Disclaimer - I do not own any of Arthur Conan Doyle's characters (unfortunately!). The Throckmorton family, servants and Sir Jonathan, however are mine.

Wow, two chapters up in one day - can you tell that I'm trying to put off doing work?

Chapter 4

23rd December 1888

I cannot say that dinner was a pleasant affair. The presence at the table of not one, but two highly undesirable men, who seemed to have taken, in the last half hour or so, such a dislike to my friend and I, did not serve to make dinner anymore enjoyable. Lord Marcus sat at the head of the table, directing proceedings like a high court judge, every so often involving himself in other people's conversations, and giving his own opinionated views. Not that the dinnertime conversation was anything very impressive. Indeed, most of Lord Marcus' family seemed to confine their thoughts to the weather - the safest thing to talk about in the presence of the family patriarch. "Good Lord, Watson" muttered Holmes to me "I do not think I have been in the midst of such boring conversation since last Lestrade graced us with his presence at the dinner table."

I smiled, but thought better of it when Lord Marcus' attention came to me "You, sir! What so amuses you?"

I floundered, but Holmes came to the rescue, saying "Lord Marcus, we were remarking on the beauty of your home, the warmth of our reception, and the mental stimulation of your family's conversation. It has quite rendered us speechless." I heard Lady Meredith try to suppress her laughter into a handkerchief, which she hastily turned into a cough, on feeling the eyes of her father on her. Sir Gregory, meanwhile, had to excuse himself from the table, as he was turning crimson.

Sitting next to Lord Marcus was his eldest son, and opposite him his wife, who looked absolutely petrified to be sitting in such close proximity to her father-in-law. Every so often, when his father wasn't looking, I noticed Marcus squeezing his wife's hand. She would smile lamely at him, and go back to pushing her food around her plate, unable to eat. Sitting next to Marcus was Major Edward, who looked so tipsy that he was unaware that indeed anything was going on, and opposite him, next to Lady Gwendolyn, was Sir Jonathan. I was on his other side, and was growing quite uncomfortable at the way that he was glaring at me. Opposite me, sat Holmes, who also did not look like he had eaten much, and Meredith, sitting next to Holmes, and Gregory next to me. On the end of the table, and befitting her rank as the eldest sister in the household, sat Jane, who ate in silence, apart from when she made small comments when she was sure her father wasn't watching. Dinner then, was an experience that I am unlikely to forget, although I am certainly sure that Holmes was using the whole situation as a psychological case study.

When they were sure that they were not being overheard by the two great menaces at the table, Meredith and Gregory were, for brief moments, excellent conversationalists. They were both, despite their bounds, well read, and astute. They obviously cared very deeply for their little brothers and sister and their nieces and nephew, as was demonstrated half-way through dinner. At some point the butler came in and whispered something into the ear of Lord Marcus, which seemed to anger him greatly. Flushing red, he said, harshly "Were the children playing outside today, Meredith?"

Meredith looked up and said quietly "Yes, sir, they were."

"And what were they playing?"

"I believe it was cricket…"

"Indeed? Well, one of the brats has broken the window in the library. I will have them beaten until they own up to who did it."

An expression of pain crossed Meredith's face. She looked a little scared, but said "It was not one of the children. It was me. I am afraid I was playing catch with the children and I threw the ball too hard."

Lord Marcus snarled at her "And you didn't tell me? I want you to come and see me after dinner, and we will talk about what you have done."

"Father…"

"Quiet, girl! Or you will spend Christmas in the cellar like young Ralph last year…"

Meredith paled, and she nodded and returned to her dinner. Lord Marcus, meanwhile, returned to his rather one-sided conversation with his eldest son. When he was sure that Lord Marcus was not listening, Gregory leaned across the table and said in a tone that only Holmes and I, and possibly Jane could hear "Did you break the window?"

"What do you think?"

"You will be punished?" I asked, softly.

"Probably. Ah well, wouldn't be Christmas without father beating one of us. I'd rather it was me than one of the little ones."

"He beats you?" said Holmes, quietly. Meredith looked at him, shook her head and, saying nothing, returned to her dinner. Holmes studied her for just a moment, but then also bent his head to finish his dinner.

After dinner, everyone filed out of the room to sit on the seats by the fire. Lord Marcus strode around behind everyone during their conversations, making talking in any great detail impossible. I even found myself stuck for conversation with Holmes and having to resort to commenting on the differences between the weather in London, and the weather in Cambridgeshire. "Dear Lord, man, not you too…If I have to listen to anyone else comment on what nice weather we are having, I will scream…"

"What are you talking about?" Lord Marcus was behind us, and I had not even noticed.

Holmes however, turned around coolly and said "I was just commenting to Watson on how nice the weather is." He turned to Gregory "Tell me, Sir Gregory, is it common for it to snow so much in Cambridgeshire around Christmas? And Lady Meredith" he turned to her, his eyes showing his amusement "What is the summer weather like?"

Just when I thought I would explode with mirth, Jonathan stood up and the room went quiet. "Lord Marcus" he said "I would like to have an audience with Lady Meredith if I may."

