A Marriage at Christmastime

By: Emma Greening

A Blandings Castle Story

Disclaimer: I do not own anybody from Blandings Castle. Freddie, Aunt Connie, Galahad, Beach and Lord Emsworth are all creations of the wonderful P.G. Wodehouse. I do own the preacher and Doctor Gerald Bingely.

Chapter 1

Of Snow and Accidents

The sun beamed down on Blandings Castle, touching the blanket of thick, white snow with its warmth. But the air was far from warm. Cold, blasts of wind constantly chucked wispy clouds across the sky, without a prayer of starting another snow-storm.

The loud sound of Christmas bells ringing in Blandings Market were loud enough to wake up the deepest sleeper. Carols, suddenly erupted from the village, as people started stepping out of their cottages to finish their daily tasks and start celebrating. The entire village was in ecstasy.

But it wasn't Christmas yet. It was only Christmas Eve, the most enchanting day of the year. When a feeling of anticipation fills the air, and you start shaking your presents that lie under the Christmas tree.

Aunt Constance stood at her window, smiling for the first time genuinely in a year, running a brush through her hair, and trying to appear presentable. She had things to do this Christmas Eve. As she looked out at the festive village covered in decorations, she felt a warm feeling towards her fellow man, and was even willing to allow her younger brother Galahad to join them for Christmas.

But there was one thing that worried her. Where was her nephew Frederick? They had received no communications from him, saying that he couldn't come. There had been absolutely nothing! And now that it was Christmas Eve she had started to worry. Freddie rarely arrived late for Christmas, but when he did, his father wouldn't start without him.

She bit her lip, and pulled back the curtains, watching the country-road for any sign of her nephew's burgundy two-seater. But, nothing. Only a black, official looking car met her gaze, and that didn't mean much. It was probably just Galahad asking for a lift.

After dressing, she plunged down the stairs to breakfast, barely speaking to Beach as she passed but to give him a look, and then start chastising her brother for the way he ate eggs and bacon. "You must be more civilized, Clarence!" She hissed.

"Why my dear Connie! I'm am surprised at you! It is the Christmas season, what has made you so unhappy?" He asked, giving her his utmost attention.

"You're son, has made me unhappy. When he communicated with us last, he said he would be arriving yesterday. But he hasn't, and now I'm having premonitions of evil." She sputtered, looking up as the bell rang loudly. "Beach! Attend to that will you?!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, gnawing hungrily at a buttered scone.

Lord Emsworth laughed heartily. "I-I'm sorry Connie, but I thought you said that Freddie wouldn't be arriving for the festivities!" He chuckled to himself, and finished his breakfast, laughing at the absurdity of what his sister had just said.

Beach stumbled into the room. "A Mr. Galahad, and Master Frederick."

Connie stood up, and gave Beach a piercing glance. "Well, why don't they come in? I'm sure that with Galahad's energy, he would be in this room in two shakes."

"I am afraid, milady that Master Galahad's attentions are directed elsewhere." He winked at Connie, as if she would understand what he meant.

She drew back with a gasp, but retained her old manner. "Very well. I will see him myself. And put his attentions on the relatives he hasn't wished a Merry Christmas to. "She hurried from the room, to find Galahad in a vacant chair and Freddie, sprawled half in his lap and half on the floor.

"Galahad, what is the meaning of this?" Connie knelt down beside Freddie's prostrate form and felt his forehead. "What did you do this time? You know that Clarence won't start the festivities without his son here, and if Freddie were missed as he most undoubtedly will be…"

"Hush, hush old prune." Galahad assured. "All shall be well. I just seem to have run into a bit of a predicament with my nephew. He has some broken ribs you see."

Connie stared. "So, that's your explanation? He looks as white as a sheet! Let's carry him up to bed, and maybe the doctor can pop in and set everything straight." She didn't have time to chastise. It was time for action.

Galahad popped his monocle into his pocket, and picked up Freddie by the feet. "Here, you can take the shoulders, if you can." He offered, his eyes twinkling.

But his sister had lost her own twinkle. She lugged Freddie up the stairs as if she were carrying a corpse, and laid him in bed as if she were putting him in a casket. The only thing missing, was the funeral dirge.

She collapsed into a chair, and stared out the window at the beauty of the Christmas season. But now, the clouds had returned, and she was sure there would be another snow storm. She put her head in her hands and shook her head. "Alright Galahad, tell me the truth. What happened?"

Her brother jingled the coins in his pocket nervously. "I got him into a collision, obviously! My friend Georgie Horner was going on and on about racing on that little track just outside Shropshire. So we thought we'd give it a go. How was I to know that Georgie played dirty?" He asked, running his fingers through his hair, and giving the victim a troubled glance.

"That is beside the point! You aided in your nephew's injury, and now Christmas will be ruined! Clarence won't take kindly to this, and I most certainly cannot hide it. The festivities have to go on, with or without Freddie!" She glared at her younger brother and sighed. All the hopes and dreams of happiness that she had had were gone. Blotted out, with a single foolish decision to race. " I will tell Beech to call Doctor Bingley, then inform Clarence about what has happened. I don't want you to leave Freddie's bedside for a minute! Send Beech to tell me when Freddie wakes up. I want to be by his side too." She stalked from the room, her eyes narrowed. Her Christmas spirit had just been lost.

It was easy to chastise Galahad, but leaking the news to her brother Clarence was not as easy. He sat in his study, busy dictating a letter to his secretary, Hugo Carmody. He only raised his head when she entered. "Ah, Connie, Merry Christm-…" The words were frozen on his lips as he noticed that she still wore the old frown. "What is the matter, Connie? For goodness sakes, you can't be going about ruining the Christmas spirit!"

I most certainly can! And I will ruin yours. She thought, but kept up the bitter look. "Your son Frederick, has arrived in an unusual fashion with your younger brother." She waited to see if her words evoked any curiosity. It appeared they hadn't so she continued. "Frederick was in an automobile accident just out of Shropshire. He has broken ribs, and we don't know what else. If you want to see him, he is upstairs in his bedroom. If you want to see Galahad, he is also upstairs, playing the penitent." Connie turned away, and rushed to her bedroom.

Lord Emsworth remained in the hallway. His eyes wide, his lips moving without sound. He turned to Beach, who had just shimmered from the kitchen. "Is what she says true, Beech?" He asked, haltingly.

Beach nodded his head gravely. "I am afraid so, my Lord. I saw Master Frederick myself, and I believe that her ladyship has made an astute medical observation." He coughed. "Doctor Bingley will be arriving shortly, sir."

Lord Emsworth nodded, and wandered up the stairs in a daze. "This is a tragedy!" He murmured. "An abject tragedy!"