merry Christmas, from Camilla and Henry Winter! (backdated to Dec. 24)

[c_macaulay]

Rather a lot of people had come to the Winters' wedding. (Let's pretend, shall we, that Camilla actually sent out thank-you notes to those people who brought gifts? She surely would not have neglected it, lest Nana roll over in her grave; she should not be blamed for the laxity of her mun.) Believe it or not, most of them had been invited

Comments

Return owl

[spiderthatwaits]

Selvetarm, still perked up by magic cider, took some time to reply.

Thank you. I find the book wonderfully fascinating and I only wish I had something to match. Meanwhile, I hope you will find this of some interest.

-Selvetarm

The owl also carried a roll of paper containing a list of translated drow vocabulary and something of an essay on its grammar as attempted by someone who practiced it far more through instinct than any conscious knowledge of its rules or the corresponding terminology. There were clumsy diagrams in plenty, including several tries at the dissection of various sentences.

Owl to Camilla, rather a while later

[fabernathy]

Camilla,

Thank you so much for the lovely gifts (and I do mean all of them). A gift, though small, is welcome. They were just what I needed to take my mind off of things. Oh, nothing drastic, don't worry, it's just the occasional distress in the life of yours truly. I may have Just the usual, tu vois?

I hope you and Henry are having a wonderful (tastefully done -- I'm sorry, Camilla, but after that wedding I feel I have to say it) Christmas. I'll be enjoying a quiet drink and thinking of my dear wife and how far away she is right now. I might pay a call on Richard later, do you want me to say anything for you?

Anyway. Merry Christmas, my darling, and to Henry as well. If I tell you something will you promise not to tell him?

Love always,
Francis

PS: The pearls, obviously, are yours. I thought Henry might find the book amusing.

Enclosed with the note is a bottle of very fine Bordeaux, a white gold and seed pearl necklace, and a hardcover copy of a work on Milton and multilingualism.

reply to Francis, by the same owl

[c_macaulay]

Dear Francis,

I do try. It's hard to know what to get for the man who has almost everything. The pearls are lovely, of course the book is just Henry's sort of thing, and I hope you'll help us drink the wine.

Please, let's not talk about the wedding any more ever. I think it turned out very well considering the location, the guests, and the incredibly short time allotted for preparation. Honestly, could I tell Henry 'no, I won't marry you next Tuesday?' You know Henry. I'm sure your wedding was ever so much lovelier. I hope Priscilla dies in a fire has a lovely holiday far, far away.

I'll convey your seasonal salutations to Henry, and please give Richard my love. I don't suppose it would be wise for us all to convene on Christmas itself? We never had it together back at school -- there was always winter break -- and I wonder if we'd all know what to do with ourselves. Yes. I promise if you tell me something I won't tell Henry, unless it has to do with You-Know-Who.

Love,
Camilla

Return owl to Camilla

[fabernathy]

Dear Camilla,

I'm so glad you like the gifts. And of course, I'd be delighted to come by and drink my wine whenever you like. It's a very good year, I think, don't you?

Our wedding was the sort of wedding I would have given you if only I'd had the opportunity, darling. Still, I suppose you may edge me out for marrying someone you can remotely stand love so very much. I win the wedding; you win the marriage; or something like that?

I'll tell Richard hello for you. We could all get together if you like -- I'd been thinking of stopping by Mass, just to, you know, check it out, but I don't think they really do things that way around here -- which means I really have nothing else to do. I'd just thought you might want to have some quiet time with Henry. Or is he at the library?

It's not about that. Not exactly. Not really.

Love,
Francis

reply to Francis, by the same owl, direly warded

[c_macaulay]

Dear Francis,

You have impeccable taste in wine and weddings. Of the two of us I did get the better bargain, though, I agree. But you're holding up very well -- much better than you were -- and just think, eventually your grandfather will die. Also, the idea of you marrying Henry almost made me inhale my eggnog.

You know, I miss going to Mass even though we can't take the Eucharist any more. Remember when we went together, in Boston, you and Richard and I? Maybe we ought to try to do that again. Not for Christmas, as there isn't a church nearby and it's short notice, but maybe Ash Wednesday? I think Henry might like to go as well.

Honestly, darling, it's Christmas, not Valentine's Day. We don't need that much quiet time. And you know he likes to visit with you too. I think you really are his closest friend besides myself.

All right. You're not going to tell me unless I promise, are you? So I promise I won't tell. It's not as though there aren't plenty of other things we mustn't ever tell. And now I'm dying of

Return owl, carrying a small festive cookie tin

[grandmasteryoda]

Camilla,

An excellent tree this is. Thank you I do. Hope that you and Henry will enjoy these do I.

-Yoda

(Inside the cookie tin are a number of decorated gingerbread cookies in the approximate shapes of Ithorians, Rodians, and Ortolans.)

[chameleonfaust]

There were several versions of the return letter, written and discarded one by one as Richard paced his room. The level of the bottle of scotch lowered in direct proportion to the number of crumpled pieces of parchment tossed into his fireplace. The words on the flyleaf of the book seemed to mock him, louder and louder until all he could see were four words.

Camilla and Henry Winter.

Yes. Well. There it was, then.

---

Camilla and Henry,

Thank you for the thought.

Merry Christmas.

-Richard

(The owl is carrying a framed copy of Van Gogh's Pear Tree in Bloom for reasons only Richard knows and Camilla probably won't remember.)

[c_macaulay]

But Camilla did remember, of course. Whether she had anything approaching a conscience or whether she merely wanted to make peace for strategic reasons, it would be hard to say, but a surreptitious delivery came by house-elf, a while later: a fruit basket whose accompanying note said only: I'm sorry. C.