Beside us, I heard Meredith inhale loudly "Oh, no please…" she whispered, her voice strained with tears.

"Of course…" said Lord Marcus, smiling nastily at his daughter "That would be fine. And then, the ladies can retire to the library. I hope with the broken window, it will not be too cold in there." Looking at the look of horror on Meredith's face and seeing the shivering Lady Gwendolyn wrapping herself in her husband's jacket, I felt a greater rush of hatred towards him than I had ever thought possible. He looked at Meredith "Well, go…"

Meredith stood reluctantly and nodded. She followed Jonathan out of the room, but I noticed her catch Holmes' eye on her way out. She looked pleadingly at Gregory and us, and then was gone. For ten minutes, we waited. The fires had started to die down, so the servants were called to re-build them. We were served new drinks and the men were offered cigars. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a young maid, heavily pregnant, with a tear-streaked face and arms full of firewood. Holmes had noticed her too, and studied her intently. However, I could tell that something else was bothering him, as he seemed singularly distracted.

That something else re-entered the room looking shocked, upset and close to tears. She sat quietly, and I could see that she was shaking. I placed a hand on her arm, but she did not look up. "Meredith" said Lord Marcus. "I suppose Sir Jonathan has asked for your hand in marriage?" Meredith nodded. "And you accepted." Lord Marcus stated, as if it were fact.

Meredith looked up, and said in a small voice "no…"

"No?" Lord Marcus looked at her in disbelief "Sir Jonathan is a family friend. He is rich, influential and powerful, and I like him. Why have you turned him down?"

"Because I don't…like him, that is…"

"And where is Sir Jonathan?"

"He stormed off, sir. I don't know where he went. He said he will speak to you…"

"At which point, I will tell him that you have re-considered and said yes."

"No."

"What?"

"I won't marry him" Lord Marcus advanced on Meredith threateningly and I felt Holmes stiffen in his seat next to me, "Even if you threaten me, I won't…"

"You will, my girl. And I'll see to it…"

He pulled back his hand, as if to strike her, but Holmes stood up, and caught the hand. "Don't touch her. I'm warning you. Go to your office and calm down."

Lord Marcus looked as though he were about to attack Holmes, but I stood, ready to defend my friend. Two against one was too much for him, and he strode off, slamming the door behind him. Meanwhile, Jane had gone to Meredith's side and had taken her hand. "Come, child. Come on Gwendolyn. Let us go to library."

Meredith nodded, and arm in arm with her sister, they walked out, followed by Gwendolyn. When they left, Gregory walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large sherry. I drank it back in one gulp, and slammed his glass down on the table. "I cannot deal with this! I'm going for a long walk. And I don't know when I'll be back…"

Marcus looked after him, and rubbed his face, looking more like forty than thirty. "I'm going to bed," he said, loudly, and grabbed hold of Major Edward, who had collapsed in a drunken stupor. "I will take him to bed. I hope I can talk with you in the morning, Holmes…" He nodded at Holmes, then at me, and then made his way out of the room, carrying Major Edward with him.

"Now, Watson, that is something to look forward to in the morning, is it not?" he said, dryly. He looked around, then stood, in an inordinately bad mood. "I will see you in the morning, Watson. I am going to my bed, if I can find it. I won't say Happy Christmas. I hope you don't mind."

He walked out, and five minutes later, after finishing my drink, I followed. As I passed the library, I saw that Jane was alone in the room. Gwendolyn and Meredith had obviously decided on an early night. I walked up to my room, and fancied I saw something, once or twice, reflected in the windows, and once in a mirror I walked past. But everything was quiet, and nothing was out of the ordinary. The house was as quiet as the grave. Finding my bed, I changed into a nightshirt, and went over to look out of the window. A figure I recognised as Jonathan was pacing the garden. I watched him for a while, but sleep overcame me, and I fell into bed and asleep.

Christmas Eve

The next morning, I was awoken by the snowy sunshine shining through my window. I woke slowly and changed even more slowly, trying to put off the inevitable agony of breakfast with Lord Marcus. When I was unable to put it off anymore, I made my way downstairs to breakfast. The smell was wonderful - a huge Roast ham sat on the table when I entered, surrounded by plates of sausages, bacon and mushrooms. Holmes was sitting at the table, as usual eating very little and watching other people eat. Marcus and Gwendolyn, Jane and a groggy looking Edward, Gregory and Jonathan also sat at the table. Due to the fact that Lord Marcus was not yet down, conversation was perhaps more interesting this morning. Holmes seemed positively intrigued by Edward's tales of his army days.

We were all tucking into breakfast and did not notice Meredith walk in until she was standing at the table, not saying a word. Holmes noticed her first "Good morning, Lady Meredith" he said, breezily. Meredith was silent, and we all stared at her.

"Sister?" said Gregory tentatively "are you well?"

Meredith looked up, as if seeing us for the first time. "I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast…" her voice was strange, soft and slightly shaking "but I thought you ought to know. Father has been murdered."