable.” Mavis smiled over at the wood-burning stove. “And she brings up the baked goods to a right turn.”
Miss Brahms helped herself to a cinnamon roll. “I think you have a bit of a say in that, too.”
“Thank you.” Mavis beamed. “Now, how would you like your eggs?”
The rest of the morning was lost in storm preparations and it wasn’t until lunch that Mrs. Slocombe sat down again. “I have tossed my last bale of hay,” she muttered. “I’ve nearly done my back in.”
“Did you see old Jug Ears? He was furious about having to help cut wood.” Miss Brahms ladled some soup into a bowl and set it down in front of her. “Here you go. That will buck you up.”
“Thank you, Miss Brahms. Well, he should do more to pitch in around here.”
Mr. Humphries came in and paused to brush the snow from his shoulders. “You should see the flakes out there. Big and fluffy, just like when I was a boy. Captain Peacock and Mr. Moulterd have left to go pick up our guests from the train station.”
“Surely they could take a taxi like the rest of them.” Miss Brahms filled three more bowls.
“Dad’s worried that they will stop running. They don’t like our roads out here much.” Mavis dropped an armful of wood down beside the stove. “He’ll fetch them back and I gave him the shopping list.”
“Where’s Mr. Rumbold?”
“Last I saw, he was creeping off to his bedroom, probably for a long soak. He’s not used to hard work, that one.” Mavis started slicing some fresh bread. “We had him working this morning.”
“Well, it’s only right that he pitches in,” Miss Brahms murmured. “All he does is boss us around.”
“I don’t mind.” Mr. Humphries sipped some of the soup. “It’s like being back at the store. This soup is really delicious!”
“Thank you. Me and Mrs. Slocombe cobbled it together in between everything else.”
“Will you need some help with the tree this afternoon?”
“Would you be willing to do the high bits?” Mrs. Slocombe asked. “I have no head for heights.”
“I will if Mr. Humphries will help.”
He gave her a smile. “I’ll do my best.”
They just finished the last of the tree and were relaxing around the fire with some tea and freshly baked gingerbread men as the sleigh pulled up. The jingles of the bells announced its impending arrival.
“These cookies seem highly decorated.”
“Mr. Humphries got a bit carried away with the currents.” Mavis stood up and started to clear the tea things. “It sounds like our guests are coming. I’d best get some hot tea ready for them.”
“Do we even know who is coming?”
“I didn’t ask. All I know is that they bought out the Manor and that they are returning guests.”
“Well, that sort of limits it, don’t it?”
“Doesn’t it, Miss Brahms.” Mrs. Slocombe tried.
“That what I said.” If Miss Brahms knew she was being corrected, she didn’t let on.
The front doors opened and people started filing in. They were snow-covered suitcase-carrying bundles of jackets and blankets. Captain Peacock closed the door and stamped his feet.
“Mr. Moulterd was right. It’s a blizzard out there.”
“Just leave everything there. We’ll dry it out.” Mr. Humphries started to help the closest bundle divest itself and cocked his head. “Hello, I don’t know if we’ve met.”
“Hello.” Blue eyes twinkled at him. “You can call me Aunt Amy. You must be Mr. Humphries.”
“I am.”
“I told you, Amy.” A scarf revealed Mrs. Waverly. “I told you he was cute as a bug’s ear.”
“No!” Mrs. Slocombe rushed over just as Napoleon Solo removed his hat. “My Christmas wish has come true!”
“Mrs. Slocombe, you get more and more attractive every time I see you.” He gave her cheek a peck and then helped Mr. Waverly with his overcoat. “Why don’t we get you over to the fire, sir?
“Mavis has some tea brewing in the kitchen or I can provide you will something more substantial if you’d prefer.”
“Could you manage a hot toddy or a Tom and Jerry, possibly?” Amy asked as she and Mrs. Waverly headed to the fire.
“Of course, and for the gentlemen?”
“Whatever the crowd is having is fine,” Napoleon guided Mr. Waverly to an overstuffed chair.
“Is that nice Mr. Illya not here?” Miss Brahms was disappointed.
Napoleon gestured back to the front door. “He’s helping Mr. Moulterd with the horses. You know how he is.”
Mrs. Slocombe patted the spot beside her on the love seat. “Come sit by the fireplace, it's getting cold."
“Warmer by the minute,” Napoleon obliged. “We were thrilled when Mr. Waverly suggested coming to the Manor for Christmas.”
“It reminds me of when I was a boy.” Mr. Waverly’s eyes grew dreamy, his thoughts far away.
“The tree is beautiful.” Napoleon tried to put a little distance between himself and Mrs. Slocombe, but she wasn’t having it.
“Look who I found!” Mavis entered carrying a tray of tea things and Illya followed with a second tray piled with baked goods.
“’Ere, let me help with that.” Miss Brahms surged forward and Illya grinned at her. She blushed.
“Probably the only way any of us will get a taste of them,” Napoleon joked as he got to his feet. “You stay seated, Mrs. Slocombe.”
Morris Moulterd suddenly appeared. “Did I hear sumethin’ ‘bout tea?”
“Off to the kitchen with you, Dad. You’re dripping on the floor.”
“No lip from you, me girl.”
“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room for all of us.” Aunt Amy smiled at him and he grinned back.
“Thank you kind, ma’am.”
“Why wasn’t I informed that our guests arrived?” Rumbold appeared on the stairs and looked quite annoyed.
“We was having such a nice time that we forgot about you.” Mrs. Slocombe sipped her hot toddy. “Very good, Mr. Humphries. How’s your eggnog?”
“Untested.”
“You should let Illya help you. His grandmother has a recipe that will knock your socks off, quite literally.” Napoleon nodded his approval as well. “He’s right. Excellent toddy.”
“I look forward to collaborating with him.”
Napoleon stood and looked around at the group of people. “I ask that you all raise a glass. We are here together in a beautiful old house with friends, family and everything in between. Let us give thanks to our good fortune and wish everyone else the same.” He winked at Mrs. Slocombe. “Happy Christmas.”